(Hey gurl, you know I wanna eat you, but first you gotta show me that cloaca.*)

Remember those rumors back in the day that postulated Billy Bob Thornton only ate orange food? Not just like carrots and papayas and healthy shit like that, but like orange TicTacs and Skittles and shit? Well, that wasn’t true, but this even nuttier thing in The Sun is:

ODDBALL actor NICOLAS CAGE has revealed that he will only eat meat from animals if he likes the way they have SEX. The Hollywood star, 46, says he won’t touch pork because pigs do not romp in a “dignified” way.

I know the feeling. I still won’t eat Hungry Man dinners because a salisbury steak wrote a bunch of bad checks once. You have to take an ethical stance with these bastards, or before you know it, our kids will be hitting up livestock for cigarettes and forties. I once saw apple slices involved in an improvised abortion involving honey and maggots, but that’s debatable, because, I mean if the state provided better reproductive care maybe the produce section wouldn’t be considered the wrong side of the supermarket. I wonder how Hostess Honey Buns get it on. I imagine there is a good deal of R. Kelly and boxed wine. Those are some classy assed snack cakes. Not like that Twinkie the Kid whore. What about you, Nic?

Instead, he scoffs poultry and fish because he finds their love lives more tasteful. Wacky Cage, who won an Oscar for Leaving Las Vegas, said: “I love all animals. I think fish are very dignified with sex. So are birds. But pigs, not so much. So I don’t eat pig meat or things like that. I eat fish and fowl.”

He’s so wacky, all eatin’ fish and chicken. Reminds me of another wacky kind of people I know… can’t put my finger on it. I mean, I just have to concentrate. They should invent camps, where all you do is concentrate. We could call them – - oh, that’s it! Anyway, The Sun was kind enough to provide a handy chart letting us know how these animals get it on. Let’s see…

So, according to this, fish go for the old external spurt; we’ll call that the Adirondack Garden Hose.

And chickens, well, they do it in the butt, feathery protests be damned. A Swiss Mailman, if you will.  So far we’ve got scaly bukake and ass rape, this is turning out to be quite the dinner party, Mr. Cage…

And pigs like to cuddle, and take their time to make sure the woman is satisfied? I bet they also like to becomes doctors, and they love their moms, but not too much. Those evil little… no wonder they’re not kosher.  Welp, looks like that costume isn’t going to work after all, little buddy.

The article in the sun reveals that Nicolas Cage has an interesting history with all animals, a real fascination with what he calls “sentient life,” which includes anything from whales to insects. Also, he bought a two headed snake while filming Bad Lieutenant. “‘I met the snake and said, ‘Maybe this will be my bodyguard in New Orleans’.’ He later gave it to a zoo.” Why didn’t you just eat it? Is it because you caught it in a three-way with John Malkovich and an unscrupulous flamingo? You know, for a guy that is so fascinated with how animals bump cloacas, he seriously missed the romantic potential for a beast with two dislocating lower jaws and a body that’s one big throat.

*Click that there link for one of the coolest new blogs out there. Badass stuff.

Here’s something else you can blame Bryant Gumbel for. Ever since he aired his HBO specials, taking a look into the lives of athletes that viewers had no interest in or conceivable right to see, the Western World has salivated for more juiciness that has nothing to do with the sport those same viewers claimed to actually like. So screw it. Scumbag Style presents it’s first installment of a column called Sports Voyeur.

(Tiger Woods’ anonymous caddy and his bangin’ wife, recently expertly fertilized.)

EXCLUSIVE: Scumbag Style managed to get the only interview offered by the Tiger Woods camp in the wake of the announcement of his return to professional golf, at the Masters in Augusta. The media is awash with the scandal, and most journalists would have given their left nut for such an opportunity, but I have something better than a testicle: two. Seems Tiger’s caddy (who asked to remain anonymous until the most watched 18 holes of all time airs on the boring channel) has 14 clubs in his bag, but none that can impregnate his wife, and an interview is cheaper than a sperm bank, so… win/win/lose for me. The “lose” being I can’t construct a complete golf euphemism to save my life. I’ll leave that to CNN.

Scumbag Style: Your wife was great, thanks again.
Caddy: Did she do that thing with her knuckles…?

SBS: You’re damned right she did.
Caddy: Pretty friggin’ good right?

SBS: We’re not here to talk about how much your wife prefers myself over you. We’re here to talk about Tiger’s golf scandal. I did the bonkin’, you do the talkin’.
Caddy: What is there to say? Tiger feels blessed to have boinked so many broads, and could not have done it without the support of Buddha, his frigid, gold-digging wife, and all his little fans out there buying his name brand condoms he never used.

SBS: Sure, he’s a great fornicator, but what about all this talk about his return to golf? How is the camp taking it?
Caddy: You bastards in the media cannot get enough of this, can you? For God’s sake, the man is a sexual predator, not a golfer! Covering his many conquests, giving book deals to waitresses who got famous on their backs, inventing bogus medicine shows like “Sex Rehab” and then sweeping up unsuspecting Billy Bobs and Duchovnies in the wake of us getting our scandal fix: that’s all gravy, man, it is what Tiger Woods does in the public eye.

SBS: So, what you’re saying is that, just because he’s the most successful professional erection since John Holmes, with a satisfied forty-niner rating of like a billion under par, that he is not public property, and that his decision to play golf should be something worked through privately? [ed. Golf euphemisms are hard because those fucking Scottish bastards didn't know Americans would firmly establish later that more = good]
Caddy:  Look, what Tiger does on the links is none of our business. Thousands of men all over the world play golf. Is it really fair that his shortcomings be forced into the spotlight? Frankly I am ashamed of this country for latching on to his private life when all he wants to do is be left alone on the back 9, and figure this out with his family: Nike, Swatch, Titleist, and Cadillac.

SBS: That brings us to the next point. How are his sponsors taking this? How will Tiger make ends meet with just the few million dollars he’ll make playing golf?
Caddy: The man is just trying to be a positive role model for those who feel “hoes in different area codes” is merely a dream that will never be realized. Sure, the makers of the Tuggin’ Tiger novelty toy and Tiger’s Wood Cover brand condoms will be dissapointed, but he will still retain royalties from all Tiger Wood’s Preferred Personal Ball Washer units sold. The little pimps out there can count on Tiger to continue proving that anything, including marathon sex with women of all sorts of varieties, from waitresses to porn stars to hookers, is still as possible as becoming an NBA star. Even more so! Tiger’s message to the kids: Women can smell money and fifteen minutes of fame from farther away than talent agents. So don’t stop trying!

Tiger Woods Prefered Ball Washer: actually, just a Fleshlight shaped like a golf bag, but each unit guaranteed used by Tiger himself, so nobody complains.

SBS: So, never let something like something as mundane and unattractive as professional golf ruin your dreams of hittin’ more white booty than God?
Caddy: That’s right, scumbag. There’s always a way to overcome adversity like that, whether it be with the help of your wife and children, your sponsors, or your bang maid. But the worst thing that can happen is having the sensationalist media speculating and accusing, taking your attention away from what really matters: getting your dick wet. Worse comes to worst, you feel you’ve painted yourself squarely in a PR corner, invent something ridiculous, like say… “Golf Rehab.” Golf addiction doesn’t actually exist; I mean, who doesn’t like a round in the fringe every once in a while? But the media eats that shit up like some people eat Fruit Roll Ups for its nutritional value.

SBS: Well, sure, that will appease the masses, but what about the institution of Professional Golf as it exists today? Can it handle such a controversial player on its roster?
Caddy: Well, this is just between you and me – -

SBS: No, really it’s not. This is for a wildly popular and handsome website.
Caddy: Anyway, remember when Michael Jordan joined Major League Baseball?

SBS: Oh, sweet salty Jesus…
Caddy: Indeed. Ratings will soar due to his success in the arena  of professional whoring, but he will inevitably disappoint in the shifting of sports. Frankly, I think he lacks the fundamentals. Still, just like baseball, golf will continue with the support of the holdouts who pretend it’s interesting so they don’t have to talk to their wives for a couple of hours.

Sobering stuff, indeed. Still, there are some who hope – and I count myself among them – that Major League Doin’ It will find it’s savior, it’s David Beckham if you will, who will once again find some way to make anybody that counts care about a sport that seems to have no more popular steam. From the can in my office bathroom, this has been Sports Voyeur.

Is, “Insert euphemism here,” what she said? Or is it way too meta?