I don't know. I find it a little bit shocking that the guy who wrote the insipid soulful tune about fathers being good to their daughters is prone to getting stupid drunk and channeling his inner Borat.
Not that dude doesn't have the right to party, but is he really doing the world a service by slinging his schlong around in tiny scraps of green spandex, for no reason that I can see other than a) liquor, and b) undue excitement at seeing Miley Cyrus on the cover of US Weekly?
No. No, he is not. Put that thing away, John Mayer. Your body is NOT that kind of wonderland.
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