Recidivism has found its official mascot, and it’s not a guy in a suffocating plush costume. Because Charles Marshall would try to fuck it. In a public square, somewhere in the godless realm known as Ohio, where 87.2% of the world’s stuffed animal-fornicators dwell.
Charles Marshall, who undoubtedly subsists entirely off of Lunchables and freeze pops, was arrested for masturbating in public with “the aid of a teddy bear”… for the fourth time in two years.
This creepy waste of carbon was caught in a library bathroom in his first public plush beat-off session, way back in February 2010. When are we, as a Society, going to stop letting homeless people, or their warped Care Bear Cousin, the deranged, Hall-of-Fame-Pervert, How-Is-This-Guy-Not-Homeless guy, hang out in libraries? Have you ever used a library bathroom? You enter it with a sense of dread, thinking homeless spunk is going to ooze out of the walls, like that evil painting in Ghostbusters 2. Or you’ll walk in on them bathing in the sink, mopping their genitals with every remaining paper towel so you’re relegated to the broken hand drier, which they’ve probably tried to fuck, hence it’s constant inability to function when you need to dry their fiercely contagious homelessness off your hands. And you know they’re not there to better themselves. They’re not surfing Careerbuilder.com, tweaking their resumes and saving it on a flash drive they keep crammed up their buttholes, or, like, reading Dickens novels, and realizing they are the pathetic modern embodiment of every totally fucked Dickensian character ever, doomed to wander the earth as crusty-haired retrogrades, and perpetually fluctuating between a hungover should-I-help-this-guy state of projected hope, and drunkenly pushing his three-wheeled shopping cart full of other freaks’ discarded masturbatory teddy bears into crowds, spouting epithets and 1980s commercial catch phrases. ”TIME TO MAKE THE DONUTS! YARRGGGHHH!” And who has to suffer from their filthy, vexatious presence? Who is forced to acknowledge their trace levels of humanity? Not the would-be elite reading vampiric near-porn or “50 Shades of Grey” in the secluded safety net of their Kindle Fires, but the well-intentioned, yet under-funded readers who are too poor to buy (real, actual) books, and are instead relegated to checking out classic literature at their local
libraries sanctuaries for homeless derelicts clogging up taxpayer bandwidth and tossing each other’s salads in the restrooms. Teddy bear buttfuckers and guttersnipe vagabonds; this is our public alternative to emptying our pockets for the Amazon juggernaut.
Perhaps this is why Charlie Bangs-a-Bear wasn’t indefinitely banished to the prison system (an attractive alternative to living as a ‘free’ man in Ohio) for his first offense. Local authorities were merely happy to have one less indigent monster growling and skeeting all over their community’s last vestibule for literacy (Buckeye fans are notoriously illiterate), and merely banned him from using the library system, i.e. set him free to NOT be bombarded by god damn beggars. Lucky bastard.
Gripped by a malignant curiosity, unable to stop contemplating the audacious, habitual degeneracy of this teddy-fucker, one’s mind is stuffed with salacious, yet quintessential questions:
- Is he monogamous? Like, does he keep banging the same bear, over and over again, or are there more bears? Does he have them stacked up in his closet like Batman suits, a veritable army of teddy bear fuck toys?
- Has he experimented with other animals? Does he perhaps try to bang the open beak on a stuffed Big Bird? Slap his dick against Simba’s furry mane? Dry-hump a Hulk Hogan Wrestling Buddy (or is he be unable to achieve an erection if not galvanized by grinding against exanimate simulations of the animal kingdom?). Maybe ol’ Chucky Boy likes ‘em sassy. You know, something that’ll talk back to him, verbally milk his prostate, so he gets down on a vintage Teddy Ruxpin?
- Have the police confiscated any of these teddy bears? If so, what becomes of them? Are they dumped off at the cleaners and then donated to an orphanage or children’s hospital for a tax write-off from the state (of craptacular Ohio)?
- What kind of teddy bear? Does he go to extremes, designing an exquisitely-detailed Build-A-Bear, just to ultimately stab his fluff-craving penis at?
- When did this sexual fascination with plush submissives begin? One could understand the desperate experimentation of early adolescence… but an adult, chronically boning insentient toy creatures, in public? Did he, perhaps, develop a delusional obsession with “The New Adventures of Winnie the Pooh”, wherein he became the flesh-and-blood manifestation of Christopher Robin, only a twisted, beastial version of Christopher Robin who gets to fuck Pooh Bear in an extremely public area of Cincinnati erected after they tore the Hundred Acre Wood down, with, probably, at least 4 Paneras within convenient teddy-wanking distance?
- How can we as a nation, in good conscience, abandon NASA while allowing Bed-Time Bear-molesting half-wits to jack off in our streets? Granted, it’s just the forgotten wasteland of Ohio, but still.
Charles Marshall is so much more than just your Degenerate of the Week. He is Society’s Doomsday failsafe button. The backup detonator, ensuring a cultural Armaggedon. A stargate to a world where global annihilation and the subsequent rebuilding of society by the Chosen Few/Kindle Fire best-seller readers is entirely justified by the depravity of Man – the existence of, and continued semi-tolerance for some dude fucking his teddies.
Above all, it is such a soothing relief to know that, if Michael Bay somehow fails to destroy every cherished aspect of your childhood with his joyless, overwrought spectacle, there’s always some vacant-eyed, beastial creep in Ohio willing to jam his indiscriminate pecker into the sliced-open neckhole of our Paddington Bears, our Velveteen Rabits. The final, hitherto-impenetrable orifices of our Innocence.