“A man is facing a sentence of one-and-a-half months after admitting he stole 93 pounds of women’s undergarments. Garth Flaherty, 24, was charged with first-degree theft and burglary in the stealing of 1,613 pairs of panties, bras and other women’s underwear from laundry rooms. Under an agreement with prosecutors, he pleaded guilty and was sentenced Friday in Whitman County Superior Court to 45 days in jail… Flaherty was arrested March 24 after police received a report of a man hanging out in an apartment complex laundry room. In his bedroom, police said, they found enough women’s underwear to fill five garbage bags. Police had previously received 12 reports of panty thefts in the northeast part of Pullman, where Washington State University is located.” — MSNBC (US)

(Thanks to Angela for the link.)

There is a certain sick glory to plunging so far into a perversion that you acquire a sort of quantitative greatness. Recently there was the guy who racked up 11,000 rape charges. There was the guy suspected in 36,000 abuse cases. There was the guy with half a million kiddie porn images. In this collection of illicit world-record holders, Mr. Flaherty can now claim membership.

An image of Mr. Flaherty’s collection shows seven bags of undergarments. In addition there is an area the size of a pickup truck covered with the stuff. According to another report, Mr. Flaherty began collecting undergarments in middle school. That means he’s been collecting the stuff for ten years or so. The finaly tally was 1,613 items weighing 93 pounds.

Doubtless he is embarrassed by his arrest, but Mr. Flaherty must also be relieved. After all, how do you store so much stuff? It’s more than a closet’s worth of women’s panties. Where do you put it all? How do you explain it to roommates and guests? And how, presuming it gets you off, do you even enjoy it all? Perhaps he spread it all out on a bed, bags and bags of laundered underthings, and flopped himself down in it. Maybe he leapt into it, the way a little kid will leap into a pile of raked leaves. Maybe he draped it all over his apartment so that some bras or briefs would pop up wherever he turned. Maybe he wore it all, put layers and layers of panties on under his jeans. Maybe he wadded it all up into a sort of nylon dildo with which he could fuck himself. Or maybe he didn’t do anything at all with it except for collect it. Maybe the stuff just sat around in bags and the real thrill came from the act of stealing it from the laundromat. Or maybe his real pleasure was to think of himself as a sort of emperor of underwear. Perhaps he sat naked amid his bags of panties and proclaimed “I am the Lord of All Undies” to himself.

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