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Rather than join the "shower or grow-er" debate of yesterday, the folks at Salon decide to attack Jude Law's penis from a different angle, namely Why It Doesn't Matter If The Famous Actor Has A Wee Tallywacker: [you may have to watch an ad to read the story]

The good news:


What turns us on is not perfect images of supersize beefcake, oiled and ready to please. What works for us is intimacy, or the illusion thereof. And that's the illusion these photos bring, precisely because it's a shot no one would ever pose for — Jude Law, sans fluffer. It jibes with the most precious images from our most private memories, not only just before, but just after. In other words, those pictures are hot because when we look at them, we're not thinking of Jude Law, we're thinking of you: Our husbands, our boyfriends, not the strangers but the men we've known.

If there's anything we'd like to avoid intellectualizing, it is Jude Law's schlong. Why can't we all share a nice laugh over the pictures, and allow ourselves us to feel slightly better about our own terribly unfabulous lives, if just for a cheap moment, by imagining that maybe, just maybe, we live in a world in which a man with riches, fame, looks so good he turns us gay for 10 seconds each time we gaze into his eyes, a hot actress girlfriend, and a horny child care provider with loose morals, has not also been blessed with twelve rigid inches of nanny-punishing manhood? We liked the world so much better yesterday, before all the thinking.