The boys are back in town 

HBO has a hard-on. Summer’s Sunday nights have never been sexier. The only media player not reliant on reality or re-runs is instead seducing viewers with money, vampires, and more mind-blowing sex.

First, the American public continues to come out of its coffin. The people want to be sucked dry, and that’s what has been arranged.  True Blood kicks off the evening, and unlike its most recent teen-vamp contemporary, True Blood’s sheets are soaked in the sexiest blood ever. During last night’s episode a Milf cast a spell on a party, causing sex, dancing, and an erotic, violent birthday cake fight. The guests fuck, punch faces, eat dirt. Plus, there’s a new virginal redhead vamp, and a Fang Bang Porno.

Next,  Entourage is back to ejaculate on the recession’s face, and the view from the top of the corporate ladder is exquisite. In Mark Whalberg’s world, seventy-one thousand dollar bottle bottles arrive from deep-pocketed clients and everyone gets laid. Chubby, nerdy, and aging men score along side the show’s picture-perfect film star. The sex is just like last season, but it still feels good.

Happiness is great sex. Great sex, in multiple positions, exactly how you like it. And happiness is big. That’s the premise of  Hung, a new show following a well-endowed protagonist. It another drama-induced comedy about an illegal occupation (see: Sopranos, Weeds), this time about a divorced alpha male selling his body. Like his client’s bank accounts, Ray Drecker is apparently massive. Also, like Hung’s main character, the show could work on its foreplay. But TV writers, like mortal men, can learn over over time.

After three hours of Sunday night television, I woke up this morning with a smug smile, still feeling satisfied. HBO, is a good pimp.

*No, this post is not an advertisement. This is simply how happy I am that there is a July pop culture invasion not mentioning the names "Heidi" or "Spencer". MTV, eat your fucking heart out.