An Open Letter To The Jackson Wyoming Flasher

When you hear a story about a flasher, you tend to think it happened in some big city.

Some sicko in Denver is flashing women as they drive by the park- or something like that.

But a flasher is Wyoming?

Well, maybe at some crappy Wyoming trailer park. We kind of expect that.

But in Jackson Wyoming? In their nice downtown park?

Did not see that coming.

So, was it some upscale bored rich kid out on a dare from his college fraternity?

NOPE! 

It was a local, low-level, employee.

Flashing has changed a lot since I was a kid.

Gone are the days of the creepy old guy wearing a trenchcoat, opening it up to show the ladies "the goods."

This guy had a more "modern" technique.

He told police that he was wiping sweat off of his face with his t-shirt and his pants fell down.

That might be an excuse if it happened once.

But it's rather suspicious for the pants to fall down over a dozen times, always in front of groups of attractive women.

That's when the authorities begin to call B.S. on the story.

If you don't mind I'd like to take a moment and have a word with this Jackson Wyoming flasher, and anyone out there who might be thinking of taking up flashing women as a hobby.

Forget being arrested.

You're going to suffer something far worse than that.

It's bad enough that no women want to see what you have. (Trying to be delicate here).

But then you go and show it to them and they either turn away saying things like "YUCK" and "EW." or they laugh.

There is no lower form of humiliation.

You really don't want to experience that.

So, keep it zipped.

Do not let those pants drop.

Or, whatever your plans were.