Leonardo DiCaprio: How come the 987th woman I slept with was just like 543rd?

Leonardo DiCaprioRegular readers to this blog know that I am anything but a regular writer, in part because I live a life along the lines of Mr. Leonardo DiCaprio.

Booze…women…drugs…women, and parties. It’s hard to blog on a regular basis when you’re finding your way back from the fourth dimension after smoking strange things with strangers in Argentina. Regardless, I feel it is time to disclose something for my jealous friends out there — psychologically, cocaine can be no different than a vagina.

New York Magazine recently reported:

Leonardo DiCaprio, noted community organizer, successfully gathered up a group of nearly two dozen women to depart a Miami nightclub to an unknown but certainly superior location. The witness reported:

“He left with 20 girls. Leo and 20 girls. He is my hero. He was overflowing with models everywhere. The Jonas brother looked scared, like he was going to drown and suffocate in the women. His face was hilarious.”

The New York Post also reported:

Leonardo DiCaprio partied like a rock star with a host of celebs and models at a $28,000-a-night luxury villa in St. Barts over New Year’s.

The actor and his friends, 1Oak owner Richie Akiva, art dealer Joe Nahmad, electric race-car team co-owner Bert Hedaya and restaurant guru Maggio Cipriani, rented the famed Villa Rockstar at the Eden Rock hotel, where they stayed for a number of days before they threw a lavish New Year’s party.

The “Eyes Wide Shut” lifestyle of Mr. DiCaprio may seem alluring (and I admit, it is quite the experience to spend days locked up in a sprawling estate with disease-free loose women), but one must be careful what they wish for — it may come true.

Once you have two girls at once, then you need to have three. Once you have three, then you must have four. Once the numbers get too much for one man, then there needs to be male company — and that’s when things get weird. Really weird. Bizarre.

Dear reader, it may sound like I have a wonderful life, but I assure you this: I am miserable.

At some point the man of 1,000 women (and a dozen men) must admit to himself that he does not seduce seas of women (and puddles of penis) because he is dashing — he seduces because he is incapable of having a meaningful relationship that goes deeper than the flesh.

Do I inject myself full of all sorts of strange substances because I am a free man, or because I am a slave to my own passions? Do I surround myself with the skin of morally bankrupt beauties because it is liberating to do so, or because I am spiritually suffocating? The answer, I hope, is obvious.

No matter how many women I fill up with my sex organs, I always feel empty. No matter how often I pump myself full of hallucinogens, reality always sets in. No matter how many gadgets and gizmos litter my home, I convince myself that I need more.

Don’t be like me, dear reader. Think about my wild nights and fantasize about what it may be like to experience such madness, but do not dabble your foot in the devil’s waters if you can resist; a toe is all he needs to pull you under.

Wishing you the best from a deep, dark place,

Doctor Bizarre

Topless feminists try to win friends at Vatican protest by sticking crucifixes up their butts

Femen Vatican protestFeminism has been on a roll in November. Not only did feminist activists think it would be wise to attack the guy who is largely responsible for landing a space probe on a comet traveling 41,000 mph, but they also decided to try and make friends by sticking crucifixes in their butts to protest the Pope’s upcoming visit to the European Parliament in Strasbourg.

RT.com reported Nov. 14:

The topless protest group Femen have taken their brash form of activism to shockingly new heights (or depths), simulating anal sex with crucifixes outside the Vatican to protest the Pope’s alleged meddling in politics.

The three women pulled of their stunt on St. Peter’s Square, the enormous plaza located right in front of St. Peter’s Basilica in the Vatican City.

Two of them had “Keep it Inside” scrawled across their backs, an apparent reference to their anger that the Pope’s activities extend beyond the tiny papal enclave in Rome.

The trio, decked out in nothing but black ankle boots, leather miniskirts, and flower garlands in their hair, dropped to all fours and began simulating a lewd act with the crucifixes.

Given that the world has over 1.1 billion Catholics — and Pope Francis is the head of the Catholic Church — it seems as though it is entirely appropriate for world leaders to meet with him. It does seem just a bit inappropriate, however, for women to go topless on city streets, scrawl messages on their bodies in black marker, and shove crucifixes into their butts.

Perhaps even stranger is the fact that Femen promotes the organization as one that yearns to hack testicles with sickles and hold them up triumphantly — all while simultaneously telling average Europeans that the the pope is a threat to freedom.

Femen landing pageIronically, Femen has a lot in common with the Shakers from the 1700s. The shakers were celibate and died off, while pro-choice Femen members want nothing to do with men. My money is on the baby-makers to outlast the group that weirdly encourages women to grow into old, angry, and lonely souls whose crowning achievement in life will boil down to: “We got to stick crucifixes up our butts.”