Month: August 2013

Copping A Feel

A couple of weeks ago, I wrote about Chris Curtis, the Vegas Metro cop who moonlighted (moonlit?) as a pick-up-artist and is now in charge of keeping women safe for the Downtown Project. (Disclosure: Vegas Tech Fund, part of the DTP, is an investor in NSFWCORP)

One aspect of the story I didn’t really touch on was Curtis’ boasts that he had become the unofficial “date doctor” for recently divorced Metro cops who wanted advice on picking up girls.

From an interview with Vegas Weekly’s PJ Perez

Since we’re talking about Metro, how did you become the unofficial Date Doctor for the force?

[Laughs] I really am. It’s kind of funny. Being single and out there in the dating scene …. See, a lot of these guys are married and stuff like that. And a lot of these cops fall into that stereotypical—you know, married their high-school sweetheart—but they never really lived, so they vicariously lived through my stories. And when they end up divorced, they ask me for pointers on how to get back into the scene. All the cops, from all the way up in the ranks, everyone that knows me, kind of knows what I’m about, and they come to me for advice.


Ambitious, Talented, And Twenty: And Don’t It Make Your Brunis Blue?

To be clear, I don’t know Frank Bruni personally. Never met the guy. Don’t know anyone he knows. Can barely even be bothered to Google him. Something about food, right?

All I know for sure is that in the opening paragraph of his column in today’s Sunday Times, he wrote this…

“ONE young staffer on Anthony Weiner’s mayoral campaign saw a chance at bright lights and went after it, spilling secrets in return for a glamour shot on the front page of a major newspaper, determining that attention was worth whatever crassness it called for.”

Later in the same column, Bruni claims attacks on Olivia by Weiner’s comms director, Barbara Morgan “proved that women can engage in slut shaming as acidly as men can. (It’s the sisterhood of the traveling thong.)”

A single data point about a person I don’t know, have never met, know nothing else about. And yet, using Bruni’s logic, that’s information enough for me to guess at his motivations, impugn his reputation, snipe at his gender and — really — call him whatever names I choose.

For example: Frank Bruni is a lazy, misogynistic sack of dicks — and everything that’s wrong with sadsack male opinion columnists in America.


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