Wednesday, December 23, 2015
Pammy's last hurrah
I am thrilled to the cockles of my groin that Pamela Anderson will be posing in Playboy’s last nude issue. It just goes to show that even a fusty old reptile like Hef can have a flash of inspiration. Call me a kinky ape, but I am far more interested in Pamela’s body now that she’s reached the ripe and raunchy age of 48. We gorillas prefer our meat cured and slightly chewy. I just hope they don’t airbrush the photos to make her skin look like polished plastic.
There are many things I admire about Pamela Anderson. Her critics think she’s an airhead, but she’s definitely not as stupid as she looks. Her critics might say that no one is as stupid as she looks, but they can go and suck on lemons. A woman who can make fifty thousand bucks by posing naked in Playboy doesn’t need to worry about snide comments from pettifoggers and guttersnipes.
The good news is that her sons have given their blessings to the venture:
“Mom you've got to do it,” said Brandon. “We're older, we're not embarrassed anymore of you. You know, we think you're great!”
“He was so excited he may have high-fived me!” added Pamela.
You’ve got to wonder how Pammy’s boys will turn out. My gut feeling is that they’ll be fine young men with a deep respect for women, even if the women in question are hoochies or harlots. That doesn’t mean they’ll date such women, of course. I wouldn’t be surprised if they married Mormon girls, who would never dream of being unfaithful to their husbands unless they were carousing with other women, which doesn’t count as cheating in the Mormon religion. I make this proviso after learning about a new genre of lesbian pornography that the manager of the safari camp is currently enthusiastic about. It purports to show Mormon girls ecstatically exploring their erogenous areas.
“I’d convert to Mormonism to get a pair of wives like those two,” he said, while drooling over a video clip on his i-phone.
“Be careful what you wish for,” I remarked. “Your sex life might be limited to the role of a referee in a wrestling match.”
“Hmm,” said the manager frowning. “I was hoping to be the hooker in a rugby scrum.”
“Not much chance of that,” I replied. “They don’t play rugby in America.”
I now feel quite guilty about spoiling the manager’s fantasy. Christmas is a time for whimsy and make-believe, when fat jolly men empty their sacks under big bushy trees. You’re not supposed to tell children that Santa Claus isn’t real and the elves won’t turn up because they only want to play with themselves. I will have to cheer him up with news of how the Mormon faith is spreading outside America, to countries where rugby is played with a passion. Good things come to those who wait, as the Book of Mormon would have said if a gorilla had written it.
The Japing Ape wishes his readers a Merry Christmas.
Labels: Hugh Hefner, lesbian, Mormons, Pamela Anderson, Playboy, rugby
