You could justifiably call New Orleans 'The City of Hurt Feelings' today, as new circulated through the streets that native son David Vitter had denied purchasing the southern charms of the Big Easy's legendary whores, instead spending his children's milk money on the bureaucratic prostitutes of Capitol Hill.
"You could knock me over with a fart," said Big Willie Dickson, proprietor of 'Big Willie's Cantina' on Canal Street. "That's some sorry-ass sort of loyalty, I tell ya. I guess the grass always looks greener on the other side, but looka here. He's denying he ever ate the grass on this side of the fence at all, and that ain't right. Even if it's true, he shouldn't be out there saying it."
Wendy Cortez, formerly known as Vitter's very favorite strumpet in the whole wide world, was quick to express her dismay.
"Oh, right, go ahead and deny my whole sense of reality. I guess... I guess maybe I've just been having all these David Vitter fantasies. Yeah, David Vitter daydreams, doesn't every girl have those? Son of a bitch. Maybe he just has a thing for girls named Wendy and got me confused with his wife. Dumb fuck. Maybe... maybe I should threaten to sell his baby pictures to the Inquirer... Ah, forget about it, I've got more dignity than that. I'm a prostitute, not a politician."