America's Worst Asshole Parents

Wright

Man decapitates son, puts head on street for Mom to find

Jeremiah Lee Wright, 30, of Thibodaux, LA has confessed to killing his 7 year old son Jori Lirettehe. Wright said he was tired of taking care of the boy, who had cerebal palsy and heart problems, and was fed through a feeding tube. And those were the least of his problems, apparently.

Wright said he put the head out by the side of the road so when his mother came by, she would see it and "feel stupid."

Both feet and one of the boy's hands were also cut off and recovered from several white garbage bags.

Steven Cross

'...and your mom's not dead' dad arrested in California after abandoning son at foreclosed home

Dear Son: You have many years ahead of you. Not me. Take your PlayStation to our neighbor's house and see if they'll take care of you. The sheriff is taking our house and I won't be back.

So goes the letter written by the subject at right, Steven Alexander Cross.This guy puts his 11 year old son to sleep at night, writes the above, gets in his van and leaves Minnesota. He finds a job making sandwiches in California but doesn't cover his tracks. He's busted. The mom? Lost her visitation privileges 9 years ago. Oh by the way, the letter also revealed to the kid that his mom wasn't really dead. That's just what I told you, kid.

I'm not going to dump on this guy. Did he do the right thing, probably not. But he's an architect in a country that is not building anything, anywhere. He's depressed, dejected, and not in his right mind. I probably shouldn't even include him in this post, but, it is what it is.

And always remember that Daddy let you live. Not so with these next assholes...

Michael Ray James, Jonathon, Tina Alberson

 Twin Boy Dies After Parents Deny Him Water

Now here's a handsome couple. In the middle of one of Texas's 100 degree-plus heat waves, these two jackasses make this 10 year old boy stand in a hot room in front of the sun and deny him water for 5 days. His crime? Wetting the bed. The day he died he had peanut butter stuck in his throat. Jenny Craig and Richard Simmons there, wouldn't give the kid water to wash it down. 

When Jonathon finally collapsed, the two geniuses put him in a bathtub full of cool water and called paramedics, saying he'd been sick for days. The paramedics didn't buy it, and the Unibrow couple are now in a Dallas prison cell.

Twin Joseph said he was afraid to help his brother because he thought they'd punish him the same way.

Now back to California...

Sloan "what the fuck did I just do" Briles

Dad Arrested For Throwing Son Off A Cruise Boat

Okay, why are these guys always so gosh darn handsome? 

It's not enough to go through life with a stupid name like Sloan Briles. Sometimes you take your family out for a nice day in the sun and end up with your equally stupid mug shot plastered all over the Internet.

Sloan there, got into an argument with his girlfriend while on the tour boat, to the delight of all the other passengers. He walked to the front of the boat to cool off, followed by his 7 year old son. His son was crying.

"The father hit him several times and then threatened to throw him overboard if he didn't stop crying," (Sheriff's spokesman) Amormino said. "The crowd on the boat became very angry at the father for hitting the kid and extremely angry when he threw him overboard."

The boy was rescued by onlookers as well as other boaters. Sloan also jumped into the water, but hey- we already know you did it, so you don't have to pretend you care, okay? Oh, and also this next part probably has nothing to do with anything:

Authorities said Briles appeared to have been drinking.

Dumb ass.

And what does good parenting reap upon you? Answer: Psycho kids...

Tyler Hadley

Florida Teen Bludgeons Parents, Has House Party With Dead Bodies in Bedroom

"Why?"

-Mary Jo Hadley's last word, as her son Tyler beat her to death with a framing hammer.

At 1:15 p.m., Tyler made a Facebook posting: Party tonight at my crib... maybe.

At 5 p.m., kill parents. spend 3 hours cleaning up blood.

At 8:15 p.m., another fb post: Party is on.

Parents of psycho boy

60 people show up to Tyler's crib, and he is the man. Quite the happy host. Beer pong, cigar smoking, drinking. Eat anything in the house you want, friends. It's a party.

During the party, Tyler confesses to one of those friends, who confesses to another, and on and on. Nobody can keep a secret these days! 

Police came to the house twice. First at 1:30 a.m. because of the noise. But the party was by that time, breaking up. Next, at 4:30 a.m., after receiving tips that there may have been a murder. There was.

What is more disturbing, I ask you: that Tyler up there killed his parents with a fucking hammer, or that 60 teenagers wanted to finish their party and go home, before calling police?

Then again, kids are no better than some of their parents...

Things Women Say That Piss Off Men: Money

"You don’t make enough money."

That's not enough

Actually, she’ll never come out and say this to you. She’ll infer it; you’ll understand it; but it’ll never be said. You’ll finally get it after she leaves you for another guy. After, of course, taking you for what little you’ve got.

This is when a woman is at her worst. She sees a guy with no funds to make her happy in the manner to which she’s become accustomed, but she’ll date him anyway. Why? Any number of reasons. She’s bored. She’s between boyfriends. Her current boyfriend is out of town maybe, and she doesn’t like to be alone. Meanwhile, you spend every penny of your spare cash to take her to nice restaurants, buy her little presents, maybe take a couple of trips. But as that credit card balance is going up, her respect for you is plummeting. 

I know you’re not getting any

You don’t make enough money for her. Your clothes show it, your friends show their lack of sophistication, and your apartment looks like it was modeled from a college dorm. You have gotten rid of those cheesecake posters right? The ones with the oily girls…

Your car’s not good enough

Sorry Pard. Time to part with those things. They don’t show your studliness, your appreciation for the female form; they only show that you’re not getting any. Stash them deep in the Man Cave. Same as those Angel/Devil decals on your car. Tacky. You know how you’d feel if your lady drove up with an outline of a guy’s Schnitzel on her back window? Would you want to get in and drive around? Maybe you would. But you'd look like an asshole. Just like you do with your little nude girl decals.

You’re not my daddy

And yes, by the way: your car isn’t quite good enough either.

It’s okay though, all is not lost. You may fall short this time, but don't despair. Take the bruised ego and let her fly once she finds her cash-making Alpha Male. In a few years you’ll marry someone just like her, when she figures out that money wasn’t everything.

Of course by then, she’ll be carrying around Alpha’s kid…

Things Women Say That Piss Off Men: Boyfriend

Thanks for the movie

"My Boyfriend."

Number One. Do I really need to go on? How many of us have started chatting up a girl only to be hit by this bullet? Maybe she was bagging your groceries, maybe counting out your money at the bank. Perhaps she was sitting next to you in your Astronomy class. Whatever she was doing, it was clear that what she was not doing, was going out with you. She was just making that crystal.

But what if she had? What if you secured a date and went out with this girl? There you are, post movie, sharing a couple of coffees and trying to keep the conversation going, then WHAM there it is. "My Boyfriend." What the hell?

Oh, you think, as you try to pull yourself together. After all, you still want to come across as cool and worthy to this babe. Maybe she didn't know this was a date. I didn't make myself clear. I didn't make my motives known. She thought we were two friends going out.

Gosh, a walk on the beach sounds nice…

Bullshit. You and she both knew what this was. When two single people of the opposite sex get together, and to further clarify, when they barely know each other and they go out to share an evening, it's not a business dinner, it's not a coworker convention, it's not a baby shower. It's a date. And this girl just told you that she has no interest in you. None. When she figured that out, was most likely about thirty seconds before she casually worked the word "boyfriend" into the conversation.

So what do you do now? The question is rhetorical, son. Because I'll tell you what you did. You sat there and listened to her stupid chatter, her gassy laughter, her overconfident spew while you licked your emotional wounds and wondered why every girl you go out with has a boyfriend. You paid for the movie, the coffee, and you probably even walked through the mall and bought this twit another little prize to take home with her.

You really don’t have to buy me that ring, but… okay.

Because you're a fool and a glutton for punishment.

What should you have done? Simple. Get up and walk the fuck out. Because this gal is now wasting your time- and your money. You want to be noble? Sure, I can bite. Call her a cab and pay for it. If you don't want to confront this self serving princess on her selfish comment, then excuse yourself, find a waiter, a barista, or the manager, and let him do the dirty work. It's not the first time they'd heard it. Give the guy a good tip on your way out and don't look back. And do not for a moment, believe the movies. There is no second chance with this woman; you will not meet her in a bookstore one day and laugh about your terrible date; you will not end up marrying her and tell your kids how you hated each other at first.

She’ll see what a great guy you are

But let's dissect the above. How did you end up in the situation? Did she drop the BF bomb from the beginning and you continued talking to her? The BF remark should be a big clue: You're Out. Every second more talking to this chick is a second off your life you're not getting back.

If she did, she mentioned him yet you still asked her out, well... you reap what you sow. I know what you thought. You thought, you'll become friends, she'll see what a great guy you are, then one rainy September night, your faces will meet...

You’re a really nice guy

I told you to stay out of the movies. She said she had a boyfriend, you asked her out, you paid for everything because you're just a generous guy, aren't you. But you're not. You had designs. You were lying to her from the beginning about your intentions. You don't care about some guy you haven't seen, you want to slip into her comfort zone any way you can, then pounce. Or as is more your style, hope against hope that she'll do the pouncing.

So does she have a boyfriend? Well, there's a slim chance that if you thought she was attractive enough to start wishing that boyfriend was you, then, yes. She does. And either he doesn't know about her soirees or he's dumb enough to believe that every male friend of hers that he's never met is gay. Why she went out with you in spite of the guy is a many sided apeirogon (look it up). Maybe she's bored (the winner). Could be she's looking for someone just a little better- oh- and you're not it. She may just hate being alone. It doesn't matter, does it?

But if she's in that danger zone, that fifteen minutes ladies experience between boyfriends when they're just out there accepting free dinners and presents dates, then no, she doesn't have a boyfriend. She told you she does, because she knows that boyfriend, wherever he may be and whenever he shows up in her life, will never be you.

Your boyfriend.

Indeed.

Tragic Actors and Hot Lindsay Lohan Photos

 This story isn't about the Playboy pics. No, those are rapidly shutting down from the Internet.

This story starts innocently enough, with a wedding. 

The bride arrived, all blushing, made up and white. 

She turned ever slowly, parted her moist lips, and smiled. Ivory white teeth dazzled the guests.

The bride’s sparkling eyes shone over the assembled crowd. There were friends, acquaintances, old lovers; there were family, sisters, nieces and nephews, mums and dads. 

And God Dammit. There was the Lohan. And she was hot. Way hotter than me, thought Kim Kardashian. 

Her eyes shone over the crowd

She looked over at the guy she met earlier that year, then closed her eyes tightly and breathed out. “Okay,” she whispered, barely audible. “Let’s just marry this clown already.”

I looked for another actor, a dead one, with whom I could compare Lindsay Lohan. The choices are of course endless in a self destructive environment like Hollywood, so there should be a lot of parallels, right?

Wrong. While I had admired so many desolate souls who entertained me and then passed on, it increasingly dawned on me that I had never- never, seen one of the Lohan’s movies. The only reason I know the Lohan exists in this world is from her consistent appearances as a drunken court case, and her perpetual energy as a paparazzi star. Bikini Lohan? Lindsay the Lesbo? Drunk? Happy? Sassy? Bitchy? Boob flashy? It’s all there.

Hotter than Kardashian

If this girl could bottle it, there’d be no need for Internet TV or People magazine. The drama, the skin, all the juice is right there in that 25 year old frame. 

So naturally I wanted to find a comparable catastrophe. Someone who had a torrent of talent that had finally eaten a hole through his liver. Or burst a blood vessel in that supernova brain. 

I at first thought, quite innocently, of Marilyn Monroe. Easy choice. Sexy, airhead, difficult to plan a day around because you couldn’t count on her. Big ol’ picnic basket of head trips. And Lindsay did a nude photoshoot tribute to her, too (hey- that link says nude photoshoot, so don't be complaining to Google that I'm

leading you astray).

Nah, too easy, and besides, I’d seen some of Monroe’s films. They were enjoyable and she brought kind of a presence with her. Kind of a, “what’s going on around me, check out my titties” aura.

Indiana Freaking Jones

Then I considered River Phoenix. Ah, tragic. I liked the kid, nice movie like Stand By Me, better movie like Sneakers. Young Indiana freaking Jones. Brought down by partying in West Hollywood, died on the sidewalk outside a goddam bar. Too much heroin.

Again, no. Again, I’d seen some of River’s movies. He was good. He was talented. He was too unlike Lindsay Lohan.

So okay, fade to black. And open the next scene with:

Brad Renfro. Whew. We at My Second Wish have reached a decision.

But no boobies

Renfro, since you’d never probably heard of him, was in and out of trouble early on. In 1994 he broke into movies at the tender age of 10; four years later he’s getting busted for cocaine. Hey- life’s a party, right?  Luckily for the Renfro crowd, a few plea bargains and house arrests and they’re back to uh, “work” in a matter of weeks. With a tan. 

Well even under such strict supervision of the courts, Renfro couldn’t seem to do anything right and at 25 years old he’s got his girlfriend discovering his dead body. 

And I’m convinced that the only reason we know Lindsay and not Brad, is because Brad either didn’t have boobs, or didn’t wear tight dresses to court. Advertise, Brad, advertise!

 

But, the similarities are endless nonetheless. Discovered at an early age. Drugs, alcohol, partying, bad boy/girl, a lengthy list of 

 forgettable movies. 

But no boobies. I guess the world really will forget Brad Renfro.

But not the Lohan. 

So let's celebrate Lindsay's unforgettableness...

Showing up Kardashian as a Lipsticky Pig:

My Mama, My drinking pal

Post-wedding, too many shots at the bar Lindsay...

 

 

oops I did it again, so 2010 Lindsay

 Sweet and Wonderful Lindsay

The abomination: Lindsay's gay era...

 

Wow. That is frightening. I may say, that if I were gay and a lesbian, and with most of Hollywood- hell, the world- at my beck and call, that if I chose a scary looking companion such as that, well… Britney shaved her head. This was Lindsay’s response to her demons.

Bleach those out with these NSFW images of the Lohan. Password is talent. Again, not safe for work, okay? Geez. Continue...

So there you go. Will we remember her as we do Monroe, after all is said and written, after the news obits run their credits? Maybe. Will chicks fifty years from now be getting her likeness tattooed upon their arms in some monument to her tragic greatness, her delicate spirit? Remains to be seen. Many of us will be here still, after fifty years. Let’s take a look. 

Will Lindsay?

 We hope so.