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British Pop Star George Michael Sinks To New Levels Of Depravity: Sex With Politicians
Thursday, July 27, 2006   By: Mahone Dunbar

Sex, lies, And Digitally Enhanced Photographs

As Jimmy Carter and Hugo (Huggy) Chavez prepare to embrace, a distraught and rejected George Michael exclaims: "Hey, what about me?"

Poor, poor George Michael. Is he ever going to dance again? Earlier this week he was caught again indulging in less than discreet behavior. (Other incidents have included repeated bouts of public intoxication and exposing himself to an undercover cop). George smokes a lot of pot, which has led friends to speculate that perhaps the cannabis has affected his mind ( If not his mind, it certainly seems to have affected his libido.) In fact, George's bad behavior has become predictable. This led a reporter and photographer from the British tabloid News Of The World to trail the former pop star to a London park where he liked to go cruising for "illegal gay sex thrills" Al Pacino-style ("Hips or lips?"). After an assignation, George was confronted by the reporter as he emerged from some bushes where he'd had a sexual tryst with a 58-year-old man. George, who was reportedly wild-eyed and trembling, threatened to sue the reporter and the tabloid he represented if the pictures they took were published.

The British public took the sexual behavior in stride. After all, this sort of behavior is known to occur in the entertainment industry from time to time, wink wink, nod nod. Oddly, the thing that seemed to upset the British public the most was not that Michael was out in the woods at two AM seeking a homosexual liaison with a stranger, but the fact that he made out with an older, "seedy" pot-bellied, unemployed man. With the British, anything can be forgiven but bad taste.

After all the "careless whispers" about the incident threatened to cause a publicity disaster - George decided to fly to New York, using the excuse that he was taking care of some business related to his upcoming comeback tour. Alerted by cohorts in the British press, a correspondent from Paxety Pages was on hand to track Mr. Michael's movements in America. After debarking the plane, George immediately went to the airport's nearest public restroom, where he took what seemed like an unusually long break in a bathroom stall. After finishing his business there, he left the terminal, and hailed a taxi. From the airport Paxety Pages followed him to the UN building, where he again went to the nearest public restroom and promptly disappeared into a stall. Figuring correctly that something was up - no pun intended - our Paxety Pages reporter, who had followed George into the restroom, secreted himself in a large waste can in the corner of the room, got his camera ready, turned on his tape recorder, and began to watch. He didn't have long to wait.

(Recorder transcript)

Sound of the door swinging open and someone approaching a urinal, unzipping, followed by a protracted "Ahhhhhh, good little amigo."

The door opens again and a voice with a southern accent says, "Que pasa, Chavez? How's it hanging for my favorite dictator. Oooooh, I see how it's hanging. I ought to put you to work pounding nails for Habit For Humanity with that thing. (mutual laughter) Here, let me give you a hand with that."

(Observed by Paxety Pages, but unseen by Chavez and Carter, George crawls beneath a stall and positions himself behind the furthest urinal for a closer view.)

Viva, Jimmy! Ohhh, step over here, my amigo amore, and give your chichi some lovin’.

(At this, George, incredulous, stands up and reveals himself. )

(Inarticulate slobbering sounds as Chavez and Carter embrace)

(Interrupting, George Michael exclaims,) Why, you two-timing old white-haired fart! What’s wrong with me? Your morals are as hypocritical as your foreign policy is bad.

Uh, George? What on earth are you doing here? I thought you were busy cruising Hyde Park?

The press is all over me there. My life is simply hell! Sometimes I think I'm never gonna dance again. But what do you care you dried up, old two-timing pansy . . .

Hey, watch your gringo mouth, you limey bimbo. Or I'll cut off more than your oil supply.

I'm . . . sorry, George. I've guess I've just got lust in my heart. It's true. I can't tell a lie. I was coming to see you on your new concert tour, Ros already has the tickets and . . . .

At that point, Kofi Anon and Kim Jung II enter the bathroom, hand in hand and giggling, and head for the back stall. Carter then notes that the room is getting crowded; whereupon George mentions something about going to a nearby park and being in the middle of a man-sandwich, and the three leave. Paxety Pages followed them at a discreet distance, watched them disappear into some bushes, and decided to wait them out.

And hour later, the patience of our Paxety Pages reporter was rewarded when former President Carter exited the bushes, hitching his pants, and make his way to the nearest park exit.


Paxety Pages: Excuse me. Excuse me. Mr. Carter, first, I must say, we're surprised to find you alive.

Jimmy Carter: The obituary Paxety Pages ran on me last year was highly inaccurate, to say the least. It was a political hack piece instituted by evil neo-cons. They were put up to it by George Bush. Everyone knows that.

Paxety Pages: Mr. Cater . . . If you don't mind telling us, How did you first meet George Michael?

Jimmy Carter: George and I met on a Gay web site called Gaydar. His ad read something like, "has-been pop star with a gapping hole in his soul seeks to be the subject of sexual humiliation and debasement at the hands of an older seedy-type guy with an aurora of quiet evil about him." Well, as you probably know, I'm a sucker for honesty. And that ad laid bare the man's soul. We talked on a chat line for a while, then finally met. Since George had a Greek heritage he was somewhat my type - though I prefer Latinos. Anyway, we hit it off pretty well. You can figure the rest.

Paxety Pages: So why did you break if off?

Jimmy Carter: Nothing personal against George. But, for one thing, he's a little young for me. And we have different needs. Besides, I don't usually like meeting in the bushes, which George prefers. There's all kind of vermin there, ticks, fleas, red-bugs, mosquitos. As a general rule, I'm just not comfortable with that. But that's George's comfort zone. Personally, I prefer high class toilets, as George well knows. As for what floats my boat? I'm nuts for tyrants and dictators. Jeez! If Hitler were alive today, I'd be all over his Teutonic butt quicker than Paris Hilton can say STD. But what really broke it off is the fact that George is a stalker. After I ended our relationship, I couldn't go to a public toilet in Europe without him showing up and asking weird stuff, like if my guilty feet had rhythm. I had a Dickens of a time explaining that to Rosalynn.

Paxety Pages: Sir, pardon me. But could you tell us what happened to your tryst in the park, just now?

Jimmy Carter: Well, George is a little high strung, you know–those artsy-fartsy entertainment types. He got offended at something Huggy said about liking Elton John's music better and . . .

Paxety Pages: Pardon me. Huggy?

Jimmy Carter: Huggy . . . Hugo Chavez. Anyway, George went into a tizzy, started screaming and scratching and tried to claw Huggy's eyes out. Of course, being a world-class diplomat, with years of experience in conflict resolution, I intervened at once.

Paxety Pages: That's great news, sir. So you resolved their conflict and you are leaving with another job well done. I presume you're off now to solve more of the world's problems?

Jimmy Carter: Well, er, no. Actually, I was on my way to try and find and all-night emergency ophthalmologist for Hugo. George wasn't exactly in a compromising mood. I think he's been huffing paint.

Paxety Pages: One last question, sir. How are you going to get George to quit stalking you?

Jimmy Carter: Oh, that's easy. Before I left I gave him Fidel Castro's number.


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