DeLay Lady Lay
Photo by Stephen DouglasMy little brother Cakeyboyand I were in the car on Saturday when he came up with the funnest game ever:...OrKevinFederline?
It goes like this: FlavorFlavor Kevin Federline?
TheNugeor Kevin Federline?
KobeBryantor Kevin Federline?
Los Angeles Angels vs. Seattle Mariners
TicketsFri., Jun. 30, 7:07pm
New Japan Pro Wrestling - G1 Special In The USA
TicketsSat., Jul. 1, 5:00pm
Orange County Soccer Club vs. Portland Timbers 2
TicketsSat., Jul. 1, 7:00pm
Los Angeles Temptation vs. Pittsburgh Rebellion
TicketsSat., Jul. 8, 7:00pm
TrentLottor Kevin Federline?
The fugitive-rapist MaxFactorheir or Kevin Federline?
GeorgeW.Bushor Kevin Federline?
MichaelMooreor Kevin Federline?
AndyDickor Kevin Federline?
For the record, there are few people in this world so grotesque that I would choose a night with them over a night with the sweaty sac of BritneySpears'grubby hubby, but TomDeLayand, naturally, Andy Dick (okay, and Michael Moore: I don't do fatties) managed to make the cut.
How icky is Tom DeLay? Isn't ickierthanKevinFederlinesaying enough?
Well, no. Probably not.
Okay: imagine this icky image, which I found while cruising (get it?) Salon. "He's going through the same thing I went through," [Trent] Lott told the Chronicle,vis a vis the embattled Senator DeLay, who really has had just one hell of a couple of weeks. "If you are a conservative Republican leader from the South . . . strap it on, baby, because you are fixing to get it."
Can somebody help me with what Mr. Senator Lott might have been trying to say? Because I'm not sure I can wrap my puny mortal brain around it. A helmet? A gun, maybe? Strap on agun?That's what I'm hoping he meant: a giant gun, with lots of bullets hanging from one of those sexy bandolero strappy jobs, like the sexy bandolero strappy job on that sexy wee human SylvesterStalloneas JohnRambo,and not, say, a giant dildo like the thing from Seven, which is what it sounds like he was talking about, but that would be wrong. There's lots of places—and I believe Congressman DeLay's home state of Texas is one of them, and now that I've Googled it, I find that as usual I'm right—where dildos are illegal, so I hope that wasn't what old Trent had in mind.
You heard it here first: Trent Lott, in addition to pining for the good old days of segregation, advocates getting reamed with illegal, obscene devices. In men's bottoms!
You know who else likes to think about men's bottoms? You're so smart! It's our old friend The Reverend Lou! Have the Reverend Lou and his Traditional Values Coalitionyet condemned the graphic and unpleasant language of Lott (R-Ass)? No, not that I can figure. But I like to picture him picturing it.
* * *
"But Commie Girl," you're muttering into your beard, causing the little blobs of dried rice to wiggle and sway in a most unpleasant manner, "What the fuck is with your hard-on for Tom DeLay? What has he ever done to you and your liberal media cohorts that you cackle in malevolent glee just because he's had a few little slip-ups?" Listen, HughHewitt!I don't have to explain myself to you! Just know that following his rejiggering of the EthicsCommittee(replacing the Republicanswho'd voted to censure him three times in the past year with some fellows who'd contributed to his legal defense fund); his alleged money laundering of corporate contributions (as MollyIvinssays, it's hard to run afoul of campaign-finance law in Texas, seeing as how they've just got the one) through not just his political action committees, but through his children'sfoundationas well; his wife pulling in a couple hundred large from lobbyists for "long-term strategic guidance"; his cushy foreign travel paid for by some Russian thugs; and his general dour demeanor and bad hair, well, we justdon'tlikehim.It has absolutely nothing to do with his scorched-earth/flat-earth calls to subvert the Constitutionand replace checks and balances and the independent judiciary because even though a majority of judges have been appointed by Republican presidents—and in Bushvs.Gore,returned the favor—once in a while they stillsay we can't execute minors or torture people at Gitmo,and damn it, for DeLay that kind of heathen judicial activism just won't stand!
Did someone say "heathen"? It was probably TheDominionists,DeLay's fellow travelers who want a pledge to JesusChrist,ourcrucifiedsavior,recited every morning in homeroom. DeLay's also blamed Columbineon the teaching of evolution and expressly calls for the U.S. to be run as a "Christian nation" on "biblical principles," which sounds nice till it's your turn to collect the stones for the adulterers—not to mention the sodomites.
* * *
Saturday night, I threw SuparnatheRocketScientistin the car and headed up to SaMo for a party celebrating painter Stephen Douglas' big-ass house. The party, thrown by Douglas' special lady (photographer EF Kitchen) was fab, and the house, she was big. We hung out with Orange County's Best Artist (so named in this very paper!) JorgDubinand his young friend (but not in a gay way) Jeff Peters. We ate food. We drank drinks. And eventually, the party was over and they made us leave. It was time to hit someplace young, and fancy, and sexy. We hit The Brig, a fancy, sexy, young place that's great for when you want an $8 well drink while you're being ignored. Suparna, now schnockered, didn't like it, filled as it was with 24-year-olds who not only were not properly enthralled by us but in fact had a disturbing tendency to turn away smack in the middle of a sentence. And I was even wearing a slutty frock!
I dragged her away. "We're going to The Roosterfish," I said. "We're getting some boyfriends if it kills us (softly)." Venice's premier gay bar would be our Ground Zero.
By the time we stumbled out of the Roosterfish at 2:15, we couldn't beat the gay boys off with their sticks. Did they love us? Did they tell us how beautiful we are, and how much they liked our slutty frock, and my goodness, we're so smart? Did they wrap themselves around us like we were Madonnaand they were our little Red Strings?
All that was missing was Trent Lott, a strap-on and the good Reverend Lou.
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