“They defended [Bill Clinton] for his indiscretions in office but want Anthony Weiner run out of town….”
—Michael Medved

“What Weiner did was worse than what Larry Craig did. So, why shouldn’t he have to resign as well?”
—Commenter on USAtoday.com

There’s a lot of this going around. A lot of these scandalistas like to compare Congressmember Anthony Weiner’s debacle to other famous political sex scandals, to determine how much he should be despised and what should become of him. Of course, the comparisons are mostly partisan and lack uniformity, which is why I have developed the following formula—so that we can objectively discern whose sex scandals are worse than whose and where Weiner ranks among them.

For the purposes of this formula, each scandal category receives a point value between one and 10. For instance, Standard Adultery—the offense of (yawn) regular old cheating with a consenting adult—is worth one point. Add five points if the spouse is terminally ill. Add five Hypocrisy Points for any Bible-humping, family-values politicians caught fooling around; add another five Hypocrisy Points if a politically active opponent of gay rights is caught consorting with a member of the same sex. Tack on seven Corruption Points for any laws broken in relation to the affair (not counting the crime of adultery because that’s an idiotic law). Add seven points if it’s one of those creepy, non-consensual sexual exposer-type of transgressions (like whipping out your phallus during a private meeting with the president of the local NOW chapter). Make it 10 if he touches or gropes her private parts, un-consentingly.

For siring a love child, the points range from one to 10, depending on how the child was treated by the offender.

No points will be added for lying (everyone lies about sex, so it’s a wash) or if the affair is with a prostitute. Yes, I know, prostitution is illegal, but let’s be honest: Blowing politicians during lunch breaks so they can stay focused on running the country is why prostitutes were invented.

Now, with that formula in mind, let’s analyze some modern-day political sex scandals: (more…)

I went to the Hustler strip club last week. What a blast! I forgot how much I enjoy them. Not having a great time in a stripper club is like not having a great time on a Ferris wheel: As long as you don’t do anything stupid and keep your hands inside the car, you will be rewarded with a spectacular view.
For me, the joy of strip bars is broken into two parts:
1. Watching scantily clad sexy mamas dance and undulate and generally be all hot and shit.
2. Watching how men behave in a room full of scantily clad, undulating sexy mamas.

Aside from gay-pride parades and sloshball games, strip clubs are unrivaled when it comes to watching men make jackasses of themselves. The creepy crawlers; the gropers; the old-man golly-jolly seekers; the loser lonelies; the wannabe pimp gangstas; the misogynistas; the inside-the-bar-sunglass-wearing, big-Dan-on-campus, 20-something yuppie twits–all seem to have no idea how to act in a strip club.

Maintaining an exceptional strip-club presence begins with your approach to a strip club: What you think it is. What you think it’s for.

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A journalist I know was polling men for a feature story she was working on. It was one of those man-on-the-street type of articles in which everyone’s asked the same question and the responses are printed.

The question was this: “What’s the worst advice you’ve ever received about dating.”
I told her, “Oh crap–that’s easy!” The worst advice I have ever received was, “Don’t give up on love.”

It’s inevitable. Whether there’s some new girl you adore who’s not reciprocating or a long-term girlfriend who’s tired of your horseshit, there’s always some idiot in your life telling you not to give up on love, as though you’re John Cusack with a boombox outside love’s window.

“Don’t give up” is the second worst piece of dating advice ever. There’s another name for guys who don’t give up on their romantic interests. They’re called “stalkers” and stalking is wrong, unless of course, you’re John Cusack with a boom box, in which case it’s romantic.

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