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Remember when Tom Jones was a national joke of sorts (albeit a beloved national joke of sorts), that moment in the cultural zeitgeist during which the Welsh crooner was considered a sex god to the menopausal set?

Maybe it was his masculine growl, maybe it was the revealing pants ("Are those grapes?"), or maybe it was the inability to distinguish his chest hair from whatever was going on above the forehead. Whatever the case, he was cougar prey before we invented that retardo term knew what a cougar was!

This guy's not a cougar, per se, unless cougar now means "coked-up monsters in jorts." But dude likes his Tom Jones, or whatever this is...