New Jersey is the kind of place where the average obituary ends with the sentence "Authorities do not expect to find the deceased's remains." It is one of the very few places on Earth where the centers of power controlled by the Mafia are more honest and dependable than those that are not. And that, my friends, is pretty much all that makes New Jersey even remotely interesting.
Being the cauldron of corruption ans malfeasance that it is, you would think that New Jersey would be full to the brim with cool scandals. The governor, Jon Corzine
, has done more than his share and he's only one man - and he's been a little under the weather lately.
The reigning Miss New Jersey, Amy Polumbo, wants you to know that not all Garden State scandals have to be interesting, titillating, or in an way fun. Some of them can even be exhaustingly tedious. Miss Poulmbo represents a new New Jersey; a New Jersey where fun died of loneliness, sexiness is as foreign a concept as is ethics in government, and not resolving a "business dispute" with murder.
This, I presumed, was going to get very good very fast. Perhaps a reprise of the Tara Conner clusterfuck
is in the offing. Conner is, as you might expect, the official Patron Saint of Enjoy Every Sandwich,
enraptured as she is by conspicuous cocaine use and public displays of lesbianism with underage girls.
Tara Conner was allowed to keep her crown as Miss U.S.A because she is the living personification of what Miss U.S.A should be. No, fuck that! Tara Conner is the living personification of what America should be! The only way she could be sexier is if she started bombing Cambodia.
But just as Jesus was crucified for our sins, Miss Conner was sent to rehab by that vulgarian Trump. If given a choice between crucifixion and rehab, any sensible person will take the former. While crucifixion may take as long as three days to kill you, rehab makes you a giant pain in the ass forever. Just look at what it did to Aerosmith.
While rehab might be an effective way of dealing with a cocaine "problem," I fail to see what it can do for an unimaginably sexy compulsion to hold Miss Teen U.S.A like a puppet. Frankly, there are some compulsions that shouldn't be dealt with. As a matter of fact, I advocate the establishment of facilities to encourage that kind of behaviour. That they should receive full federal funding should go without saying.
That, teenagers, is what a beauty pageant scandal should look like. Perhaps Amy Polumbo should start taking notes.
While she's no Tara Conner, Amy Polumbo is acceptably attractive, I suppose. If I were to classify her - and being the hot guy that I am, it's my duty
to catagorize women based on their physical appearance - it would be as the second of third hottest girl at the mall. Would I fuck her? Sure, but I probably wouldn't go out of my way to do so. And I'll enjoy carnal relations with sandwich meat in a pinch. I feel ever so sexy when I take off my pants at night and catch that slightly naughty wiff of mustard. It smells like ... victory.
Amy's a decent-looking girl, but if she's the best New Jersey can do, that says more about New Jersey than I think I ever wanted to know. The most useful lesson one can learn from Amy Polumbo being Miss New Jersey is that a discerning gentleman should avoid New Jersey at all costs.
But it's been a pretty slow news week and I'm pretty much stuck with this story, so let's take a closer look.
Before I continue, I should point out that what constitutes "not that bad" is largely in the eye of the beholder. For example, some folks think that bukkake
photos are perfectly acceptable images to place on, say, a Christmas card. I know I do. And if you're a person of any aesthetic distinction, you do, too.
However, if this situation is bad enough to not only induce vomiting, but to go on national television and tell Matt Lauer about it, it has to be pretty bad.
That photo is the one you see at the beginning of this little missive. And that's the worst of the bunch.
far worse pictures than that taken of me each day before lunch. And the only reason I break for lunch is better the ball-gag gets in the way of my meal. Has any of this hurt me professionally? Of course it hasn't. I'm still Al Gore, am I not? For the love of Christ, I just won a motherfucking Oscar!