Why the Dirty Librarian thing?

It's not just me. Men, all over the world, love the Dirty Librarian. This has been proven. There have been studies. The Dirty librarian is a crowd pleaser. Her white blouse, buttons straining. The tight skirt. The stockings, with garter belt. Hair up in a bun that, you just know, will come down if one of you pulls out the right appliance. The glasses. Oh god, the glasses. Hopefully, she'll keep them on. The glasses, the garter belt, and the stockings. This is what a man wants to see spread out before him, like the perfect Vegas buffet. The girl, the glasses, the garter, and the stockings.

Mmmmm.

This isn't something new, either. Dirty Librarian has been around for a while, and we've got the tattoos to prove it. Even the action figure, while not quite Barbie when it comes to what's filling her plastic sweater, holds a special place in our hearts when it come time for G.I. Joe to drop trou' and get with the Kung Fu Action Grip.

Women love that we love her. They may scoff at our fetish, or even claim ignorance of our bibliotic obsession, but secretly they're pleased. This wanton longing for the smart girl gives them hope. Perhaps we aren't complete Neanderthals. If they realized as they raised their fingers, pursed their lips, and begin to blow, what passes through the minds off all men, they would never stop slapping us.

Ironically, delicious tales of the Dirty Librarian can be found even in her seductive fantasy land, where quietly, oh so quietly, she is going to stamp your card, and rock your world.

That Fat Bastard's Topless Casino.

It was a good idea. Start a topless online casino. My only obstacle was lack of capital, and that's what poker is for. Sure, it would be nice to live in a small, entrepreneur-friendly, Caribbean republic, but that's just the bitter talking. There had to be a way.

As for "topless", what's the point otherwise? Seriously, everybody has got a casino. There's no point in playing the game unless you can provide, top quality, high class, entertainment. And, everyone knows, when you're talking high class quality, what you're really saying is topless, cartoon, blackjack dealers.

Then I found it. The Solution. Let some other guy run the games. I'll just customize the casino, run it from above, like James Caan in Las Vegas, only taller. And fatter. Soon, naked, cartoon croupiers would rule the world.

Alas, it was not to be. Not yet, anyway.

The software I found lacks the naked vixens that dance mercilessly through the cuckolds of my mind. In fact, I have yet to find anything larger then a hand, perhaps a forearm. Far to little flesh to practice my wiles upon. Then again, the Craps game is a nice place to try out systems without having to deal with drunks and poseurs, and the Pai Gao Poker doesn't suck. The minimum buy in is low, so I don't have to break the bank. The Match was there as soon as I made my deposit, no waiting.

So I made a fancy opening page, and stuck a couple of cartoon naked chicks in it. I mean, really, you might as well get an eyeful on the way in the door. Didn't feel right. Too green.

So I blogged it. Kept the naked chicks, of course, but otherwise I blogged it.

It's still a good idea.