Sunday, July 24, 2011

Wu! Wu! Democrat congressman he likey the young trim.

Oregon congressman David Wu likes his snoochy the old fashioned way.  Up close and personal.  Unlike fellow disgraced congressman Democrat Anthony Wiener who just harassed women with pictures of his turgid love muscle, Representative Wu, 56, of Oregon has been accused of an "unwanted sexual encounter" (whatever the fuck that entails) with a teenaged girl.  If I had to guess I would say that meant breast groping, probing slobbery tongue and maybe some hands up the skirt, but something short of rape.  The girl left a distraught, breathless voicemail last spring at the congressman's office where she described the incident.  We are, of course, awaiting the hot and heavy details.  It is known that the incident happened around Thanksgiving and involved the daughter of a donor and the girl was a recent high school graduate and had just registered to vote.  This is important spin in establishing the non-jailbait factor, but does nothing to alleviate the creepy old pervert factor.  Putting the mash moves on a donor's young daughter? Hasn't Mr. Wu heard about not shitting where you eat?  Could this be enough to make the donor (not to mention his daughter) vote Republican?

 He's no Justin Bieber, but the power of even a backbencher 
congressman can be like catnip to hot young high school babes. 

Wu has a reputation for serial weirdness stretching back over his career.  He was accused of sexually assaulting a former girlfriend when they attended Stanford in 1976.  He is separated from his wife who is seeking a divorce.  Shortly before the 2010 election bizarre emails and phone calls were sent to staff and even included a picture of himself in a tiger suit.  After his re-election many of the staff quit and Rep. Wu has been treated for unspecified mental health problems ever since.

Hold that tiger!  No mental issues here. 

Of this latest dust-up, Mr. Wu admits "this is very serious" but that whatever occurred was "consensual".  Next thing you know Rep. Wu will be telling us that "she was just asking for it with that short skirt and over the knee stockings."

Not the schoolgirl in question, but damn I love this picture.

David Wu represents a fairly safe, liberal district that includes Portland.  And he does have the cachet of being the first Chinese-American to serve in congress.  But I would imagine that even the "anything goes" lefties that are his constituency may draw the line at a 56-year old degenerate satyr pawing the nubile girly parts of a chick just out of high school.

My money is on Congressman Wu being ex-Congressman Wu by the end of the week.

Saturday, July 23, 2011

Died Today:

Amy Winehouse
Sept. 14, 1983-July 23, 2011
(Age 27)
Amy could look kind of hot when she was cleaned up. 

Unfortunately, this was the face 
The Wino presented most often to the world.

To the surprise of I'm sure no one, Amy Winehouse was found dead at her home today.  Not much in the way of details at this time.  I'm sure we can all take an educated guess as to the cause.  This being the modern age, her fellow celebrity colleagues are taking a few moments from their frightfully busy Saturday to Tweet their condolences.

A quick look at my archives tells me I've never done a snarky post about The Wino.  She just seemed like too easy a target.  Great voice, great recordings but too fucked up to give a great concert or to sustain any kind of career.  Just sad, really.  Total waste of talent and of a life.  Nothing more to say.  (Unless something particularly juicy about her demise warrants comment.)

P.S. I hope Lindsay Lohan is taking note.

Thursday, July 21, 2011

Pool sex. It's not just for hormonally challenged teen sluts.

It's been really hot out.  No, no, no I mean really hot.  Not that kind of hot, but heat hot, as in temperature.  Oh, fuck it, let's just combine the two and have some fun with this story of slatternly fuckery.

There must have been a great deal of churning water around Myron Helms, 33, and Victoria Cross, 40 as they made a standing (one assumes) beast with two backs in the pubic (typo, but I'll keep it) pool in Connersville, IN.  Are you thinking what I'm thinking?  That these two are a little old for these kinds of shenanigans.

 No mug shot of the pool porkers yet.
I'm guessing they don't look this good. 

The other folks in the vicinity of the coupling couple were not amused and raised an outcry after it had been going on for half an hour.  I mean really, enough is enough.  Did it take thirty minutes to catch on that the swim buddies were gettin' busy?  Or were they just enjoying the show?  One shocked bystander stood in front of the fornicating duo in an attempt to shield them from the view of the chilluns.   THEY DIDN'T EVEN THINK ABOUT THE CHILLUNS!!!  When the pool manager approached the couple they separated and out popped the peenie.  Busted!

Speaking of busted.  Mr. Helms is a reserve police officer with the local constabulary.  Fine example there officer.

Yes, I have had sex in a pool.  (And so have you, admit it.)  It was my own pool and it was at night and we were alone.  You know, the way you're supposed to do it.

The couple has been charged with misdemeanor public indecency and, in case you were wondering, the city recycled the pool water and added extra chemicals to get rid of any lingering spoo.

Go here for a Funeral Guy previous look at crazy public sex.

Monday, July 18, 2011

Let's get this get this party started...Florida style!

Parents are such a draaaaaggggg, man.  All you want to do is have a little summer fun.  Party hearty at the home of the parental units.  And they say no.  Ya' just wanna kill 'em.

And that's precisely what 17-year old Tyler Hadley did.  (Allegedly.)  After a party for 40-60 of his friends police in Port St. Lucie, Florida went to the home of Blake and Mary Jo Hadley on a tip and found them locked in the master bedroom along with a bloody hammer.   Need I add that they were no longer among the living?  Their ungrateful little wretch of a son has been arrested for the crime and charged with two counts of murder in the first degree.

 "Hey dad, before you go all unconscious and shit, 
can you tell me where mom is?  

I guess it's lucky Tyler locked the bedroom door.  In a party that big you know some horny, shit-faced couple were searching around for a place to get busy.  Tripping over a couple of bludgeoned stiffs is a sure fire mood killer.

An autopsy is scheduled to determine the exact cause of death.  (Note to coroner:  Look for bloody swollen faces and crescent shaped wounds.  It's called blunt force trauma in case you've never seen this before.)    

Thursday, July 14, 2011

Somebody needs to get this hottie out in the wind more often.

My brother, the Conservaterian sent me these.  (Go to him for serious political analysis, stay here for the dick jokes.)

I'd seen these before but it appears that the British press did a little photoshopping out of respect for the royal family since you can definitely see more ass on these.  Goddam, I sure loves me the upskirt photos.   Full set here.

Prince William comes off as kind of a dweeb to me. 
I sure hope he knows what to do with this babe.  

But it's got to be true. I saw it on the internet!!!

Photo of alleged Mistress of the Beauty Salon, Olga Zajac. 
Who allegedly karate kicked and allegedly raped a robber. 

I was going to write a killer post on the big story of the day about the would be robber of a beauty salon in Russia who was karate kicked unconscious by the foxy female owner (like Uma Thurman in Kill Bill 1 & 2).  She then tied him to a chair and sexually assaulted him.  How do you do that to a frightened, flaccid and unwilling (sorry, no penis is truly unwilling) penis?  You feed it's owner nothing but Viagra and sproinggggg! just like magic, instant boner.

The jokes, japes and puns were flying around my head like bats in a belfry.  (No cash, just gash...Made for TV Lifetime Movie of the Week Starring Jennifer Aniston and Matthew many times did she send out for vodka...did she hide him behind an Iron Curtain...etc, etc.)  The story in the UK Daily Mail even brought up the scene in Pulp Fiction with Butch and Marcellus, Zed, his redneck friend, Maynard and their sidekick The Gimp.  Really good analogy except for the Russian scenario is pretty hot when you think about it and the Pulp Fiction scene (like Deliverance) involves butt-fucking male rape by two sweaty hillbillies.  Do I really need to tell you that I don't find that hot?

As it turns out this story first went around a couple of years ago.  And even then it was thought to be bullshit.  (Which was kinda my first thought also, but you know the old saying, "too good to check.")  Stuff that happens in Russia is likely the result of vodka and krokodil fever dreams anyway, so big grain of salt with the Russky news.

I spent a lot of time looking for this picture. 
See, she even looks like a beauty salon lady. 
Now I can't even use it.  Bummer. 

I will now get back to the post I was working on regarding the negotiations on the debt ceiling with riveting insights into the implications for the Republican Party and the Obama presidency.  Fascinating stuff.  You're gonna love it.

Is Washington trying to become the next Florida?

Crazy shit in the State of Washington.

Can anyone please explain to me the appeal that guys in prison have for some women.  Some woman married the fucking Night Stalker Richard Ramirez for chrissakes.  The Menendez brothers even managed to score a couple of wives.

Six and a half years ago a shitbird named Dominick Maldonado shot up the Tacoma Mall and wounded seven people including one victim who is now confined to a wheelchair.  A real sweetheart this guy.  Well, one woman thinks he is.  Quynh Maldonado is the blushing bride of Dominick after marrying him in a ceremony at Clallam Bay Prison where he is serving 163 years.  Talk about a deferred honeymoon.  While most of us would look at Dominick Maldonado and see a scum sucking criminal, Quynh sees the love of her life.  The thing that gives this story it's hook is the fact that...and there is no other way to put it...Quynh is shit hot prime trim.  Young and sexy.  If you watch the video the producers shoot Quynh like the beginning of a soft porn vid on Skinemax.  Fuck me heels and a short tight skirt with the accent on her full mouth and the glossy lips. Usually most of the broads in these prison relationships are fat, old spinsters with severe issues.  Not that Quynh is devoid of problems such as the fact that she is dumb as the proverbial bag o' hammers.

The lovely Quyhn and her prison paramour. 

She fell instantly in love with Dominick when she saw him on TV and started writing to him when she was 17.  She had plenty of time on her hands since she "quit school in ninth grade 'cause I couldn't stand the whole bullying thingy."  She's currently a little mifffed at her hubby because he tried to break out of prison (with another inmate who was killed in the attempt) and now they can't see each other for another year.  (And conjugal visits were just around the corner.  Hubba hubba.)  He's now been transferred to another prison and being held in maximum security.  So the only sex Dominick will be having will be with himself.

But Quyhn can't stay mad at her hoodlum heartthrob because he did it to be with her, you see.  Now I happen to think this little sex kitten is an attention whore who is not going to forgo male attention (i.e. fucking) until Dominick is up for parole when he's 96.  So is Quyhn crazy?  "No, but I'm just like crazy in love with him."  Aaaaawwwwwwww.....

For some reason the video wouldn't embed but here is a link without the commercial.  Guys, you can start rubbing yourself at around the 1:15 mark.  The hot legs shot is about 1:45.

More Washington State jail Fuckery.

Mark Gilbert is the kind of guy that really doesn't want to end up in prison.  Beyond the normal reasons even.  You see Mark has been charged with sexing up the young boys and videoing the action.  Uh oh, real nasty criminals frown on this kind of stuff.

What makes this interesting is Gilbert is acting as his own attorney.  And you know what attorneys are allowed to do don't you?  They get to review the evidence against their clients.  Mr. Gilbert is a lawyer with Mark as a client.  Which means Mark the Molester (alleged, of course) gets to sit around all day and watch his kiddie porn under the auspices of his jailers.  Hahahahaha!  Isn't the majesty of the law grand?
"Make no mistake -- I don't like it," said Pierce County Sheriff Paul Pastor. "But it is not my choice whether to do it or not to do it. There's no question that I don't like it. There's no question that this makes me grind my teeth. 
"We don't like it. We don't want to do it, but we have to follow the law. The fix here is to change the law," said Pierce County Prosecutor Mark Lindquist.

Mark Gilbert watching his favorite videos. 
You don't want to see what his hands are up to.  

Just to make sure the other prisoners don't get their popcorn and sit down to enjoy the show, Gilbert has to do his viewing in a separate room.   Which I'm sure suits him just fine.    

Wednesday, July 13, 2011

Another penis sacrificed to The Cult of Lorena Bobbit.

The Funeral Guy has been tracking penis slicing, burning and all around abuse (not counting self-abuse) since we started.  See here, here and here.

I think we now have a new contender for the Queen of Dick Destruction.  Catherine Kieu Becker, 48, was in the process of divorcing her husband when she laced his food with either poison or some kind of sleeping nostrum.  Mr. Becker went to slumber town and upon awakening found himself tied to the bed.  Catherine approached with a knife and sliced off the Becker Pecker and (shudder) threw it in the garbage disposal.  Then, with what I can only imagine to be a maniacal cackle she turned on the switch.  Ye gods, picture the horror of that poor man.  The grinding sound of his peenie flesh mixing with chicken bones and potato peels as tissue, veins and capillaries meet the whirling blades of the trusty Insinkerator™.  Mrs. Becker called the cops before her husband bled to death and told them on arrival that he "deserved it".   Police have said there's been no record of domestic abuse so a motive is now being sought.  Motive?  How about she's a fucking vengeful menopausal shrew?

Catherine Kieu Becker. 
Knows where to hit a guy and make it hurt.  

Some women really have a penchant for this kind of revenge.  Catherine, who has been charged with aggravated mayhem, false imprisonment and assault with a deadly weapon, will soon be spinning tales of drunkenness, cruelty, and leaving the toilet seat up on the part of the poor penis-less Mr. Becker.  With the added bonus of celebrity famewhore attorney Gloria Allred by her side giving sympathy and comfort, I bet.  I know they don't give the death penalty for anything short of murder, but come on.  Shouldn't there be an exception for this?

What the hell was Mr. Becker (no first name yet) doing breaking bread with this unbalanced battle-ax?  If you're getting a divorce, get the fuck out of the house.  Get a hotel room and keep a gun under your pillow.  Even the meekest women are capable of extreme derangement.  Always be on your guard, especially when they get real quiet.  I appreciate that the article goes into great detail about what to do if you ever find your penis has been detached from your body.  For god's sake!  How often does this happen?

When a man gets domestically violent he might hit the woman.  He might even shoot or stab her.  Very rarely will he cut her tits off or otherwise do damage to her vagina.  Woman are like angry chimps.  After they tear your face off they go straight for your genitals.

I wonder if a guy in a gay marriage would ever cut his spouse's dick off.  I suspect we'll find out soon enough.

(Sigh) Rodney...Rodney...Rodney...

Rodney King.
The latest in a long line of police portraits. 

Rodney King, habitual criminal, serial drunk driver and civil rights icon, was arrested (yet again) by Moreno Valley (CA) police for DUI yesterday.  This was a misdemeanor charge since luckily he didn't kill or injure anybody and Rodney was released on $2500 bail.  The 46-year old King, who received a 3.8 million dollar settlement after being the recipient of some LAPD street justice after a high speed chase in 1991, has been in and out of trouble since 1987.  I'm just mentioning the date for those bleeding hearts who insist that Rodney was an A-OK citizen until the nasty LA cops beat the shit out of him.  Keep in mind that a number of Rodney's arrests involved violence towards women.  Nice.  Since the 1991 beatdown Rodney has spent his settlement money on booze and getting in trouble.

I came to know Rodney as a well-meaning but dimwitted rumdum from his stint on Celebrity Rehab with Dr. Drew.  (Along with now deceased rehab mate Kevin Conaway.)  Favorite scene:  Rodney puking by the tire of his work truck while being painfully hungover in the middle of his workday.

So good luck, Mr. King.  This is just a misdemeanor bump in the road in your illustrious career as an unending fuck-up in the Game of Life.  Lesson for the rest of us?  If you are serious about your recovery don't do your rehabbing in front of a camera under the celebrity tutelage of Dr. Drew.

Go here for a complete list of Rodney's run-ins with Johnnie Law.

Tuesday, July 12, 2011

Songwriter ups his profile in search for record deal.

"How many times I gotta tell 'ya, baby?  
Ya' gotta hot body, but you ain't my goddam muse...see?"

I'm not saying that smacking your chick is ever funny, but I gotta admit I got a chuckle out of this.  Jason Banks, 29, is an aspiring songwriter in Ambridge, Pennsylvania.  His woman was apparently hectoring him about the fact that he never channeled his talents towards immortalizing her in song.  An honor, she complained, previously bestowed on women other than herself.

Jason, being an artistic sort (high strung and all) replied by walloping her in the face and choking her out.  Nothing major, just a little tune-up with a side order of attitude adjustment.  Jason was arrested and charged with simple assault.

A quick Google search turns up no picture of Jason Banks/Songwriter (other than some British metal dude on MySpace), nor any musical accomplishments duly noted on the internet.  (A low bar to be sure, as you can even find The Funeral Guy with a Google click.)

So I guess you could say this was Jason Banks's one and only "hit".

Monday, July 11, 2011

I think we have a new star for "Celebrity Rehab with Dr. Drew".

By jove, at last a story I know something about.  Rock musicians, bass players and the crazy fuckery that drugs can make you do.

Mike Todd, bassist and background vocalist of the neo-prog band Coheed and Cambria had a complete What The Fuck Was He Thinking? moment today in Massachusetts.  A few hours before the band's show at Comcast Center in Mansfield, Mike decided he was a little low on his drug of choice.   So, you're a rock star.   You know what to do.  You snap your fingers and some underling roadie or guitar tech goes out and finds a dealer and gets you what you want.  (In the event you forgot to have the "drugs to be provided" language stated in your contract rider.)

  Mike Todd.  Sadder but wiser. 
When you do a drug stickup use a stolen car. 

Coheed and Cambria must be on the low rent tour because Mike was jonesing and had to take matters into his own hands.  Mike walks into a local Walgreen's and demands some Oxycontin.  And talk about high tech.  He wrote the robbery note on his cell phone and stated he had a bomb so hand it the fuck over.  He actually made a pretty good score.  Six bottles.   Sometimes downers like Oxy can make your thinking a little foggy (they don't call it Hillbilly Heroin for nothing) and Mike made his getaway in (are you ready?) a taxicab.  Mensa Mike was quickly arrested at the venue and was charged with armed robbery and possession of a controlled substance.  The show went on as scheduled sans Mike who will be replaced for the remaining tour dates.

Bass players, in my experience, are quietly crazy, the whole fucking lot of them.  Most of the ones I've known were slaves of the demon rum, but Oxy gives a nice buzz I'm told.

Luckily I sobered up before that particular vice was available.

Saturday, July 9, 2011

You probably thought the bulge in his pants was a boner from looking at the body scans of hot chicks.

I think our government employees really get a bad rap sometimes.  They're unmotivated.  They lack initiative.  They're lazy and have no common sense.  OK, maybe most of them do fit this description.  But not TSA agent Nelson Santiago-Serrano.  He's the busiest beaver in the federal workforce.  In between touching your kid like a pedo, fingering a man's balls, feeling up some woman's tits, and humiliating your grandma by making her take off her Depends, Nelson would be hard at work filching whatever personal electronics he could get his sticky little fingers on.  Mr. Santiago-Serrano was caught last Monday stuffing an iPad down his pants by a Continental Airlines employee.

After being questioned by the Broward County Sheriff's Department (yes, that is in Florida), Nelson admitted to stealing about $50,000 worth of computers, GPS units, cell phones and other fun gizmos.  Just to prove there was no grass growing under his feet, Santiago-Serrano (is he in a gay marriage where he took some dude's last name?) would often put the merchandise up on Ebay while he was still at work and sell it by the end of the day.  PROBABLY USING YOUR FUCKING LAPTOP!  Hahahahahaha!   You gotta hand it to him.  Nelson knows how to add insult to injury.  And just think.  Now the TSA employees are going to be unionized.  That should make it easier to clear out the criminals, the lardbutts and the sexual deviants.

So for all of you who got a great deal on Ebay for personal electronics recently you might want to check to see if it smells like ass or ball sweat, since there is a good chance it went from somebody's suitcase to some TSA agent's pants.  

You don't think this guy is the only one of these mopes doing this do you?

   Nelson Santiago-Serrano. 
Because of his proven ability to 
separate citizens from their property 
he's been nominated to head 
the Internal Revenue Service. 

Friday, July 8, 2011

I want my "Tot Mom" porn!

Mommie Dearest

I have never written a post about Casey Anthony.  Why?  Because I lost interest in the case the second she was finally arrested.  I thought, just like OJ, this person is guilty as shit, and all the rest is just going to be a boring formality.  (Which tells you what a lousy prognosticator I am.)

The Casey Anthony story should have been a big, fat, slow pitch right down the center of the plate for me.  Skanky whore mom, missing kid, crazy parents, ALL HAPPENING IN FLORIDA!!  (New state slogan:  "If you can't do the time, do the crime in Florida!"  h/t Rush)  Unfortunately, I didn't start this blog till July 2009 so the ball was already rolling.

As we all know, little Caylee Anthony came up missing in June of 2008.  Her mother, Casey, was too busy partying and lying and didn't report her missing for 31 days.  Eventually,  Grandma Cindy Anthony (who's also a real piece of work) got concerned enough when Casey's lies and obfuscations became even too much for her and called 911 with a report which included the now infamous quote, "There is something wrong, I found my daughter's car today and it smells like there's been a dead body in the damn car."  After months of mendacity from the mouth of the "Tot Mom" (Nancy Grace's colorful appellation) what was determined to be Caylee's mostly skeletal remains were found not far from the Anthony home with duct tape wrapped around the head.

I'm not going to recap the whole sorry episode.  The reason I wasn't riveted to the trial like some people is that I figured the guilt of this monster was a forgone conclusion.  To wit:

The kid vanishes.  The whorish club-skank mom doesn't report this for 31 days but has time to party and get tattooed.  Have you ever had your kid wander off in a store out of your sight for 20 seconds?  I have and it's total panic.  To Casey it's a shrug of the shoulders.  ("She's with Zanny the nanny."  Zanny the nanny?  You've got to be shitting me.)

The grandma smells decomp in Casey's car.  Believe me, there is no confusing this with old pizza, a dead cat or a run over skunk.  The smell of decomposing human remains is primal.  You know what it is even if you've never smelled it before.  No expertise required.

Casey Anthony is a petty thief, a forger and a known pathological liar and self-centered narcissistic personality.

The kid is found with duct tape on her face.  Unless aliens with duct tape kidnapped Caylee what does your common sense tell you?  

For me, this is enough to know that Mom had something to do with the kid's death.   The aggressive prosecutors however, got over amped and charged Casey with murder one and made it a death penalty case. The jury is given no firm cause of death and can only convict on a willful murder or aggravated manslaughter.  Big mistake and Casey walks except for a the piffle charge of leading the cops on a wild goose chase.  I don't blame the jury entirely although I probably would have gone for the aggravated child abuse and the manslaughter.  The power to put somebody to death pushes the bar just a little higher.  As it should.

Here is my theory.  Casey loves Caylee in her own way.  As a sociopath would.  Cute little Caylee reflects positively back on Casey.  Being a mom is a drag, however, as is interferes with entering Hot Body contests, drinking and whoring around.  Casey gets in the habit of drugging the kid so she can go club crawling.  One night she fucks up and Caylee OD's and dies.  Casey, not intending to kill Caylee, looks at the situation the way any conscienceless psychopath would.  "This wasn't my fault, and I shouldn't have to pay a price for this. Shit happens.  I just need to get rid of Caylee then I  can get on with my life."  Me, me, me, me.  So she does what she's reportedly done her whole life.  Lies to and manipulates her clueless enabling parents Cindy and George and buys the time to ditch the body.  (I'm assuming the duct tape was to make it look like a kidnap/murder that would be pinned on the legendary "bushy haired stranger.")

Not a murder, but at least negligent homicide or involuntary manslaughter.  I don't often agree with Geraldo Rivera, but he's absolutely right on one point.   If this involved a black or hispanic woman it wouldn't have gotten the frenzy of media attention and certainly wouldn't have been a death penalty case.

So Casey Anthony will be released from jail on July 17th, free as the proverbial bird.  Now what?  Where does the most hated woman in America go?  What does she do next?

I'm sure her lawyer has lined up some paid interviews.  For now she's the ultimate "Big Get."  The Diane Sawyers and the Barbara Walters of the world aren't stupid, however.  They know what the country thinks of this lying piece of shit mom.  They understand the public wants blood and they will be out to give it to us figuratively since we couldn't get it by strapping Casey to a gurney and pumping a lethal injection into her.  They're not bound by the arcane rules of a courtroom.  These interviews are going to be rougher than if she was Sarah Palin.  Casey is going up against pros that she may not find amenable to serial lies and manipulation.   If a savvy interviewer wants to make you look bad, they can do it.  But, she'll be in the limelight and have a few bucks in her pocket.  (If she ends up doing interviews with her lawyer by her side cautioning her to say nothing, the gravy train will stop fairly quickly.)  We are, if nothing else, an easily bored populace.  Casey will be entertaining for a few weeks then we'll be on to the next grisly murder case.

Does she go back to her parents from whom she's been sponging off her entire adult life?  Possible, but not likely.  If my daughter accused me of molesting her in order to save her sorry ass on a charge of murdering my beloved grandchild, my unconditional love would not only get conditional real fast, it would be non-existent.  Live in my house?  I don't think so.

Some career advice was put forth by porn entrepreneur, Steve Hirsch, of Vivid Video.  He offered Casey the chance to exhibit her talents in front of a camera for cash what she'd most likely been giving away for free to the male party animals of Orange County, Florida.   Amazingly, after the offer was made public, Hirsch was inundated with so many emails from his fan base saying that there was no way they were going to support this endeavor that the offer was withdrawn.  Who'd have thought that porn aficionados would have such a finely calibrated moral compass.  Think about that.  You are so toxic that a hard core smut peddler is worried that you would sully the reputation of the pornography industry.  Ouch.  (Like Octomom, who also got an offer from Vivid, Casey's not quite hot enough to be a top of the line pornstar, but the "bad girl" factor would definitely be in play.)  The same would apply to the local area strip clubs as well.  So I guess she could swing around a pole and give lap dances until the novelty wore off.

Casey Anthony.  Glammed up for her porn audition. 
She should have done time for the duckface. 

Further down the road?  If I had to make a prediction, Casey will end up unloved and abandoned.  People eventually catch on to pathological liars and manipulators and avoid them like the plague.  Whatever attractiveness she has will fade and the only men that will be interested will be stew bums, losers and other social misfits.  Psychopaths don't normally live happy lives and usually come to a bad end.  She'll probably be in and out of jail for scams and petty crimes that she'll have to commit when she blows through all the money made by her infamy.  A real job will be out of the question even if she were so inclined.  Some sort of cosmic justice will prevail.

On the other hand, I suppose it's possible that Casey Anthony will see the error of her ways, repent, and spend her life giving aid and comfort to the lepers and the poor of India.  Sort of like a low rent Mother Theresa.

Yes, I could be completely wrong.  After all, I was positively sure OJ was going to fry.

Tuesday, July 5, 2011

No, I haven't been dumped in a swamp with duct tape around my mouth.

Should have some new stuff up tomorrow.  I was on call for the 4th and the funeral home has been the usual end of three day weekend crazy.  Amazingly...NO CORONER CASES!  Just elderly folks and no one unexpected.  God bless 'em all.

I have some thoughts on the horniest of French toads, DSK, and the skankiest of completely not guilty child killing moms.

Great casket for a person killed in a drunk driving accident. 

Thursday, June 30, 2011

No need to pick up a pacifier on your shopping trip.

More batshit crazy mom stuff.  Toyrianna Smith (where the fuck do they get these names?) of Chicago is being held in the jug on a million dollars bail for beating and suffocating her baby to death.  Apparently baby Ken Blackman Jr. wouldn't stop crying.  Yep.  Sometimes those babies just won't listen.  (I used to feed and rock Little Miss Funeral Guy when she was a fussy baby, but maybe that's just me.)

  Toyrianna Smith.
The inability to choose a hair color is a 
clear indication of a disordered mind. 

Hey, Funeral Guy, no story here.  Happens every day. What doesn't happen every day is strapping the little dead baboo in a carry sling, taking him on a shopping trip then off to visit friends.

From the article:
She had been drinking vodka at a friend's house and spent the night in their guest room with the baby. She slipped out of the house the next day before the baby's father came to pick him up.
Not a shock:  20-year old Toyrianna was guzzling the vodka.
Big shock:  The baby's father was coming to pick him up for some daddy time.

Unlike Casey Anthony, I will wager here and now no prosecutor will be asking for the death penalty in this case.  The soft bigotry of low expectations.

It may not be "Perverted" but it sure smells like poetic "Justice" to me.

Chris Hansen
Professional Cock Blocker

Smug, supercilious and major all-around asshole, Chris Hansen, scourge of internet predators everywhere has been hoisted on the petard of hidden camera gotcha.  Hansen, 51, has been caught in a sting set up by the National Enquirer (my paper of record) in Florida (does anything good happen there?) with a 30-year old TV reporter by the name of Kristyn Caddell.  This would have been so much better if Kristyn had been...say...17, but we'll take what we can get.   I say 17, because then it would have been technically illegal but not creepily pedo.

The hot and heavy fuckfest started about four months ago when Chris was down in Florida covering a story when he met the comely Kristyn and it was lust at first sight.  I've heard this kind of thing can happen when a guy goes on the road.  Chris is married to wife Mary, 53, and the have two lil' boy chilluns together. 

 Chris and the Misses

Lust turned to love whatever, with Chris sending flowers and words of endearment but with no apparent urgency to cut loose the ball and chain of matrimony.  (Ain't that always the way.  Chris may be horny but he's still smart enough to keep his mind on his assets.)

The sting caught Chris and Kristyn (isn't that a cute couple name?) out at dinner, and according to the story "staring into each other eyes".  The story also notes that Kristyn was "wearing high heels and a short revealing dress".  Yummy!  The kind of outfit that makes a guy want to get dinner over with ASAP.  A stop at the liquor store follows and the couple arrive at the babe's apartment at 10 PM.  When Hansen left the next morning they were both wearing different clothes and "Kristyn's hair was dishevelled as if she just rolled out of bed."  GUILTY!!  AND TOTALLY HAWT!!

Kristyn Caddell
Hansen's new show should be titled
To Catch a Young Piece 

I must confess, To Catch a Predator was a full-blown guilty pleasure of mine.  If you've never seen it seek it out in reruns or on You Tube.  You won't be sorry.  A finer example of horny nerd douchery is impossible to find.  These sex-starved simpletons were sucked in by faux smutty talk from a vigilante Star Chamber called Perverted Justice.  Staffed by ugly chicks in baseball hats and a fat bald guy, Perverted Justice would pretend to be hot young snizz to rope in the dopes who were trolling the chat rooms.  When the basement dwelling losers would show up at the sting house with their rubbers, lube and lingerie, high on the hope of jailbait jezebels, it was pure comedy gold.  I mean, dude.  Look in the mirror.  Is the kind of guy that a hot underage stranger wants to have sex with staring back at you?  Proof positive that God gave men two brains but the ability to only use one at a time. 

Let me take a second here to say I don't condone old guys hitting on underage girls.  I have daughters and would hope they would have the sense to tell a old creep in a chat room to fuck off and go blow himself.  What this group was doing was entrapment pure and simple.  Maybe not in the strictly legal sense but it sure was for all practical purposes.  A lot of these cases were thrown out because the judges had trouble figuring out jurisdictions and other vague areas of these predator laws.  So bottom line?  Guys, there are plenty of 18+ year old women on the internet.  Get your willy wet with the big girls...mmmmmmmkay? 

Anyway, the scene would be set.  The mark would show up at the house.  He would be met by a legal age chick pretending to be the schoolgirl all alone.  She'd make some excuse to leave him hanging in the living room ("I gotta fold these clothes before they wrinkle, but I made some sweet tea for 'ya.)  The girl was always kind of a hillbilly for some reason.  While the doofus was waiting for his horny honey to return, out would pop Chris Hansen.  Looking and sounding like God Himself.  "Why don't you take a seat right over there?"  Most of the time the dumbass guy would think Chris was the chick's dad.  Hahahahaha.  It was fucking hilarious.  The dude would start stammering out all kinds of bullshit when Chris would ask them "What are you doing here?"  They'd say, "Just gonna hang out." And "Nothing...Sir."  This after Chris finds a bag of rubbers with Romeo's gift of Big Macs.  And my personal favorite: "I just came here to tell this young girl how dangerous it is to talk to strange men on the internet."  Cue the fucking laugh track.  After confronting the stupid muttonhead with the chat logs where the "girl" said she was 13 and he replied he wanted to eat her pussy and suck her tits,  Chris would tell the guy he was free to go.  Free to go into the arms of some small town police detail that was so bored it would be dressed up in ninja SWAT outfits screaming and waving their guns around just to throw some fat, bald, sobbing accountant to the sidewalk.  Truck drivers, IT guys, soldiers, even a district attorney and a doctor got caught up in the fuckery.  (Best scene ever: the doctor calling his wife to bring bail money to the county lockup.  "'t bring the girls!")  The district attorney actually committed suicide in his house with the police outside.  That took a lot of the fun out of things and the forthcoming investigation of the cozy relationship between Perverted Justice, the Dateline TV show and law enforcement eventually spelled the demise of the program.  

I know that boning a 30-year old woman not your wife is not the same as going after adolescents.  Were some of these guys dangerous?  Possibly.  But most of the subjects of these stings came off to me as just sad, lonely, socially awkward sad sacks that got caught up in internet tomfoolery and did something stupid.  Eagerly egged on by the horny talk of the Perverted Justice improv group.  As one guy who got caught by the self-rightous Mr. Hansen said when confronted with the evidence that the girl told him she was 14.  "It's the internet," he said, "everybody lies."  

The thing that I disliked most about Chris Hansen and this whole enterprise was that he seemed to be enjoying the humiliation of these nebbishes a little too much.  Am I smiling a little because Chris Hansen is experiencing some discomfort and embarrassment today?  Yeah, I guess I am.  

Wednesday, June 29, 2011

John Lennon: Reaganite

I wish some celebrity would whip his dick out in public or one of the Kardashian tramps would do a panty flash, because this summer has been slooooooooow.   Except for death, of course, which is part of the reason for the sparse output here.   (I hate to hit the shit file before the weekend.)

"Imagine there's no's easy if you try..."  

The big story today (just to prove how lean things are) is that John Lennon was showing conservative leanings before his death.  This according to the rock star's last personal assistant, Fred Seaman.
From the article:

"John, basically, made it very clear that if he were an American he would vote for Reagan because he was really sour on (Democrat) Jimmy Carter," he says.
"He'd met Reagan back, I think, in the `70s at some sporting event ... Reagan was the guy who had ordered the National Guard, I believe, to go after the young (peace) demonstrators in Berkeley, so I think that John maybe forgot about that ... He did express support for Reagan, which shocked me.
"I also saw John embark in some really brutal arguments with my uncle, who's an old-time communist ... He enjoyed really provoking my uncle ... Maybe he was being provocative ... but it was pretty obvious to me he had moved away from his earlier radicalism.
"He was a very different person back in 1979 and 80 than he'd been when he wrote Imagine. By 1979 he looked back on that guy and was embarrassed by that guy's naivete."
Now this could just be John Lennon "taking a piss" as the Brits say.  (As in, "Just kidding.")  Or Lennon suddenly came to the realization: "Holy shit!  I have a lot of money.  I better start supporting people who are going to let me keep some of it.  Goddammit, now how do I disavow all that shit I wrote in Imagine?"

Yoko Ono has not been reached yet for a screeching comment.  

Monday, June 27, 2011

The Shaman of Shadukey Speaketh.

You remember the saga of the mysterious "Sky"?  He was the Poopchute Peeper in the Boulder, Colorado Porta-Potty.  "Sky" turns out to be Luke Irvin Chrisco, 30, and he was arrested outside of Vail, CO last Thursday while panhandling outside a gas station.

Luke Irvin Chrisco.  He doesn't look half bad 
when he's cleaned and deodorized.  

Luke has admitted to being the Porta-Potty Pervert and has quite a story to tell.
Chrisco said he was living in the woods in France years ago and some friends went to a recreation center. He said he was wandering around inside the center when he ventured into the girls' locker room and noticed a loose vent, where he decided to hide.
So he "ventured" into the girls' locker room.  Like the call of the Sirens and Luke just a hapless sailor.  
"These chicks started showing up that I never had a chance with," Chrisco said. "But I figured at least I can see them change or something. I've come to know how interesting they are."
Hey, Luke.  I like interesting chicks too.  What you do is you talk to them, make them like you, take them to dinner then eventually they'll willingly take their clothes off and let you see their lady parts.  AND LET YOU DO FUN STUFF.  TRY IT SOMETIME.

After Luke's European adventures, he returned to the lucky town of Boulder and became a driller of holes and a peeker at pulchritude.  Several attempts to set up porn sites and an entrepreneurial eye as a pimp came to naught.  Even these were not to make money but to advance his beliefs sex stuff, I guess.  
"I wanted to start a new goddess religion," he said. "I always wanted to be a pimp or create a church of porn or a church of tantric, someplace people could be spiritual but also instinctual," he said. 
Sure, you can say Luke is a unbalanced weirdo sex offender who is a danger to society, but how is his philosophy any different from that of Charlie Sheen?  (Who should also arguably be in some sort of custody.)

Even though Luke's first foray into looking for Goddesses in the public dumper ended in his arrest, the enjoyment of the sight and smells will always hold fond memories.
"I thought, 'This is really amazing; I've been blessed and anointed by the makers of life,'" Chrisco said.
There you go.  One man's golden shower fetish is another man's communion.  With a big steaming log as an appetizer. 

Next thing you'll tell me is Mrs. Cleaver did double penetration porn.

Florence Henderson...Back in the day.
Pretty MILF-y.  I'd have given her a tumble. 

Florence Henderson, beloved TV mom on the popular 70's sitcom The Brady Bunch, has revealed in her soon to be released autobiography that she was cheating on her husband in the 60's.  Mom Brady!!??  Yep.  Doing the beast with two backs outside of the martial bed.  Oh, my.  And what makes this the best Too Much Information dump of all time?  One of her one-night-stand fuck buddies was former mayor of New York, John Lindsay.  John Lindsay, for those who don't know the history, was the Democrat mayor upon whom's watch the City That Never Sleeps took it's long slide into decay, welfare dependence, drugs and street crime.  Think Death Wish as a documentary.  And...the sordid story doesn't end there.  The morning after the encounter Florence discovered a little gift from the mayor.  Well, actually a whole bunch of them.  I'm talking about the little black bugs that crawl around in your pubic hair.  (Pubic hair, or as I used to joke in my case, public hair, is the hair that grows around your genital area.  I say this to all you young people who have never experienced it since you've been shaving your junk since you were 12.)

Crabs, as they were known, were quite common in the hippie/road musician days.  I knew a chick that got them on her eyelashes from blowing a bass player.  Hahahahahaha.  You could even set them on the porcelain toilet tank, put a lit cigarette behind them and make them race.  Yours truly was infested couple of times.  But, rest assured, I got mine from a toilet seat.  A little Pyrinate A-200, a hot shower and a fine tooth comb and you were good to party after the gig.

  Crab louse.  Up close and personal. 
Hanging on to your pube for dear life. 

At least in her autobiography Florence "Carol Brady" Henderson lays to rest the rumor that she boinked Barry Williams, the young actor who played her son, Greg.  Thank god for that.  Any more on Florence's sex life and I think my head would explode.

This will not prevent me from reading her book if more sex stories leak out, however.

Update: My brother The Conservatarian has taken me to school that Lindsay was a RINO Republican when he was NYC mayor and the crab giver to Florence Henderson.  He then converted to his true Democrat self for an unsuccessful run at the presidency.  I regret the error.  This in no way negates the the axiom: If you lie down with politicians, you'll come up with fleas.

Sunday, June 26, 2011

Are those torpedos on your chest or are you just glad to see me?

Now that I have your attention. 

The Food and Drug Administration (FDA) is warning that those plastic funbags you paid serious money for so your cosmetic surgeon could buy a new Porcshe are only good for about ten years.  After that?  Trouble.  Possible links to cancer, wrinkling, asymmetry, scarring, pain and infection are all in the report.

As you can imagine, this has caused a wave of trepidation through every strip club, porn studio and Hooter's restaurant in the country.  Strippers are frantically doing the math as to how many extra lap dances will have to be performed to keep the big tip money coming.  Ditto, the Vegas cocktail waitresses and escorts.  And it goes without saying that in the porn industry big titties are the coin of the realm.  Not upgrading the boobays is not an option.

I've been thinking.  I've been looking at the benefits of a government job.  Regular hours, job security, pension, full medical.  All sucked from the taxpayer tit, so to speak.  The FDA's going to need someone to be a boobage inspector.  Lifting it up, checking for proper heft and the expiration date,  Palpating for hard areas, looking for telltale ripples.  (For that one the lady has to be on all fours and rocking back and forth like doggy-style.  It's not that I look at a lot of porn, but somebody told me that once. )  All strictly professional.  You know me.  Just business.

Hahahahaha.  Just funnin'.  Now that summer is upon us and the dumplings are on full display, I will do my annual rant about how I really feel about breast implants.  Simply put.  I hate 'em.  Let me amend that, I hate most of 'em.  If you've had a mastectomy or just got the boobs filled out because of kid sag, I'm not talking about you.  I'm talking about the professional club skank, the porn star, and the "featured dancer".  You know who you are.  I think I speak for a sizable segment of the male population when I say-"You look ridiculous."  You know why?  Because if it's obvious you've had your tits done, you've failed.  I find it seems to break down as a generational preference.  I didn't grow up with every other chick having enhanced bazoos.  Natural and supple, that was my groping experience as I traveled the land.  The younger guys today have more experience with the silicone sisters so to them it's old hat.  Then there are just those guys who just like biiiiiiiiiiiiiiggg!  I've always been more of an ass and leg man anyway, so vive la difference.  I really enjoyed the mini-series Spartacus: Blood and Sand on Starz.  Lots of nudity.  I couldn't help but wonder how they found so many beautiful actresses with natural breasts.  Hopefully this is a trend.

A prime example of Titty Balls. 
Too big for her frame and look painful.
You could probably break a bottle on them. 

What I can't figure out is the thought process of the women that get them.  Does the doctor say, "You know what?  I'm going to make you look like Little Annie Fanny.  Sound good?"  No...I'm guessing  that the women go into the doctor's office look at different computer mock ups and when the time comes to choose they think, "You know?  I think I want to go just a little bit bigger."  That is when you end up with what we guys call alternately, Titty Balls, Robo-Tits, Bobble Tits and Balloon Tits.  These are not compliments.
Little Annie Fanny.  
The cartoon gal with the inhuman proportions. 
Looks like Pamela Anderson.  Who, in turn, looks like a cartoon. 
Coincidence?  I don't think so. 

We're all going to age.  All the silicone, botox, hair plugs, face lifts, pec and bicep implants, and collagen lip injections are not going to ward off the Grim Reaper forever.  Maybe we should make a deal between the sexes.  Ladies.  You forgo the over enhanced lips and bazongas that make you look like pornstars from Jupiter, and we men will stay away from hair restoration plugs that look like doll hair and facelifts that make us look like old women.

More Bad Examples. 
This woman looks so ridiculous she 
deserves a hairy man in a Speedo. 
Archeologists of the future will find 
a skeleton with two plastic bags.

Is that you, Barry? 
You look more like my Aunt Mary. 

Nikki Cox used to be gorgeous. 
Now she looks like something you'd pan fry on your campfire.  

Saturday, June 25, 2011

It's my funeral and I'll cry if I want to.

When I works, I works hard.  No, I mean it.  Stop laughing.  Do I take my job seriously?  Serious as a heart attack.  Haha.   In fact, I get really anal in the days before the service.  I re-confirm the casket delivery.  I call the florist to make sure everything is on order.  I check with the church or the pastor.  Cemetery and vault on schedule?  If there is a DVD presentation I run it through the system to make sure there are no glitches.  You fuck up someone's funeral and there is no do-over.  (Unlike a wedding where most folks have more than one.)  I've learned one thing after doing this for a few years.  I don't like surprises.  99.9% of all surprises are bad.

Speaking of surprises.  Fagilyu Mukhametyanov, got the surprise of, when she woke up in a coffin surrounded by sobbing relatives.  Yeah, that would cause a bit of consternation, wouldn't it?  Fagilyu who was apparently grossly misdiagnosed as deceased, started screaming, fluttered her eyelids, went into shock and then cardiac arrest.  After the ensuing hijinks Fagilyu was rushed to the hospital but only lived for 12 minutes, until her doctor announced: "As doctor here I must aver, I thoroughly examined her, and she's not only merely dead, she's really most sincerely dead."  Whereupon he drove a stake through her heart just to be sure.  (This area in Russia is a mere 1200 miles from Transylvania, Romania so why take the chance?)  Fagilyu's husband, Fagili is going to sue, proving that the new Russia is taking to freedom quite nicely and getting more like the United States all the time.  (What are the odds that a woman named Fagilyu married a man named Fagili?  I was going to make a gay marriage joke here but I don't want to end up like Tracy Morgan.)

Fagilyu and Fagili (some un-pronouncable Russian surname.)
There is no evidence Fagili beat his wife despite the shirt. 

Not knowing if someone is dead or not is really a sloppy medical call.  I mean dead people really do look dead.  The mouth goes slack, the lips pull back over the teeth (or sink way in if the dentures are out) the eyes are half open and, oh yeah, the whole not breathing and getting stiff part are dead giveaways.  (Bad pun, sorry.)  At the funeral home we call this "Dead Face".  In the USA we rarely do anything but the shortest viewings or direct burials without embalming.  Dressing an unembalmed body can be unpleasant and they just look better.  Embalming obviously solves the problem of being buried alive since all your bodily fluids are replaced with embalming chemicals.  This is not a process that is survivable.   Emblaming is not ubiquitous in the rest of the world and some cultures consider the practice barbaric.  Take the dead and get them in the ground or on the fire as fast as possible is considered the respectful disposition.  We get ship-ins from Eastern European countries and the containers are soldered shut.  The embalmings are shitty and the bodies smell awful.  It's like opening a zombie's casket.   I remember one guy where they only embalmed the head.  Peeeuuuuu!

I guess the custom of a quick burial is OK, but on occasion you may hasten someone to the grave who's just having a really good sleep.  As for me, if I have a burial of an unembalmed person I may start sticking them in the foot with an icepick before casketing to see if they twitch.  Just to be on the safe side.

h/t Judy Leach

What your funeral director is thinking.

I just got a text from my associate who is working a young person's funeral today.  Here it is.

AH:  This service is breaking hot chick records.  

FG:  shit really? I just saw MILF porn material at Sam's Club.

AH: Spearmint Rhino [a local strip club] could have a job fair here.  

Just to let you know the men in the funeral industry really appreciate all the inappropriately dressed young ladies we see at the services we direct.  Keep it up. (tee hee).

Your grandmothers would be proud.

  Deep mourning and duckface.  
Getting ready for Granny's funeral. 

Friday, June 24, 2011

I'm not dead. (But a lot of people are.)

Looking pretty good.  Just have to casket her and start the visitation. 

Sorry for the absence the last couple of days.  I was not kidnapped by crack whores and forced to do drugs.  I've just been really busy and still in a depressive state over the loss of my Weiner.  I hadn't realized what an easy fall back the congressman had become for me.  A writing crutch if you will.

Tomorrow is the weekend and I actually have a couple of days off.  I'll look for sleaze, sluts and weird criminals and get back to you.

Thanks for coming back.


Wednesday, June 22, 2011

If you want to parade around in your underwear become an Abercrombie and Fitch model why dontcha?

If you need any further proof we're in the dog days of summer, look no further than this story.  This one is all over the place.  (Come back, Anthony Weiner, all is forgiven.)

It all started when 20-year old Deshon Marmon was booted from a US Airways flight because he was "saggin' and baggin'" in a style that I'm stunned is still the fashion in certain communities after all these years.  (Maybe I should get out my bell bottoms and wide lapels.)  I mean wouldn't you want something that makes it easier to run from the police without your gun dropping on the ground?  Deshon was axed to pull up his pants so his underwear wasn't showing.  Instead of just pulling up his pants over his stupid butt Deshon had to make an issue out of it and was rightly kicked off the flight.   What if there was an emergency and you had to stumble over Deshon who was clogging the aisle because he tripped when his dumbass pants fell around his ankles?  Dude.  These days airline crews don't want to hear any shit from from you or anybody else.  Where have you been?   Do I need to mention that Deshon is black so, of course, he's retained an attorney.  Discrimination!

Appropriate attire for a meeting with your parole officer. 

Well, Deshon's case just got a boost since a photo has turned up of some outright fucking queen in a bra, panties and stockings.  And what was he doing?  Getting on a US Airways flight with no problem, that's what.  And what color was the old queen?  You guessed it.  White.  Do I really need to tell you where all this is heading?  This should make for some curious dynamics since the victim group hierarchy is beginner to re-jigger.  We are seeing evidence that when it comes down to a black victim and a gay victim, gay trumps black. Don't believe me?  Ask Tracy Morgan.

Any bets that he volunteers for the full pat down? 

I'm not stupid enough to think that we are going back to the days of Mad Men, when women wore dresses and men wore suits and people had manners when they travelled by plane.  But this is why we now have the government writing rules for every jot and tittle of everyday life.  Because people have absolutely no fucking common sense.  Isn't air travel shitty enough?   Packed like sardines in a flying tin can for God knows how long?  It's almost impossible to not to have a least some physical contact with your fellow passengers.  I don't want to sit next to a guy and his underwear exposed ass.  And I really, really don't want to squeeze past an aging drag queen in a garter belt, stockings and panties on my way to the bathroom.  What the fuck is wrong with people?  We've become a country overflowing with goddam narcissists.  If you want to look like a fucking gangbanger, do it in your 'hood.  If you want to be a cross-dressing weirdo, sashay around your own home or the local tranny bar.  For god's sake, nobody else wants to see that shit.  Do we all get to parade our oddball proclivities whenever we feel like it?  How about the next guy that wants to strut around the mall in a Nazi uniform.  Why not?  Batman costume OK?  Sure.  What the fuck.  Does a dude have a right to walk the airport with his dick hanging out of his pants?  Who are you to judge?  Look at me, look at me, look at meeeeeeeee!!!!

Life is not that complicated.  We all have to get along.  Let's agree on a few things.  (For airports and other public venues.)

Shower enough so you don't smell like ass.
Clean clothes, please.
Appropriate dress.  Not formal, appropriate.
Ladies, no exposed muffin top belly rolls.
Guys, no cut large armpit hole wife beaters. (Nobody wants to see your nipples.)
If you have fungus on your toenails, no flip-flops.
No visible butt crack. No visible underwear.  (Really hot girls excepted.)

h/t Judy Leach