At True/Slant, I wrote about the sexual assault allegations against Al Gore.
If you can bear to get through the entire 73-page PDF (do not recommend), you will find a sordid tale in which the accuser explains she is a licensed masseuse approximately 95 times, states she was summoned by staff at the hotel to visit a "VIP" guest for a massage at 10:30 PM on October 24, 2006 (aren’t most massages after, say, 8 PM inherently erotic in nature?), coughs, like, 700 times (suspicious!), is greeted by the ex-VP with the line, "Call me Al" (literary allusion?), who hugs her weirdly, turns down the lights, and asks her to massage his inner-thighs (as a woman, I can assure you that this means one thing and one thing only). Call Me Al gets shouty and demanding and moans in a way that indicates he wants his abdominal area massaged. Actual line from the masseuse: "I got a tiny bit mad under my terror." WHAT? Were you wearing a tiny hat, too? Then Gore puts her hand on Lil’ Gore in a demanding fashion and shouts: "THERE." I guess that is one way to get a hand job. Or not. "I felt like I was dancing on the edge of a razor," she confesses in what one can only imagine was a breathless way of speaking to the police. Gore gets angry and she describes him as "Teflon coated." Next, Gore starts asking her to release his second chakra. She fantasizes about doing a "little Spock hold" on him. Eventually, Mr. VP No More gets up, wraps her in an "inescapable embrace," gives her a "'come hither' look," and grabs her boobs and butt. That’s when she tells him, in no uncertain terms, "You’re being a crazed sex poodle," which is totally the most awesome line in the whole thing, and, frankly, I could see Gore being a total crazed sex poodle, but that’s another story for another time. She distracts him by pointing at some chocolates, and he busts out the Grand Marnier. He kisses her and smooshes his erection into her. She refers to him as "Mr. Smiley Global Warming." He humps her, she calls him a "lummox," and there are political references. When she gets home, she finds "stains" on the back of her black slacks, which she didn’t launder on account of her "intuition," which is pretty much why I never do my laundry either. It goes on and on, but suffice to say: fin.[True/Slant]