Bad Advice

Surprise!!!

Of all the identities in all the world, why would anyone steal mine? Wouldn't you think a thief would do a little research and decide to impersonate, oh, I don't know—someone with a good credit rating? Someone who didn't owe the IRS a bunch of money? Someone who actually owned something—anything—of some kind of value? But no, someone stole mine and promptly drained my bank account.

To add insult to brokeness, once he was all dressed up in my identity, he went shopping at Costco. Not Barney's or Bendels or anywhere I'd shop if money weren't an object. No, I get the white-trash ID thief, who spends my dough in the land of ten-gallon Cheese-Coodle barrels and thousand-roll packs of Charmin. To his credit, he did buy a computer, but still—a crappy Costco computer.

While my bank has—so far—been pretty accommodating about the whole thing, Costco is on my nerves. The first rep I spoke with actually hung up on me after I demanded her last name and a direct phone number for the fraud department. "We're not allowed to give that information out," was Evelyn's robotic response. Great. They're allowed to send an $800 computer to a fictitious person on someone else's dime, but not allowed to give me a phone number that will save me from hours on hold. Nice. Remind me never to shop there again—oh wait, I never have.

The second rep confirmed that yep, I'd been ripped off, but refused to tell me what name the thief used (though he did confirm it wasn't mine) or where my computer had been delivered. Oh yeah—it was bought online, so they must have this skell's address! But they won't tell me for "liability reasons." I asked the fraud guy if that meant they were afraid I'd track the scumbag down and exact revenge. He laughed nervously and I got the impression that's absolutely why they won't release that information.

So in exactly 24 hours, I'll be flying solo to Mexico (oh, and a big go-fuck-yourself to the Greek consulate for that one), for a vacation I may no longer be able to afford. Good times. Posting will be light during the next week, but who knows—maybe the identity thief will steal my Typepad log-in info too.

Jackass #10

The dick-for-brains Dan Abrams producer who called sex-worker rights activist (and ex sex worker) Audacia Ray and asked her if she "had been a whore." Next!

Obviously, not every media outlet is staffed by buffoons, so you can hear Dacia's insights on the Spitzer Debacle on this morning's Brian Lehrer show. I have very mixed feelings about prostitution—I think it should be legalized, but it also bums me out, because a lot of times, I think the women involved (both the prostitutes and the in-the-dark wives) end up getting screwed—and not just by condom-avoidant politicians. Regardless of my feelings, it was nice to wake up to an intelligent and balanced discussion on the matter. Then I picked up the Post and saw that, as usual, they were keeping it classy with their coverline, "Ho No." Nice.

Jackass #9

Oh, Eliot, how could you? I can't say I was a fan of Governor Spitzer's, but he didn't bug me like Pataki did. With his attacks on big corrupt business, Spitzer even seemed like he might be an okay guy, but now this?

It's not bad enough that he hired hookers (and wanted them to engage in unsafe sex with him—WTF?), but to drag his poor, devastated wife out in front of the press? Why do these guys insist on company while laying out their dirty laundry—McGreevey, Foley and Vitter did this too! Does Spitzer really think the hollow-eyed look on his devastated wife's face helps his case? 

One can only hope Silda snaps out of her Xanax haze soon and kicks a little hypocritical gubernatorial ass.

I'm woman enough to admit I'm enjoying this . . .

Granted, the EIC now, isn't the guy who fired me way back when (though he did can a friend of mine), I find it somewhat hilarious that the Press hires a new sex columnist, touts her column on the cover and then—oopsy!—turns out she plagiarized all her questions from Dan Savage! WTF?

Here's a tip—if you're going to rip someone off, rip off someone nobody's ever heard of. Not the most widely read sex columnist in the country. And editors, if you're going to apologize for running a plagiarized story, man up and admit you fucked up. Don't weasel! Sheesh.

Legs crossed, shrieking in horror!

Though I've read tons about female circumcision, this article, from yesterday's Times, keeps making me scream. I don't know that I'll ever be brave enough to watch the slide show that comes with it.

Noooooooo!!!!!!!!!

Thank you, feministing (via feministe) for bringing my lunch back up. In case you were wondering, that's a toddler-sized t-shirt.

Any parent who puts their little girl (or boy) in this should be arrested for child abuse.

OT, but what up with the bulge on that mannequin?

Ugh, Part Two

A week or so ago I wrote about Jack McClellan, creepy, self-proclaimed pedophile who used to send me sick letters, first about his feelings on prostitutes—hired them and hated them—and then about his yearnings for underage girls. He signed all his letters, "Uncircumcised." TMI and then some.

Yesterday he was arrested, twice, outside of UCLA on the grounds he'd violated a restraining order which demanded he stay ten yards away from any children in the state of California.

No doubt this guy is a sociopath of the highest order, but he's never been caught actually molesting any children—only talking about how he wants to. So I don't understand how a restraining order such as this one is practical or enforceable. Believe me, most days I'd love to be kept ten yards away from any children (except those belonging to friends), but it's just not possible as kids are everywhere.

It seems clear that this guy is out of his fucking mind and should be treated accordingly. By making himself such a target and appearing on pretty much any television show that'll have him, it seems like he's screaming for both help and attention. He's certainly got a lot of people very upset, which I think might be more satisfying to him than actually molesting any children.

Ugh.

I was really happy last week when I got a letter from an incarcerated gentleman, who was wondering what my "rates" were. I used to get prisoner letters all the time and wondered what had happened. Did they stop carrying the Weekly in the big house? Or maybe I'd done something to offend. I couldn't figure it out.

But today, as I was scanning the New York Times, I recognized another criminal who used to write me—only this guy wasn't locked up. He was a hooker-hound/turned pedophile, actively trolling for young girls. I was really grossed out by his letter—I mean, I'm used to handling dilemmas more along the lines of whether or not someone should break up with their boyfriend for farting.

The cops even contacted me over this column, but I guess since they haven't caught him in the act, they can't do anything. In fact, there's not even any evidence that the creep has done anything except talk. And you can't arrest a guy for talking. . . .

Reason #458,932 to Avoid the Hamptons

I admit it. Right after I (metaphorically) beat off to the Real Estate section of the Sunday Times, I click over to the Style section for a glimpse into the rarified world of the people who actually populate the homes I've just salivated over.

This week did not disappoint. The lead story: "When the Boys of Summer Linger Till Autumn" should be required reading for every man over thirty. Yes, it's entertaining, but, more importantly, it's also a brilliant primer in How Not to Be.

I Know it's Not Funny. . .

. . . and I should be shocked and appalled, but the idea of a naked guy wearing a paper bag mask, masturbating outside my window, would make me reach for my camera, not my gun. Once I stopped laughing, that is. Check it out:

“He came to my bedroom window completely naked, just wearing a paper bag over his head with eyeholes poked out,” the 34-year-old woman said. “I didn’t see his face so it didn’t feel threatening, but he was masturbating. Even after I closed the curtains, he stood out there for a while.”

Apparently the environmentally correct Paper-Bag Peeper (see what happens when you outlaw plastic?)  targeted several women in the Kensington section of Brooklyn. The police aren't taking it lightly. “It’s assumed he’s not far from clothing,” one NYPD source said. “We’re certainly looking into all facets of these unusual occurrences.”

BTW: That's a picture of the Unknown Comic, not the suspect.