Trashiness isn’t specific to one race, region, nation, or city. You’d think that money, or a lack of it, would be the biggest determining factor in whether a person achieves maximum trash, but as our current president proves, that isn’t true at all. For another example, take this guy:
His name is Roger Stone. He’s been an on-again-off-again friend to Donald Trump for decades. He acted as Trump’s advisor during his first presidential run in 2000, as he did during the 2016 election, up until Trump fired him or Stone quit, depending on which one is telling the truth. He’s been a key behind-the-scenes member of the Republican Party as a lobbyist and political consultant for decades. He’s known in the political world for his hundreds of custom Italian suits and his vast collection of ties. Just one look at him and you’re struck — he’s a fancy man.
But behind that veneer of elegance resides a trashy soul like those found on COPS. Think the guy who tries to flee from officers, only for the sound of his meth pipe jingling against his crack pipe to give away his location.
Stone became rich and powerful despite (and perhaps because of) his inability to repress his tackiest instincts. The dude puts his garbage on blast 24/7, on every medium, in every way he can — on Twitter, in interviews, during photo shoots, and on his skin. If you’re wondering how he pulled that last one off, here’s how:
That’s noted crook and, oh yeah, former president of the United States Richard Nixon’s face tattooed between Stone’s shoulder blades. And no, it isn’t photoshopped. A tattoo of a face, especially that of a legendary anti-Semite and criminal mastermind, is a key ingredient in the recipe of trashiness. However, Stone does lose some points by being able to afford a good tattoo artist. A sleazebucket who hadn’t struck it rich would get ol’ Tricky Dick tattooed on them by a friend of a friend who honed his skill on prison inmates with a lighter and ballpoint pen smuggled in through someone’s ass.
Stone’s proud of the tattoo. The line he delivers to women when he rips off his shirt to show them Slick Rick on his back is, and this isn’t a joke, “You’ll never meet another man with a dick in the front and a dick in the back.” You can almost hear the dry heaves from the countless women he’s used that line on over the years. Or maybe not. Maybe the kind of woman Stone’s into is totally down to fuck a guy with a disgraced president drawn on his back. Consider his offbeat sex life, which he tried to keep secret for about eight minutes before giving up and living his peculiarities out loud.
In 1996, Stone was fired from his position in Bob Dole’s presidential campaign after the discovery of a personal ad he and his wife had taken out in a swinger magazine and website called Local Swinger Fever. The ad read: Hot, insatiable lady and her handsome body builder husband, experienced swingers, seek similar couples or exceptional muscular … single men. They also imposed a strict ban on fatties. Only athletes and soldiers would be allowed in Roger Stone’s fuck-palace. It’s a damn shame he didn’t add a trashy cherry on top by requesting his trashy suitor bring Angel Dust and a sixer of Coors.
“Hi. I saw your ad. Are horse tranquilizers and Pabst okay?”
Stone loves sex clubs. While visiting a sex club in Amsterdam, he grew fond of a framed poster hanging on the wall. So he took it. Taking art from a sex club sounds like an initiation ritual to prove your worthiness to be accepted into the shadowy secret government that holds the real power in a trailer park. Unfortunately, we aren’t sure which of the many works of art hanging in Mr. Stone’s apartment is his prized sex club poster. Is it his framed image of Richard Nixon, pants around his ankles, taking a dump? We may never know.
A sex club in Miami is where Stone obtained a vital nugget of compromising information that led to one of his career’s biggest triumphs. He was the guy who took down former governor of New York Elliot Spitzer. If you don’t remember, Spitzer was a tabloid megastar back in the late aughts when it was discovered that he’d been fucking a gaggle of prostitutes on the side. Stone was a regular patron of the BYOB sex club. Through conversation with an off-duty prostitute, he found out that Spitzer had fucked her, so he used that information to ruin Spitzer’s career.
Other than sheer political opportunism, why would he do that? In his own words: “I thought Spitzer was punk, and I wanted to fuck with him any way I could.”
With reasoning like that, I can assume that along with the hundreds of impeccable suits and ties in his closet are hundreds of Guy Fawkes masks. That wasn’t the last time he fucked with Spitzer for the fun of it. Later, someone who sounded suspiciously like Stone crank-called Spitzer’s dad from Stone’s wife’s phone pretending to be a government investigator looking into nonexistent illegal loans Papa Spitzer made to his son’s campaigns. Because Totally-Not-Roger-Stone knows exactly how a government investigator would handle such a situation, he ended the call with “there is not a goddamn thing your phony, psycho, piece-of-shit son can do about it.” He’s like the drunk jobless ex-boyfriend who drunk-calls his ex pretending to be the “pussy doctor,” and he’s got some bad news about her “rancid snatch.”
Speaking of vagina, Stone loves him some pussy. But like true trash, he seems to despise the rest of the woman attached to it. In one recent Tweet, Stone gifted the world a perfect portrait of himself when he called a woman on Twitter a “fat ugly bitch” before incriminating himself by apparently confirming that he, a longtime associate of Donald Trump and onetime member of his presidential campaign, had direct contact with Julian Assange and Wikileaks, which would tie him into the tangled web of Russia’s alleged interference in the 2016 presidential election.
If you think this is the first time Stone has publicly said shit like that about women and that it doesn’t mean he’s a low-class trashy sexist, you’re adorable. He called New York Times columnist Gail Collins an “elitist cunt,” said Megyn Kelly had a “nice set of cans,” and once tweeted at New York Times editor Jill Abramson a simple and elegant “DIE BITCH.” Wishing death upon women he hates is one of his hobbies. He’s publicly wished Hillary Clinton would die, and hoped CNN talking head Anna Navarro would kill herself. During the 2008 election, he started an anti-Hillary Clinton group called Citizens United, Not Timid, or CUNT, because he’s human garbage distilled to its most potent form. A single drop can kill a person who hasn’t been ingesting tiny portions of his trashiness for months to build an immunity.
Another key element of trashiness is racism. Trashiness and racism aren’t always a pair, but if both concepts were celebrities, the paparazzi would catch them snuggling on sandy beaches enough to make you call bullshit when their publicist says they aren’t an item. Most of his racist stuff has been directed at former CNN pundit Roland Martin, whom he called a “dumb, embarrassing token,” and on separate occasions a “stupid negro” and a “fat negro.” But let’s look at the bright side: He may be a raging, mouth-frothing racist, but at least he can masterfully combine racial hatred and fat-shaming, like the time he tweeted at Martin “Who made you God, Fattass? Eat somemore Popeye’s.”
All this shit-talking eventually got him banned from CNN and MSNBC. Even Fox News has banned him, and I didn’t even think that was possible. I figured you could eat a liberal live on the air and receive only a first strike. All of that would make him king of the trash, but he solidified the case when he said, “I’m banned at CNN. I’m banned at MSNBC. I’m banned at Fox because I kick their ass.” The only being I can imagine saying that out loud with no irony is an anthropomorphic mullet just before it shotguns a Bud.
In the world of trashy humans, kicking ass is the ultimate expression of dominance. When you haven’t got a shred of dignity or intelligence on your side, fuck it — instigate some shit and put up them dukes. Like the time Stone and fellow classy gentlemen Alex Jones dropped in on the Young Turks political talk show as they were in the middle of a live-stream from the Republican National Convention:
I’m just hoping somewhere in that pathetic display of depleted masculinity, Stone took off his shirt and told the nearest fat, ugly, ignorant bitch to kiss his Nixon for luck.
I’m going to conclude my coverage of Roger Stone’s most trashy, gross misdeeds with one that’s head and shoulders above the rest. In 2000, he and Donald Trump went after an Indian casino in upstate New York that was stealing business from (aka competing with) Trump’s casino in Atlantic City. So they set up a fake “family values” group and ran a series of racist ads against Native Americans, calling the Mohawk tribe a bunch of crooks by falsely linking them to organized crime. Donny and Roger’s punishment? A $250,000 fine.
Maybe Stone is wrong. Maybe there isn’t a dick in the front and a dick in the back. Maybe he’s dick all the way through.
For more, check out 8 Less Known Trump Stories That’d Derail Any Other Campaign and How Half Of America Lost Its F**king Mind.
And be sure to check out 9 Types Of Coworkers To Make You Want Your Head To Explode, and let us know about other headsplosion-worthy employees we may have missed.
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