Okay, So I Gathered a Few Photos, Below…

To call Denise Milani sexy is to say that Michelangelo was just some local guy who painted ceilings for a few extra bucks. Guys, this woman is the pinnacle in “stinkin” hot” and while I am an avid fan of cougars of the elder variety, I would gladly spend an evening or ten hanging with the woman who puts the B into buxom – and bossoms and breasts, boobs, bongos, and behemoth boulders.

Denise was born in the Czech Republic and now resides in sunny California, where at 5’ 4’’ her whopping 32 triple DDD’s can be confused for various mountains that protrude from the Golden State. Her bra is like the world’s largest piñata, filled with enough sweet candy to satisfy a party in Yankee Stadium. (I’d like to crack my stick at that.) At 29 years old it may have taken a while for her to gain recognition, but the gal is popping up (and out) all over, and we at Planet Zman just thought it was the right thing to do by sharing a few photos of this titanic topped bombshell.

Not only is Denise known for her sweater bombs, but that gorgeous face, sultry eyes, and alluring smile can cast a spell on men that no mere Siren could accomplish. Put the whole package together and this girl is stunning and will no doubt become a known name in modeling. I really don’t know why I’m writing this drivel as there is no doubt that you are glomming at the photos and have actually forgotten how to talk for a few brief moments.

Hey Denise… careful over there, you’re gonna put somebody’s eye out.

- ZMAN

Shwing! What more can a guy really say?

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A Couple of Asian American Meltdowns

In a horrible economy where new cars aren’t selling at all, it’s un-fathomable that a leading automaker like Toyota could f@#k up so severely. To this date they have recalled 8 million cars with severe accelerator problems, a load of Prius green-mobiles with brake problems, Tacoma pick-ups, and now a potential recall of half a million Camry’s. Somebody break out the Saki cause there’s a meltdown going on in the land of the rising sun.

But hold on to your bandannas, Tojo, because today a little bombshell came down the Tokyo expressway amidst the already massive heap of collateral damage. In an article on today’s AOL’s Daily Finance page, the following has been reported…

Several media sources report that an internal Toyota document from July 2009 entitled, “Wins for Toyota Safety Group,” says the firm saved $100 million by convincing the NHTSA to limit an accelerator recall to 55,000 Lexus and Camry models. The Wall Street Journal reports that, “The Toyota document, by linking safety issues to corporate profits, could prompt difficult questions for company executives, including President Akio Toyoda, who is scheduled to testify Wednesday before the Oversight Panel.”

And while we’re on the subject of f@#k-ups…

Tiger Woods, you lying, sack of shit. Your apology was calculated and crafted, and written by professional spin masters you paid dearly to save you beaver-toothed ass. And please tell me this… why are you apologizing to me? What the hell do I give a rat’s 5-iron about your pathetic ego trip and sexual escapades. Okay, so you’re getting it a lot more than me. You’re worth a hundred million bucks, bro, and you could get anyone you wanted (can’t figure out that fat, haggy-ass waitress, though. I mean you have a Swedish super model for a wife… God, men are such idiots.)

Read the rest of my story by clicking right here at@ www.jrcigarblogs.com

Miami, Fla., February 22, 2010 – Camacho Cigars has been chosen as the official cigar for the Academy Awards Style Lounge, in honor of The 82^nd Annual Academy Awards. The Academy Awards Style Lounge produced by Secret Room Events, in conjunction with City of Hope^TM, will be held at the luxurious Intercontinental Hotel in Beverly Hills on Saturday, March 6^th, 2010.

Camacho Cigars will be presenting an assortment of their ultra-premium cigars to talent and executives. “Camacho Cigars is proud to be a part of the Academy Awards Style Lounge,” said Dylan Austin, Director of Marketing for Camacho Cigars. “We are excited to be aligning Camacho Cigars with the Oscars, and to be part of this grand celebration in honor of the 82^nd Annual Academy Awards.

For more information about Camacho Cigars, please visit www.camachocigars.com.

About Camacho Cigars:

Founded in 1961 by Simon Camacho, Camacho Cigars® was acquired by the Eiroa family in 1995. Now part of the Oettinger Davidoff Group, Camacho Cigars® is one of the key players in the international cigar market. The flagship Camacho brand, made at Rancho Jamastran in Danli, Honduras, is comprised of 11 premium and super-premium line extensions: (Super-Premium: Diploma, 10th Anniversary Corojo, Liberty Series, Triple Maduro™, Select)(Premium: Corojo, Connecticut, Coyolar, Havana, SLR and Room101). Camacho Cigars also has 7 core brands, including Baccarat The Game, America’s #1 selling premium cigar. www.camachocigars.com

By Larry Winget

Best selling author Larry Winget has a new book and it’s not only his best work to date – it’s the most important book you might ever read. Yeah, those are some pretty strong words and rightfully so. But today, his message is very black & white.

Some of you have really had your blood pressure soar about my black and white approach to self-improvement, finances, parenting and life in general. You have pointed out that there are several areas that really are gray when it comes to life. No kidding? Thanks for pointing that out to me. I had NO IDEA that was the case. How could I know that? I have never had a problem or faced with a challenge. I have never raised teenagers, had money issues, been married or divorced, held a job, managed people, driven down the street, eaten out, bought anything, had a bill, or had to make a tough decision. Never. None of those things. I have lived a completely sheltered life in a cave blessed with only positive thoughts and outcomes. I have attracted all of my success through The Secret and The Law Of Attraction. I have never had a real life facing all of the things real people face and I honestly had no idea that life had any gray areas.

Come on folks, I know life if full of gray areas. It’s just that I think we have all become way too comfortable living in those gray areas. Gray areas used to be little tiny corners we could escape to in order to justify our stupid actions and results. Now the gray areas are everywhere! Our homes, our businesses, our government, our society, our grocery stores, in our books, and all over our televisions. Our leaders spew gray and drape it red, white and blue. Things are so gray that when someone actually draws a line and paints one side black and the other side white, it bothers the hell out of people! We have become comfortable and embraced the gray areas way too much and shied away from the uncomfortable realities of black and white. I want people to begin to think more in terms of black and white. Right or wrong. Good or bad. People need to understand they are either doing enough or they aren’t doing enough. We need to recognize we are either giving our best or we aren’t. You are either on the way, or you are in the way. You are either living within your means or you aren’t.  It’s either the truth or it’s a lie.

It’s easier to live in the black and white world. That’s why I am so confused by those who love the gray area so much. When faced with a decision, you just make it quickly based on whether it is the right thing to do or the wrong thing to do. You don’t have to wallow in it, meditate on it, study it, consider it, hold a focus group, or take a vote. You DO the right thing.

Why? Because you can. All it takes is some guts. A backbone. A pair.

You will be criticized for it. Trust me, I know. Who cares? You will be given grief at work for kissing up by doing your job when others are slacking. Tell them to kiss off. Your friends will give you crap about being too tough on your kids. They will laugh at you for saying no to spending money when you know you can’t afford it. They will ridicule you for not taking the easy road when you know you should take the right road. Those people are not your friends, dump them. Now. And never look back.

Do the right thing in your life every time to the best of your ability. You won’t be perfect at it. I’m certainly not. I mess up every day and slip and slide around in the gray area, just like everyone else. But every day, I remind myself I can do a little better; take more of a stand for what I know is right and take action on it. That’s all it takes: a decision to do it, a willingness to take action, the humility to admit you aren’t doing your best, the honestly to confront yourself for it, and the willingness to keep on doing what you know is right regardless of the consequences.

Yep, that’s it: it’s black or white.

Visit Larry’s website @ www.larrywinget.com

Larry’s new book is available at all the major bookstores and online retailers.

By Izzy Jaecks

For those of you guys who love the loaf but don’t cook, Izzy Jaecks brings us a recipe that even a primate could make…

Because everything’s better with bacon, a recipe to put a smile on that grizzly face…

I don’t cook beyond heating things.  I don’t even have a grill (or anywhere to use one) so if something is easy enough to ME to make, it’s easy enough for just about anyone to make.  There is almost no measuring to this, and I came up with the recipe just walking around the grocery store trying to think what would be good in meatloaf…. I call it “whole meal” because adding spinach and oatmeal make this a pretty balanced meal all in itself (I like one dish meals).  So I present my Stupid-Proof, Whole Meal Meatloaf:

2 lbs ground beef

1 can chopped tomatoes, mostly drained

8 oz fresh mushrooms, chopped

10 oz package of frozen spinach (thawed…)

3 raw eggs

1 packet soup mix

2 cups “old fashioned” oatmeal

And of course, the very best part of all… one entire package of delicious bacony flavored bacon!

The proportions are what you can find pre-packaged, and even the oatmeal you can just toss in a couple handfuls instead of measuring exactly. Mix it all together in no particular order, stuff it into a bread pan, weave bacon strips across the top and bake it for about an hour and a half at 375.  If there is any leftover mix that didn’t fit into the bread pan, just fry it up like a burger patty.

Variations:   use different kinds of ground meat – turkey, veal, pork… add cheese…

Trust me, you won’t need ketchup, it’s awesome all by itself—and DAMN it’s great as leftovers and sandwiches with some melted cheddar. After I make it I cut it up, chuck it into the freezer, and take pieces to work for lunch. Hey, I’d share some with your guys, but the Zman just devoured the whole pan full!

- Izzy

By Tommy Z.

Our very own Tommy Z reminisces about the plight of the Man’s Man. A while back, our fearless leader sat with tough-guy actor and Sopranos star Frank Vincent for his views on the subject.

I remember way back to when I was a very young child, my dad used the term “Man’s Man.” He spoke of guys like Sinatra, Bogart and Charlton Heston, Unitas, YA Tittle, Dimaggio, Mantle, Gordie Howe and Bobby Hull. They were “real” men – guys with character who exuded masculinity and had a certain edge about them. Back then it was definitely cool and you were looked up to if you embodied these qualities. But over the years, the politically correct do-gooders of society have almost forcefully eradicated this term and category of the male species. The great fear is that groups of people who do not fit that type of image such as effeminate men or homosexuals, geeks, nerds, and pocket calculator carrying brainiacs will feel excluded and take great offense – God knows, we just can’t have that. And one of the newest terms in our society coined by British journalist, Mark Simpsom is the much talked about metrosexual. On salon.com in July of 2002, Simpson was quoted as saying, “The typical metrosexual is a young man with money to spend, living in or within easy reach of a metropolis — because that’s where all the best shops, clubs, gyms and hairdressers are. He might be officially gay, straight or bisexual, but this is utterly immaterial because he has clearly taken himself as his own love object and pleasure as his sexual preference.”

Wow… this is the new cool? WTF happened to “Ah’ll be bock?”

The near extinction of the Man’s Man is a direct result of the agenda ridden crusaders of P.C. If it offends just one person, let’s give it the broad-brush treatment so that everyone can be happy and gay! I for one am sick of this mentality and was driven by an inner calling to stand up in the name of Men’s Men everywhere (kind of like when your sack is ready to bust because you have to pee really bad in the middle of the night). With all this talk of metrosexuals and the Queer Eye perspective, Men’s Men have become relegated to fourth-class citizenship facing certain extinction – that is, if we don’t stand up and make ourselves be heard.

One bona fide “real” man who whole-heartedly agrees with me wrote a book on the subject. Tough guy actor Frank Vincent, (the infamous Billy Batts in Goodfellas who told Joe Pesci to go home and get his fuckin’ shinebox, Casino, Raging Bull, and most recently psycho bastard, Phil Leotardo, Johnny Sack’s #2 man in the Sopranos) released a literary classic that should be owned by every living, breathing fan of this blog. ‘A Guy’s Guide to Being a Man’s Man’ is a fun, informative, and often times tongue-in-cheek look at what it takes for a guy to be a part of this esteemed classification. A while back I sat down with Frank for lunch and cigars and we talked about his theories behind the book.

I asked Frank point blank, what is the definition of the quintessential man’s man: “It’s a man who has dignity and respect – especially respect for women,” he noted, “And, he also displays the qualities of honor and loyalty. He must have self-respect and respect for others. Those are the assets that make up a real man’s man.”

One thing that Frank and I agree upon is that you don’t have to smoke cigars, drink, curse, surf porn sites or participate in dwarf-tossing competitions in order to be considered a real man (although, those activities do tend to heighten the testosterone levels significantly). There’s no requirement to know the lyrics to the Monty Python Lumberjack Song, and you need not physically transform yourself from the 98-pound weakling into the Charles Atlas prototype, as in the old comic book advertisements. So what then? Quite simply, it is more about an attitude – the way you think and the way you carry yourself. It’s really about who you are inside.

Guys – I say it’s time we show an outward pride in being real men. I really mean it. I say enough is enough, to the suffocating stranglehold of political correctness and those who perpetuate its inherent dangers. We have the constitutional right to speak our minds freely without persecution. If you don’t believe in same sex marriage that does not instantly qualify you as a queer hating homophobe. It makes you a person who has his own set of beliefs and choices. If you want to hunt, fish or wear a fur hat, it does not make you a murderer. If you want to surf the internet for porno sites, well, just make sure your history cache is deleted afterwards. (Those pop-up windows certainly do get a little hairy at times.) And if you choose to sit around all day Sunday in your underwear, watching football, scratching your boys, and sucking down Busch Light in cans… well, your wife is right – you are a lazy goddamned bastard. But gently remind her that it still doesn’t make you a homophobe.

Being Men’s Men doesn’t mean acting like sex-crazed, beer-swilling, Homer Simpson-esque Barbarians. In fact, it’s quite the opposite. Like Frank Vincent says, it’s about self-respect, honor and loyalty. And I’d say those are some pretty admirable qualities. I asked Frank, what final words he had for all the politically correct zealots who demand that we conform to their mediocre, metrosexual, smoke free, low-carb, un-opinionated, off-white, milquetoast world? He just smiled and said, “Very simple; do YOUR thing – but PLEASE show some tolerance and let other people do THEIR thing. Mind your own business and whatever you do; don’t infringe on my space.”

Well put my friend. I’ll light up a Hoyo Excaliber on that note.

And remember… If guns kill people, then spoons made Rosie O’donnell fat.

- ZMAN

By Jonathan Perlow, Courthouse News Service

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(CN) – A Cuban government-owned tobacco company won its 12-year legal battle to stop a U.S. cigar producer from using the Cohiba name and trademark in the United States. A federal judge in Manhattan once again backed up Cubatabaco, which accused General Cigar of “exploiting the reputation and goodwill of the Cuban Cohiba.”

Cohibas are among the world’s most famous and sought-after cigars, and were originally produced exclusively for Fidel Castro.

U.S. District Judge Robert W. Sweet barred General Cigar from using the Cohiba name in the United States, but allowed it to keep using the name on its Dominican-made cigars, pending appeal.

Judge Sweet said his most recent opinion was “nearly identical” to his previous finding that General Cigar Holdings had tried “to plagiarize the mark” and engaged in “intentional copying.”

His decision was reversed by the 2nd Circuit, which dismissed the federal claims, saying the embargo between the two countries barred the Cuban company from acquiring property in the United States, including trademarks.

The U.S. Supreme Court declined to hear the case.

But when New York’s highest court clarified its position on what constituted unfair competition, Cubatabaco’s state law case was back on. The New York Court of Appeals found that “bad faith” wasn’t necessary to prove unfair competition by appropriation, only that “deliberate copying” had taken place.
Cubatabaco argued that on the cusp of the 1992 cigar boom, General Cigar selected the “Cohiba” name for a new line of premium cigars “in order to exploit the reputation and goodwill of the Cuban Cohiba,” according to the ruling.

Judge Sweet agreed, and said the U.S. company’s choice was “in part to capitalize on the success of the Cuban Cohiba brand and especially the good ratings and notoriety that it had received in Cigar Aficionado,” a magazine for cigar enthusiasts.

The debut issue of the magazine proclaimed Cohibas to be Cuba’s finest cigars, in an article called “The Legend of Cohiba.”

Cubatabaco further claimed that the Cohiba name was protected under the Lanham Act by the “well-known marks” doctrine, even though the company held no U.S. trademarks.

Judge Sweet agreed that this was the case, but said Cubatabaco’s challenge of the Cuban Asset Control Regulations was obsolete after the state court’s ruling.

“The New York Court of Appeals held that plaintiff could be entitled to relief against use of its foreign mark if it could establish deliberate copying and secondary meaning, even though the plaintiff had no U.S. trademark rights,” Sweet wrote.

“For certain kinds of cases … goodwill can, and does, cross state and national boundary lines.”

In the early 50’s famed artist George Petty drew and airbrushed the pin-up girls for Ridgid Tools popular calendars. According to the ASIFA Animation Hollywood Animation website:

George Petty was one of the top “cheesecake” illustrators of the 30s and 40s. He began his career with a series of cartoons featuring beautiful girls and their far from handsome beaus. His work coined the term “Petty Girls” to describe the carefully airbrushed girls with brilliant smiles and sexy poses. He left Esquire, to be replaced by Alberto Vargas who we will be featuring here soon, and became a freelance commercial artist. His girls soon ended up gracing magazine ads and calendars for such unlikely products as Tung-Sol Radio Tubes and the aptly named, Ridgid Tools.

Being a huge fan of nostalgia and retro stuff, I love this calendar art and so will you. An interesting note about the artist… He grew up working in his dad’s photography studio where airbrushing was common in the business, but not at all in illustration – until he applied the medium to drawings like these making Petty the pioneer of the technique for illustrators who followed.

Scroll down and check ‘em out…just gorgeous stuff!

VOTE FOR YOUR FAVORITE!

Tell us who happens to be your favorite RIDGID chick from years back. While March 1953 is incredibly suggestive for it’s day, I think November 1952 would have threaded my pipe with the most precision!

- Zman

You Got a Problem Wit Dat?

Yeah, I do. It’s sucks. It’s boring. And I’m really pissed because nobody’s gettin’ whacked. I was a Sopranos junkie… and for those of you who have never watched or followed the show, this is what life is now like for those of us who lived for the monumental series. On June 11, 2007, HBO aired the final episode of it’s all-time biggest hit, The Sopranos, and ever since then, Sunday nights without Tony, Carmela, Chris, Paulie, and Silvio just ain’t right.

Maybe you don’t like violence? Maybe you deplore gangsters. Maybe you’re the effeminate type and dig Desperate Houswives? Or maybe you’re just a cheap f@#k who won’t spend the coin for HBO? Whatever the reason, you’ve missed out on some of the finest acting and storylines the television world has ever known. The HBO series, which first aired in January of 1999, has become the most prolific drama in the history of television. In TV Guide’s list of the 50 Greatest Shows All-time, The Sopranos ranks number five, behind four legendary comedies: 1. Seinfeld, 2. Lucy, 3. The Honeymooners, and 4. All in the Family. It’s the highest rated cable series ever, and the only cable-show to win the Emmy for Outstanding Drama Series.

For some weirdo reason, perfectly nice everyday honest hard-working citizens were romantically addicted to the exploits of this brutal and violent crime family. Wonderful, law-abiding citizens worldwide were simply enamoured with Tony Soprano and his cast of goombas.“How in God’s name can you like that show?” I have been often asked. “Those people are are thieves, bullies, thugs, con men, philanderers, drug dealers, and ruthless, murdering psychopaths… yet, you love them? WTF?”

Again, for those of you who have never watched the series, for some unexplainable and disturbing reason …we could relate to them. SAY WHAT?! I know that sounds bizarre, but listen to me. The reason that regular everyday folks could relate to these people was because Tony and his family let you into their home and personal family lives. They didn’t live behind iron gates like the Corleones – they lived in suburban northern New Jersey, where mob boss Tony himself strolled down his driveway each and every morning to pick up the Newark Star Ledger. And that is where the brilliance of show creator David Chase comes in. He made them real people with real foibles and phobias. They may be Mafioso by day, but by night they return to their true families and face everyday issues like running a home, raising their kids, investing, paying taxes, dealing with prejudice, and caring for their health. In the past, mobsters were bigger than life as they gunned down their enemies in a blaze of bullets and fire on the silver screen. Tony Soprano visits his son’s guidance counselor, hosts family barbeques, protects his loved ones from a recurring black bear, and drives his daughter to visit a quaint New England college. (But of course while Meadow is visiting the campus, he crosses paths with an ex-mobster in the witness protection program – a guy who ratted – and Tony brutally strangles him with his bare hands. Gotta kill time somehow.)

There’s no denying whatsoever that the Sopranos are an abomination – a psychologically disturbed, ethically bankrupt, spiritually void gene pool. But, fans like myself are obsessed with their lives, and we love them unconditionally – as if they were of our own flesh and blood. When nine o’clock struck on Sunday nights and that magical, hypnotic theme song by the band A3 began to play… Bum, ba bum, bum, bum, wa wa wa…”Woke up this morning and got your self a gun…” like one of Pavlov’s dogs, I’d prop up in front of the TV in a semi-lathered state as Tony drove through the Jersey side of the Lincoln Tunnel, lighting his cigar, pulling the Turnpike ticket from the booth, cruising past, Pizzaland, Satriale’s Pork Store, and the rows of refinery tanks in lovely Newark. For the next 60 minutes, you couldn’t help but become are a blood sworn Soprano.

And now…Sunday nights are a bore. No pre-show pasta and canolis. No cigars with red wine. No hearing the F-word sixty-some odd times within an hour. Nobody getting shot, strangled, beaten, flogged, shoveled, maimed or curbed. No dead go-go dancers, burned up racehorses, pony-tailed assassins, or severed heads in a bowling ball bag… nothin’. Just boring ol’ Sunday night, sitting around with the loved ones.

How uncivilized.

- Zman