Who is the sexiest real-life monster?

Monsters in literature are based on real-life models. Don't believe me? I'll show you, and I'll prove to you why Frankenstein is the sexiest real-life monster.

Let me first knock out the myth that vampires are sexy. That one's easy.

The original vampire was Vladimir Dracula, or Vlad the Impaler. He was a brutal ruler in -- where else -- Transylvania. He impaled prisoners of war and criminals in front of the castle gates. He was obsessed with impaling, even impaling birds after he was imprisoned.

But you can't argue with the results! So effective was the impaling punishment in inspiring fear that he placed a golden drinking goblet at the public fountain and left it unguarded. Anyone could drink from it. Nobody stole it.

Folks, that's called being tough on crime.

But he wasn't sexy. He was a sick bastard. Not someone you'd want to sneak into your bedroom for a three-hour impaling.

Let's move on to zombies. I know, they aren't sexy in myth, though that'll change soon. Who are real-life zombies?

The homeless, of course. Our beggars. Tattered. Torn. Arms out with empty cups and empty skulls. By and large these people are not right in the head -- ergo the zombie-ish moaning in their fictional counterpart, and the denial of intellect.

It's sad, I know, and I'm not picking on the homeless. They have trouble keeping their meatball on their plate, but the fact is, they're not sexy.

"Ooo! Ooo!" A question from the back. "What about real-life ANGELS!"

What about angels, huh. Surely their real-world inspiration is sexy. Nope. Angels are inaccurately portrayed as having bird wings, which is downright ridiculous.

Angels are human and humans are mammals and the only mammal that can fly is the bat and the bat ain't sexy and neither are birds so put your hand down and let me finish.

Which brings me to Frankenstein's creation being the one inspired by the sexiest real-life model of them all.

Now ask yourself this: Who wrote Frankenstein?

Ironically, a chick, Mary Shelley. That in itself says the inspiration must have some sexuality associated with it, since females are the resident pervs here in Earth (ladies, don't make me prove that point -- look at your literary genres, nod, and move along).

Now, the premise of the book is this: Medicine can stitch together something more beautiful than the womb and God's thread and needle.

You see where I'm going, right.

In Shelley's day, (early 1800s), modern medicine was crowning its head. Today we dream of unrealities in medicine -- eternal life, cures for silly things like baldness and short stature. Surely Shelley could imagine the non-existent benefits of cosmetic surgery.

A beautiful nose. Pretty bosom. Fine legs and perfect eyes.

Shelley never lived to see her creation walk downtown Hollywood or strut up the New York byways, but by God, her creation walks and talks and strips and struts.

And nobody can deny how sexy the Frankensteins are.

- Eric