Clearly ironic and yet completely serious, this tribute to the more than deserving Man of the Century candidate, hopes to capture the essence of the Welshman behind the pants, in all his majesty.

Go behind the scenes and get every angle, both real and imagined, into the exploits of the sexual dynamo that is Tom Jones, the voice of such classics as Sex Bomb.

I'll be your tour guide on this magical visit to Jonesland, so If you'll follow me and keep all questions until the end, we'll begin our journey.


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"...in anticipation of the Sexbomb himself."
I recieved a tip today that the man himself would be making an appearance on VH1's Divas show.

I was beginning to get pissed off that I had to watch all these dykes perform in anticipation of the Sexbomb himself. I was extremely fed up and about to turn it off when I heard a familiar sound. It was the beginning of "You Can Leave Your Hat On," by TeeJ.

I stopped what I was doing, entranced with him. Dressed real cool-like and sporting that goatee of his, the man exuded class. He didn't move his feet throughout the entire performance but he swayed like a rose or any flower comparable to that (i dont know many flower names) in the breeze.

Bottom line: Tom put on a better show in 3 minutes then all those annoying female "musicians" could ever have wished to put on in a million years.


"...in similar fashion to a predictable comedy..."
Today I was walking across lovely James Madison University campus and I happened to spot a long white stretch limo. It caught my eye, there was only one person that could have been riding inside that would have satisfied me.

I'm not sure what gave me the slightest inkling that TJ could be the passenger in question, but I had a feeling that it would be worth my while to try and find out. Like a huge tool, I needed to know who was resting comfortably in their stretch paradise.

So I ran, losing my flip-flops in the process, bare feet on pavement, each thud sending a shock wave through my exhilarated frame. I was giddy and let it show in my hopeful anticipation as I sped towards the limo, which was stopped at an intersection.

As I neared the motoring beast, it had just begun driving again but not very quickly. I ran alongside the vehicle for several meters while simultaneously cupping my hands over my eyes and straining to make some sense of whose clouded visage hid behind the tinted glass.

I barely missed some shrubs and small trees as I ran along the roadside, and in similar fashion to a predictable comedy, when the car stopped short I tried to stop just as abruptly and fell on my side. I realize that the driver of the limousine was most likely toying with me, driving slow enough for me to keep pace and the quick braking for no reason made that abundantly clear.

Before the game was finally over and the car flew off in the night towards some exciting future, the window lowered as much as a crack. I tried to look inside the car as the window was opened but a lit cigar was tossed in my direction, embers of which got into my eyes burning me quite badly. As I fell to the ground and writhed in pain I heard an all too familiar boisterous chuckle...I wonder...I wonder.


"...most cast him aside..."
Everyone has heard of Tom Jones or at least can recognize his music but it seems most cast him aside as someone you may hear while shopping in Old Navy. I myself was admittedly one of these people.

Recently two gentlemen, Shea Scotti and Daniel Szarejko, have brought this overlooked but unnervingly talented artist back to my playlist and I am eternally greatful. Now I can enjoy and appreciate every soul-filled syllable that glides through the lips of this breathtaking performer. Also, I think he may be referring to me in the song "Sexbomb" but I am not positive on that yet.


"...I still thought the world of him."
The year was 1963. Me and a couple of my good blokes were on leave from the Australian Guard over there in the U.K. enjoying our time off. We had done the whole city thing, it had become rather trite and contrived. Me mate, Gus came up with the idea of going down to South Wales, and us rabble rousers were all for it. We ventured down there with as many 5ths of scotch as we could fit in our rucksacks. These blokes could really drink up a storm, I mean they got pissed all the time. I was but a young one among them and due to a rather sheltered backround I didnt have nearly the tolerance they had.

Anyhow, we stormed numerous pubs while in the Southland, as they called it. They were usually dives, elder men who reeked of alcohol and lament, whose tales of forlorn always brought a tear to me eye and a scar to me heart. One cool evening, we happened upon a bar that had a band playing in it. Called themselves Tommy Scott and The Senators, they did. I had just met a bloke out front before the band had went on to do their set. Young lee, a striking Welshman he was. Could drink with the best of him as well.

I had brought forth my knapsack to the bar that night, as I had been running low on money to purchase the livations. I unfurled the cloth and brought out a 5th of my best scotch, that scotch could warm the heart of a polar bear. Without even so much as taking a swig of it, the bloke asked me for a sip. I obliged and right before my eyes my entire scotch flowed down his throat! Unbelievable, I thought. I was about to crack the bottle on his head when he told me he had him some singing to do.

At that point I didn't care who he was. He could have been the prime minister of Perth and I still would have gotten in a tussle with him! But as soon as he hit his first note of the first song, something changed in me. I was overcome with a sense of awe, I dont know how to explain it really, it was really quite phenomenal. I became entranced as the thick, driving, earthy voice came through his vocal box and into me ears and heart. He twisted and contorted on the stage like a sort of stream flowing around the form of a human body. His motion was so fluid and enigmatic. I stood there for the entire set just staring at this being, this vessel of infinite awesomness. Between songs and during he would drink the good-thing like it was water!

The amount of sauce he consumed would've easily murdered an ordinary man, but with each gulp he seemed to grow more powerful and provocative. When the band had finally finished their set, I stood there knowing I had just witnessed something really special. He came from off stage to mingle and drink a bit more when I decided I must go up to him, I must meet this man. I strolled up to him with my hands trembling and introduced meself: "The name is Quinlinn Jacklo. Crikey man, fancy where'd you get a voice like that?!" He was extremely innebriated and mumbled something to the effect of "Tom Jones, thanks for the scotch you waste of life." He then laughed for what seemed like a minute and a half. I couldn't hold it against him really, I still thought the world of him.

After he knocked back some more stiff ale a few gorgeous lasses came up to him. They told them they were large fans of his, thought he was spectacular. He berated them, elbowed one right in the stomach and spat on another. He laughed a big hearty laugh as he has been known to do afterwards, and asked the girls if they wanted to be with him that night or not. Of course they obliged. Before leaving he turned to me and whispered "Great things are going to happen for me in my life. You will lead a life full of misery and loss." He chuckled again, that big hearty chuckle we all love. I was a bit puzzled the, but it all makes sense now. You see Tom Jones was right about everything. My life has been horrible.


"Let's face it...It's Not Unusual"
Since the inception of TomJonesPants DotCom, just a few short days ago, I've been trying to find a way to fully mark the occasion. I wanted to do something that would serve as some small sign of appreciation for the incredible body of work given to the world by the one and only T. Jones.

So I ventured out into the world hoping for the muse of inspiration to lead me to a stroke of genius. I walked for two days straight, through cow pastures and mountainous foothills, stopping only to rest briefly or steal a drink from a mountain stream. Two days without human interaction opened my soul for possible communication with my surrounding wilderness.

Alas, after wandering the countryside, mother nature was only so helpful in the inspiration catergory, so i returned to civilization, visibly emaciated. As i stumbled, weakly into some rural town humming "Black Betty" I was hoping to find some sort of eatery so that I could squash my hunger pangs.

I saw a bright light in the night sky, a spotlight moving about on the clouds. Then it happend, as I had my head tilted upwards and I was still singing "Black Betty" I caught the sign. The sign above the door of Betty's Tattoo and Piercings. Was it a signal from above? Was the spotlight a beacon from Tom Jones's Las Vegas stage, travelling all this way? Was I delirious from malnourishment?

I entered to find Betty, owner and proprietor was indeed black. And if I had to decide if she was rocksteady or not, I would say that she was So rocksteady. She offered me a joint, she really got me high. So i sat down in the chair and I got myself a pair of tattoos in celebration of TomJonesPants.


"Tom Jones has got the lead, and he knows how to swing it."
Look, first and foremost, I am not gay or anything. I've never had a serious gay thought in my life. Being gay is silly, it's funny. But that is not the point of this entry, so I digress...The point is, I am totally straight yet seem to be mesmerized by the voice and showmanship of God's glorious creation known as Tom Jones. This leads me to believe that anyone who see's TeeJ in action will melt as I have.

"I am not the type of person to typically like the type of music"--this is what I thought before actually giving Tom a chance. But when I finally did, I realized that the previous 19 years of my life effectively meant nothing and were a huge waste. To hear Tom's declaration that his lady is a Sexbomb; to hear the lust in his voice as he lets her know how he feels about their relationship in the climax of the song (approximately 2 minutes 15 seconds into the song) sends chills up my spine...

To hear him lovingly inquire "What's new Pussycat?" in the remake of Burt Bacharach's song let's me know that he is a genuine person, he wants to know what is new with his girl. Tom has covered many songs in his day. While many do not like the fact that people cover songs I am all for it when it comes to Tom. Tom says "Very good song you made there, but you know what would make it better? Me singing it." And just as sure as he says that, it sounds infinitely better.

Not only was his voice blessed by the gods, Tom also possesses a certain mysticism in his movements. Just as snakes can be delivered into a trance by those that charm them, Tom paralyzes those who are lucky enough to see him perform. Tom Jones is truly a snakecharmer of people. I'm not talking anything gay here people, he just looks cool when he dances. Tom Jones has got the lead, and he knows how to swing it.

Lastly, Tom takes a great picture, he is a very photogenic guy. It almost seems as if when I look at pictures of him, our gazes meet and he looks at me as if to say "What's up?" Yeah...All of these reasons and so much more are evidence that Tom Jones truly is the greatest being to ever grace this planet.


"Listen, occasionally you might learn something."
Thats all there is to it. Just about everybody has heard of Tom Jones, he's a music icon who's hit the charts hard for decades. Most likely, you're among the many who are familiar with songs made famous by the man, such as "It's Not Unusual (to be loved by anyone)." But have you heard Sexbomb?

That song has the unique power to make you dance, make you laugh, and change your life forever. This website was born from the powerful thrusting of this most holy of anthems.



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