Right here, this right here is exactly the reason why when I drop a French fry on a subway seat, that it is absolutely dead to me and I refuse to eat it. Peter Davis, an editor at the Daily Front Row fashion magazine, had the privilege of feasting his eyes on this very confident gentleman who was riding the southbound E train in New York City and wearing nothing but his sneakers. The photo was taken on Thursday evening, where the temperature was in the upper 40’s, rather chilly and very conducive to schlong shrinkage. Davis said that the sausage salesman was “really drunk” and had been drinking Jack Daniel’s in between episodes of passing out. A rather unfortunate time for whiskey dick. “He was oblivious. He kind of looked at me when I took the picture, but he didn’t seem to care,” said Davis. I can confirm that this man has balls.
So what events occurred before this memorable subway that made ole baloney tits here think it was a super idea to go for a naked ride? My theory is that he was doing a bit of day-drinking, and suddenly realized that he was running late for his important barbershop appointment and had no time to put on clothes. He strapped on his sneakers and sprinted to his hairdresser who gave him that sick mohawkish buzz cut. He was so impressed with his new hairstyle and confident that it would be a ladykiller that he immediately went to the local bar to start collecting girls’ phone numbers and be immersed in pussy, but he was unceremoniously turned away for a lack of clothes. So he went to the liquor store and bought a bottle of JD and had a one-man party to celebrate his haircut. Then again he’s most likely just a psychopath who indulges in copious amounts of whiskey and exposing himself to young children.