Papa don't take no mess

Don't read any further if you don't want to know about James Brown's sex life.

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"One night in the summer of 2001, after he'd slathered her in Vaseline
('He liked you all greased up,' she says. 'Like a porkchop') and wore
her out trying to come, he gave up and left the room, and Gloria dozed
off. When she woke up, Mr. Brown was standing at the foot of the bed
in a full-length mink coat over his bare chest, a black cowboy hat,
and silk pajama pants with one leg tucked into a cowboy boot and the
other hanging out. He had a shotgun over his shoulder and a white
stripe of Noxzema under each eye. 'I'm an Indian tonight, baby,' he
announced. 'C'mon, let's let 'em have it.' Then he dumped a pickle jar
of change on the floor, told her to get a machete, and went out to the
garage. He took the Rolls, drove ten miles to Augusta, weaving all
over the road, clipping mailboxes, smoking more dope, and screaming
about being an Indian."