The sick prurience of the American sleaze media never ceases to astonish. And, the equal culpability of the “legit” media never fails to nauseate.
Radar Online, that bastion of Journalistic Integrity
Case in point: Sarah Palin’s misinterpretation of which daughter Dave Letterman made an Alex Rodriguez/NY Yankees joke about, which became the “underage” daughter, which became theoretical “statutory rape” and, therefore, “rape.” As in “DAVID LETTERMAN IS MAKING JOKES ABOUT RAPING A CHILD!”*
[* see "Righties Rape Rape" 11 June 2009.]
The latest incarnation of gossip column personal destruction and mind rape showed up this afternoon, courtesy of the chickenshit, lying weasels at Radar Online (see “If You’re Going to Pull a Hoax, LEARN about PhotoShop” 17 July 2011 for their “journalistic integrity.”) Listen:
Anthony Weiner Wanted Threesome With Another Man, According To Mistress
Posted on Dec 28, 2011 @ 03:00PM
By Amber Goodhand – Radar ReporterDisgraced former New York Congressman Anthony Weiner was caught in online trysts with numerous women, but RadarOnline.com has exclusively learned that according to one of his mistresses, he expressed wanting a threesome – with another man.
In old conversation excerpts obtained by RadarOnline.com from mistress Traci Nobles’ proposal for a tell-all book, the former politician brings up the topic of “3 ways” and reveals that the idea of being with another man is a turn on…
Now before we get into the obscene, let me set the scene …
It’s Christmas/Hanukkah/New Years. After being brought down by a press who somehow believes that online sex fantasies are THE EXACT SAME THING AS EXTRAMARITAL AFFAIRS, Anthony Weiner repaired his shattered marriage and his wife just gave birth to their new child.
So, knowing this, RADAR prints this story. King Herod himself must be smiling from his cubicle in hell.
Think about the fundamental viciousness of simply running this story in the first place, and think about what a soulless creature Amber Goodhand (I’m SURE that’s the reporter’s real name) is, and how utterly depraved her editors must be to run this story; and consider that they’d sure as hell better believe with all their hearts that karma ain’t real, because if it is …
Well, we can use their name for the torment visited upon them, as we use “tantalize” for the doom of King Tantalus.
“Online trysts.”
Cute, but it’s turning statutory rape into actual rape. It is a monstrous formulation, made by serpents without souls. And, its notable that this is not about a public figure, but a figure driven from the public stage. It’s called, at best “kicking a man when he’s down.” But conscience and RADAR shall never the Twain meet.
Which gave the New York Post and its slimeweasels the opportunity to pick up on it, along with the rest of the howling monkey brigade:
A snapshot of the Collective Obnoxious
First, let’s take that “writer”: Amber Goodhand may well be some joke about masturbation, as in “good hand job.” Except that the whore involved in this (think about it: texts someone with sexual fantasies is private activity; trying to sell those fantasies to cash in and get famous isn’t being a “fame whore” but, rather, being an actual whore* — or, perhaps a pimp, who exploits the sexual desires of others for her personal gain) is going to sell whatever “sexting” texts she has from the former congressman in a “tell all” book.
“Tell all?”
Seriously. Do you believe that knowing the online sexual fantasies of someone you’ve never met gives you insight into their life in any wise?
If so, there’s a whole lot of men who’ve been playing teenage girls online in chat rooms who are ROTFLMAO right now.
But what kind of IDIOT would call that being someone’s “mistress”?
Oh yeah.
That’s your “mistress” for your “tryst” for your “tell all” book.
[* No offense to actual, decent whores, who'd doubtless be embarrassed to be seen in the presence of this "author."]
I sell personal secrets to destroy lives for money
If she sticks to what she ACTUALLY knows, it will be a very short book.*
[And did I mention that this is all seems a pretty transparent Publicity Stunt for Zuma Press, from whom the "exclusive" book proposal was doubtless obtained? This is the kind of story that publicists plant, and hope the mainstream media will pick up on it, aiding and abetting them in pushing a book that ought never be published down America's supple and compliant throat.]
But since these slimeballs bring it up (but would be SHOCKED SHOCKED! to find out that anyone had taken the actual allegation beyond Beavis & Butthead sniggering), let’s talk about threesomes.
You see, the sexual genius BigFurHat (obviously its real name) thinks that this automatically makes one a “fagola.” You know, a “homo,” a “queer,” or some other homophobic epithet. I will pass over my experience that men who voice these thoughts most vociferously are usually the ones with the deepest fears about their OWN sexuality, but, rather get to the “meat” of the matter:
A few years ago, my wife and I were watching some “year in porn” compilation tape, perhaps the XRCO awards — and before you start sniggering, know that we BOTH wrote for HUSTLER and both wrote porn scripts, so it was for business reasons and not for the reasons you’d expect. After the first hundred or so, it’s just a job, and meat is meat — and I was watching kind of half-heartedly as some new video vixen began the obligatory closeup that would immortalize her skills as a fellatrix.
And I glanced up, and yelped: HERSCHEL??!?
And the camera pulled back, and it was, in fact, Herschel Savage, who is a friend from long ago. It seemed that Viagra® had revived his career, and the scene WAS from the modern day, which was why it seemed so weirdly, impossibly anachronistic. Like spotting Buster Keaton in a Stephen Spielberg movie.
The redoubtable Mr. Savage
And we laughed and laughed, because I realized that I’d instantly recognized a porn actor just from his dick.*
Now you can snigger.
[Once, in contrast, I was given a still to identify, and I could identify the actress but not the appendage involved. I gave up, and my editor came to me later and said, "It's OK. It turned out to be Marc Stevens." To which I replied: "No wonder I didn't recognize it: it was erect." We laughed. If you get it, it's very funny. If not, trust me: It's very funny.]
Hell, I’d seen it in a thousand videos and films, and on several sets I worked on, and I knew Herschel, and there’s nothing gay about it. I just recognized him instantly.
I have never had a problem with that, because I have never had any question about my sexuality. It is exactly what it is, without apologies, and it’s also none of your damn business. As is YOUR sexuality none of MY damn business. Except that for many years, it WAS my literal business, and I studied you to know what you liked and what you didn’t like.
I have sold you literally millions of words of sexual fantasies, but I always wrote them based on what YOU wanted (sometimes I was given a menu of fantasies to write: boy girl, girl-girl, anal, spanking, etc.) but they don’t tell you a thing about MY sexual life. I detest anal sex. Sorry, but that’s just me. Still, I wrote “Caught From Behind III” for Hal Freeman, which is ONLY about anal sex, and HUSTLER gave it its highest rating, and I got the best “reviews” of my life from the “journalists” in the biz.
So you can’t really take all that much from sexual fantasies. They can go anywhere and do anything … in your mind or in print.
But they have no bearing on your reality.
If Weiner had translated this supposed fantasy to reality, STILL, so what? I know a lot of guys who have shared a girl, without having any gay thing for each other.
And some HAVE had a thing for each other. In all cases, IT’S NOT MY FUCKING BUSINESS.
You have no right to judge my sexual fantasies, and I have no right to pry into or judge yours. Period. I don’t give a flying fuck WHO I am and WHO you are, or what you believe. Our fantasy life is the one truly, deeply private place we have in all the world, and no human who deserves the name, and isn’t just some house pet reincarnated in a skin sack to get a pair of hands, no HUMAN would not feel a deep pain of conscience in jumping on to this bandwagon, let alone pushing it to help it move even faster.
Which brings us to the New York Post:
Sources close to the family have said the cad dad is already in big debt to the baby boy.
If it weren’t for the pregnancy, Abedin, a top aide to Secretary of State Hillary Rodham Clinton, might have walked out on Weiner quicker than he could tweet an apology, the sources said.
When you can disgust a pornographer, kids, that’s saying something.
Fantasy is fantasy, and thought is NOT deed. Imputing motivations to purloined letters from a mercenary woman with no apparent soul tells us more about the darkness of the writers than the mind of Anthony Weiner, whom they hate with such passion that they would use the power of the poisoned press to destroy his new family just aborning … to annihilate the private citizen, Anthony Weiner. Hell, he gave up his job, his future, his status and his income to withdraw from the public stage. Oughtn’t we demonize, instead, those thugs whose Iago nature knows no bounds?
Here: let me give you an alternate scenario. He knew that SHE didn’t like lesbian stuff, and, to entice her in their mutual text fantasy, suggested two guys, because he thought SHE might be turned on by it. People all say stuff during sex that they wouldn’t want printed on the front page of the New York Times. That’s why we call it “the privacy of one’s bedroom.“
Which brings us, again, to Rupert Murdoch’s New York Post.
Now, if I fantasize that a gang of the slimiest Hells Angels grabbed Amber Goodhand and her editor at RADAR, and proceeded to gang rape them, sodomize them and then, just for fun, bring in one of those Tijuana donkeys to put on a little “sex show,” — and then I fantasize the same thing for each and every employee of News Corp, including Rupert and Roger — that does NOT mean that I am a Hells Angel, a gang rapist, a sodomizer, or a closet zoophiliac.
It only means that I am a lover of justice.
And we can call it being “goodhanded.”
Courage.
