Some kind of strange and unexplainable primal forces are at work when the cleavage is exposed. When a man’s eyes make contact, our breath turns to short little panting noises as a pleasant warmth begins to develop in the nether region. Remember the Seinfeld episode where George stares at the NBC executive’s daughter’s low hanging fruit? Jerry says they are like giant and powerful magnets to the eyes with an effect much like Kryptonite has upon Superman.

Once again, it cannot be explained by mere rationale, but when the globes are in orbit, our eyes MUST make contact. Whether they are small and firm, or large, round and jiggly, it does not matter…we HAVE TO look! We HAVE TO. It’s like some unwritten law in the ancient records, scribed on the walls of the Mayan Temples. The luscious valley between the mighty peaks grips a man’s being much like the Sirens who seduced Homer in the Iliad and the Odyssey. Its spell is intoxicating driving a normal man to the very brink of childish behavior, not to mention – utter stupidity (or is that udder stupidity?)

We males have become masters of our craft. We have studied this vertical space of flesh and nothingness and have learned how to catch that sacred glimpse of nirvana at the perfect time. We look the female in the eyes, smile as we talk, nodding as if we are actually listening to a word the shrew is saying. It’s a peek of the holy grails that we are after and nothing will stop our valiant quest. We use cunning and guile to move their attention elsewhere – and the moment their eyes turn, OUR eyes dive in for the kill.

“Oh, look… that kitten must be lost.” We say with an innocent yet sinister glow.

“Oh, where?” she says, as her head moves about.

“Over yonder, in the bushes” you point, as your pupils all but burn a hole into her chest.

“Where?” she asks, “I don’t see a… um, what are you looking at?”

SNAGGED! You have been snagged! She begins to change the subject while awkwardly tugging her blouse upwards. As she continues to talk, you sit there like a fool – a large pulsating letter “L” is emblazoned upon your forehead as the beauty that once was is buried six miles deep in cotton and polyester fibers.

This previous action on the part of the female, I do not understand, as it confuses the male species here and abroad. Let me explain. A woman wears a shirt or sweater that by her choice, is low cut, as her ta-tas are in full display for all the world to gander. They’re swingin’ high and low, loose and free, giving the male populous the joy we so richly deserve. Yet the moment our woman – this teasing harlot – notices where our eyes are fixed, she folds her arms or grabs the nearest Cosmo to cover up those mountains of grandeur. UNFAIR I say!

I, the Zman, speak on behalf of heterosexual men everywhere on this wretched planet. Women, take heed. When you “CHOOSE” to wear a low cut top that exposes your upper region, DO NOT act so alarmed when we men are gazed upon your earthly beauty. Why do you wear such attire if you do not wish for us to stare? Why do you purposely dress so provocatively, yet cover up the moment we sneak a peek? I’ll be honest, ladies… since my early manhood this phenomena has really irked me to no end. You put the sale rack up on display, but when an interested shopper passes by, the curtains are drawn and the shop is closed. Again, UNFAIR I say!

I have to admit that this very horrid plight happened to me only today and I could not go another moment without speaking up for my fellow man. I was taken aback as my character was unfairly thrown into question. This was rude, degrading, and unjust in every way.

I’m telling you, there really was a lost kitten in the bushes. I swear.

- Zman

A while back we talked about the ten things you NEVER say to a guy – written by of course a chick without a friggin clue because of one major detail…SHE THINKS LIKE A CHICK!

Well, today I have the list of TEN Things that WE WISH (oh a tall wish indeed) our women would say to us! Can you imagine if they thought like this? Wow, would we all have a better world to live in…

#1 – What time is the football game on?
“I only ask, honey, because I’ll take some of the yard work off your hands – and then I’ll go out for a while – umm, probably giving you enough time until the post game show over. Oh yeah, chili is on the stove and cold beer is in the fridge. And I hope the Giants tear Dallas a new ass!”

#2 – Would You Mind If My Two Smoking Hot Divorced Friends, Sandy and Kelly Come Over and Have Some Drinks With Us Tonight?
“Honey, it would be such a thoughtful thing to do. Those two have been so lonely and do they ever need companionship. Hey, we can break out that vodka that gets you drunker than hell. I don’t remember a thing from the last time we drank that stuff. Plus they have got to be the sexiest women I know with kids – especially after the boob jobs. Please, baby, I’ll make it up to you.”

#3 – Damn It Babe, When the Hell Was the Last Time You Golfed?
“I can’t remember the last time you played a good round with your buddies. What the hell, Man, I didn’t buy you those Pings so you could just do work all the time. And I don’t give a shit what a weekend round costs – your sanctity of mind is what’s important. Oh by the way…here’s a few Montecristos. Those should last you through the day.

#4 – I Bought the Kids Movie Tickets for Tonight So We Can Crawl in the Hot Tub and Hump
“You cool with that?”

#5 – I Know the Economy Sucks and All, but God Dayum, You Would Look So Hot Driving a New Corvette!
You know honey, maybe it’s time I started showing you off a little. I mean I know I take you for granted sometimes and I couldn’t be luckier to have you as a husband. Just go to Chevy’s website and check out the 2011 Vette page. If I have to take a part-time job to help with the financing – well, it’s the least I can do.”

#6 – Do You Mind If We Watch Some Porn Tonight?
“Reality TV just sucks lately and I know how much you love those Cougar on Cougar scenes. Btw, there’s a large can of whipped cream in the fridge that I just picked up from Costco.”

#7 – You Know How I Told You That You Don’t Play Enough Golf?…
Well you sure as hell don’t play enough POKER, either. I mean really… when was the last time to you and your pals had a killer evening of Hold ‘Em? Tell you what, I’ll pick up a few cases, make a load of sandwiches, and wait up until you’re stinkin’ drunk.”

#8 – If I was bi-sexual, which of my friends would you like to see me with?
“Now I’m not saying that it’s gonna happen, but could you just do me a favor and let me know your opinion on this one? And don’t be shy about it.”

#9 – You Know – Call Me Crazy, But We REALLY Should Turn the Spare Bedroom Into a Walk-In Humidor.
“I know, where will our guests sleep? But, your cigars CAN’T be getting the right humidity just stuffed in all of those little boxes you’ve got them in. Come on – be practical here. You’ve spent a lot of money on all those things – especially the Cubans and the Anniversarios – and the last thing you want is for them to go to shit. I already looked on line and it’s not too hard to do, plus that cedar smell is intoxicating. Use your head, here.”

#10 – All Right – We’ll Compromise…
“We’ll divide the room in half…Half will be a walk-in humidor and the other half will be a man-cave for watching sports and smoking all those friggin stogies. The flat screen and surround sound is a given…but do you think a pool table will fit? You’re Okay with this…right? I know it’s kind of selfish on my part, but I love when you crawl into the sack all stinking like a JR Ultimate Maduro.”

Wow…if there truly is a God, this will happen some day. One day, we will all be Kings again… oh yes, we WILL be kings again.

- ZMAN

As my son has just hit 14 year’s of age – on his way to earning his Mancard – I’ve noticed his interest in girls getting more and more obvious. Each morning before school he hoses himself down with AXE body spray, and when mixed with Fritos for lunch it makes for an interesting middle-school aphrodisiac. Plus he’s doing a lot of Myspace messaging back and forth with the young ladies, which I say, “kudos little dude.”

I was trying to remember my earliest feelings for the opposite sex and it was probably in first grade where I sat in front of Kathy Werbin’s house one Saturday morning for about four hours waiting for her to come outside. I remember my heart pounding, wondering what I would say when we’d hook up. (It’s uncanny how woman make guys do brutally stupid shit – even at six years old.) Finally my patience paid off as she appeared from her garage – and man she was hot – even back then I was particular about looks. I remember she was into GI Joe’s and asked me to play. (It’s funny that GI Joe’s were actually dolls wrapped in testosterone so boys would be tricked into playing with them.) But my little heart was soon plucked from my ribcage as she had to go – a play date with Robert Sandler was scheduled and that was the first time I realized what cruel harlots the opposite sex can be.

It was definitely movies and TV that helped to arouse my nubile senses in the early years. I didn’t know why, but at ten years old I couldn’t take my eyes off of Barbara Eden’s stomach when she donned that genie costume. I used to get warm all over when she pranced around her Cocoa Beach habitat. And even at ten I wondered what the bloody hell was wrong with Major Nelson - I mean for crissakes, come on, man! Forget the fact that she was sizzling hot and was sworn to his every command – the bonehead could have anything he wanted – gold, jewels, cars, homes – but it was always, “Don’t use your powers, Jeannie.” What a friggin ass-tro-NOT.

Those cavorting cougars always had me more worked up more than Laurie Partridge or any of the Brady chicks. Girls my own age didn’t do it for me. I can’t explain it, but I always had a penchant for the older gals. Now I know most guys loved Dawn Wells as Mary Ann, but I was always a Ginger guy, and when Tina Louise strutted about in those slinky nightgowns, I was glued to the tube. (And it wasn’t until I was around 15 that I came to the conclusion that Gilligan, the Skipper, and the Professor were all raging poofters.) I’ve never really dug the “girl next door” type, but more the sultry, buxom bombshell. And as a lad, no one had me standing at full attention more than the incredible Raquel Welch. I was just a kid but I had an amazing appreciation for her killer body, complete with swollen appendages. You can blame God or nature, or the earth’s primal forces, but I was not in control of certain bodily reactions when Raquel appeared on a TV talk or game show. I used to scan the TV Guide when we got it to see if the starlet was appearing anywhere. That same era had the likes of Ursula Andress, Elke Sommer and Gina Lolabridgada, Sophia Loren, Brigette Bardot, and Margaret Nolan - incredibly voluptuous goddesses I couldn’t take my eyes off!

The same unexplainable force that changes the tides and pulls plants towards the sun had me more jacked up than ten Milky Ways and a jug of Bosco. I vividly remember watching Goldie Hawn dance in a bikini on Rowan and Martin’s Laughin, and thinking, “Now that sure as hell beats playing with GI Joe’s.”

Even though she wasn’t provocative, I always dug Elizabeth Montgomery as Samantha Stevens on Bewitched. Again, at an early age I recognized her beauty and just being a witch carried a sexiness all of its own. And again, with the ability to have anything he wanted, her retarded husband Darrin suffered from Major Nelson syndrome: “Don’t use any witchcraft to get what we want or need, Sam.” Whether it was York or Sargent, both Darrin’s were most definitely a couple of real “Dicks” when it came to Samantha’s powers.

No doubt today’s TV is a hell of a lot more sex oriented and I realize that my son is subject to those same unexplainable forces that his daddy was driven by. Plus with the internet and its 12,000 naughty sites, my kid doesn’t have to go rooting around my bedroom for pop’s “half-assed” hidden Playboy magazines (sorry dad, but you’ve gotta know I would have found them even if you buried them two miles under the goddamned septic tank.)

Listen, my intent here wasn’t to write a sexist piece and I’m certainly not advocating my kid look at porn or anything like that. I just know at 14 what my son is feeling as I think back to my early days of youth. And there’s no doubt everyone of you guys have similar memories and stories of your own – hopefully to share in the comments section below (and please do so because I’ll most likely need to convince my mother, wife, and daughter that I’m not a raging perverted psychopath, after they read this.)

Glad I could share such nice mammaries.

And hey, if you love the chicks from the sixties and seventies, there’s no better magazine to get your nostalgic dander up than Cinema Retro, published by my good buddy and film (and James Bond) aficionado, Lee Pfeiffer @ www.cinemaretro.com

- Zman

Part One of this Outstanding Video Interview

Michael Gladis plays the pipe smoking copywriter, “Paul Kinsey” on AMC TV’s, Award Winning, Mad Men. Not only does his character Paul smoke a pipe on screen, but Mr. Gladis smokes a pipe in real life.

PipesMagazine.com Editor & Publisher, Kevin Godbee sat down with Michael Gladis in the private smoking lounge at Davidoff of Geneva in midtown Manhattan on November 14, 2009. They talked about pipe smoking, his role on Mad Men, and his acting career in general. Michael is charming, friendly, and witty while he enjoys smoking his pipe and giving us the inside scoop on Mad Men and telling us how he is similar to Paul Kinsey. See Part I of our video interview with Michael Gladis here and see if you can get the trivia question right at the end.

Watch Part One of Kevin Godbee’s Interview by CLICKING HERE

Follow Us on Twitter for All Your Testosterone Filled Updates > www.twitter.com/planetZman

Metal, Chrome, & Testosterone

Recently I attended “Bike Night” at JR Cigars in Whippany, New Jersey, with my 13 year old son, Tommy. It was just the gorgeous, perfect night – blue sky and late summer temperatures as motorcycles of every size, make, year, design, and color descended upon the parking lot for four hours of high-tech nostalgia and testosterone.

I admittedly don’t ride or own a bike, but the middle age crazy, mid life yearning in me really wants to something fierce. I just love motorcycles and the unbridled freedom they represent. My friends who ride say that just like smoking a cigar, cruising on a bike unwinds the mind and recharges your batteries, allowing you to become one with the bike and your surroundings. My wife thinks I’m out of my f’ing mind but why would I expect her to understand? She loathes cigars even thought those checks I get to support the family come straight from the tobacco world.

Long hairs, throwbacks, and white-collar dudes joined in unison to hang and celebrate the age-old joy of “riding on the wind.” They came from all walks of life (Yeah, and that would be me, “posing” on a custom Harley.) It was a male bonding extravaganza and the smell of finely aged burning leaf wafted through the air as Tommy and I oogled and ah’d at many an amazing piece of machinery and art. Of course all of the true blue Harley’s were out in full force as well as some very cool Victory’s, but I was definitely impressed with many of the Japanese bikes that have taken on the American “bad-boy” look. Honda, Yamaha, and Kawasakia make some bikes I couldn’t believe weren’t American made as their engineering and style were flat out awesome. Then there were Triumphs, BMW’s, and some old Norton’s on display, as well as my all-time favorite, the Indian.

A few years ago, Indian Motorcycles went belly up. I decided to check the web and found out that the company has been reformed with a brand new headquarters and a state of the art manufacturing facility in Kings Mountain, North Carolina. Four brand new 2009 gorgeous touring road models should be available this fall and that is just great news for a true American icon. You certainly don’t have to ride bikes to appreciate the amazing beauty and hand craftsmanship that goes into these masterpieces. Seems they’ve received a 30 million dollar cash infusion from investors, and the people at the top are hiring the best in the business at every position in order to bring this much heralded name back into the public eye. God I want one. Please mom and dad, oh can I please have an Indian for Christmas? Check ‘em out for yourself at: www.indianmotorcycle.com

There was this one dude, the classic rebel with the long white ponytail, dressed in the traditional biker garb and rode a beautiful “old school” style chopper that was in super mint condition despite being 40 years of age. With long handle bars, spoked wheels, a tiny little gas tank, chrome everywhere, and a rebellious gleaming swastika mounted above the sissy bar, this mutha was no wannabe poser as many an onlooker smiled in delight. And, the man was a perfect gentlemen which is definitely the norm at a gathering like this.

As riders of every type were in attendance, so was my pal, Dave Runfeldt, the honorable mayor of Lincoln Park, New Jersey (also Chiropractor extraordinaire and volunteer firefighter) and owner of a magnificent Harley Davidson Road King, special fireman’s edition. Emblazoned in screaming fire engine red and adorned with flames flowing up the fenders, this big boy turned a hell of a lot of heads – No, not Dave – the friggin’ bike, you dumbass!

And what bike rally wouldn’t be complete without the smokin’ hottie biker chicks clad in their short denim shorties, leather vests, and bulging twin-v’s. I give major kudos to the older gals – the plus 40 ladies who may have added a little umph to their personal cruising weight, but still had the moxie to parade their wares for a dad and his pubescent kid. It’s a pisser because Tommy tries to pretend he’s not looking but I’m sure he was feeling a tad warmer than usual on Friday night.

Incredible machines, tasty cigars, male camaraderie, and hot babes. Damn, what will they think of next?

Ride the wind, brother.

- ZMAN

Here’s the link for remaining 2010 bike and car shows at JR Cigars in Whippany, New Jersey…

——————————————————————————————————

http://www.jrwhippany.com/index.cfm?page=events_bikecarshow_2010

• All shows 6-10pm
• Grillin’ and Chillin’ outside until 8pm cooking up burgers and dogs
• Beer Specials in the bar and lounge
• Free to spectators and car/bike owners

1958 was a big year for Tuscaloosa. Not only was it the first year that Paul “Bear” Bryant starting coaching at Alabama, but it was the year that John “Big Daddy” Bishop opened his first Dreamland Café. Big Daddy was a mason for many years, which is some hard work. One night he got on his knees and prayed for another way to make a living. That night, he dreamed of opening a café and he made that dream a reality.

The original Dreamland Café is located about two miles from the intersection of Hwy 82 and Interstate 59 just south of Tuscaloosa . In the beginning, it wasn’t just ribs and white bread. Big Daddy cooked a lot of different things, but what made the customers keep coming back was not only the warmth they felt every time they passed through the door, but Big Daddy’s ribs and secret recipe bar-b-que sauce.

Dreamland is still eminently known for bar-b-que ribs. The décor inside the original café is warm and inviting with a big bar, a few tables and booths and a pot bellied stove. It feels like you are attending a family picnic indoors and the ribs are delicious, cooked the same way for the last 50 years. Inside you will meet customers whose family has been coming to Dreamland for generations. Big Daddy always said, “You should be good to the grandparents” and his own children would help customers to their cars and open the door for them. The point is that John Bishop didn’t just open a café- he made a place that was home to his children and his family and extended that feeling of love to everyone that came by.

RIBS & PORK THRU MAIL ORDER? HELLS YEAH!!!

If you are unable to visit one of their 8 Alabama restaurants, you can still enjoy the legendary taste of Dreamland Bar-B-Que ribs, pulled pork, bar-b-qued chicken, hickory smoked sausage, and baked beans delivered right to your door. They ship their USDA inspected ribs and sauce most anywhere. Order online or call them 1-800-752-0544 for more shipping information.

Check This Out…

50th Anniversary Package!
Celebrate Fifty Years of BBQ greatness with asampling of all their products! You’ll get 1 slab of ribs, 1 lb of pork, 1 lb of hickory smoked sausage, 1 quart of our legendary sauce and 1 bottle of dressing. Also included are wet naps, bibs, a loaf of Sunbeam bread and heating instructions.

Good god, I’m ordering five of these. Now what is everybody else gonna eat?

Visit www.dreamlandbbq.com and get some of your own, dammit!

Since you’ve landed on this website, it means that there’s a 99% chance that you are of the male species. So the question is – Do you think of yourself as a “Man’s Man?” You probably already consider yourself in that company, but how can you “really” tell for sure? Well, the Zman has come up with a self-examination quiz that will accurately measure your levels of testosterone, guy thoughts, and man sweat.

It’s the Official Planet Zman Manly Man Quiz

The following 35 questions have been technically researched and verified for authenticity. So give us your answers fair and square, and see what kind of guy you really are. How much testosterone is in your tank? Lets find out, shall we?…

1. Have you seen the movies Slap Shot, Red Dawn, Weird Science, Clerks, Lost Boys, or High Plains Drifter in any combined order a total of 20 times?

2. Do you ever find yourself saying “Go get your f@#king shine box” at the most inappropriate times?

3. Have you smoked a cigar during a game of Texas Hold ‘Em anytime in the past 2 weeks?

4. Do you know who the team with the most victories in Monday Night Football history is?

5. Do you laugh aloud every time the giant rack of ribs flips the Flintstones car in the final credits?

6. Have you ever kissed the Stanley Cup?

7. Have you ever drank Budweiser from an ashtray, shoe, or a rubber?

8. Do you religiously head bang to the ending of Bohemian Rhapsody?

9. Do you have a favorite Motorhead song?

10. Have you ever been drilled in the cubes with a street hockey ball?

11. Do you find Paris Hilton a brutally skanky, bizarre, oddity, yet you’d hit it just the same?

12. Are you a normal law abiding good citizen, yet you get off on anyone who is pummeled, maimed, strangled, curbed, or cut up into pieces on the Sopranos?

13. Do you have any sorrow whatsoever for Bill Buckner?

14. Would you stop for a sack of White Castle Sliders even though you were on your way to your mom’s for Thanksgiving dinner?

15. Have you ever given nicknames to any of your farts?

16. Do scenes of John Travolta dressed in drag in the movie Hairspray give you convulsions or seizures?

17. Have you ever spent more than 30 minutes trying to delete pop-up windows during a random porn surf?

18. Three Stooges episode or Obama / Clinton debate?

19. Does the thought of having a Corvette, a Harley, and a Hummer in your driveway make you retard giddy?

20. Do you own more than three humidors?

21. Do you soil yourself each time Col. Jessup barks “YOU CAN’T HANDLE THE TRUTH?”

22. When flipping through TV channels, do you pause each and every time on the Spanish station while trying to convince your significant other that it’s for educational purposes?

23. What do you think is heavier: Trying to figure out the meaning of life or Rosie O’donnell’s lunch bag?

24. Have you ever watched Das Boot and felt bad for the Germans?

25. Should cheeseburgers have their own box in the food pyramid?

26. Do you wish you could be Mikey from American Chopper for just one day?

27. Do you find it to be offensive when a woman displays major rack then covers up when you stare?

28. Do you still get awkwardly tense each time you hear Tommy DeVito ask, “What do you mean, I’m funny?…You mean the way I talk?…What’s funny about it?…What the f@#k is so funny about me? Tell me?”

29. Do you feel Harvey Fierstein should be held accountable for the gerbil shortage in French Guiana?

30. Bill & Ted, Harold & Kumar, or Jay and Silent Bob?

31. If it was ok with your significant other, would War Pigs be your wedding song?

32. Did you swear like a psycho drunken sailor and throw shit at your TV when the screen went to black during the Sopranos finale?

33. If Dr. Phil, Simon Cowell, and David Spade were killed in a mine shaft explosion would your immediate response would be, “huh, looks like rain today.”

34. Do you admit to drinking a glasses of ecoli laden raw eggs after you saw ROCKY for the first time?

35. Who’s on first?

OK, brothers, you’ve done your best. Good luck in your continual quest towards eternal manliness and may God bless your decrepit soul.

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.

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?

There is NOTHING on this Earth like the craving of a White Castle Slider…

“Dad, I’m hungry”, says my son as we drive past Giants Stadium on route 17, in New Jersey.

“I already had lunch, Tommy, what do you want?”

“I don’t know, whats around here, pops.”

And then it happened. We ascended upon the shiny white fortress of hamburger bliss: The one, the only White Castle. “Jeez, I don’t really want to stop here because…”

“Yeah dad…I want Slyders! Oh please pop, I need them – oh my God, I crave them…oh please, oh please!”

Now I didn’t want to stop there because I knew that I would fall to the temptation of the beefy and oniony goodness of a succulent White Castle cheeseburger – or ten. If you love these burgers then you are well aware of the addiction that grabs you by the taste buds and drags you before the Castle’s pearly gates. You could have just eaten Thanksgiving dinner but there will always be room for a sack of those evil Slyders of beefdom.

If you’ve never eaten a White Castle burger, it’s almost hard to explain what it is about them that grips the common man and brings him to his knees. If you were asked why you loved the sunset, you might have no other explanation other than it is so beautiful. And maybe that’s all one can say is that these burgers possess a beauty that can be found in nothing else on this planet. The problem is that if you begin to think about these burgers ahead of time, the Pavlovian response is uncanny and your mind will not clear or function properly. The saliva glands will overflow and brain cells will fire, but they will mimic the sound of small onion bits crackling on the grill in a heap of greasy madness.

Ever see the movie Harold and Kumar go to White Castle? Two college guys spend an entire night trying to get to this place of nirvana, facing one obstacle after another. The more they think about the burgers, the more they lose their minds as they froth with delirious anticipation. Finally upon arrival they order enough for 40 people and devour each and every last one – Of course followed by the obligatory howling belch.

If you have or haven’t ever had a White Castle Burger, the question is basically the same: What the hell are they made of and what makes them so addictive? Maybe a little background information first. White Castle is 87 years-old and is America’s oldest fast food burger restaurant chain. In 1921, two dudes from Wichita, Kansas had a kick-ass recipe and wanted to share it with the world. The problem was that several years earlier the meat packing industry had been exposed for horrendous health and safety violations in the 1906 novel by Upton Sinclair, The Jungle. People were hesitant to eat meat prepared outside of the home, but the two men were determined to change public perception. They built pristine white, pre-fab little buildings with stainless steel interiors and dressed all employees in sparkling white uniforms. But the unique cooking process and the amazing flavor of the burgers is what drove the company’s success.

But the question remains – what the hell is a White Castle burger and what makes it so god damned good – goddammit?! First off, the burgers patties are tiny, wafer thin squares maybe 2 1/2” x 2 1/2” and they have five holes punched through them. They are cooked on a grill covered in a bed of chopped onion bits while the steam and grease rises through the holes. The equally small, square buns are placed on top of the burger as it cooks, allowing the steam and the juices to permeate the bread, creating one consistent flavor throughout. And I still don’t know if I’ve answered what the hell they are because they simply don’t taste like any other burger in the world. They almost resemble particleboard lined in vast rows upon the monstrous grease laden cooking surface. The texture and consistency is like nothing else – steamy, juicy, melty, almost buttery mouth-watery, and mega-greasy. As I said, the flavors of the meat, onion, cheese, pickle, ketchup and bun kind of marries and creates a unique burger eating flavor experience.

Now along with that unique burger eating flavor experience goes a unique bathroom going experience. I know here in New Jersey we also refer to the place as Fart Castle because the gas that is produced by these burgers is also unique to anything else you may have experienced. When that greasy, fat laden mixture hits your colon, alarms sound as the rumbling can be heard from more than 50 feet away. There simply are no farts that carry the deadly, molten stench of a White Castle meal – and that can be verified by those who have suffered the aftershock of late night Slyder run. Offically trademarked as “Slyders” because of the ease one can slide it down the gullet, no mere mortal orders only one or two of these beastly stink producers. The average daytime order is around six, but the gig has always been to see what idiot in the group can eat the most at 3am after a night of drinking and cavorting. My personal record back in the day is 16 but I have seen numbskulls polish off 30 or more and spend the entire next morning spray-painting the porcelain Castle catcher.

Yes, a meal at the WC can cause bouts of sharting that will be long remembered. Not long ago I ingested ten cheeseburgers and my Jeep smelled like a sewerage treatment plant for two weeks. The air quality in the auto was definitely unsafe for human occupancy and the once tan colored seats are now a cavalcade of rustic earth tones. Just as the burgers are unique, the smell and sheer heat of the flatulance produced by these meat squares are patented as well. When the digestive juices mix with the ingredients of a Slyder – the same evil methane is created that took out the ancient city of Pompei. Rumor has it that White Castle corporate is working with the Division of Homeland Security on a combatant for regional terror. My guess is that the ammo produced by a triple cheeseburger and a side of rings could take out an entire gaggle of goat jockeys. Lemme at ‘em – I’ll show those f@#kers a true-blue patriot! (Or a true brown one.)

The nearest Castle to me is 25 minutes away and right now I’m jonesing like a mutha! Lesson to the writer: Never do an article on the beefy goodness of White Castle while scribing on an empty stomach.

- Z