Going to Weiner Country; don’t touch my junk

Next week I’m going to the North East for a four to six week progress through friends and family – NYC, LI, PA, Boston, and Halifax and many a certain place in between. I have 8 days to pull this all together and take it on the road. Therefore my charming internet presence will take a nose dive, like a boxer gone down for the count. I shall miss, or maybe not, all the aspersions, and stronger stuff, cast against me, for daring to say a word about this or that. And I shall perhaps miss all the funny stuff I read as heteros grapple the gays whom they are now quite 50-50 divided over, it seems, as to if we’re really nice people or not. It’s nice to be fought over, I think. I can’t wait for the exciting conclusion though.

For I feel somewhat like a push-me-pull-me toy, slinking forward, while waiting for the rear to catch up. I’m sure I’ll see a few as the cousin’s children scamper around the gatherings. I think I shall ask my family about this assault on family values that any particular “homosexual” they know might be making and which I keep hearing all about. I think they’ll look at me and say, “Geez, Jim, give it a rest, pass the mashed potatoes.”

Weirdly, my family seems not to have been hit by the wave of divorce and scandal of heterosualism – everyone is still married and the kids are all happy, and no one made the news. Well, maybe Uncle Charlie, but that was years ago. And cousin George, but he moved an old house 20 miles and that was quite a story in the valley he lives in. So maybe a family with a gay guy is more stable as a whole, than a family without one. Now that would be a research product. And I’ll be tackling the boxes and boxes of stuff my mother left behind, since I’ve sort of commandeered the family history collection, and get it ready to be put in a museum, for quite a collection it is. I’m sure they’ll accept it, even from me.

Speaking of boxers, I’ll be landing in Anthony Weiner’s district, I think, or close enough. He’s from Queens or Brooklyn or both. And I shall take the measure of the man. And I find him wanting – he should just resign. Here we have a man newly married sending pictures of himself all over creation, and not campaign literature, and comporting himself with young ladies not his wife, and a good deal the younger too. Not quite jail bait, but close enough. He joins a long list of such heathens on the hustings. And if he can’t be sure if that’s his member in his tweeter membership file than I dare say he should not be a member of anything; for if he’s unclear about his own anatomy I can’t imagine he knows much else. I have seen him scream. Perhaps he was wearing briefs those days.

And wasn’t it a Christopher Lee who was taken out a few weeks ago for nekkidness on the net? And Elliot Spitzer, made to resign – but like a good boxer he got right back up and now is on nightly nation TV telling us of the horrors of infidelity or something else – oh that’s right, he’s just ignoring the whole thing. One would have thought he would have had Maggie Gallagher and Bryan Fischer on his show so that they could discuss the breakdown of marriage and what they intend to do to preserve it. Alas, he’s blathering on about something else entirely, and I don’t listen to the man, and I still have to see tidbits of his stupidity on the internet – I shall not miss him at all.

Then there’s John Edwards – wow – there’s news I can’t use. And well, he’s a man of some sort, not good, really, but brought low and what’s he going to do? Well, spend some of his ambulance chasing millions to defend himself. Thank heavens his wife isn’t here to see him lie and cheat his way out of this one, through careful use of vague and pointless laws that are supposedly supposed to regulate campaign spending, but actually get in the way of politics, and keeps the seats for the revolving door of Republicans and Democrats whom seem not to be that much different at times. Except at the supposed far fringes, it’s said, where they are amazing alike for being so far apart. After all, Socialists and Theocrats still want a police state. That they aim to squash different people is immaterial. Somehow harassing person A is no better or worse than harassing person B. It’s still harassment and not quite the Liberty we’re known for.

Now, there was Billy, always a reference point of late. No, not Billy Carter, Slick Willie Clinton – a family man indeed, upfront about it, so to speak. Though I always like to go back to Wilbur Mills, a senator from somewhere, who was found frolicking indelicately with an Argentine bombshell not his wife in a Washington DC public fountain back when I was a teenager. Sort of like the governor of South Carolina, whose name I can’t remember, maybe Sanford, I don’t know, don’t care – only this good gov went right on down to Argentina for the bombshell, where perhaps the fountains were more to his liking. Anyway, Clinton, he’s right now no where on the hustings with Tony Perkins preaching in bipartisan frenzy the need to keep with one’s wife. Or get one in the first place, or a husband – for there seem to be plenty of parents out there without benefit of clergy nor civil unions if the demographics and social service agencies are to be believed. No one seems to be saying much about it, except that if only gays relationships weren’t recognized it will all be OK.

What other cretins of Cronywood have come to the fore of late? Oh yah, Tiger Woods. And of course, sports starts and Hollywood cronies are bedhoppers of astounding alacrity. And the tabloids are filled with it. Flaunted in our faces as their moment of fame. The marriages and divorces and the adultery and wild sex parties come so fast it’s a wonder we can keep track of all the scandalous behavior.

Even the rapine behaviors of DSK – a man reduced to some sort of technology device, (don’t I have a DSK somewhere in my computer? I think so,) and then some other very similarly placed guy whose name apparently hasn’t lent itself to reduction yet was also found with a pokey put where it should not be, which might bring him to a pokey too. And in Europe, well, the sex scandals of Italy are amazing. Entire bordellos turned out with irredentist (that’s a word from “irredentisti” of Italian which has nothing to do with dentists but with dissidents, it’s a false cognate, and apparently too odd for spell check, oh well,) glee against family values. I’m sure “Politicos Gone Wild” will be out soon. My friend Ted makes documentaries, maybe a fun romp of clips through the crud will do wonders for the family values movement. With the right dialogue, gay folks can be made to seem positively angelic compared to the public face of our public figures.

Ah, that’s just the “public” part – then there’s the country music – more D I V O R C E than one can imagine in a single bound, or multiple bounds, since remarriage is ever presently longed for. And one poor guy, so many ex’s they have to spread themselves far and wide in Texas. The children from these chicken dances are rarely mentioned in the songs. I guess they’re are none. I don’t know. And popular music, well, I dare say, the sexual innuendo is amazing. Why, just yesterday I heard once again some rock band scream out with blaring guitar chords in rhythmic punctuation, that “When she goes down on me, I know she’s lovin’ me,” and I’m like, well then, isn’t that a bit graphic for the noonday traffic?

Now, I’ve been making friends of late all across the net, and I shall miss their presence, and perhaps they shall wonder what has become of me, and well, life is like that, people come people go. And I’ve got to go for awhile. Those who tried to chase me away will think they succeeded, but alas, I’m just going on vacation. I’ll be back. Without a love child, either. Without a divorce. And without much more than a fine time in the bosom of friends and family up there, before I return to pretty much the same thing down here. And maybe I might get the possibility of recognized relationships for gay folks – we still have them, but hey, why bother to see what’s there when you can say lalalala right? – in the state where I was born, so I might take it as an example to the state I live in. I just hope I make it through the Bronx without being killed by some “worthy of death” for gay folks marches – for the liberty of it.

And no heterosexuals will be harmed in the process. No family will be torn asunder and no children sent from the TV room because of gay people, because yet another politician or preacher is giving us another fine lesson in public morals with raw sex talk that is stealing the show. Sordid sex stories of a sort that I thankfully don’t see because I don’t watch TV. And I won’t have to read any sanctimonious crap from whack jobs on sites I frequent who think we’re the licentious ones and the cause of the moral breakdown of our society – and if Wilbur Mills is any clue, this is not recent stuff. Let’s hope, too, I don’t wind up with a junk-touch demonstration at the airports either, geez, for liberty we give up our rights – there’s a conundrum in that for sure.

So enjoy yourselves, I’m on vacation.






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