A day to vent

All these mugs on the tube who rave about “There’s nothing like Game 7 in a hockey playoff series!!!!” Oh, really? Gee, how about, oh, I don’t know—game 7 in a basketball playoff series? I mean, really, does the Tense-o-Meter register tectonically higher numbers just because the competitors are on skates? This is hockific flapdoodle at its most delusional and self-puffering. And I’m here to put a stop to it.

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I was listening to raving libertine Randi Rhoads the other day. She posed the question, “How can there be such a thing as a gay Republican?” An excellent question. How can any person who is sexually attracted to persons of his/her own gender voluntarily align with a political party that will cough up the money and hit the streets in a hummingbird’s heartbeat to make damn sure you’ll never be allowed to hold hands and make goo-goo eyes at Pop’s Malt Shop?

First, I gotta ask, are there still gay Republicans? What were they called—Log Cabin Republicans? And actually, yes, there still are, if one is to believe the current Log Cabin web site. So if there is ONE gay Republican reading this column, I’d ask you to directly answer Ms. Rhoads’ query. Because the whole concept of gay Republicanism seems about as plausible as cows eating snakes. If you’d like to help me understand, just explain via a letter to this paper. I realize that our world is composed of many shades of gray, but this is a hue that seems to come straight from Bizarro planet. Any explanations received would be instructive and illuminating. I’ll predict we’ll receive exactly zero letters in response.

In fact, while I’m chatting with you GOP types, I’d like to press on and ask, Why are you so sputteringly hacked off at our president? I mean, OK, sure, you may not agree with the man and his policies, and that’s of course the nature of this beastly, brutish game we call politics. But, jeez, what is up with this Nugentic, spittle-all-caked-up-in-the-corner-of-the-mouth hatred of the guy? From what dark ventricle of the Republican heart did this vitriol slither forth? You wanna enlighten me? Write the letter.

I’ll tell you this. I don’t think you have anywhere near the case of justified righteous enmity that I do. I’m still a tad bit perturbed, even a touch steamed, at that wicked little wedgie your guys—Bush, Cheney, Rumsfeld, and that whole twisted Wolfowitz cabal of creeps—gave our country with that monstrously misguided and miscalculated misadventure known as Iraq. You guys gambled big. Real big. And came up way short. We’re still scraping some very hot dogdoo out of our national Nikes on that one. You sold us a condoleezey briefcase full of nukes, and it was a gigonderously bad scene. As in mucho BADissimo!!!

So I got a case. I got a beef. What the hell is yours?