Big Boobs? I Say, Bring 'Em On!
Or why I consider Calista Flockhart erection repellent

Recently I read some comments on these very pages which offended me to the core of my being. It wasn't the dick-mangling, or that weird story where the crazy chick watches the car wreck and diddles herself, or even Lydia Lunch. If I had read that Lydia Lunch had a dick and mangled it, then watched flaming death and jerked off, all the while reassuring men that size does matter, it wouldn't be a fraction as offensive as what I did read.

See also...
... by Hugh G. Rection
... in the Crave section
... from September 1, 1999

No, it was a bunch of homos blathering on about their delicate sensibilities and how they're threatened by the occasionally voluptuous form that is the female body. Wait a minute -- on second thought I wouldn't even insult homos like that. A homo knows he wants to suck a cock instead of a tit and he goes out and sucks that cock, God bless him.

But these freaks are so confused that the sight and feel of something that doesn't have straight, boyish hips and a chest that would stick to the wall like a suction-cup dart if you spat on it and pushed real hard is ALIEN to them. Hey guys, lemme level with you -- there's a reason why your butthuggers bulged during Interview With The Vampire, and it wasn't because you knew Kirsten Dunst would be hot someday (and if so, you've got bigger problems than I can address in the space allowed).

I love breasts. Hooters. Titties. Jugs. Sweater meat. Hearing these guys rail against the righteous rack was like hearing someone tell a blind man that the sky is green. Where do you begin? But it's not just big, pendulous, hypnotizing milk wagons that I admire so dearly. It is the curvaceous form of an hourglass figure, a certain hip-to-waist-to-bust ratio, that renders my rational mind useless, my very will powerless.

I'm not talking about chubby chasing or even those huge, muscular girls with whom Robert Crumb is obsessed. For those of you who need a primer on today's premiere well-proportioned princesses, I have prepared a list. And no, this isn't Maxim, and I'm not a pig who "rates" women. The following aren't necessarily even in any order. The truth is I love all kinds of women -- a heterosexual man's mind should dizzy at the infinite charms of the goddess's form. But I figure that in this climate of never-skinny-enough actresses (I saw a scene from The Practice where Lara Flynn Boyle tumbles out of the shower in a towel -- That's sexy? She looked the way a cat does when you dunk it in water), I thought I'd give the, um, more robust ladies their props. And rest assured, silicon-phobics, these ladies are all natural (as of press time)!

Betty Page. The threatening-yet-thrilling '50s-era vixen is often credited for paving the way for just about every other woman on this list. She could kick your ass, sure, but you also knew she would ride you 'till your whole body was as flaccid as overcooked lasagna.

Lucy Lawless (Xena). Who would think an armored breastplate could be so sexy? Here, again, is a physically commanding babe who would be the lay of a lifetime if you could pry sidekick Gabrielle from between her silken thighs. But beware -- if you come too quick she's likely to rip yer schlong right off and beat you to death with it.

Jennifer Tilly. Forget the Betty Boop voice and the dingy persona. Underneath these is an Oscar-nominated actress who's as close to the classic, pre-Raphaelite earth goddess as Hollywood is likely to get. If her lesbian scene with Gina Gershon in Bound doesn't make your big toe jump up in your boot, it's time to buy a sixer of Zima and start hanging out in locker rooms.

Catherine Bell. A recent discovery, this half-Iranian, all-woman star of TV's much-aired, little-watched series JAG is built like the proverbial brick shithouse. She has hips that scream fertility and cans so luscious they should call the show JUG(S). Sorry, I got carried away there.

Laetitia Casta. The yummy French truffle from the Victoria's Secret catalogs with pouty lips and a bod so bodacious I've known girls who would gladly borrow my dick just to fuck her. If your idea of a full-figured girl is a mustached, wood-chopping Russian she-bear, Laetitia will set you straight. Forget crackers in bed -- this wench could take a crap on my satin sheets and I wouldn't say a word. I'd probably toss the sheets though.

When Hugh G. Rection isn't riffing on the modern human condition, he's screening his own private Shannon Tweed/Shannon Whirry Cinemax Film Festival.