Writers are never known as the studliest or sexiest of people, but that doesn't stop them from showing some skin for the camera once in awhile.
So, occasionally we'll post some literary beefcake for your perusal.
Today: Ernest Hemingway, again.
Pssh, I'm not impressed unless it's a sawed-off, buddy.
Admittedly, I expected a better bathroom from Ernest. There's a complete lack of wall accents and natural light. This bathroom looks like something a mob syndicate in eastern Russia would have out back.
So many things to wonder about--the least of which is Ernest's affinity for shirtlessness. Like, why a double-barreled shotgun? More importantly, why a double-barreled shotgun in the bathroom? Did a water buffalo just enter the room? What happened here? Do you keep the shotgun behind the toilet with the toilet plunger? How does this work?
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