The Hairy Man — skinny, skeezy, looks like a lost member of Jethro Tull? — must have represented some male ideal at some point, but that is a memory we have repressed. The big toe was surely never the "magnificent erotic organ" it was made out to be.

Yet something about "The Joy of Sex" resonated with people — or at least reached them, parked as it was on the New York Times best-seller list for years after its 1972 release.

It scintillated, it titillated, it taught French you never learned from Madame Cousin. But most of all, it normalized. In the boudoir, everyone was OK, and everyone could be taught. Subtitled "A Gourmet Guide to Lovemaking," doctor-author Alex Comfort's book made being a sexpert a snobby hobby. Like cheese-tasting, but naked.

This week in bookstores, an overhaul. A major overhaul — not like the smaller updates done over the years. "The Joy of Sex: The Timeless Guide to Lovemaking" has 42 new sections and some old standards.

Comfort died in 2000, so Susan Quilliam, a British relationship shrink, stepped in to write new content.

According to "Joy's" introduction, this version was written to benefit the "ordinary, sexually active reader."

Ordinary? What, in the "Joy of Sex" world, does that mean, anyway?

Spoiler alert: People still have sex. The mechanics of it haven't changed since 1972, A.D. or B.C. We might be overwhelmed with info now (See: "Internet"), but the popularity and longevity of "Joy" make it seem a lot more trustworthy than, say, "Tickle His Pickle," $10.17 on Amazon.

But it really did need an update. Sections of the original read like shag-carpeted relics. The anti-condoms attitude, especially, but also the sex on horseback (we're outraged, too, PETA); the aversion to shaving anything (especially the Hairy Man); and the assertion that regular orgies were the way of the future.

The new version is better, in some ways.

For one, the Hairy Man is replaced by a guy who looks like a Best Life cover model, and his new partner is a curvy, comely redhead.

For two, the book has abandoned most of its bizarrely offensive terminology, including a sexual position dubbed "a la Negresse" and a crack about "one-legged ladies."

Some readers may balk at some of the edgier sections ("Chains" and "Harness," for instance.

Whether it's too square or too out there, something somewhere in "The Joy of Sex" is going to make someone feel like a freak.