Spinning on that dizzy edge

Now I have spent *way too long* reading that post.

My great-uncle was John W. Campbell, a no-longer so well-known early SF author. In all of whose books, the blond and blue-eyed men win the day, and beautiful women come flocking to them, longing to clean for them and bear their children. Even if it requires wearing a full-body stocking to conceal the fact that they have *three breasts* instead of the normal two.