Poor Al Gore. One day you're running for president and seeking advice from Team Castration on how to not come across as a pussy, the next day it looks like the walls are caving in because you cast aside your only evident virtue and dragged your manmeat on board the short bus to Loopyville. The conspiracy-minded might even sense that this all comes to light by way of a cold breeze from Chicago - even a paunchy prize-winner isn't untouchable after dissing The Won, after all.
I couldn't care less if the Goracle is putting his wooden unit in Tipper Jesus or a toothless crack whore, but the mere idea of dining on Larry David's leftovers calls for 50 freakin' gallons of brain bleach. Immediately. The only thing pink in Laurie David is her political sentiments.
Better yet is Prince Albert's alleged foray into the land of the lecherous.
The woman later contacted police in January 2009 and gave a statement, saying she was called to Gore's hotel room at around 10:30 p.m. on October 24, 2006 to provide a massage. While doing requested work on his abdominals, the woman claims Gore pushed her hand to his groin area and later tried to have sex with her.
In her statement to police, the alleged victim calls Gore 'a crazed sex poodle,' She says she was intimidated by his 'rotund' shape, and that he had a 'violent temper, dictatorial, commanding attitude.'
Even if it's pure fiction this is still a masterwork of hilarity. Keep doing your thing dawg [poodle]. The women of the world must not be denied your manhood even if you must force it on them, so share your flop sweat and your bloated, rippling carcass wherever your little jet takes you. Hump some wind turbines and other inanimate objects as well. Whatever distracts you from your work as an eco-huckster is mighty fine with me.
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