Creeps. We see them in our lives every day. On the train to work. In the workplace. Sometimes they’re our bosses; sometimes we’re related to them. Sometimes we sleep with them.
In recent days, our headlines have been inundated with them. Last week, we had “Tickle Me” Eric Massa. (Let’s face it – some conservatives in the GOP were ready to adopt him as their next poster boy – the Democrat shunned because of his opposition to the health care reform bill – until not even Glenn Beck could stand what an absolute, skeevy, slimy creep he was. Now, nobody wants him.)
And this week? We opened with John Edwards and his paramour, Rielle Hunter – now that’s really creepy. Edwards punched his express ticket to straight to the Scumbag Hall of Fame when he cheated on his cancer-stricken wife, Elizabeth. (Don’t you see the warmth and love in the picture below?)
But the photos Rielle took for GQ – with lovechild in tow – ick, ick, ick … And yet, somehow this bleached-out New Age dipsy-doodle is upset and crying her eyes out about the photo shoot. Huh? So, it’s respected photographer Mark Seliger’s fault that you look “repulsive” in your photos? Honey, it’s time someone told you The Dirty Truth and forced you to look seriously in the mirror.
Rielle and “Johnny” – these two sleazoids deserve each other. I’d say someone should drive them off a cliff, but that would deprive Frances Quinn of her, ahem, parents.
However, it would also deprive the Edwards bastard baby of revenge. Frances Quinn, if you learn no other piece of Dirty Truth in this life, take this to heart: Revenge is a dish best served cold. One day, when you are about 5 or 6 , you should kick both your daddy and your momma in the shins, just for the hell of it. You will get punished, but at least you’ll feel better.
Then, when your parents are old and decrepit and hobbling around in walkers and canes, kick their walking sticks right out from under them. Let them fall right on their dentures.
We can’t help our parents, folks. But if they’re creepy dirtybags, you can always send them a message.
Still, there are good kinds of creeps. For example, there’s the kind practiced by Radiohead.
Or maybe you prefer the Stone Temple Pilots:
But personally, the lovely ladies below are my favorite kind of creeps (miss ya, “Left Eye”):