Playboy for Christmas

watermelonsThis Summer, Morgan progressed from checking out skimpily clad Wrestling Divas to ogling naked Hotties online. I figured as much, having glimpsed the porno progression during my walk-bys. He caught my drift with my “Don’t use the Green Dot card for any of that.” But when I opened my laptop and the “Boobies That Make You Say Damn” website popped up, well, we just had to have The Talk.

No, Morgan already knows where babies come from. I mean the talk about pornography. Now, I gotta admit, I like big titties as much as the next guy, but was right. I thought those girls were grappling with the runners-up from the state fair’s largest watermelon contest. Too much of a good thing, even for me. So I figured before his search led him any deeper into dark places he doesn’t need to go (yet), I’d start him off with everybody’s “men’s entertainment” training wheels—Playboy.

And, yes, you should read it for the articles. That 1980 interview with John Lennon sure was a timely gift and a keeper. The writing is an introduction into the world of liberal views, sexual basics and bawdy humor. Unlike cigarettes, sexual titillation isn’t gonna kill you. No matter what your grandmother might have told you.

Excuse my flippancy, but I want my children to understand that sex, in all of its consensual forms, can be just plain fun. I also made it clear that everybody masturbates. Just close the door and don’t make alotta noise when you do it.

So Playboy magazine covers a lot of those bases without my 13-year-old son having to squirm through hearing the nuances from me. To cut back on any embarrassment on his part, I even let his Dad buy and give it to him. I concluded The Talk by conceding that no matter what a girl tells you, she DOES want to be viewed as a Sex Object.

So Santa brought him a year’s subscription.

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