Greetings, loyal minions. Your Maximum Leader remembers seeing a t-shirt being worn by a student at the UVA Center for Politics that read (on the front): “Q: What to politics and sex have in common?” (on the back) “A: You don’t have to be good at either to have a good time.” There are many occasions when sex and politics come together in a less than savory confluence. Just ask Eliot Spitzer. But sometimes the combination of sex and politics is just meant to be.

Take for example the debate (likely going on as your Maximum Leader types these words) at the Oxford Union tonight. The Union will debate the proposition: “This house believes Page 3 is unacceptable in the 21st Century.” For your Maximum Leader’s more sheltered readers, the Page 3 in question is the famous Page 3 of British tabloid “The Sun” where every day a photo of a topless woman is featured. Care to see? Clicky here-y. (By the way… If you need a warning about that link not being safe, as your Maximum Leader had just, a few words earlier mentioned that the page in question features topless women, you are pretty thick-skulled.)

In true Page 3 style (heh… Your Maximum Leader just ascribed “style” to Page 3) some Page 3 girls are going to go to the Oxford Union to advance their own cause tonight. There is a (NSFW) piece in The Sun on this debate.

Your Maximum Leader wishes he could be in attendance. (For non-purient reasons only - of course.) Frankly, your Maximum Leader doesn’t see anything wrong with boobies. And let us be frank here, that is really what this is all about. The objectification of women’s boobs. Your Maximum Leader takes a particularly libertarian (libertine?) view on this one. If a woman wants to be paid money to show her boobs to millions of people, that is okay with your Maximum Leader. If people want to buy The Sun (or link to it - as your Maximum Leader does) to see those boobs; that is fine too. To be honest, with some of the outfits your Maximum Leader has been seeing on girls around town now (that the weather is warmer) he wonders if just going topless wouldn’t be just as fashionable.

Alas, the people who are debating in favor of the proposition are likely tightly-wound militants who will complain either about the objectification of women - or the general permissiveness of society. You can make good points either way, but all in all your Maximum Leader is for keeping the boobies on Page 3. Indeed, he’d be in favor of some American newspapers putting a topless woman on some page of their paper as well… (He’d also be in favor of beefcake on some other page for the ladies!)

Carry on.

Greetings, loyal minions. Your Maximum Leader will go ahead and share a bad thought he had at the game last night. Although he is happily married and shouldn’t observe these things… There were scads of hot women at the hockey game last night. He isn’t just speaking about “girls” he is talking women. Women of your Maximum Leader’s age. Sure there were lots of hot young things. But there were many sexy women at the game.

If your Maximum Leader were single (which thankfully he is not) he’d have to try and find a way to parley his love of hockey into a date…

Carry on.

Greetings, loyal minions. Your Maximum Leader is, again, just phoning in a post. This time it is a video that a friend sent him. He posts it not because it is a reflection of his life, but because some elements of it are just so true.

Okay, the video is too wide for my center column. So clicky here for the video.

Carry on.

Greetings, loyal minions. Your Maximum Leader is hurting for content. Or more accurately, is hurting for time to write good content. So, as a cop out, he will just post this sorta funny joke that a friend sent in an email. It is likely that you’ve heard it before, but here goes:

A woman meets a man in a bar. They talk; they connect; they end up leaving together. They get back to his place, and as he shows her around his apartment. She notices that one wall of his bedroom is completely filled with soft, sweet, cuddly teddy bears.

There are three shelves in the bedroom, with hundreds and hundreds of cute, cuddly teddy bears carefully placed in rows, covering the entire wall! It was obvious that he had taken quite some time to lovingly arrange them and she was immediately touched by the amount of thought he had put into organizing the display. There were small bears all along the bottom shelf, medium-sized bears covering the length of the middle shelf, and huge, enormous bears running all the way along the top shelf.

She found it strange for an obviously masculine guy to have such a large collection of Teddy Bears. She is quite impressed by his sensitive side, but doesn’t mention this to him. They share a bottle of wine and continue talking and, after awhile, she finds herself thinking, “Oh my God! Maybe, this guy could be the one! Maybe he could be the future father of my children?”

She turns to him and kisses him lightly on the lips He responds warmly. They continue to kiss, the passion builds, and he romantically lifts her in his arms and carries her into his bedroom where they rip off each other’s clothes and make hot, steamy love. She is so overwhelmed that she responds with more passion, more creativity, more heat than she has ever known.

After an intense, explosive night of raw passion with this sensitive guy, they are lying there together in the afterglow. The woman rolls over, gently strokes his chest and asks coyly, “Well, how was it?” The guy gently smiles at her, strokes her cheek, looks deeply into her eyes, and says: “Help yourself to any prize from the middle shelf”

Okay, it made your Maximum Leader chuckle.

Carry on.

Greetings, loyal minions. Your Maximum Leader sees that Valentines Day is coming up. While this day no longer has any significant religious connections in the mind of most people out there. St Valentine and St Patrick are the only two saints that have had their feast day transcend the spiritual and decend to the profane.

This is not to say that your Maximum Leader doesn’t like St Patrick’s Day. He does. He doesn’t need a reason to drink Guiness, but it is sometimes nice to have one.

St Valentines Day is a different matter. Your Maximum Leader doesn’t really like the societal requirements of Valentines Day. Cards. Flowers. Candies. Stuff. Of course, most of the gifts go in the male to female direction. Boys buy/do stuff for girls. So imagine what must be going through your Maximum Leader’s brain when he saw the headline What Guys Really Want for Valentines Day on his Yahoo home page.

Let’s see… What do guys really want on Valentines Day - according to some schmoe “expert” on Yahoo? Some crap about “Romance Lite” and “A Surprise.” Your Maximum Leader was going to cite some of the piece, but re-reading it seems to be draining the testosterone out of his system. The only thing the piece’s author writes with which your Maximum Leader can agree is that men want a steak on Valentines Day. Duh. Men want a good steak any day they can get one. Great jeezey chreezey. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure that one out.

(Excursus: Your Maximum Leader can only partially agree with the “steak” comment made in the Yahoo piece. According to David Zinczenko - who by the way has a cool and manly name - even if the advice he dishes out is rather metrosexual, men want a steak at a place where their girl can also get something she wants. It has been your Maximum Leader’s experience that if you want steak you either do your own or go to a steak house. If your female companion wants chicken marsala or sushi, you - the man - ought to steer away from steak. The noteworthy exception being that if the sushi is served at a high-end Japanese restaurant that also serves Kobe (or Wagu) beef.)

So… Rather than taking your advice from some gammy-handed metrosexual on Yahoo here is some advice on what to get a man for Valentines Day from your (manly) Maximum Leader. At the top of the list is sex. Basically, men want sex. Frankly, the only reason that men play along with all the Valentines Day crap we have to put up with is the hope that we will have sex as a result of our largesse. Remember that women… Men like sex.

Second on the list (a distant second after sex we might add) would be flannel. Men also like flannel. Some men like it made into shirts. Some into underwear. Some into washcloths. But we all like flannel. (Your Maximum Leader has even heard that Tim Gunn likes flannel - he just hides his love of the fabric. BTW, nice typo on the Bravo page for Mr Gunn.) February is a cold month. Warm us up with a little flannel. Of course, if you are into giving flannel shirts you might model them for us - right before the sex.

After flannel is the othe important “f” gift, firearms. Men like us our firearms. Nickel plated. Chrome plated. Blued until they are dark as night. Or the ever popular gun metal grey. We all like guns. Hows about picking us up a nice shotgun, semi-automatic pistol, or classic revolver (no pearl handles, only pimps carry pearl handled revolvers)? We’d like it. We will even be happy to clean the guns with the remains of the worn out flannel shirts you got us a few Valentines Days ago…

If you aren’t up for sex, or flannel, or firearms how about lowered expectations? Men also like lowered expectations on Valentines Day. We are bombarded by chintzy jewelry stores who want to unload heart-shaped diamoniques and “forever” pendants. We are surrounded by teddy bear factories and florists who promise to have the most unique gift in the world for that special woman (and the SKU number for that unique gift is…). We heard about the friend of a friend of a friend who’s boyfriend whisked her off for a day of spa treatments - in Tahiti - just to prove how much he loved her on Valentines Day. How about lowering those expectations just a wee little bit.

Would a hug and a kiss be okay? Would it be enough to say that we chose you for who you are and that is the biggest step we are capable of?

No?

Well… Lucky for us American Express has no preset spending limit.

Carry on.

Greetings, loyal minions. Your Maximum Leader isn’t sure what to think of this week. Today certainly felt like a Monday, although it was definately a Wednesday. The abbreviated week is nice, but it does seem to upset (on some level) the regular flow of time…

So… Iowa caucuses tomorrow… Predictions? Anyone? Here you go… On the Democratic side: Obama wins narrowly over Hillary Clinton. Edwards a distant third. Richardson fourth. Other Dems decide to call it quits after results. Four way race going into New Hampshire. On the Republican side: Romney narrowly edges out Huckabee. McCain polls third. Thompson fourth. Rudy fifth. The five (and Ron Paul) remain in contention in New Hampshire. Republican field will not clear out until February.

Your know… Your Maximum Leader has a “thing.” Actually, he has many “things” but this one relates to Egg Nog. He doesn’t think that one should drink Egg Nog after the Feast of the Epiphany. He doesn’t know why this is, but it is. He has a fresh half gallon of Egg Nog he bought right after Christmas. Alas, his Egg Nog consumption was low over the New Years holiday. He now is going to have to go through lots of Egg Nog in a few days.

Your Maximum Leader’s lovely wife, Mrs Villain, buys skim or fat-free milk when she does the grocery shopping. Your Maximum Leader mostly buys 1% (or sometimes whole - or what passes for whole in stores now - when he buys whole milk he pretends he just grabbed the gallon from “the wrong shelf” when asked why he bought whole milk). Now he will urge Mrs Villain to buy 1% milk at the store… For the sake of your Maximum Leader’s prostate.

Your Maximum Leader believes that all-you-can-eat buffets are - essentially - wagers. Bets if you will. The restaurant is betting that they can prepare more food than you can eat (and make a profit) for the price they charge. In most cases, given the quality of buffet food, it is a bet the restaurants win. Then again there are people like Ricky Labit. Ricky apparently doesn’t like losing bets with all-you-can-eat buffets.

And finally… In a sign that “science” has in fact reached to new lows… Apparently a bunch of intrepid researchers have determined that male macaques “pay” for sex with female macaques. Yes… female macaques are, apparently, all whores who wontonly exchange intercourse for… wait for it… grooming. According to the piece:

Michael Gumert of Nanyang Technological University in Singapore made the discovery in a 20-month investigation into 50 long-tailed macaques in Kalimantan Tengah, Indonesia, New Scientist reports on Saturday.

On average, females had sex 1.5 times per hour.

But this rate jumped to 3.5 times per hour immediately after the female had been groomed by a male — and her partner of choice was likely to be the hunky monkey that did the grooming.

Market forces also acted on the value of the transaction.

If there were several females in the area, the cost of buying sex would drop dramatically — a male could “buy” a female for just eight minutes of nit-picking.

But if there were no females around, he would have to groom for up to 16 minutes before sex was offered.

The work supports the theory that biological market forces can explain social behaviour, the British weekly says.

Your Maximum Leader isn’t sure that the males are “paying” for sex in the sense of prostitution - as seems to be implied in the article. The males are more “exchanging” sex for the primate equivilent of spa treatments. (Try paying Trixie down on the corner in spa treatments and see how far that gets you…)

Carry on.

Greetings, loyal minions. Your Maximum Leader, when the vapor lock has him, finds himself going to an ole standby for a post… Something about the dreamy Jennifer Love Hewitt…

Yes… Some website has names the dreamy Miss Hewitt the Number 5 most attrative woman to watch in HDTV. As you all know, your Maximum Leader gives the dreamy Jennifer Love Hewitt the solid number One position in analog AND HD; but it is nice to see others are thinking about her. (Excursus: Perhaps too many people are thinking about her… If you catch your Maximum Leader’s meaning…)

Also on the list… Okay… Not the whole list but only those who your Maximum Leader has heard of/seen/can comment upon:

10) Angie Harmon. Grrr Baby. That Jason Seahorn is one lucky guy. Your Maximum Leader misses her on Law and Order. We’ll always have re-runs on A&E.

8 ) Hayden Panettiere. Your Maximum Leader has never seen Heros, but this little girl is cute.

6 ) Rebecca Romijn. Once again, your Maximum Leader has never seen “Ugly Betty” - but if he knew that Rebecca Romijn was starring in it, he might try to catch an episode.

1) Giada De Laurentiis. Whew… Todd (Mr Giada De Laurentiis) is one lucky guy. Landing Giada. Not only does he have all those film producers in the family, but Giada to cook for him.

Your Maximum Leader notices that a certain someone from “My Name is Earl” is not anywhere to be found on the list… Hummm… One suspects that the writer of the list had a modicum of taste and discernment…

Carry on.

Greetings, loyal minions. Your Maximum Leader laughed his arse off after reading this.

Thanks to Ted for the link.

Carry on.

Greetings, loyal minions. Your Maximum Leader read that J.K. Rowling has just outed Albus Dumbledore. Yes, you read that right. The Hogwarts Headmaster is gay.

Frankly, this doesn’t change the fact that your Maximum Leader tremendously enjoyed the whole Harry Potter series. Indeed, he doesn’t really care. It doesn’t change the arch of the story for him. Your Maximum Leader does wonder if this revelation will affect other’s view of the story.

Of course, your Maximum Leader supposes that this announcement will cause a flurry of revisionism concerning how people will interpret what is (or is not) in the story.

Ah well…

Carry on.

Greetings, loyal minions. Your Maximum Leader is growing more and more scatterbrained. He is now forgetting where he first saw articles about which he is going to blog. You know… So you can attribute your sources so to speak.

Anyhoo… From the world’s greatest tabloid comes this lovely gem: We only date ugly men. Excerpt:

Slicking on another layer of lipgloss, Selena Maria slings her bag over her shoulder and struts into the bar.

A sea of dark, handsome heads turn to ogle her. Jaws drop and good-looking men raise their eyebrows or move in to offer her a drink.

But Selena walks on by. She only has eyes for one man. He’s waiting for her in a dark corner. He’s not one of the handsome guys in sharp suits. He’s not even ‘average’.

He’s bald and podgy, with a pock-marked face, and is easily the ugliest man in the room. She sidles into the chair next to him.

‘Hi, gorgeous,’ she purrs. The man’s gargoyle face breaks into a toothless smile.

The good-looking men know they don’t stand a chance.

Selena has dated her fair share of hunks, but has given up on gorgeous guys because they’re dull – both in and out of bed.

Ah… Lucky for these ladies that your Maximum Leader (and Smallholder) are both off the market. If we were not both happily married there would likely be a queue of young (hot) British chics just lining up to get their manicured paws all over us. Your Maximum Leader would probably have to beat them off with a stick…

Your Maximum Leader would like to attribute his reading of this peice to someone, but he can’t remember who… So sorry… Whoever you are out there.

And before your Maximum Leader ends this post…

Allow him to doff his bejeweled floppy (mylan) cap towards Mr Atoz over on Agent Bedhead’s site. The “tuber of doom” had your Maximum Leader rolling. He doesn’t actually follow much “news” concerning Britney Spears’ ongoing meltdown… But he will keep his eyes peeled for more from Mr Atoz on this front…

Carry on.

Greetings, loyal minions. Your Maximum Leader has gone what, a week or more, without writing a post about the dreamy Jennifer Love Hewitt? At least a week anyhow…

Well… What should your Maximum Leader read today but that the dreamy Miss Hewitt won a Saturn Award for Best Actress Science Fiction, Horror, or Fantasy Television program. Take THAT Mr and Mrs Emmy! Hah! Your silly golden statue ain’t got nuthin’ on the Saturn Award! Nuthin’

Okay… Your Maximum Leader admits that he’s never heard of the Saturn Awards until this very day. They seem to give away some shiny golden thingie. One must wonder if the star must receive the award in person, or if they can just have their housekeeper sign for it when the UPS guy delivers it after awards show airs on a Los Angeles area cable access channel.

Anyhoo… Congratulations to the very dreamy Jennifer Love Hewitt. You won a best actress award, your series was picked up for another season. Things are going well for you. They would be going better for you if you would drop your Maximum Leader a line from time to time… But hey, you must be a busy woman.

A few days ago, our friend - the delightful Mrs P - directed your Maximum Leader towards an article in the Daily Mail about the very beautiful Sophia Loren. It seems that Mrs. Loren recently attended a party for her film studio. At the party Miss Loren (or is it Mrs Ponti? - aged 72) wore a dress with a rather plunging neckline. (If you clicky on the linky you will see her in the dress.) Now some are speculating that Miss Loren (really - should she really be Mrs Ponti?) has gone under the knife the enhance her “figure.”

Frankly, your Maximum Leader doesn’t know - and frankly doesn’t much care - if Sophia Loren has had cosmetic surgery. If she has, he will admit that he doesn’t understand why she might have done so. Regardless, for over 50 years Sophia Loren has been a stunningly beautiful woman. Your Maximum Leader would (if he were single and unencumbered by family - or some would say morals) gladly submit to a date (or two) with Sophia Loren. She is a beautiful woman (and reportedly she is politically right of center - which is always a plus…). What hormonally normal man (who hasn’t taken a religious vow of some sort) wouldn’t?

And finally… It seems Maxim Magazine has come out with their list of the top 100 best looking women. Topping the list - Lindsay Lohan. (If you want to just peruse the list itself here it is.) Not appearing on the list - the dreamy Jennifer Love Hewitt (frankly neither does Sophia Loren).

To this your Maximum Leader can safely declare that whoever it is at Maxim that thinks up this list is obviously smoking crack or something… Whoever thinks up this list should also be glad that the Mike World Order (MWO) is not upon us. For if it were… That man (or woman, or group) would be dragged out and shot.

Carry on.

Greetings, loyal minions. Your Maximum Leader sees that Robbo has linked to another site and a positively salacious posting concerning the Harris guide to Covent Garden Ladies or Man of Pleasure’s Kalender. On Gail’s site (Scribal Terror) she provides some excerpts from the 1773 edition of the Harris guide.

Waaaaay back in 2003 your Maximum Leader saved an article (the thinks from The Times of London) that he planned on making into a blog post. He never did - until now that is. In late 2003 a copy of the Harris guide from 1790 was sold at auction for £5,170. At the time your Maximum Leader was able to save some published excerpts from the Harris guide of 1790. He now provides them for your reading pleasure (as it were).

MISS BROWN. No 14 Old Compton Street, Soho.

This pretty little bit of luscious stuff is not above 19. She is remarkably full-breasted for her age.

A certain gentleman was so enamoured with her pouting orbs, which before they attained their present extent he compared to two poached eggs, that he desired to cover them with two banknotes of twenty pounds each whenever he regaled himself with such a luxuriant banquet.

MISS NUNN. No 15 Compton Street.

If carroty locks create lewdness (as if believed by some) we need not wonder at this lass’s fire, she is so amply stored with it both above and below.

During your engagement you should be particularly cautious, just at the coming of the heat, not to suffer her teeth to come in contact with any tender part.

We have known a case where a gentleman lost part of his tongue upon the occasion.

MISS LIVEBON. No 32 George Street.

This lady is a daughter of fortune, having a pretty good income left her by an old flagellant whom she literally flogged out of this world.

She is happily constructed for this bizarrerie, as the French call it, being of middle size and well set together.

She never leaves off till her patient (for patient he must be in our opinion) is completely gratified.

MISS BROWN. No 9 John Street.

You have an excellent nymph to while away an hour with.

Here are youth, spirit, figure and blood to the back-bone; a good face and a fine eye!

Her mouth is rather wide; but those who have experience say this is no index, for her abilities in spermatic hydraulics are improved by an able and extensive practice.

MISS CARTFEN. No 31 York Street.

So violent is she in her passions and of so amorous a constitution, that in the arms of an equally lewd partner, she never wishes to fall in the arms of sleep.

We should therefore advise none but the most experienced, none but the truly amorous, none but those furnished with the best parts, to engage in the contest.

Come ye then metallic Hibernians, ye brawny Scots, and ye genuine beef-eating Britons, replete with health, vigour, youth and money.

MISS BETSEY HARTON. No 38 Upper Grosvenor Street.

As amorous as you could wish, five guineas.

This pleasing charmer is a native of Newcastle, and as amorous as the warmest devotee would wish.

Betsey is of a very fair complexion, beautifully formed, very chatty and an agreeable companion; she is elegant in her dress and is very active either in bed or up, and not the least tinge of vulgarity.

MISS POLLY REBFEN. No 35 Union Street, Middlesex Hospital.

Pretty, panting bubbies, one guinea.

If a stranger to Polly wishes to see her in her most engaging capacity he must take her to bed and she will soon convince him that the face is not always a proper index to the state of her parts below.

She will twine and twist, sigh and murmur, pant and glow with unfeigned emotions, and never be tired of love’s game.

MISS HANNAH BUTCHER. No 30 Queen Anne Street.

Captain R fell in the way of this sprightly Amazonian girl and soon learnt her to perform all her manoeuvres in a masterly manner, particularly bush-fighting under cover, which she will do in any position the musket can be placed in.

Her advances and retreats are performed in a very engaging manner.

She possesses in her manner a certain je ne sais quoi that makes her a very desirable piece.

MISS BROMLEY. No 1 Poland Street, Soho.

She is very good natured and is said to be thoroughly experienced in the whole art and mystery of Venus’s tactics.

In plain English she is a delightful bedfellow of about 18 years of age and well worth a couple of guineas.

MISS DIGAM. No 31, Goodge Street.

Miss Digam is rather short and inclined to be lusty.

Her complexion is dark, as are also her eyes and hair, which, added to a good set of teeth, render her an agreeable piece for the winter season to those who are not over-nice about delicacy.

It must be acknowledged that she has a little piece of the vixen in her and when she gives way to passion she can be a dangerous associate.

However, this lady can curb her temper occasionally and become very good company, especially in bed, where George S calls her the feather bed of bliss furnished with two pillows of delight.

According to the original article, Harris’ guide could be purchased at any London bookseller’s for two shillings and sixpence.

One wonders if Deborah Jeane Palfrey provided such a list to her clients….

Carry on.

Greetings, loyal minions. Your Maximum Leader was perusing a number of blogs yesterday and he chanced to read over on Christina’s (old and temporary) site a post about boobs.

Now, your Maximum Leader likes boobs as much, and perhaps more, than the next guy. But he will say that, for the most part he doesn’t understand most of the reasons women get “boob jobs.” Before we go to far here, let him say that he does understand some of the reasons to get breast augmentation… He understands the reconstructive reasons after a woman has a mastectomy. He understands all of the reasons that can be described as “restorative.” To a much lesser extent, he can see how a woman who “didn’t have anything” might get “something” (”something” that is “normal” looking).

What he really doesn’t understand are the women who’s breasts were well formed and proportioned to the rest of their bodies getting huge, giganormous, tits. And, lets be frank here… A woman who goes up to a massive rack of double-Ds didn’t get breast augmentation, or a “boob job.” She bought a set of tits. A big set.

What posesses a woman to do such a thing? Your Maximum Leader doesn’t get it. He really doesn’t. (Excursus: Okay, if one is getting a job in an industry where big tits are a selling point - and we know what those jobs are don’t we? - then he can sort of understand doing the deed.) The one’s that really - really - confuse your Maximum Leader are the women you wouldn’t associate with buying big tits. There was a wonderful woman your Maximum Leader knew once upon a time. She was about 50 (give or take 5 or so years). She was a very good looking woman. She was slim, and proportional. She was gone for about two weeks one summer and came back with huge hooters. She probably went from a nice “B” to a very ample “D.” It was, in your Maximum Leader’s opinion at least, a huge mistake. He never spoke to her about it. But he would have liked to know what got into her. (So to speak.)

Other things your Maximum Leader doesn’t fully comprehend that some women do…

1) Tattoos. Your Maximum Leader can generally forgive one small tattoo on a shoulder, or calf. But, beyond that they become very slutty. He particularly doesn’t understand the “tramp stamp” as a young friend of his once referred to the tattoo found along the small of the back over the buttocks. Now that warm weather is returning to the mid-atlantic states, your Maximum Leader is noticing many more “tramp stamps” than he wants to.

2) Gaudy piercings. Your Maximum Leader says “gaudy” because these are piercings that cry out “Look at me and be shocked!” Your Maximum Leader has grown to accept up to two piercings of the earlobe area. It took a long time, but he can handle that now. Piercings of the ear not found in the earlobe are out of bounds. A nose piercing can be overlooked - in a pinch - if the object in the nose is small and unobtrusive (a rare case - but one that is out there). Once the nose piercing rises up more than a milimeter or two off the surface of the nose it becomes gaudy. Your Maximum Leader believes every other piercing is right out.

3) Multiple Liposuctions. Your Maximum Leader once knew a lovely young woman in Dallas who cheerfully told him one day that she was taking time off to have liposuction done to her thighs, and tummy. This young woman was 25 years old. After a few follow-on questions, your Maximum Leader discovered that this particular liposuction would be her third (her first was at 16, her second at 20). Try diet and exercise…

4) Colored contact lenses. Your Maximum Leader doesn’t understand (men or) women who have colored contact lenses. It could be that the one’s he’s seen may not be fitted right - or just have really unnatural color. But they all look hideous. He once read an article about how some people were getting contact lenses that had advertisements on them. That would really be right out.

Those are the things that immediately pop into his mind… Your Maximum Leader reserves the right to revise and extend his comments.

Carry on.

Greetings, loyal minions. Your Maximum Leader had a wonderful day yesterday with Villainette #1 and her fellow 4th Graders on a class field trip to Jamestown, VA. If you’ve not ever been and are in the area, your Maximum Leader heartilly recommends a visit.

Your Maximum Leader, as he alluded earlier in the week, has lots on his plate. He may (or more likely) may not post again until next week. In the mean while…

A belated Happy Blogoversary to the Crack Young Staff of The Hatemonger’s Quarterly. As you know, your Maximum Leader sometimes guest-weblogs over on THQ. It is the best gig in all the interwebs frankly. Many happy returns. (NB to “Chip:” if you happen to make a video of the “Ethical Sluthood” seminar, please forward a copy to your Maximum Leader. He needs it for “reference” purposes.

An undisturbed Roman-era tomb in Greece was just discovered. Your Maximum Leader can’t wait for pictures of the gold, adornments, and other sundries the archeologists have unearthed.

Remains found at Rouen, France are not those of Saint Joan of Arc. They were in fact those of a mummified human and cat from Egypt.

And lastly… A veteran was really harmed by the Veterans Administration. Headline says it all. VA patient has wrong testicle removed.

May you all have a safe and peaceful remainder of Holy Week and Easter.

Carry on.

Greetings, loyal minions. Your Maximum Leader saw an interesting little article over on Yahoo. It was an assortment of little (probably unscientific) factoids about American’s attitudes towards breaking up.

Now… Allow him to state for the record, your Maximum Leader is a happily married fellow. He would never “break up” with Mrs Villain. Indeed, he feels very strongly about this. Perhaps it is his Catholic upbringing coming to the fore on this. But your Maximum Leader has been very clear that he would rather live in wedded misery than divorce. Indeed, if it ever came to it, he would dedicate his life to making Mrs Villain’s life as miserable as possible - without getting divorced.

He might consider an annulment. Might… He worries about the bastardization of children…

But this is just idle chatter, because on a scale of 1 to 10 with 1 being suicidal misery and 10 being perfect bliss; your Maximum Leader is pretty sure his marriage is a 9.3. That is rather exact measurement he knows. But from time to time your Maximum Leader and his lovely (and loving) wife don’t see eye to eye on things… That would account for the .7 deduction.

Anyhoo…

Your Maximum Leader was surprised at some of the Yahoo entry’s factoids…

Before breaking up 31 percent would spend one last night of hurrah together. A night of “hurrah?” Humm… Could this be a coded use of “hurrah” that your Maximum Leader hasn’t seen before? He thinks it is. He’s used all sorts of euphemisms for conjugation - as it were. But “hurrah” has never - ever - been one of them. Your Maximum Leader will also speculate that 92.2 percent of that 31 percent are male.

About 50 percent of daters give people three o five dates before they decide how they feel (though West Coasters tend to judge a little quicker). Humm… Three to five dates? Does that seem like enough? What type of dates are we talking about? Meeting for coffee? Dinner? Movies? Dancing? Your Maximum Leader wonders. If you meet for coffee say you spend an hour together. One imagines that you will be talking for most of that one hour. But let us say you go out dancing… Even if you go out dancing for three hours will you talk with the person for a whole hour? Of course West Coasters are quicker to decided. One wonders if Bobgirrl is giving her future ex-husbands enough time?

Men are quicker than women to consider their date to be their girlfriend/boyfriend. Especially men in their 40s. 16 percent of men vs. 8 percent of women consider their date their boyfriend/girlfriend after three to five dates. Men on the West Coast are significantly more likely than other men to have exclusivity before considering someone their boyfriend/girlfriend. Your Maximum Leader isn’t sure what to to think of this one. 3-5 dates. One supposes that if it takes 3-5 dates to decide if you have “feelings” for someone then it should take 4-6 dates before you declare that your are boyfriend/girlfriend. Don’t you think? Really now… If you make up your mind on date 5 that you have “good feelings” for someone wouldn’t you then require one more date to firm things up?

A disturbing factoid on which to end this post…

After breaking up, 23 percent will cut him/her out of all their photos. Are 23 percent of people that pyscho? Really now… This bit seems a little too OCD for your Maximum Leader to buy. For goodness sakes… If you only had 4-6 dates how many photos could you have? If you dated for years… How long would that take? This seems quite odd in fact. Your Maximum Leader just can’t imagine wanting to take the time to do all the cutting…

Single people are welcome to drop your Maximum Leader a line and describe their favorite break-up stories… If you are single, female, and take a shine to the Maximum Leaderly type - feel free to send photos of you and your ex. Then feel free to go on over to the Naked Villainy store and buy yourself a sexy camisole and matching thong. Then take a photo of yourself wearing your Naked Villainy apparel and e-mail it to the ex. It will empower you and make them feel miserable for having lost such a catch… (Also… Copy your Maximum Leader on that message…)

Carry on.