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I Love Television

"Wardrobe Malfunction," My Ass

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I have something to say! And it involves the "tit seen 'round the world" (i.e., Janet Jackson's exposed mammary at the Super Bowl). "Oh, come now, Wm.™ Steven Hump-Me!" I hear you cry. "A flashing glimpse of a fun bag? That's nothing to be alarmed about--especially for someone who's been on top of, around, and in between hundreds of boobies in his lifetime."

What you say is true... HOWEVER! Unlike other media finger-waggers, I alone have uncontestable proof that Justin Timberlake's so-called "wardrobe malfunction" was no malfunction at all! If anything, it was... it was... oh, crap... whatever the opposite of "malfunction" is!

My proof? That will come soon enough. But first, I think it stinks like diaper gravy that no one is willing to take responsibility for an incident that has so clearly damaged so many innocent souls. Even the levelheaded Michael Powell of the FCC ruled that the virgin eyes of a God-worshipping nation were forever "tainted by a classless, crass, and deplorable stunt."

And while everyone is pointing fingers at Janet Jackson for allowing her metal-encased areola to eternally corrupt the moral fiber of a once chaste country--why blame the VICTIM? If pointing is required, let us point our bony fingers of outrage at the true criminal--Justin "Sticky Fingers" Timberlake! In my opinion, Janet (or, Ms. Jackson if you're nasty) was accosted by this handsome ne'er-do-well. How do I know? Because Justin Timberlake did... did... THE SAME THING TO ME! (Sniff!)

Here's the sad tale: Roughly three months ago, Justin and I were on the back nine of the Pebble Beach golf course along with tennis great Venus Williams, French philosopher Jacques Derrida, and Norwegian "World Idol" Kurt Nilsen. As usual I was one birdie away from being three under par, and Timberlake had just shanked his third drive into the woods. Derrida's constant snickering at Timberlake's weak performance angered the young pop singer to no end.

In retaliation, Timberlake snorted, "Hey Hump-Me! I've been hearing a lot of talk about that honey-baked ham that resides in your pants. Why don't you give us a peek?" While it's true my bottom has been called "a model of structural perfection" by the engineering department of MIT, I had no intention of succumbing to Timberlake's demands. Besides, why give away what other people pay good money to see? However, upon my refusal, Timberlake became enraged, screaming, "Humpy, I'm gonna have you nekkid by the end of this game!" And with that, he grabbed my bottom and ripped the ass right out of my pants!

Out of professional courtesy I decided not to press charges. Besides, as it turned out, the revelation of my glowing perfect tuckus facilitated an awesome three-way between me, Venus, and Kurt. Nevertheless! Justin Timberlake has a proven track record for rending garments, and to blame Ms. Jackson for his abominable behavior is the true "crime against humanity."

That being settled... you may all go back to being virgins.

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