You know, folks, I’ve taken a lot of grief for my defense of Big Mo here.
It was grief I happily bore, thinking I was right in my evaluation of her character, and that my grief-givers were wrong.
Well no, I was wrong in my wrong-headed defenses of Big Mo, and for that, I apologize.
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I don’t do facebook, and so I was unaware Big Mo had a thing going with Fat Che, formerly “benburch†on Skins’s island.
For those who don’t know, Fat Che is that squalid, sordid, greasy, sleazy primitive who during the Scamdal more than nine years ago, threatened to wreak serious damage upon franksolich.
For those who don’t know, Fat Che admits to a certain sexual proclivity where he fantasizes about shoving his fist and arm clear up to the elbow, inside that part of a woman that normal men prefer to stick something else.
For those who don’t know--well, actually probably
everybody knows about the depraved character and habits of Fat Che, many of which are unspeakable, fit for description only in Hell.
And surely Big Mo has known these things herself.
But
still she has this thing going with him?
One’s known by the company one keeps, and this does not make Big Mo look good.
To put it mildly.
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Well, I was wrong--I was an ass--in defending Big Mo, and for that I apologize.
Maybe after her divorce is final and she’s free, Big Mo can rent a motel room--Fat Che doesn’t have the resources to do so--and the two of them can friskily hop around in the sack, Fat Che finally fulfilling his fantasy.