Barstool Sports

NYPost – In the summer of 1962, Alford was a slender, golden-haired 19-year-old debutante whose finishing-school polish and blueblood connections had landed her a job in the White House press office. Four days into her internship, she was invited by an aide to go for a midday swim in the White House pool, where the handsome, 45-year-old president swam daily to ease chronic back pain. JFK slid into the pool and floated up to her. “It’s Mimi, isn’t it?” he asked. “Yes, sir,” she said. “And you’re in the press office this summer, right?” “Yes, sir, I am,” she replied. Lightning had struck. Later that day, Mimi was invited by Dave Powers, the president’s “first friend” and later the longtime curator of the Kennedy Library in Boston, to an after-work party. When she arrived at the White House residence, Powers and two other young female staffers were waiting. Powers poured, and frequently refilled, her glass with daiquiris until the commander-in-chief arrived. The president invited her for a personal tour. She got up, expecting the rest of the group to follow. They didn’t. He took her to “Mrs. Kennedy’s room.” “I noticed he was moving closer and closer. I could feel his breath on my neck. He put his hand on my shoulder,” she recounts. The next thing she knew, he was standing above her, looking directly into her eyes and guiding her to the edge of the bed. “Slowly, he unbuttoned the top of my shirtdress and touched my breasts. “Then he reached up between my legs and started to pull off my underwear. “I finished unbuttoning my shirtdress and let it fall off my shoulders.” Kennedy pulled down his pants but, with his shirt still on, hovered above her on the bed. He smelled of his cologne, 4711. He paused when he noticed her resisting. “Haven’t you done this before?” he asked. “No,” she said. “Are you OK?” he asked. “Yes,” she said. So he kept going, this time a little more gently. “After he finished, he hitched up his pants and smiled at me” and pointed her to the bathroom. When she was finished, he was outside in the West Sitting Hall, where their evening had begun. “I was in shock,” she writes. “He, on the other hand, was matter-of-fact, and acted as if what had just occurred was the most natural thing in the world.” “Would you like something to eat?” he asked. “The kitchen’s right here.” “No, thank you, Mr. President.” He called a car to come pick her up and take her home. On the ride home, it “kept echoing in my head: I’m not a virgin anymore.”

See, this is the reason I can’t believe that report that republicans have better sex than democrats. I can’t. You think George H.W. Bush or Mitt Romney are getting down like JFK and Slick Willy Clinton did? Not a fucking chance in the world. Granted, I do think that George W. could drink/smoke/snort those liberal pussies under the table, but there’s no way his dick stayed half as wet as John Fitzgerald’s or William Jefferson’s.

Simply imagine having that type of power. Picture in your mind for a moment that you have a meeting with international business and political leaders, the results of which have innumerable implications for thousands if not millions of people worldwide, and without hesitation you just grab some 19 year-old virgin to bang beforehand to ease your mind. That’s some terrorist heaven 72 virgins-level power right there, and JFK didn’t even have to blow himself up to get it.  I’m not so sure it’s what our founding fathers were thinking when they wrote that we all have the right to liberty, but that’s some liberating shit right there.

If dudes like Newt Gingrich and Herman Cain are out there laying pipe, I gotta think Obama has gotten at least one Beyoncé handjob.  At least one.  I bet Jigga didn’t even have a problem with it.  If Barry Obams hasn’t, I think we know the first thing that needs to change in our politics.

Thanks Jeff