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.
The New York Times