I thought this was a joke when I posted it. But in these trying times, jokes have a way of becoming reality (at least in the tabloids). From the New York Post, based heavily on reportage in London’s Mirror, the following horror:

A she-bomber planned to blow up British Airways Flight 223 over Washington with plastic explosives hidden inside her body, a chilling new report says. U.S. security services told Scotland Yard that the woman – almost certainly linked to al Qaeda – planned to hide 8 to 12 ounces of the material tucked inside her reproductive region, London’s Mirror newspaper reported.

When the flight was over the nation’s capital, the bomber would go to the bathroom, remove the explosives and detonate a blast that would blow the aircraft out of the skies.

A Homeland Security official said he was unaware of a specific threat of a female suicide bomber who would hide explosives in her body.

But he added, “We’ve had concerns about IEDs” – improvised explosives devices.

As a result, airport security screeners check for women wearing loose clothing and other signs the official declined to talk about.

“Smuggling a bomb onto a plane by this method is one of our worst nightmares,” a senior Scotland Yard source told the newspaper. “If you do not have specific information about the suspect, it would be impossible to carry out an intimate body search of every female passenger.”

Indeed.

Ok, people, you all know that the best parts of the Star Wars movies were the parts featuring Princess Leia as Jabba The Hut’s slave girl. In case you had forgotten, check out The Slave Leia Pictures at Leia’s Metal Bikini.

Thanks to Attu for the link.

Time lapse photography of arousal, from “Dick? What Dick?” to “Ready, Ma’am!” in 30 seconds:

If you find the tiny pictures unsatisfying, you know the routine: give the small pic a little stimulation with your mouse and it will grow for you.

There’s something to be said for loud music:

Thanks again to Your Dirty Mind for pointing to this gallery of concert flashers.

On a message board I’m not going to link to because of the sheer weight of dumbassed adolescent misogyny over there, some troll posted the following query:

After you finger a girl what do you do to get the smell off your fingers?

Soap and water doesnt usually work….

I dont like shaking ppls hands knowing my hand smells like tuna lol.

Any suggestions?

Most responses were even stupider than the question. However, one grownup posted an answer that really made me grin:

Find a woman whose pussy you love, and you’ll never want to be without her scent on you… ever. Nothing like sniffing your fingers 3 hours after sex and reliving it all over again.

“If you don’t love pussy THIS MUCH you are not big enough to get on this ride.”

From the most-viewed section of the interesting Mobog phone-cam photoblogging site:

Happy New Year!

I know, you’ve all said it so many times, it’s lost meaning. But for a change, I’m saying it with feeling, not to mention a silly grin on my face. The last few New Year’s Eve celebrations, I’ve said it but I haven’t really believed it. Life’s been comfortable, but when old year changed to new, there’s been nothing to suggest that the new years would hold any more promise than the old. This year’s different.

The Nymph called at (my) midnight, and our mutual wishes for a Happy New Year felt more like promises than like the usual vaguely hopeful admonition. Something to look forward to (and I don’t just mean her visit, as much as I am looking forward to it) makes this holiday a lot more fun.

She’s working tonight, but she’ll call again when she’s safely home. Meanwhile, I’ve got an open bottle of cheap bubbly to work on. And a good year to look forward to, by the grace of Aphrodite’s continued favor and with any luck at all.

I say again, Happy New Year!