The first time I saw boobs was in National Geographic. I mean, you couldn’t really call them boobs, they were just saggy, black, skin bags full of milk. You saw them and got a little rush of pre-teen adrenaline . . . but it was definitely not arousal. You were simply excited because you knew you weren’t supposed to be seeing real BOOBS! Yeah, you know what I am talkin’ about, don’t deny it!

Even after a five year bid at Riker’s Island, you probably can’t imagine anyone possibly seeing these women sexually. These pictures are absolutely repulsive, and searching the darkest recesses of your mind for the most unattractive girl you’ve ever fantasized about (or slept with, Callan), you’ll find that none of them come close to being bat around with the ugly stick as much as these beauties. If you’ve ever resorted to the old NG for your fix, you’ve got George’s Glamour episode beat by a mile.

The second time I saw boobs was after Frank McCully and I found this plastic bag full of magazines. We found it near the half-finished (the construction was stopped after the owner’s funds were frozen by the DEA) house which was erected in the vacant lot we used for BMX riding. The bag had everything: Playboy, Forum, Hustler. Whatever smut you can imagine was in this bag . . . and let me tell you, THOSE were some BOOBS.