Crotch Politics is Poison

Someday Americans will grow up and stop obsessing about every politician’s crotch. Who really gets hurt when Governor Elliot Spitzer pays prostitutes plenty, President Bill Clinton gets Oval Office hummers, Senator Larry Craig does the men's room tango with undercover cops, Mayors Kwame Kilpatrick (Detroit) or Gavin Newsome (SF) work out their marital infidelities on the job, or Senator 'Diaper' David Vitter gets his diddy changed by chump-change whores? This is not the public's business.

That’s not to say we’ll ever stop thinking about sex. Male, female, or transgender, sex is a major and natural component of our daily lives. All of us will continue to fantasize about having sex with friends and total strangers. Admit it, you do it. I’m simply suggesting that someday we’ll accept such thoughts as natural and move on to issues that actually matter more in our daily lives.
Hopefully those will include adequate education and health care for all, the beneficent state of our environment and economy, and the cultivation of positive relationships with the peoples of other lands. But until that time — and especially now, during the political season — Americans are going to focus on politician's crotches and the two issues we find most important today:
Is Obama gonna ‘get with’ our women?
…and…
Does Hillary have snappers in her coochie?


Fear of a Black Cock has many white American men in a total twitter, frothing with unspeakable cuckold-lust-fear in their hearts as they picture their daughters, wives and girlfriends doing the horizontal mambo with the tall handsome black man running to be leader of the free world. Likewise, straight women and gay men across this proud land are gazing at the man who would be President and imagining doing a whole more than sharing a beer with him.

There is a long human history of men pimping out their female family members to the King. Your wife or daughter with the monarch’s bun in the oven has been and remains a sure route to power and success, and everyone knows it whether they say so out-loud or not. It doesn’t matter whether the Top Banana is elected or appointed by God, he’s the Leader of the Pack and we worship him and his power.
With the Kevin Spacey-like George Bush as President, that wasn’t too frightening a concept, especially when compared with the prodigious appetite of William Jefferson Clinton, but this time out the issue is complicated by our inherent cultural racism.

Irrespective of where we stand on the country's numerous racial divides, irrespective of how many times each of us might have said all people are all the same, too many of us believe that whiter is better.
America’s bimbo-class, of which most of us are unacknowledged card-carrying members, doesn’t aspired to be Sally Hemmings. We’re inclined to think of ourselves (on an unacknowledged or even unconscious level) as agents of free will, making rational compromises for our future success.

The calculus of interracial, sexual politics, where the straight white guy ends up on the bottom, just does not compute. Frankly it scares the bejesus out of the Average-Joe, white-guy. The funny thing is that white women aren’t weak-kneed in the same fashion, hence Obama's strong support among the pale distaff half.



The other factor playing barely under the covers in this Presidential race is the terror of Vagina Dentata. ‘That Woman’ scares the lead out of the pencils of most Republican meat-puppet pundits and their enablers. The same can be said of the rest of the wimps who fear and loathe their mothers and blame all their problems on Hillary 'Rod-man' Clinton. More on this later...