Candy: Bitch, please. This is the cleanest-cut rebel I’ve ever seen. What’s rebellious about him? His unnatural love of Brylcreem? His choice to use steroid cream AND shoot it up? His decision to use SPF15 instead of SPF40 sunscreen? His weirdly offset nipples?
Sarah: Whoo. What a rebel. To throw off the expectations of society, and insist, visit after visit to the hair salon, on sporting a mullet. The mullet alone is worth the 300-page effort of taming him.
Candy: YIKES! This book should’ve been titled To Tame a Texan-Sized Dong. I gotta respect a wang so massive that it merits its own drop shadow effect.
Sarah: Things are bigger in Texas, from the man titty shadows to the, um, crotch bulge. You think they use him as a sundial out on the range?
“Hey, Chase or Clay or Austin, whatever your name is, face north and drop your pants. I don’t know what time it is!”
Candy: BWAAAAHAHAHAHAH! Genies come from bottles, and apparently white boys dressed in Indian drag come from brass gongs. What do you have to rub to summon him? Or does he appear when you look into the mirror and say “Savage man titty” three times in a row?
Dude looks psycho—just look into those cold, dead eyes. He looks like he’s ready to cut choo, mang.
Sarah: When I posted these covers last night for our mutual enjoyment, I said to Candy, “One of them doesn’t fit the whole “To Tame…” theme, but it was too great to pass up.”
It’s Gong Show Indian! And here’s your host, Insolent Bored Savage.
Hope he doesn’t chip that mighty tomahawk when he sounds his gong.
I think someone gave me a baby onesie in the same pattern as his wrist band, too. Nice!
Candy: Are they referring to the man, or the woman? Both of them look pretty damn domesticated to me. Unless he’s wearing a leather bustier and frilly satin panties underneath his suit? And then, like, any second, he’s going to rip his suit off, prance around to remixed Madonna songs and Vogue like it’s 1995. And then when the woman can’t take it any more she’s going to be all “RAAAH, take this, bitch!” and whip out her 10-inch cock because she’s a man, baby. And that’s when the dude busts out his miniature cat-o’-nine-tails and yodels “DOWN, SIMBA!” while playfully whipping at her enormous and surprisingly hairy balls. THAT, my friends, would be hard to tame indeed.
Sorry, really boring covers with really stupid titles make me come up with really inappropriate stories.
Sarah: It would so not be hard to tame her. She’s so realistically rendered, after all. Just break her over your knee. She’s so thin she’ll splinter.
Candy: Why do all these Texans need to be tamed? This dude doesn’t even have a donkey schlong to scare us with. Frankly, the only thing that needs to be tamed on his guy is his mousse usage—look, man-bangs are not meant to stick out four inches from the forehead, mmmkay?
Sarah: Yet again, another Texan to tame, and yet again, the fashion choices of these men need taming more than the men themselves. From a manly mullet to wearing your vest without a shirt. The time has come to tame these men into fine metrosexuals who have age-appropriate non-professional-hockey-player hairstyles and the smarts to think, “Hm, if I’m going to be roping steers perhaps I ought to protect my pebbular nipples with a shirt.”
Candy: And this guy? He needs to tame his usage of sunless tanning products.
I love the look on his face, too. Is he constipated, pissed off that it’s an anemic chick laying her hand on his bountiful bosom and not Diego, his hot Puerto Rican personal trainer, or just trying to restrain his roid rage in general?
Oh man, it would be SO AWESOME if somebody wrote To Tame the Roid-Raging Gym Monkey. Any takers? Anyone? Anyone?
Sarah:: Speaking of nipples… is he missing one? Is she looking for it? Did it get rubbed off by that strap of leather across his chest? Is that what inspired this pose?
And is he wearing leather pants? Is this Mick Jagger, Highland Warrior?!
Candy: This is a classic. Almost as classic as that “Pull My Finger” Viking. There’s really not much I can say that can beat teh funney of this cover. I do wonder if he’s wearing several other people’s scalps on top of his own hair, because that do he’s sporting? Looks poofy and creepy and unnatural.
Sarah: Kenny Loggins, sporting unfortunate facial hair, grabs a red kitchen towel and some low-slung chaps to pose for romance novel covers. Although, to be fair to Mr. Loggins, I don’t think his man titties cast a drop shadow effect as great as this guy’s. Must be some digital editing.
The low-slung chaps are curious. Aren’t the chaps there to prevent chafing between one’s legs? Wouldn’t a large portion of inner thigh be in need of some Blue Star Ointment (“Jock itch! Ring worm! Psoriasis! Teter!”) after one quick trip down to the mini mart on horseback? (Shut up, the reservation does TOO have a mini mart!)
Comments are Closed
Thank you for making Mondays more bearable.
Keep the snark coming!
I think the last savage being tamed is wearing beaded thigh-high boots, not chaps. Though I could be wrong. If those are chaps, the buckles must be in a very unfortunate position.
With fringe too! Can’t be Native American without lots of fringe.
Is that Cheyenne Song model’s nipple in his armpit?
Oh man, I needed this today!
When I saw that first Tame-a-Texan with the four author names I thought “Wow, he really must be a hard one to wrassle* – it’s taking four women to do it!” Plus, he’s got that whip which could no doubt be used in interesting ways. Then I noticed the “four novellas by” and was a bit deflated – there went my Emma Holly-style fun-fest featuring a Texan, four women and a whip.
As for the Highland Warrior cover, could two models look more uncomfortable with one another? The girl looks like she’s tentatively patting his chest in an effort to calm him down, do what she’s getting paid for, and preserve her ability to walk back out of there alive. Warrior, indeed.
*Yeah, I’m sure there is a joke in there about hard and wrassling when it comes to a guy that large in the nether-parts, but I just haven’t had enough tea yet, ‘k?
You *do* know that Georgina Gentry wrote a letter to RWR complaining about how the lurid Ellora’s Cave covers causing the general public to mock romance….remember that bushwa?
The first guy (To Tame a Well-Coiffed Rebel) is clearly the same Johnny Cash look-alike who posed for one of those futuristic romance covers. Hey, I like Johnny Cash and all, but not in my romances. And not with shaved balls, which this guy undoubtedly has.
Does anyone else think the roid-raging Highlander looks like Rick Springfield? Maybe he looks all pissy because he didn’t get Jessie’s girl and had to settle for her anemic sister?
I have learned through much pain not to drink any beverage whatsoever while reading SBTB. However, I am so stupid that I am sitting here with a napkin to my stinging nose, because hot coffee is painful to the nasal, man.
That last cover actually looks like Lorenzo Lamas in drag. But what I really want to know: is it the Texans, their missing nipples, or their mullets that need taming? Only the Magic Gong can tell…
Who knows what ‘roid rage lurks in the heart of Man-Titte? The Smart Bitch knows. *evil laugh*
Does anyone else think the roid-raging Highlander looks like Rick Springfield?
Poor guy. Mamas, don’t let your sons grow up to be Rick Springfield.
Holy crap. Man-titties #1 has bigger boobs than I do! That’s just unfair.
Great blog. I need to read more romance.
ThatTame a Texan novella guy…with the chaps link thingy going across his huge crotch rather tightly…doesn’t it look like it hurts? An easier way to achieve that effect would just be stuffing it with some good ol’ Texan hay.
The dude in the last cover’s knife sheathe pattern looks like one I had on my pencil case set when I ws a little girl. Cute.
No, what’s really cute is that you had a pencil case set! I totally had one too but nowhere near as cool as his knife sheath.
If you look carefully at the weird looking chick on the cover of Hard to Tame the position of her feet do not match the position of her legs under her skirt. Her feet are placed as though her legs are close together, but the legs under the skirt look like she should have one knee on the floor- a leg that looks like it was amputated just above her calf. Meanwhile the orphan foot poses demurely beside its mate.
The model on “To Tame a Highlander” reminds me of Joe Piscopo during his bodybuilding phase, which, needless to say, is not a highlight of my personal romantic imagination. And the stubble on “To Tame a Savage” is the beard equivalent of Groucho Marx’s moustache, so fake it’s funny—but that wasn’t supposed to be the point, was it?
That Hard to Tame cover just creeped me out with her lack of leg. The men too seem to be anatomically unfortunate. Chap boy with the shadowed wedding tackle? He looks to be too long in the body; his belly button is too far away from that enormous package. Am I wrong?
Ew, Jaye. You’re right about that floating belly button. Maybe the weight of that extry big schlong has pulled his lower abdomen down to mid thigh.
I’m looking at that package and laughing my ass off. What is the artist thinking as he/she puts the finishing touches on that baby? “Oh, yeah. Oh, this is what they want. Ohhhhhh.”
The sad thing is, I’ve read To Tame a Highlander, in public. No wonder nobody wanted to sit next to me on the bus! Hee. Decent book, tho.
Oh, thanks for the laughs! I needed that after getting so worked up over the AA romance issue (yes, I’m reading backwards).
Just once, I want to see a time-travel heroine whisked into the past only to discover… *gasp* that the men didn’t shave their chests, didn’t wear mullets or use mousse, and while they may have been muscular due to physical labor, they didn’t have time to do the crunches necessary to get those 6-packs (or, in the case of To Tame a Savage, a package of 8 hotdog buns).
Amen, Darla. Just once I’d like the time-travel romances to mention how bad men must have smelled back when, as a matter of pride and religion, they didn’t believe in bathing. Ugh. To Tame The Sweaty Unwashed Mullet, anyone?
Regarding the cover for To Tame a Texan, do you think his Indian name is “Man with Miles Long Abdomen”???
And Candy? I’ve NEVER laughed so hard as I did when I read your lovely and poetic commentary on Hard to Tame
Oh, God, make it stop. It hurts. It really hurts to laugh this much for this long.
OK, I laughed so hard my tea came out of my nose. I love you smart bitches, I love this web site. It cheers me up and keeps me away from writing every day.
The model on the first To Tame a Texan cover needs to see a doctor. Desperately. Why, why, why do they make covers like this?
That Cheyenne Song guy? Works at Benihana. That’s his cutting-up-vegetables pose.
“Your dinner is served”. Gong!
The Taming of Man Titt-ee
There a strange things done in the Texan sun
By the men who strike a pose,
Their buckskin smalls stuffed with tennis balls
And a length of garden hose.
The Lone Star nights have seen queer sights
But the queerest they ever did see
Was the time on the res’ when, so they sez,
Luurrve tamed the man titt-ee.
The man titt-ee was size double “E”
And sported by demi-gods.
Glossy mullets bouffant, their schlongs they’d flaunt,
Shadows framed their studly cods.
Chafed thighs they’d endure, for manly allure
In low-slung fringed leather chaps.
To perk ‘em enough, their nipples they’d buff
And tighten up all of their straps.
In their world’s harsh code, which all must uphold
“All hair care is sacred!”, they say.
Defilers of gel have their own special hell,
Death if you tweak a toupee.
One dawn Rex awoke the camp, his heart broke,
“My mousse is deflated!” he cried.
They could not assuage his hormonal rage,
So great was the blow to his pride.
Greasepaint he did streak on each stubbled cheek,
His locks began to exude
The dreaded foul scent of horse liniment,
His fashion sense was really screwed.
“‘Ere long his hairpiece will stink of bear grease,
It needs a cream rinse!” they wept.
“His madness we’ll catch, our beadwork won’t match,
A faux pas we cannot accept!”
To soothe the poor beast, or at the least
Conceal his dreadful state,
Romantica man, van filled with self-tan
Was called to administrate.
These bottles of lotion were just the potion
That Rex had always needed.
A bright orange tan made him feel a man
Even after his hairline receded.
There are strange things doneâ€¦ etc.
Oh, EvilAuntiePeril … words fail me …
You brilliant creature!
Poor old Sam McGee!
oops… did I say “There a”? Meant “There are.” Duh.
Jesus, you should post a warning before these poems, EAP. “Warning: Do not read among co-workers. They’ll ask what’s wrong with you, and there’s no way you could explain without revealing just how much you fuck around on the Internet at work.”
Never mind the man-boobs, there’s simply no excuse for the use of the word ‘gentle’ as a verb on the cover of ‘To Tame a Highland Warrior’.
– oh and by the way this is my first visit to Smart Bitches and I love it – I’ll be telling all my friends and visiting again soon 🙂
Something about the typeface here… I read it as “To Tame a Sausage”.
Comments are closed.