I'm just gonna say the headline. I ain't reporting the got-damn news, but you need to know the headline before I launch into what is going to be one pissed-off motherfucking tirade.

The headline is Police: Man Had Sex With Picnic Table.

And yeah, you read that shit right. The man wasn't arrested for having sex on no got-damn picnic table. Homeboy was arrested for having sex with a picnic table. And, homeboy's taste in furniture non-with-motherfucking-standing, there's a lot about this headline--and about the accompanying got-damn article--that pisses me the fuck off. Go read that shit. Then come back here and let me enlighten your ass on the whys and wherefores of police bullshit.

You read it? Alright then. Let's get this tirade going.

In the first fucking place, you can't have sex with no got-damn table. Unless that table's moving around and making moaning noises like it's in the Beast's castle (and you know the Beast was doing all kinds of deviant sex shit with his furniture before that Belle chick showed up), then you ain't fucking it. You're masturbating.  Calling a masturbation session with a table "sex" is like saying "nose-picking" is a finger-bang.

In the second fucking place, who the hell is this nosy neighbor who kept watching this guy shove his dick into an umbrella hole? What kind of fucked up neighbor says, "Oh, that guy's raping a got-damn table--I better call 911." If I look out my window, and I see my neighbor trying to have an intimate got-damn moment with his fucking picnic table, I close my got-damn shades and go about my damn business. Motherfucker's horny, he's home alone, he's doing what a motherfucker needs to do to make the most of his hardon--what the fuck do I care? The only time the police need to be called on a dude sticking his dick somewhere is when he's either raping a chick or he's defiling your picnic table.

In the third fucking place, what the fuck was this neighbor doing with DVDs of this guy sticking it to a table? It's one thing to hump furniture; it's another got-damn barrel of lube to own DVDs of someone else doing that shit.

Look, every dude reading this would probably admit to being home alone with the family dog and a jar of peanut butter and at least considering the possibilities. Ain't no thing--your shame is between you, Annette Funicello and Fido. But if you got DVDs of other guys getting the pooch to lick on that peanut butter then you're even more fucked up than the guy getting a canine Skippy hummer. 

And finally, this guy is obviously attached to his picnic table. That's how men are. They love all the shit they put on their got-damn decks. I'd fuck my Weber grill if I could find a hole on it.

I don't know why the police feel they need to arrest this guy. That's some fucked up shit. What's next--they gonna try to arrest my woman because she's known her shower head in a Biblical sense?