Stoopid Twosday....... Tickle me Johnny, Freckles don't make you Irish, and Not all grillz are clip on's,

Rielle Hunter, the other , other woman, in the John Edwards " Fucking Over My Cancer Riddled Wife Tour", is pissed, appalled, and sickened, over the photos that accompany her GQ article. And really who can blame her. She was bamboozled, hoodwinked, and duped. Just as she accidentally tripped, impaled herself on Johnny E's meat whistle, and somehow ended up having his Bey Bey, Hunter is really just a victim of love. While some of you pessimistic pricks might find Rielle Hunter's outrage disingenuous, after all she was being photographed in her panties, it's perfectly reasonable to believe her claims that she was told the pics were going to be candid, classy, and non sessy. Seriously, who doesn't have a few family photos of mom posing practically naked next to Kermit and Barney, or Howdy Doody, depending on your age group.

The money quote for me in Hunter's GQ interview, "I love Johnny and I love my daughter more than anything in the world, and I don't want to ever do anything to hurt them or hurt their relationship." Fair enough, and either the most delusional comment ever made, or the most stupid. Not for nothin, but posing in your panties next to a pile of stuffed toys, while trying to pull off the victim of love routine in a men's magazine interview, does not bode well for your child's future. Right, wrong, or indifferent, no kid wants to go through their formative years with a mother whose claim to fame is banging a presidential candidate, getting knocked up intentionally, and delivering a coup de grace to your lovahs terminally ill wife, by telling the world all about how much you love each other. Not to mention the kids future boyfriends will be tuggin one off to her milf mother, while hoping the apple don't fall far from the tree.


Tomorrow every white person with a single freckle will be throwing up in a gutter, getting arrested, and claiming allegiance to Sinn Fein, because it's St Paddy's Day McBitches. This will be the first St. Patricks day when I won't have to worry that some drunken band of Douche Bags wearing green plastic hats, will block my driveway, or break beer bottles in the middle of the sidewalk. Not living in Midtown does have it's advantages, I haven't seen an art school student on a home made bike, or heard a hipster nail their shoes to the wall in almost a year. I'm probably going to skip the carnage, corned beef, and mounted police breaking the feet of party goers this year. I may head to Westport in the evening to watch that other Kansas City tradition, where girls hold each others highlighted hair out of the vomit, as they gack up their green beer and dignity. Maybe I'm just showing my age, or perhaps I'm just growing more anti social, or it's possible I just can't tolerate sloppy drunks like I once could. Whatever the case may be, the last time St. Pats day held any excitement for me was when that guy got stuck scaling the side of the Hyatt back in the late 70's early 80's.


Not last or least, is this bit of stupidity coming out of Nashville. Lawyers in Nashville have worked out a settlement after a sheriff's lieutenant ripped the grill off a man's teeth at the county jail. That's right, some Bubba yanked out an inmates grill after telling him to remove the jewelry from his mouth during booking. Anthony McCoy was told to remove the jewelry from his mouth, but he said it was cemented to his teeth. But his attorney, David Raybin, says McCoy ended up spitting out blood and teeth after a sheriff's lieutenant reached into his mouth and yanked out the grill. A $95,000 settlement is scheduled to go before Nashville's Metropolitan Council on Tuesday evening. The sheriff's lieutenant was demoted and suspended. Now maybe it's just me, but when a cop starts ripping grills out of some Lil Wayne wannabees mouths, I've got to think that is a firing offense. Dudes lucky the cop didn't think he had something sequestered in his anal safe box, otherwise he might have found himself getting a colonoscopy with a night stick and a wad of double mint. While I'm no fan of the Grille, stretched earlobes, face tatts, or devil horn implants, I do hold that everyone is entitled to the inalienable right to disfigure his or her self. And all kidding aside, when the police can rip dental appliances out of peoples mouths, and still retain their job, something just ain't right.


Lastly, and not leastly, you may have noticed that my posts are coming a little less frequently. Fair warning, in the weeks and months to come, you may find that my posts will dwindle to a couple a week. I've got something in the works, but I can only offer a cryptic, vague, and ambiguous explanation for now. Also I'm highly superstitious and don't want to piss in my Post Toasties by saying too much. Suppose I was to tell you that I am about 95 percent certain I've got a book deal in the works. Not just any book deal, but a book related to one of the most horrific crimes perpetrated in this city in the last 20 years. The ink isn't close to dry, in fact there isn't any ink as of this writing, wet, dry, or otherwise. That said, this blogging thing may actually pay off. I'll fill you in on the details in the next few weeks, suffice to say, it's kind of a big deal, just like me, or something.