That Bob Allen, always the giver.
When the inevitable day arrives where they get caught participating in their deviant activity of choice, some politicians take the high road, fessing up to their transgressions and either resigning or begging their constituencies for forgiveness in a last-ditch attempt to salvage their careers. Others, however, decide to invent an elaborate story that wouldn't fool a toddler.
This kind of scandal has almost become a cliche at this point: Florida State Rep. Bob Allen was a family-values conservative who opposed gay rights and, shockingly, then got arrested for offering to blow some random black guy in a public park restroom, and to pay the guy 20 bucks for the privilege. The guy turned out to be an undercover cop.
Who could possibly have seen that coming? But let's hear Allen's side of it ...
Florida House of Representatives
"Seriously, this big. How could I not ask?"
First off, Allen wasn't in the park that day hunting for some gay sex, oh no. You see, he had helped secure funding for that park and was just checking in to see how it was coming along. When a thunderstorm brewed up, he decided to duck into the public restroom -- presumably because somewhere deep inside, he knew that outwardly homophobic politicians who secretly love to blow random dudes are like human freaking lightning rods.
Florida House of Representatives
Oh, and Allen's "Recreational Interest" according to the House website? Water sports. You're welcome.
After he was nice and comfy in his bathroom stall, Allen noticed that there was a "stocky black guy" in one of the other stalls. Fearing for his safety (he said he didn't want to become a "statistic"), Allen did what anyone would do in that circumstance: He offered to take the guy out to his car, blow him, and toss him a 20 to sweeten the deal. It was the only thing he could do to avoid a savage murder at the hands of a stocky black man.
For some reason, the authorities didn't buy his "blowjob as a self-defense technique" story, and he was brought up on prostitution charges that would prove disastrous for his political career. But Allen wasn't quite done displaying his master excuse-making skills just yet. You see, the real reason he was being stripped of all his committee assignments had nothing to do with the prostitution arrest -- it was to give younger lawmakers the chance to serve in leadership positions.
Just like he gave that stocky black dude the chance to have an orgasm in lieu of a life of crime.
That Bob Allen, always the giver.
In March of 2010, New York Congressman and former naval commander Eric Massa abruptly resigned after only 14 months on the job amid allegations that he had sexually harassed a member of his staff. Nothing new there -- this kind of stuff happens all the time. So with the damage already done and his resignation already signed and sealed, that was pretty much that. Right?
Massa, seen here sexually harassing a Chevy Equinox.
Not quite. Before dropping out of the public eye, Massa apparently decided to try for some kind of excuse-making world record ... and one of his excuses was "It was just a tickle fight."
When details of the harassment allegation began to come into the light, Massa (who is married) claimed that it had all stemmed from one innocent quip at a wedding. In his own words:
... after, I don't know, 15 gin and tonics, and goodness only knows how many bottles of champagne, a staff member made an intonation to me that maybe I should be chasing after the bridesmaid ... I grabbed the staff member sitting next to me and said, "Well, what I really ought to be doing is fracking you." And then [I] tousled the guy's hair and left ...
"All I did was get shitfaced and make some unwanted sexual advances. How is that harassment?"
Apparently deciding that this story didn't dissuade the public from believing he was a sexually repressed closeted gay man, he then said that the whole thing was a setup by the Obama administration, because Massa opposed the health care bill ... but then added the completely unnecessary detail that Obama's chief of staff confronted him in a shower room while they were both naked. He made sure to point out that no one was wearing a towel. Dripping wet, steam ever so slowly rising from their manly bits ...
Finally, Massa told TV host Glenn Beck that, sure, he manhandled a staffer, but there was nothing sexual about it: It was all a routine office tickling.
For more information, read Think Globally, Tickle Locally: Eric Massa's Guide to Leadership.
Or, as he put it, "Not only did I grope [a staffer], I tickled him until he couldn't breathe." Come on, man, why didn't you just say that from the beginning? If a couple of grown men can't play Tickle Monster in the halls of power, then what are our troops fighting for?
Many people would be honored to have been portrayed by Burt Reynolds on the big screen, but it's probably safe to say that J. Herbert Burke wasn't one of them. He's the lucky son of a gun who was the inspiration for Reynolds' sleazy character in Striptease, a congressman who gets caught in a strip club.
We'd consider it an honor to be portrayed by a shirtless, greased-up Burt Reynolds in any medium.
In 1978, Burke, then a six-term congressman for Florida's 10th District, was arrested outside the Centerfold Club in Dania after "conducting himself in a loud, vulgar and offensive manner." The cops hauled him off and tossed him into the drunk tank. And, for most of us, it'd just be a matter of paying the fine and serving some community service or whatever. But we are not silver-tongued politicians, able to weave masterful tales to get ourselves out of trouble.
According to the good man himself, Burke wasn't drunk, and he certainly wasn't at the strip club to watch bare lady parts jiggling in time to a disco soundtrack -- that type of behavior simply wouldn't be becoming of a member of the House Select Committee on Narcotics Abuse and Control. So what was he doing there, you ask? He was doing his job, goddammit. You see, Burke had witnessed two drug dealers who were about to make a sale, and, being an ever-vigilant member of the aforementioned committee and thinking only of his constituents' best interests, he followed them to the titty bar to observe their nefarious activities.
United States Congress
Above: Herbert Burke, not understanding the difference between "narcotics detective" and "congressman."
But rather than being praised for his superior sleuthing abilities, he instead found himself "abused" by the local police, as he recorded on the wall of his jail cell, in words that clearly only a perfectly sober person could compose:
My name is J. H. Burke. The time is 12:20 a.m. I have not been charged. I want to make a charge against the (illegible) by Dania police. I was molested by the Dania police without right of counsel with charges being made against me. I was abused, molested, abused and prevented from calling a lawyer, a friend or making a complaint. J. Herbert Burke.
Poor guy -- abused twice within the space of a single rambling sentence. And the abuse didn't stop there, because his story failed to impress either the judge (he was sentenced to probation and fined) or the voters of the 10th District (he lost his seat the following year).
But at least he can rest in peace knowing that, nearly 20 years after the events of that fateful, drunken night, his actions were indirectly responsible for bringing a few moments of joy into the lives of the countless adolescent boys who were able to sneak away with a VHS copy of Striptease.
This is what a legacy looks like.
Politicians abusing their expense accounts is nothing new, from U.S. senators paying for hookers to the U.K. parliamentary expenses scandal. But whereas most get something tangible out of their embezzlement -- a top-notch blowjob or a neatly manicured lawn, for example -- Norwegian parliament member Saera Khan went for something more ... ethereal.
Don't be impressed. She's playing Angry Birds on that thing.
In September of 2008, it emerged that Norway's parliament had refused to pay Khan's cellphone bill because the total was more than double that of any other member. So right now you're probably thinking, "Phone sex, duh," and nine times out of 10 you'd be right on the money, but Khan had in fact spent thousands of dollars calling psychic hotlines.
Not that she admitted that in public, oh no. Khan said she had a perfectly valid excuse for her sky-high phone bills. A few of them, actually.
"I like to prank call Canadians. At this point, it's sort of an addiction."
First, Khan claimed that they were due to calling her family back in Bangladesh. But investigators quickly saw right through that excuse, presumably because nobody wants to talk to their family that much. So then Khan claimed that the charges were from satellite phone calls to her boyfriend, who was a special forces soldier serving with the Norwegian army in Afghanistan. But the Norwegian army was all like, "Nuh uh. Never heard of him." So then she was all, "Oh, did I say Norwegian army? What I really meant was that he's with Britain's special forces. And he's on a totally secret foreign mission, so I totally can't tell you who he is or where or anything." But then, surprise surprise, the British ISAF responded that it's illegal for soldiers to use satellite phones when they're on commission.
"Distracted driving is a major problem for the SAS."
Finally, apparently plumb out of fictitious boyfriends, she came clean, admitting that she had spent a total of $7,750 over a three-month period calling psychic hotlines, never wondering why people with magical mind powers would have to take minimum wage jobs at a call center. She called them so often, in fact, that some of the psychics told her to stop calling.
"Sorry, ma'am, but the cosmic spirits tell me this is 'just getting sad.'"
Why someone investigating the matter couldn't have, oh, we don't know, maybe looked at the freaking phone bills to see what numbers she was calling in the first place, we're not quite sure. Maybe they should have consulted a psychic.
George Rekers, or "Professor George," as he likes to refer to himself, has been a prominent player in the anti-gay lobbyist scene in America for over 30 years, even serving on the board of the National Association for Research and Therapy of Homosexuality (NARTH), an organization dedicated to the noble cause of turning gay people straight. Now that you know that, you also know what's coming next. So enjoy this photo of the good professor returning to Miami International Airport after a 10-day trip to London and Madrid with his gay prostitute pal:
Miami New Times
Remember: It's not hypocrisy if it happens in Europe.
That's right: In 2010, Professor G was caught returning from a European vacation with young Jo-Vanni Roman, whom he had hired via Rentboy.com, a website that specializes in helping its users ... rent boys, we guess?
Just so there's no misunderstanding: According to in-depth research that we at Cracked totally outsourced (really), in order to access the personal profiles of those offering their services on Rentboy.com, you have to: accept the terms and conditions; scroll through a homepage filled with looping videos of young men busily rubbing various parts of their anatomies; choose your "service" (sugar daddy, masseur, or rentboy); and choose your location. Jo-Vanni's profile was on the second page of the Miami results.
Nope. Nothing sexually suggestive here at all.
In what seems to have been the penultimate update to his personal website (the ultimate one being the announcement of his resignation from NARTH to concentrate on fighting the false allegations of homosexual behavior), the G-Man posted the following statement:
A recent article in an alternative newspaper cleverly gave false impressions of inappropriate behavior because of its misleading innuendo, incorrectly implying that Professor George Rekers used the Rentboy website to hire a prostitute to accompany him on a recent trip ... [F]ollowing medical advice Professor George Rekers requires an assistant to lift his luggage in his travels because of an ongoing condition following surgery ... Dr. Rekers found his recent travel assistant by interviewing different people who might be able to help, and did not even find out about his travel assistant's Internet advertisements offering prostitution activity until after the trip was in progress ...
Maybe the ads were different on the day he visited.
So it's all a big misunderstanding, see? George just needed a "travel assistant" to help him with his "luggage." The only possible weak point in that story is that, other than the fact that the rented boy in question confirmed that they did in fact meet via the website and that his daily job duties included nude massages -- Rekers' favorite part of which was a maneuver aptly named the "long stroke" (we'll let your imagination fill in the details on that one) -- the photograph accompanying the story clearly shows Rekers pushing the luggage through the Miami airport himself.
His boy toy was far too delicate for manual labor.
But we're going to give Professor G-Diddy the benefit of the doubt on this one. Because everyone knows that a "smooth, sweet, tight ass" and a "perfectly built 8-inch cock (uncut)" (as described in Jo-Vanni's Rentboy profile) are the main qualifications one should look for when hiring a svelte young travel assistant to "lug" one's "baggage."
Everyone does know that, right?
For more on ridiculous attempts at damage control, check out 5 Retarded Health Campaigns That Backfired (Hilariously). Or learn about the 5 Types of Scandals That Are Always Disappointing.
If you're pressed for time and just looking for a quick fix, then check out Found at Your Local Library: The Three Stooges Book
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