In the history of the English language, I'm pretty sure no one has ever uttered these words before today:
Actor Tom Sizemore Fails Drug Test with Fake Penis.
I mean. . . wow.
During Thursday's proceedings, prosecutors told Judge Baretto that Sizemore failed three drug tests in three days, the first after he was caught using a fake penis sewn into his boxer shorts and filled with a clean urine sample kept warm by a heating pack.
Carney said the ruse was revealed when the temperature of the sample proved too cool to have come from Sizemore's body, and he was asked to remove his pants.
According to prosecutors, Sizemore had been caught once before trying to use a similar device, sold over the Internet under the brand name the Whizzinator, and had failed drug tests on at least five occasions.
Readers, I've always considered Garfield Ridge a "family friendly" blog, albeit a blog for families that enjoy plenty of salty sailor talk and pornographic analogies. But I would never stoop to showing pictures of naked women, as desirable as that is. And I certainly would never show pictures of naked men, as desirable as that is.
Uh, did I just write that? Skip that last bit.
However, I can't resist showing this to you. I apologize in advance, but I must bring you. . . The Original Whizzinator.
I have only one word for this prosthetic of penile perjury: magnificent.
*THIS* device, ladies and gentlemen, is why we won the Cold War. To hell with faux schlongs for the purposes of pleasurable self-gratification-- dildos are for Commie bastards. America builds its mammoth plastic dicks to ensure life, liberty, and the pursuit of scot-free 72-hour crystal binges.
Alas, false testicles are not included with the Whizzinator, but it's assumed that anyone who dares to wear the Whizzinator to the doctor's office packs a pretty hefty pair.
After many great films, like many men ages 18-34 I've grown to consider Tom Sizemore as "America's NCO." His performances in Saving Private Ryan and Blackhawk Down convinced me that if I ever found myself in heavy combat, I'd want the steady, smoldering rage of Tom Sizemore right next to me in that foxhole. Or assisting in a multiple-homicide armored car heist.
Today, I've learned that Sizemore is sized-right for the job. He packs the punch necessary to complete any mission, whether it's punching holes in Tiger tanks, or punching hoes like Heidi Fleiss. He can launch atop a rocket to the Red Planet, or he can launch a stream of lukewarm liberty into a tiny plastic cup. Tom Sizemore is willing to go that extra mile for America, and for meth users everywhere.
Tom Sizemore has all that power, in spite of the fact that a meth habit is like Sizemore's character in the classic Paparazzi: it is going to destroy your life and eat your soul. And it can't wait to do that.
For your perseverance, gusto, and incredibly desperate measures to stay high and free, America salutes you, Tom Sizemore.
Why yes, that is a fake penis in his pants, and he *is* happy to see you!