Adam Wears
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Marina Reimann
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If you ever get the chance to become a celebrity, you should know that it involves a certain amount of talking yourself up. Unseemly as it might be, this does serve a purpose, in that it tends to make you more famous, or at least more infamous, or at least more money. Invariably, many of these boasts involve how many people you've boned, what other famous people you've boned, and under what ridiculous circumstances the boning occurred. And sure, this is often to the detriment of things like "the truth" and "modesty," but that's OK, right? Who's going to care when so many bigger things are going on in the world?
We care. Because while some of these sexual claims may seem far-fetched but plausible, others are the equivalent of that kid in school who swore up and down he had a girlfriend, but she goes to a different school, you probably don't know her.
There's no polite way to say this -- and honestly, why try? -- but Alex Jones is a foul, conspiracy-peddling ghoul. That's if you take everything he says seriously; for legal reasons, he may in fact be a satirist, in which case he's ... an awful satirist.
InfoWars
Anyways, keep that in mind as we poke into an anecdote he related about how he used to be a cougar-hunting teen lothario:
"When I was 16, I didn't want to party any more. I didn't want to play games any more. I grew up. I'd already been in the fights, all the big rituals. I'd already had probably -- I hate to brag, but I'm not bragging, it's actually shameful -- probably 150 women, or more, that's conservative ... I was already dating college girls by the time I was 15 years old. I was already a man at 16."
Gee, Alex. We're surprised it's taken you so long to mention this, considering it reveals there's a secret statutory rape cult taking over the country. 150 -- which, remember, is the bare minimum he's claiming -- is a huge number of sexual conquests for an entire lifetime, let alone a 16-year-old. And that is a hot garbage number if many of those are supposedly grown-ass women. How hot could one teen be?
Alex Jones
Still, that's a lot of sex criminals. We guess the main takeaway from this is that if you're a fatherless conspiracy nut whose mom had a mysterious tryst in the late '80s with an intense teenager, you know where to direct your lawyers about backdated child support.
In today's hyperconnected world of social media, as well as tomorrow's ultra-hyperconnected world of social brain implants, it pays for celebrities to be candid with their fans. It demonstrates authenticity, helps build a rapport, and makes everyone feel special and connected and extra willing to give up all their money. However, while playing a concert in 2011, Enrique Iglesias took things to a whole new dimension of candid known as the Uhhhhhhwhat Zone. Somewhere between the 11th and 12th renditions of "Hero," he blurted this out:
"I grew up with a lot of my friends, and all of them lost their virginity with hookers, not that there's anything wrong with that ... I wanted to wait for the right girl, so I waited until I was 25."
OK, nothing wrong with that. Sure, it's a little weird to announce it to a packed arena, but could have been his awkward way of telling his fans that, you know, it's OK to wait and no one should feel bad about wanting to find the right person. Which seems fine. Commendable, even.
And then this happened:
That's Enrique inviting some dudes on stage to chat about sex -- a conversation which leads to him completely rewriting his sexual resume with all the furor of a Stalinist censor. Now he says he lost his virginity at 17, and instead of it being a special moment in his adult life, it happened in his brother's house and lasted a whole goshdarn ten seconds. Keep in mind, this was all during the same concert. Was there a sniper sitting backstage making him say these things like a bargain-basement version of Phone Booth? Or was he making shit up on a dare?
We'll never know for sure, but at least he didn't awkwardly try to change the subject by calling his dick tiny or someth-
"What does Spanish good looks have to do with the size of your penis? Maybe I have the Spanish looks, but I have the smallest penis in the world. I'm serious."
Oh. He did that too.
We've previously covered how the failed businessman and malformed cinnamon bun we elected president used to call up reporters and pretend to be be his own publicist. It was not a successful scam; in fact, it was pretty much an open secret in the media that "John Miller" and "John Barron" were in truth The Donald Himself, if only because of their weird tendency to talk about how many famous ladies wanted to ride his, um, golf cart.
Mike Ehrmann/Getty Images
In 1991, The New York Post had a front-page exclusive about Trump dumping his then-girlfriend for singer, songwriter, and future premiere dame Carla Bruni. When a journalist for People magazine called Trump's offices to confirm the story, she was transferred to "John Miller," who began to describe how, yep, it was totes real -- Bruni was passionately in love with Trump, so much so that she'd even dumped a rock star lover to be with him. When Bruni was asked for comment on this story several years later, she responded by calling him a lunatic and a liar.
Franck Prevel/Getty Images
"Miller" then went on to describe how difficult it was for "his boss" to live his life under a constant barrage of women throwing their junk at him. And yes, he named names. The list included people like Madonna and Kim Basinger. In a later interview with noted feminist scholar Howard Stern, Trump (now as himself) described how if he'd been bothered to put in the time, yeah, he totally could have banged Princess Diana. Which is insulting, preposterous, and also indicative that Trump was somehow getting smarter, having realized how difficult it would be for dead ladies to contradict him.
For the benefit of people whose wrestling knowledge is limited to the films of Hulk Hogan, Ric Flair was one of the greatest to wrestle since that first caveman began wailing on his buddy. He also shouted "WOO!" a lot. Good fun.
For a brief moment last year, however, all of these achievements were overshadowed by his newest claim to fame: getting his Rowdy Roddy Piper on with Halle Berry. This all came out on Flair's podcast, inventively titled The Ric Flair Podcast. After being asked by a fan whether any celebrities had ever taken a ride on "Space Mountain" -- Flair's nickname for his penis, presumably after "Big Thunder Mountain Railroad" didn't stick -- he replied, "Do you want me to start with Halle Berry or what? She was in Atlanta and she had just gotten divorced from Dave Justice."
As you can probably guess, Halle exploded with fury when ... actually, she didn't do much more than deny it and explain that she'd never heard of the dude. Which must have hurt Flair at least a bit in the ol' Tea Cup Ride.
These days, Gavin McInnes is known for mostly as an alt-right dumbass ...
Thought Catalog
... but before that, he was the co-founder of Vice, the website unafraid to delve into the murky world of those who do drugs and then write about doing drugs. Back in those days, McInnes and his fellow co-founders, Suroosh Alvi and Shane Smith, recounted their sexiest anecdotes for The Vice Guide To Sex And Drugs And Rock And Roll, a book full of Vice's "wildest" articles with a title as unironically corporate as they come. Along with some interesting revelations about how Vice got its first big ad deals -- the founders fucked cougar marketing executives, obviously -- there are some baffling, physically impossible claims.
Revolver Books
For example, McInnes describes how during a threesome with "a lovely girl from Malta," he and Smith wound up ... shrinkwrapping their deli meats together. If that doesn't make any sense to you, that's because we've now entered the Sexual Twilight Zone. Nothing past this point makes any sense. Incidentally, the following passage is pretty NSFW, so ... stop reading aloud?
I look down at her asshole and I'm like, "Look at that beautiful pink assho... hey, wait a minute. How come I can see the asshole? I thought I was in the asshole." And then I feel down and I have a condom on, and I'm like, "What is this? I didn't have a condom on when I went into her ass." Then I realize I pushed so hard I forced my dick into Shane's condom with Shane's dick and we were both in her vagina. I was so horny I almost kept going but it was a bit too homo to be penis-rubbing like that.
We'll admit that writing for Cracked doesn't get you as much make-believe action as writing for Vice does, but we do have our doubts about this particular story, seeing as how condoms aren't windsocks that you accidentally lose your dick inside.
Julian Assange has a bit of an image problem. Even if you overlook the whole "hiding in an embassy for years to avoid rape charges" thing, he's still an eerie and paranoid lunatic. But he wasn't always such a mistrusting so-and-so. If his OKCupid profile from 2006 is to be believed, at one point he was the sort of guy willing to bare his soul to the world.
Julian Assange
Assange, aka "Harry Harrison," wrote the entire profile in the manner of someone trying their best not to hook up with anyone.
"Want a regular, down to earth guy? Keep moving. I am not the droid you're looking for. Save us both while you still can."
He goes on to describe himself as "pretty intellectually and physically pugnacious" and a "passionate, and often pig headed activist," which aren't ranking up there with "sense of humor" and "pecs" on any woman's list of desirable features in a mate. As for what he's looking for in a partner, it's someone who's down for a "love affair, children and occasional criminal conspiracy." Also, for some reason, he closes his profile with, "I am DANGER, ACHTUNG," which we are now very concerned might be something he shouts out during sex.
Julian Assange/OKCupid
Anyways, ladies, if that somehow, improbably, appeals to you, then sad news: Your ideal man is hiding in an embassy. You might have to set your sights lower.
Adam Wears is on Twitter and Facebook. He also has a newsletter about depressing history, if you're into that sort of thing.
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