Redneck Poster Boy and Lord Prince of the Bigots, John Rocker may be batting (left) but it isn’t for our team. The ex-baseball star is proudly notorious for his anti-gay, anti-black, I-Hate-New-York pronouncements. But can we just get real for one minute? — God, this guy is hot!
All of these guys are. Homophobic, sociopathic, you name it. But babes. Studmuffins.
Now, not all of these jokers are equally despicable. No, some pigs are more equal than others. Some are just … misguided … human beings. Luckily, in the spirit of No Fucktard Left Behind, we will be grading on a curve.
We don’t know if these guys are gay, straight or willing to fuck a barn door. Frankly, we don’t care. This is what we want, not what they want! Below then, the Top Ten Jerk-offs We’d Most Like to Jerk Around.
1. Scott Peterson
Who: Convicted killer who sits on Death Row in San Quentin for the murder of his pregnant wife, Laci. His hot Ben Affleck looks and two-timing ways made him the breakout star of many a Court TV henfest where Nancy Grace and her all-girl harpies would cluck and fulminate furiously.
Why We Hate Him: Yo, Scott. Did you have to kill her on Christmas? Did she have to be eight-months gone and ready to deliver? Because of you, we have the right-wingers with their “Baby Conner” movement (Conner was the intended name for the child), pressing to have the fetus declared a second murder victim. In this way, they hope to demagogue the death and provide a precedent to outlaw abortion.
Why We Love Him: We did mention the dicky Ben Affleck vibe, right? But you better take a number. According to the San Francisco Chronicle, Peterson had barely been on Death Row an hour when the first marriage proposal arrived. “Three dozen phone calls came in to the warden’s office on Peterson’s first day,” reported the newspaper. “Women were pleading for his mailing address, and one smitten 18-year-old said she wanted to marry him.” Silly girl.
Dick Index: We have two measurements. Dick as in Miserable Human Being and Dick as in Hot Cock. On the Miserable Dickhead scale, Scott rates a full hold-your-nose 10. Murder, in a country where divorce is second only to selling real estate as the national pastime, is soooo uncool. As the Hot Cock We’d Most Like to Meet in the Prison Shower, though, Scott racks up a very different perfect 10. Good work, Peterson. You rank as both the worst of the worst and the best of the best in our rogue’s gallery of terrible fucks!
FINAL TALLY: 10/10
2. Toby Keith
Who: Country western singer, known for his honky-tonk bar songs and jingoistic anthems in support of war, post-9/11 revenge and George W. Bush. Dubbed by Rolling Stone “the King of Ultra-Patriotic Country.”
Why We Hate Him: Hate is too strong a word, but disagree too pale for the visceral reaction we get to the politics that Keith, through his music, pushes in images that are both forceful and poetic. Keith walked away with every major award in country music after his much-publicized feud with the Dixie Chicks over his song Courtesy of the Red, White, and Blue.
Though he describes himself as a “conservative Democrat,” Keith campaigned for Bush’s re-election. He should have known better. Conflating “support for the troops” with an uncritical acceptance of the Bush Administration’s plans for those troops — plans at times misinformed and willfully blind to correction — is not our idea of true patriotism but the easy, feel-good sort favored by yellow-ribbon bumper stickers.
Why We Love Him: Let us count the ways: Six-foot-4. 260 pounds. Former oil-field worker. Former rodeo hand. Former semi-pro football player. At this point, our hunk-o-meter starts pouring smoke and catching fire.
Dick Index: On the measure of Worst Guy in the Universe Because Your Politics are (Yes, the Dixie Chick’s Were Right) God-Awful Ignorant, Toby Keith rates a slap-on-the-wrist 3. On the scale Cowboy Whose Rodeo We’d Most Like to Be Ridden In — Oh, Toby! You get an all-American 10. Yee-hah!
FINAL TALLY: 3/10
3. John Rocker
Who: Loudmouth yahoo and ex-baseball star who became the Red States favorite son when he launched into a classic hit parade of rural Southern idiocy during an interview with Sports Illustrated. Complaining that there were too many “foreigners” in Manhattan, he added: “Imagine having to take the 7 Train to the ballpark, looking like you’re riding through Beirut next to some kid with purple hair, next to some queer with AIDS, right next to some dude who just got out of jail for the fourth time, right next to some 20-year-old mom with four kids.”
Why We Hate Him: As an aphrodisiac, even Big and Dumb has its limits.
Why We Love Him: Then again, Big, Dumb and Hung is pretty hard to resist: “Biggest cock ever,” raved an anonymous source to the ever “reserved” British gossips at Popbitch. “It was huge! He walked around the locker room completely nude and that massive dick just swinging! He went to sit down on one of the benches in the locker room, and that cock hung over the edge!”
Plus, we’re kind of turned on by Rocker’s in-your-face attitude. In the wake of the Sports Illustrated interview, Rocker was booed and taunted whenever he played in New York ( a favorite stunt: the stadiums would play Frank Sinatra‘s New York, New York when he took the mound). “You degenerates!” he once hurled back at the crowd. “I’m still a millionaire and you’re still a piece of shit.” “You suck,” bellowed a nearby Mets fan. “Ah, suck this,” replied Rocker with a snug lift to his cup. See why we love him?
Dick Index: Rocker has made public professions of repentance many, many times. Followed, just as reliably, my more gaffes. We give him an A for effort. On the Really Bad Person Scale, he ranks a 3. On the Biggest Ball-Swinging Cock in the Shower Room – no contest, a whopping 10.
FINAL TALLY: 3/10
4. Joe Rogan
Who: Host of Fear Factor, as well as The Man Show. Doesn’t that say it all? The perfect marriage between disgusting and zipper busting — the ultimate qualifications for this list.
Why We Hate Him: There’s a special place in hell reserved for reality show hosts. And no one can serve a plate of wriggling caterpillar larvae with quite the gleam in the eye that Joe gets. It’s positively De Niro-esque, the glimmer of eye white, the maniacal glee.
In a hotly contested field, Rogan has the distinction of hosting what is simply the most degrading of the reality shows, where horror-movie cliches are re-enacted, but without stunt doubles or CGI blue screens. Fear Factor has offered us such aura-soiling spectacles as bikini-clad models bobbing for rats, celebrities you thought were dead writhing in â€œbug bags,â€ and the folks next door choking down raw bull testicles.
In the center of the depravity stands little Joe, presiding over it all with the same dirty half-smile that you see above. And you just know he’s grossed out, that he gets it, that he’s made his pact with the Dark Side and so with that maddeningly crooked smile (that hovers so close to a sneer) he embraces his role as fame-pimp to the Jerry Springer people, enabling their addiction to the bright lights, giving them a taste of celebrity — but, ah, first they must dive to the bottom of the snake tank and retrieve that hockey puck.
Why We Love Him: Humpy, humpy, humpy. Another hot wop from Boston. Next to these photos what more could we possibly say? Just this: Your Tony Danza update is now installed. You may delete your old Matt Leblanc workaround. Please reboot your system.
Dick Index: For being the Mayor of NightmareVille, we give him a 6, just passing. For the Latest Thing in Italian Stallion, we give him a generous 9. Not exactly Sly Stone — but wildly doable, yes?
FINAL TALLY: 6/9
5. Terrell Owens
Who: Football star, notorious for his self-congratulatory touchdown celebrations in the end-zone. An unapologetic showboater, Owens merely had to be suspended from training camp to attract photographers hanging out of helicopters and TV crews clamoring at his door while he lifted weights and did sit-ups on the front lawn of his mansion. Though he was on full traffic-stopping display, he did it all with with an air of magnificent obliviousness.
Why We Hate Him: He comes in right behind John Rocker for the sorriest outbreak of athlete’s foot-in-mouth disease. When asked in a Playboy interview if a teammate — and hated rival — was gay, Owens used this telling simile: â€œLike my boy tells me: If it looks like a rat and smells like a rat, by golly, it is a rat.”
Hmm. In another context, in an another age, a white player might have said the same thing about one of his teammates, except the animal would not have been a “rat”, by golly, but one with a long evolutionary history as a racial insult. Nasty slurs are nasty slurs, no matter what the zoological context.
Why We Love Him: Then again we love guys who are this full of themselves. They’re so easy: just stroke their super-hung egos and their eyes light up. And Terrell has every right to be vain. “In an age where players are bigger and stronger than ever,” proclaims one Sports Illustrated writer, “Owens is the most physically impressive specimen in sports.”
Imagine the long, indented torso and hipless waist of a Brazilian beachboy, but packed into 260 pounds of solid football beefcake. Actually you don’t have to imagine it. Owens puts up new “modeling shots” of himself in various stages of undress every month on his website. Plus, he gets extra points for once swiping the pom-poms off a cheerleader and doing a funky hula dance for himself in the end zone.
Dick Index: He’s too much fun to hate. On the Awful Guy Index, he gets a nominal 2. On the Big Black Sex-Machine scale … well, we agree with Nicolette Sheridan. In a widely condemned pre-game skit that aired on Monday Night Football, Nicollete simply did what any normal person in a towel would do if they came upon Terrell in an NFL locker room. Drop the towel and be a desperate housewife no more. Terrell rates a 10!
FINAL TALLY: 2/10
6. Prince Harry
Who: Second son of Prince Charles and Princess Diana, third in line to the throne of England, rumored to be the son of not Charles but of Diana’s riding instructor James Hewitt, to whom Harry bares a strong resemblance, particularly in his coloring and rusty-red hair. Prince Harry (official name Henry) is 21 years old.
Why We Hate Him: Well there was that Nazi gaffe. Showing up in brown shirt with a swastika on his arm at a costume party, given the pro-Hitler sympathies of some of his great uncles, suggests a lack of reality checking on an almost Michael Jackson level. Understand, Harry is not yet detestable but, like Kevin Federline (see entry below), seems aboil with potential.
Why We Love Him: Because we fully expect him to fill the gap left behind by his aunt, the madcap mishap known as Princess Margaret. Certainly, his getting way too drunk at discos and smoking way too much dope in the palace is a good start. Then there’s the scuffling with photographers outside of Piccadilly nightclubs. Also the bad press. After the Nazi incident, the Guardian thundered (“Prince Harry seems less interested in preparing for a life of royal service than auditioning for the role of village idiot”) and the Times of London sniffed (“… spends his time with a dubious group of self-indulgent young men who are apparently content with a life of pointless privilege.”)
Self-indulgent young men?
Life of pointless privilege?
Not even his uncle Prince Andrew (a.k.a. “Randy Andy”) came this close to Princess Margaret territory. And on top of everything else, Harry is teddybear cute. But he better come to our room soon. Royals, unlike cheese, do not age well.
Dick Index: On the You’re Not Too Old For Us To Spank You Scale, Harry gets a 1 — barely a mark at all, simply a phantom placeholder for things to come. On the measure of Oh Boy You Know What They Say About
Uncut Redheads, Harry racks up a royal 9 — not quite a kingly 10, but one never knows, does one? Who can say what tales will be forthcoming from lap dancers with book contracts? We sleep easy knowing that the gossips of the gutter press are on 24/7 Harry Alert.
FINAL TALLY: 1/9
7. Kevin Federline
Who: If you didn’t know better, you’d think Britney Spears was forever photographed with a particularly funky pimp attached to her arm. That would be Kevin Federline, backup dancer and aspiring gangsta rapper. K-Fed, as he is called in the tabs, is best known for drinking, getting stoned and making babies. When he married Britney he had just fathered his second child by his ex-girlfriend. Britney had to buy her own engagement ring. Kevin was not the kind of guy who was working a lot.
Why We Hate Him: Frankly we don’t have the goods on Mr. Britney Spears (yet), we just don’t like the looks of him. Does he not reek celebrity hanger-on? Is he not a Robert Blake Wait Here in the Car, Honey; I Left the Gun in the Restaurant murder waiting to happen?
Why We Love Him: Then again those looks are pure dirtbag. Scruffy, slinky, Trailer Trash Supreme! Ever since Marky Mark pulled on his dick, we’ve been crazy for dirty white-boys. And K-Fed truly is both dirty and stinky, if we can believe The Globe (and of course, we can’t but we do, Momma, we do!) According to Wikipedia (and, yes, Federline rates his own entry!) the popular website Fark insists on referring to him as Cletus and to Britney as Brandine — a reference to the slack-jawed yokels from The Simpsons — because of the couple’s lack of hygiene. In an episode of Family Guy, a fantasy sequence had Federline asking a magic mirror how he could “look like a douchebag today.” The mirror tells him not to shave, shower, or change clothing. “Just walk around with an undeserved sense of accomplishment.” That, as it turns out, proves no problem for the Fedster.
Dick Index: On the Evil, Ignorant Hick score, he gets a novice’s 4, but we expect that number to climb in the future. On the Stoned, Sleepy-Eyed Boy with Big Dick register, he gets an Ever-Hard 8. Sweet.
FINAL TALLY: 4/8
8. Jose Canseco
Who: With his mega-galactic butt and ‘roided out upper body, this baseball behemoth extolled the virtues of steroids in his tell-all bio Juiced. He then went to Capitol Hill to testify against his teammates for using the very same steroids, thus providing the Republican Congress with the hand-wringing show it wanted. One of the most hated men in sports, Canseco was the first player in major league history to hit at least 40 home runs and steal at least 40 bases in the same year.
Why We Hate Him: Brawling in bars and demolishing the wife’s car to get back at her we can understand. But nobody likes a snitch, amigo.
Why We Love Him: You have eyes, yes? You see big side of beef with dazzling baby blues? You need more reasons? Then let us turn it over to Bryan Curtis who wrote this love poem to Canseco in Slate:
For those who have marveled at baseball’s homoerotic rituals — the butt-slapping, the excessive man-hugs — let Jose Canseco, author of Juiced, add a more intimate encounter.
Canseco claims that while he was playing for the Oakland A’s in the late 1980s, he and teammate Mark McGwire would lock themselves in a bathroom stall and inject each other with steroids.
Pause on that image for a moment.
Canseco was 6 feet 4 inches and weighed in the neighborhood of 250 pounds; McGwire was 6 feet 5 inches and adding beef like an Arby’s franchise — for the two of them to squeeze into a men’s room stall must have presented something of a geometric challenge.
Now imagine McGwire gently lowering his uniform pants while Canseco (“I’m a good injector”) hovers over his derriere with a syringe, and add the fact that these men are enjoying this ritual immensely, even laughing about it, and there you have an enduring image of the Bash Brothers.
Dick Index: For not knowing when to keep his mouth shut, our Cuban bombshell registers a 7 on the Total Shit Scale. On the Man We’d Most Like to Squeeze Into a Bathroom Stall With, Canseco scores a full 10 — with extra credit if he can entice Mark McGwire to join us for a little uniform adjustment.
FINAL TALLY: 7/10
9. Jeff Gannon
Who: Republican shill who posed as a journalist and was waived into White House press briefings specifically to lob softball questions, sometimes in the form of anti-Democrat rants. His welcome wore out suddenly when several military men-for-hire websites came to light. Gannon (real name Jim Guckert) was unmasked as a $200-an-hour escort with an all-male clientele.
Why We Hate Him: “I never leave marks,” Gannon wrote in his escort profile, “only impressions.” Could he be any coyer? Could the smug self-satisfaction get any stickier! Yes it could– and it did. His nom de whore was “Bulldog,” the U.S. Marine mascot, and he would pose in his dog tags. The word back from the Johns was not promising. Gannon was an anachronism, the sort of gay man who might rim or feltch but would never kiss. Plus, “journalist” Gannon was always ready to parrot anti-gay Republican claptrap, alleging at one point that if elected Kerry would be “the first gay president” (because he would advance “the gay agenda.”)
Why We Love Him: Frankly, this man-whore looks like a walking erection, with his penis-dome head, cold eyes and primly set lips. And he did have the coolest comeback line of anyone ever publicly disgraced : “At some point in the future,” he told the New York Times, "everyone is going to have a picture on the Internet that they are unhappy about.”
Dick Index: On the Lousy Excuse for a Human Being scale, Gannon weighs in at a puny 6. He’s just not that good at being magnificently bad. He seems more to be pitied — particularly now with his 15 minutes long expired. Abandoned by his right-wing paymasters, he pens an infrequent column for the Washington Blade, a respected gay newspaper, where he continues to — get this! — dance around the issue of whether he’s gay or not. Sad, no?
Not so sad is his Hot Cock with Flag Lapel Pin Score. We have, after all, seen the evidence — as has the entire World Wide Web. A nice sturdy 8, we’d say. Now Jeff, one final question. Exactly who were you socking it to in the West Wing? According to the White House logs , released only by force via a Freedom of Information request, Gannon enjoyed “numerous overnight stays.” We shudder to think with whom? Karl? Scott? — Condi! It’s all too disturbing!
FINAL TALLY: 6/8
10. Orlando Bloom
Who: Breakout star of the Lord of the Rings trilogy. Lithe, agile and loaded down with blonde hair extensions, Bloom became the most requested celebrity on Google as the ethereal Legolas, an elfin archer. But once out of his long blond weaves, Orlando was abandoned by the teenage girls and his promising career was sidelined by a series of flops.
Why We Hate Him: Orlando Bloom is an object lesson in how a haircut can make or break a career. Without those elfin ponytails, Bloom has only his soft face and blandly sensitive features to fall back on. As the New York Times pointed out in a review of one of his recent movies, “Mr. Bloom distinguishes himself, in this performance as in most of his others, by his steadfast reluctance to explore his range as an actor.” In a word, Bloom is B.O.R.I.N.G.
Why We Love Him: He appeals to the cheap little teenage girl in all of us. Truth be told, he makes our man-pussies wet as the morning dew. And because we’re much too butch to be feminized by so pretty a young elf, we want to grudge-fuck him into Middle Earth.
Dick Index: For Being an Unsurpassable Bore, Orlando rates a healthy 7. However, he was not so boring that he couldn’t be featured in one of our favorite Hollywood rumors in which he and Viggo Mortensen were banging cod pieces in the wilds of Mordor. Therefore, on the Cock We’d Most Like To Fondle on a Foggy Night in the Shire, Orlando gets a 9
FINAL TALLY: 7/9
Now it’s your turn, Nightcharmers.
What raunchy fucks would you like to see on this list?
Top photo, John Rocker at bat
© Jim Hancock
Terrell Owens photos
© 2003, 2004 Terrellowens.com
© 2011, John Calendo. All rights reserved. Nightcharm.com