The Royal Penis

I swear that of all the things I care deeply about in this world, I can't find space on my list for where John Edwards puts his dick.

I just don't care.
I don't care if he knocked up a campaign worker.
I don't care if he's into guys, like Ann Coulter suggests.
I don't care if he's up right now at 4am, standing outside a closed Victoria's secret at the mall in a ninja costume, holding a watermelon with a hole carved in it, fantasizing about fucking his own relatives at a picnic.

The reason that I don't care is that he's not running for president anymore, and he's not a candidate for office where I live, so it's NONE OF MY GODDAMN BUSINESS.

A man's particular integrity is important, but it is important only in as much as he has influence over the lives of other people. When we consider a person for the office of the president we all have an interest in his or her integrity and his or her lifestyle.

When we consider a person for a congressional seat, the people of that particular district have a right to know about the dirty secrets lurking within the man or woman who will potentially represent them.

But it's pretty simple: if you aren't running for anything I vote for, and if you aren't laboring to maneuver your cock into a child, a coma victim, my family, or a puppy... AND if you don't kill them afterward (thanks Ted) It's NONE OF MY GODDAMN BUSINESS.

AAAAAANNND as such it doesn't belong in my newspaper.