Valentine's Day Felon Mugshots
The guys at TheSmokingGun.com are totally perverse. Thoroughly! Today, this Valentine's Day, they finally cross the pencil-thin line that they have always precariously balanced upon, and turned into pimps. We always knew that their descent into the heinous crimes that they once covered with alleged-virtue would make for a magnificent fall from grace. We observe, dryly, with a jejune combination of shadenfreude, laced with an ironic dose of "told you so." Then we snap our fingers and do a "neck roll."
Today, TheSmokingGunners trade in their lucrative Court TV gigs, the power lunches at Michael's and their well-earned peer respect for lime green full-length snake print vinyl duster coats with fur trim (Averted Gaze), and matching cowboy styled hats with rhinestone-encrusted chalices. Charmed, I'm sure!
Smokinggun has put up about 8 -- count 'em 8 -- mugshots of "sexy" (a relative term, to be sure, we'd have gone in for, "seriously skanky," or, in a lighter, more clinically accurate vein, "vaguely venereal") felons, all provocatively ensconced within the 18-19 year old demographic, weighing as little as 80 pounds (Cocaine possession, people -- nothing burns away the calories like a crackpipe and a treadmill), and as much as 150 (Hey, she was caught "manufacturing" marijuana -- and all those angry fistfulls of dry Cap'n Crunch accumulate!), for those of you who like a little "arroz con pollo," in the caboose, if you get my meaning.
But what about guys who like their women under 80 lbs -- fighting crackhead weight -- you know, the average weight of the odd Conde Nast editrix, on the other hand, what do these "impromptu photo shoots" offer those of us, like The Corsair for instance, who aren't afraid of a woman with "a little meat on her bones." It gives us something to "hold onto." Alright, I'll stop now.
That having been said, we are kind of partial to Casey Jay Hicks (below), whom "they say" (Averted Gaze) was busted for "possession of a controlled substance." If that controlled substance is our snarky heart then pronounce her "guilty!" We don't believe that charge in any way, shape or form. Look at those soft, innocent, inviting eyes, those pouty pillowy lips. They proclaim her innocence. To me at least. I am the one who is guilty. Guilty of a savage unlawful lust. Cuff me and stuff me! She's on probation now, by the way, if you want to break yourself off a piece:
Jailhouse babes/dudes are kind of ideal partners, in a sense. Exercise is a necessity, for example, it's part of their survival ethos and all that, so you know that -- men or women -- your reformed jailhouse punk will be taut and buff, whatever their size. Plus, they probably won't complain about how messy the apartment is, at least not immediately after getting released anyway. And, as extra, after eating all those starched bland foods to keep them under control, you'll be fucking Jacques Pepin to them.
And, while they are on probation, they'll probably be extra nice to you, you know, let you get in the last word after arguments. If they hog the remote control, or veto watching your NetFlix pic, you can always threaten to call up their parole officer and make some shit up. Or fuck with her urine specimen. The Corsair finds that a little I'll-Tell-The-Probation-Officer blackmail works wonders particularly in complex bilateral "anal sex" negotiations with your jailhouse babe/hunk.
Because it's all about trust, people, -- you know? -- and in this day and age, the only way we can truly trust, is to be sure that our partners are incarcerated. Only kidding, of course.
What I want to say is: Happy Valentine's Day. Thanks for reading. And: hope we all get some tonight.