David Letterman is no stranger to lust: This is a man who had so much sex with his female employees that people once held a rally to get him fired for being a pervert. And though he remains a national treasure, his eyes do tend to wander, even today. On Monday night, British songstress Adele got a thorough once-over from the venerable talk-show host, as seen above. It wasn't the first time. Here we present more examples of Letterman not-so-discreetly checking out the female musicians who've visited his show over the years.

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Delicious and nutritious

There comes a time in a foreign country's life when it has to stand up and say, "No, Rihanna, we do not want to see you deep-throat that banana." That time was last week, when 11 countries banned the pop star's new bubblegum-colored, bondage-laden music video for her song "S&M." Supposedly, according to director Melina Matsoukas and Rihanna herself, the video is a light-hearted examination of the latter's relationship with the press -- she enjoys enduring daily paparazzi pain, because that's what gives her the pleasure of fame. As for the U.S., MTV is considering a clean edit. Meanwhile, to assess the validity of the video's so-called inappropriateness, we went directly to the source: sex shops. We asked the kind folks at Fantasy Party, Cherry Boxxx, and Tic Tac Toe what they thought of all the hullabaloo -- and Rihanna's S&M prowess.

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The inevitable scoop, such as it is--and if it is in fact real--goes to Media Take Out. Props to Kanye himself for confessing that this would some day happen on "Runaway," a song that we like just a tiny bit less today:

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The news that Trent Reznor is readying a personally approved remaster of Nine Inch Nails' 1989 debut Pretty Hate Machine (and promising "a greatly improved sonic experience") is excellent news in the event you haven't bought that record like five times already, particularly due to the new package's one bonus track: an unapologetically porn-y cover of Queen's "Get Down, Make Love" that I don't mind telling you I thought was totally awesome when I was, y'know, 14. Let us now reindulge:

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There's a lot of anticipation in the New York air right now: John Mayer, unrepentant heartthrob, is coming to town. Marc Hogan's favorite crooner plays Jones Beach tonight; earlier today, he invited all of his Twitter fans to turn their geo-tagging on, so as to better find them mid-tailgate and hang out. His manager just Ustreamed his soundcheck; as we type this, he's fielding questions live, wearing a Yankee hat in honor of George Steinbrenner. Needless to say, he's also trending on Twitter, and the ladies are going wild. In advance of the show, which starts in a few hours, we figured we'd check in with Mayer's core demographic and get a sense of just how heated things are gonna get tonight. We were going to write jokes for these, but uh...

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It is pretty much our job to try to help here if at all possible. Anybody? (Related: this was the only one of only nine Siren-themed Missed Connections over the weekend. Let us hereby congratulate all the bright young things we saw walking around Coney Island on Saturday for being so impossibly well-adjusted, romantically speaking. Even Caribou caused more heartache than us.) Plus, a bonus transgender-y one!:

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They brought dolls.

We all have our opinions on whether or not a group of abdominal-flaunting werewolves should be getting their thang on to Grizzly Bear via Twilight, but it's time we hear it straight from the fans themselves. Thus, I ventured to Union Square's Regal Cinema last night; there, hundreds of seasoned "twi-hards" gathered to experience the Twilight saga's third film, Eclipse, premiering at midnight. Polling various members of the the twi-mob, I ascertained the true impact of the film's infamous soundtracks. And, holy shit.

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Santiago Felipe

When 300 pounds of perspiring flesh take the stage to recite the lyrics of a band the New York Times refuses to pronounce, reverse psychology occurs. To alleviate our fear of what is, by any standard, a very large man, we flip the classic stage fright device-- "picture your audience naked"--and project it onto that 300 pound creature we affectionately call Pink Eyes. We like to see the Fucked Up frontman naked and, thankfully, he complies. In celebration of his total lack of self-consciousness, we've rounded up our favorite blush-inducing Pink Eyes poses.

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The New York Post brings word of "Biebians," the ex post facto lesbian subculture devoted to celebrating women who like other women who look like Justin Bieber. This is old news--lesbians looked like Justin Bieber long before Justin Bieber even existed, and there have been many to point out the physical resemblance between the man and the muffia in the wake of the diminutive star's meteoric, Twitter-assisted rise. But let it never be said that local fashion photographer and all around pervy guy Terry Richardson hasn't met a zeitgeist he couldn't make a pornographic addition to, and so, without further ado, The Ultimate Justin Bieber Photo for Lesbians:

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During "New York I Love You," from our perch on the balcony. Romantic!

And the award for person we most want to help find love in the world this morning goes to this plaintive Craigslist poster, whose experience at last night's LCD show at Terminal 5 was every bit as romantic and confused as our own. Let's find this guy, world:

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