Bradley Cooper is the Sexiest Man Alive.
Thus spake People magazine. And the Wolf Pack rejoiced. Billy Bush gushed. Giuliana Rancic raved. And Wolf Blitzer tried to act like he gave a damn.
But the writers at Salon were angry. Bradley Cooper looks like a dick, they spake. And besides, they proclaimed, we know what true sexy is.
Sexy is Gregg Breinberg.
Who?
Exactly. (But just so you know, he’s a Staten Island school teacher who teaches his students to sing Lady Gaga songs and post videos to YouTube. Ugh. Yet another sign that American culture is at a creative nadir. And to that I spake, fuck you, Glee. Fuck you, Girl Talk. And fuck you, Hugh Jackman and your Great White Way karaoke show.)
To make matters worse, Salon also selected Thom Yorke. Yes. That Thom Yorke. The dude from Radiohead, the one who looks just like Martin Short if Ed Grimley wore a pair of grumpy pants and a hair shirt every day.
Now, I’m sure Salon has their reasons. And frankly, I don’t care what they are. I’ve got more important things to address.
Like who is the sexist GOP presidential candidate?
I mean, it’s clear, right? Absolutely clear.
Rick Santorum. That dude just drips sex appeal. He just oozes slap-that-ass manliness. He’s like $240 worth of pudding and a chocolate fondue fountain combined. He’s just so juicy and frothy and full of santorum.
OK. I kid. Santorum is icky stuff. And Rick Santorum is even ickier. So there’s no way that Rick could ever be the top dick. Nope.
That honor goes to Herman Cain.
Anybody that’s in the know knows that his 9-9-9 plan is code for a ménage a trois. Then again, on second thought, when you stare at 9-9-9 long enough, it kind of looks like a human centipede. Yikes. Let’s scratch him off the list.
Who’s next?
Um. How about Michele Bachmann? You know, if the stories are true, she can turn a gay man straight, and well, you know what that means: She’s a beast in the sack. Meow. Unfortunately, you’d have to hear her talk, and her accent is one kitten I’d sure as hell like to drown.
So who do we have left?
Ron Paul?
Nah. He turned down Bruno, and anybody that does that, clearly doesn’t know jack about sex.
Mitt Romney? Jon Huntsman? No way. I’m all for lingerie and latex, but I draw the line at “magic underwear.” I don’t want a spell being cast on any of my private parts and I certainly don’t want no curses on my John Thomas. I left that behind in my first marriage.
Geez. Who does that leave?
Newt?
Wait. Wait. No. It can’t be. Not him. Seriously. Not him. He’s the best we’ve got? He’s the boytoy that all the GOPers want to fluff? Jim Rice Almighty, this will not do.
Not that Newt’s not attractive. I’m not saying that.
It’s just that he’s a heartbreaker. He’s a talker, not a doer. He’s the kind of guy who tells you he loves you and then leaves you dying in the hospital bed of cancer. Alone.
Stay away from him, girlfriend. Stay away.
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