Fotonovela Pimienta! Para hombres y mujeres! 1976.

Achtung baby! Pole dancing instruction turns catty.

Is this German küken kampf Bullshit or Not? Click the above title to find out.

Shoot first and ask questions altar, er, later. Oops.

Here's to the three NYPD detectives who were acquitted today of any wrongdoing in the death of Sean Bell. Just hours away from getting married in 2006, Bell left his own bachelor party at strip club in Queens and was met with a barrage of 50 bullets from off-duty detectives Michael Oliver, Gescard Isnora and Marc Cooper who thought he was armed. He wasn't. Unbelievably, Detective Oliver alone shot at Bell 31 freaking times.

The following handwritten letter was recently discovered on the sunny marble steps of McKinley Hall:

Dear Lisa,

Apparently my fat ass is too buoyant for underwater chair aerobics and that aqua yoga class is all wet too—I keep getting water up my nose doing Chakra asanas and my inadvertent fartilicious wind-relieving Pavana-mukta-asana poses are producing ripple waves big enough to capsize elderly aerobicizers. Cast iron ankle weights helped until I slipped into the deep end and sunk like a frozen Leonardo DeTitanico, plus when I did that, I blew out a huge snot bubble floater that evacuated the pool. Well anyway, if that internship for highly gifted engineering geniuses doesn’t pan out, at least I can fall back on my amazing basketball skills, er, I mean my limited middle school cafeteria dishwashing experience. I keep mixing those two up.

FYI--sticky flypaper isn’t the way to go to remove unwanted back hair,

Kristin

Song of the Day:

Erykah Badu, “The Cell”

Video Flashback: Van Nuys Blvd., 1979

Are you jivin' me? Hey, nobody calls Chooch a creep, man!

WHAT SORT OF MAN READS PACO CAMINO?

He's The Mexican Blutarsky. Achieving legendary status as a celebrity strong man dungeon pimp, this good-natured gringo from Guadalajara is putting seven years of college from a south of the border massage therapy school to good use. Sporting tree trunk arms and a thick handlebar mustache than can do pushups on it’s own, this he-man wears a bold headband (taming his burly black hair), a custom back-supporting utility belt and garment dyed man-skirt. Adorning his foxy concubines in irresistible decorative beads, the Paco Camino Man laughs in a deep voice, “You like what you see, amigo? If not you scrawny homo, I can sell you kettle bell weights out of my garage.”

Forgotten T&A Matinee #97: Superchick, 1973

She’s all woman. All every woman wants to be. Forceful. Feminine. Free. Super brave. Super body. Supercharged. Superchick! A swinging motion picture experience about a super kind of woman.

In public she’s a mild mannered stewardess. In private she’s something else.

Superchick. She’s more than just one woman, and too much for just one man!

Superchick. The super kind of woman. Always in the middle of where the action is. Always ready for a new adventure. You can’t afford to miss Superchick. She’s much more than you’ve ever had before.

Vintage Ad #115: Turtle Wax, 1976

The Don Ho Show! Suck 'em Up!

The Chairman of the Surfboard, no visit to Hawaii in the 70s was complete without seeing Don Ho and the Swinging Aliis perform at the Polynesian Palace in Waikiki.

WHAT SORT OF MAN READS PACO CAMINO?

So what if the plane went down in the ocean an hour ago? Smart enough to lock a handy machete in his carry-on luggage and lucky enough to escape without getting a spec of dirt on the same casual white slacks he wore sitting in first class, the Paco Camino Man is always collected after a commercial aircraft disaster. Cool as the rum coconut cocktail he just had comped at the exclusive beachfront hotel bar located a mere 50 yards away, he’s stoked that two hot chicks are totally digging him, because damn, they're probably extra horny for cheating death in a plane crash. With an embarrassed and apologetic airline paying for everything indefinitely, the Paco Camino Man has but one lost initiative—to get the bikinis off of Dharma and the other.