F##k Those Gorgeous Conservatives

It was a weeknight, I had just opened a can of Pabst Blue Ribbon beer and finished my workout consisting of twenty crunches and a push up. My lean, muscular body, with equal parts gingko biloba and beer coursing through it, was reclining on a moderately priced IKEA sofa. The moon’s silvery light poured into my studio apartment and the crickets were chirping an early summer song. I grabbed the remote control and flipped on the television. As the picture fizzled into sharpness, I noticed a woman reading off of a teleprompter, speaking about the end of the world, Barack Obama, and god’s love for Israel. Locks of blond hair were gently cupping her taught, surgically enhanced cheekbones. I watched her bony fingers rifle through a few papers, and her pink lips spout something about NATO, big government, Jesus, and the end of days. I felt my penis begin to shift in my boxers, the can of beer slipped from my hand onto the floor, and I began talking back to this little conservative minx, telling her how turgid my wiener was, and how nasty I knew she could be. Her name is Rexella Van Impe, wife and co-host of conservative televangelist, Jack Van Impe, and she drives me crazy with desire.

That is how it all began- my obsession with conservative women. Not the run of the mill Sarah Palins, but the second stringers, the Michelle Bachmanns, the Orly Taitz of the world. There is just something so erotic about these harbingers of racist, slightly unhinged commentary, and these purveyors of stiletto heeled political obstructionism. These women, for some bizarre reason, have coaxed my dirtiest desires into the daylight. This is not a mere hate filled f**k fantasy, for I am not on some Courtney Love business here. What I feel for these ladies is a desire as plain and simple as a William Carlos Williams poem, as real as the water which quenches our thirst, as natural as a laurel branch.

When Minnesota Congresswoman Michelle Bachmann appears on Fox News in those slutty little dresses, her hair blown out and sprayed, her long legs waxed smooth for the prying eyes of the camera, let it be known...I have a boner. When birther advocate/lawyer/dentist Orly Taitz appears on Fox News, her pouty Ukrainian lips speaking unintelligible falsehoods about Obama’s birth certificate, let it be known...I am picturing her naked in a bathtub full of champagne, and yes, I have boner.

As fall enshrouds yet another year, and the crisp air begins to coax forth nostalgic memories of past romances, it warms my heart to know that as long as conservatives keep cranking out these insane sex-pots, this superbeast, and his turgid wiener, will never be alone on Friday night.