The funniest thing about “Bimbos of the Death Sun” is the fact that
I’ve now thought about attending a con to see for myself what it’s
all about. I keep thinking that a nice pair of wool trousers, a
turtleneck, and a tweed jacket could get me all the 270lb ***** I
could ever want. Which begs the question, “How much 270lb
***** does a man want?!”
Maybe I’m wrong, but a sci-fi convention seems like it would be
fun. I could catch up with the last twenty years of D&D, see what
else is new in fantasy gaming, and see what kind of women attend
the cons. Something tells me it would be a target rich environment
for a man like me.
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