The Little Book of Big Breasts and The Little Book of Big Penis

Well-endowed models in handy travel-sized books

by Perrin Drumm in Culture on 23 April 2012


Whatever your persuasion, two of Taschen’s upcoming releases are sure to keep you satisfied. The Little Book of Big Breasts and The Little Book of Big Penis pack a punch in just 192 palm-sized pages. The 4.7 x 6.5-inch book is discrete enough to hide behind one of Taschen’s larger tomes—like The Big Book of Pussy, if you dare.

For breast lovers who like their ladies with lots of curves, 150 of the most celebrated breast models from the 1950s, ’60s and ’70s keep the book busting at the seams. Aficionados will no doubt recognize the well-endowed Virginia Bell, Joan Brinkman, Candy Samples, Chesty Morgan and Guinness Book of World Records holder for the biggest, Miss Norma Stitts. This isn’t simply a condensed version of Taschen’s 398-page celebration of breasts: 40% of the content is completely unique to this edition.

To even things out on the gender scale The Little Book of Big Penis is the same diminutive size with an equally big payoff. Also packed with new content not found in the larger version, it includes more than 150 gigantic jewels from the ’40s to the ’90s, proof that a tight package never goes out of style. Those in the know need to introduction to the hardware on David Hurdles of Old Reliable, Rip Colt of Colt Studio and Jim Jaeger of Third World Studios. No doubt you’ll discover a few new faces to love (and by faces we mean penises) in varying stages of arousal.



If you love them both, at $9.99 you can easily stock up to double your pleasure. Find them at Taschen and on Amazon.

source:http://www.coolhunting.com/culture/the-little-book-of-big-breasts-penis.php

Bob Dylan turns The Beatles on to cannabis

11.00pm, Friday 28 August 1964 (47 years ago)

On 28 August 1964 Bob Dylan introduced The Beatles to cannabis.

The two parties were introduced by a mutual friend, the writer Al Aronowitz, at New York’s Delmonico Hotel. Upon arriving at The Beatles’ suite Dylan asked for cheap wine; Mal Evans was sent to get some, and during the wait Dylan suggested they have a smoke.

Brian and the Beatles looked at each other apprehensively. “We’ve never smoked marijuana before,” Brian finally admitted. Dylan looked disbelievingly from face to face. “But what about your song?” he asked. The one about getting high?”
The Beatles were stupefied. “Which song?” John managed to ask.
Dylan said, “You know…” and then he sang, “and when I touch you I get high, I get high…”


John flushed with embarrassment. “Those aren’t the words,” he admitted. “The words are, ‘I can’t hide, I can’t hide, I can’t hide…'”

The Love You Make
Peter Brown
Some of The Beatles had actually been introduced to cannabis in 1960, but the drug had made little impression.

We first got marijuana from an older drummer with another group in Liverpool. We didn’t actually try it until after we’d been to Hamburg. I remember we smoked it in the band room in a gig in Southport and we all learnt to do the Twist that night, which was popular at the time. We were all seeing if we could do it. Everybody was saying, ‘This stuff isn’t doing anything.’ It was like that old joke where a party is going on and two hippies are up floating on the ceiling, and one is saying to the other, ‘This stuff doesn’t work, man.’
George Harrison
Anthology
After the hotel room was secured, Dylan rolled the first joint and passed it to Lennon. He immediately gave it to Starr, whom he called “my royal taster”. Not realising the etiquette was to pass it on, Ringo finished the joint and Dylan and Aronowitz rolled more for each of them.

I don’t remember much what we talked about. We were smoking dope, drinking wine and generally being rock’n’rollers and having a laugh, you know, and surrealism. It was party time.
John Lennon
Anthology
The Beatles spent the next few hours in hilarity, looked upon with amusement by Dylan. Brian Epstein kept saying, “I’m so high I’m on the ceiling. I’m up on the ceiling.”

Paul McCartney, meanwhile, was struck by the profundity of the occasion, telling anyone who would listen that he was “thinking for the first time, really thinking.” He instructed Mal Evans to follow him around the hotel suite with a notebook, writing down everything he said.

I remember asking Mal, our road manager, for what seemed like years and years, ‘Have you got a pencil?’ But of course everyone was so stoned they couldn’t produce a pencil, let alone a combination of pencil and paper.

I’d been going through this thing of levels, during the evening. And at each level I’d meet all these people again. ‘Hahaha! It’s you!’ And then I’d metamorphose on to another level. Anyway, Mal gave me this little slip of paper in the morning, and written on it was, ‘There are seven levels!’ Actually it wasn’t bad. Not bad for an amateur. And we pissed ourselves laughing. I mean, ‘What the fuck’s that? What the fuck are the seven levels?’ But looking back, it’s actually a pretty succinct comment; it ties in with a lot of major religions but I didn’t know that then.

Paul McCartney
Evans kept the notebooks until his death in 1976, when they were confiscated and later lost by Los Angeles police.