A Hucka Hucka Burnin’ Homo Love
Before McCain reached the magic delegate
number, Huckabee found Jesus and lost a hundred pounds. But since Jesus
will only save certain people, he spends his newly-svelte days melting
conservative hearts with hot rhetoric.
But…be still our collective hearts…he
still loves us just like a Christian should. Oh, great. Just what we
needed—a hucka hucka burning homo love from an affable goofy Gomer-on-Prozac.
He claims he doesn’t do math. He only does miracles. Poppycock! He
subtracts a whole segment of the population in one fell swoop. And he will
one day stain the constitution if we aren’t vigilant.
For those of us who have had a political
“thing” for Bill Clinton of Arkansas, what a difference a “guv”
makes. Bubba hugged the Davids (Mixner and Geffen) and tried—I still
give him credit for trying—to gain us some ground. Gomer, on the other
hand, would have hustled the homos with HIV into quarantine but—oh by
the way, he would still take donations from the Log Cabin Republicans.
Let’s see, that’s tantamount to saying, “Go behind that barbed wire
fence and get registered and let me rock your world by preaching a hateful
end to your life. Then write me a check, wouldja?” Sad to say some
would. I don’t care that he’s a long shot. The specter of Huckabee in
the big house would be worse than having a sitting vice president with an
openly gay daughter who lets his party take pot shots at her. But out in
the hunting fields, Papa Cheney only shoots quail and an occasional
lawyer.
Huckabee shoots ducks, fries squirrels and
sics the dogs on us. And there are people in log cabins who consider
giving him money. I want their names.
Did you read the story about his lovely
wife Janet Huckabee checking in to Hooters in Vegas?
Do you think I could make that up? I’m as serious as Rush Limbaugh in a
drug market. Lady Huckabee had to attend something very important in Vegas
and everything was sold out so she headed to Hooters. Don’t they have
some divine connections? Isn’t there an “Accommodations by the
Almighty” hotline they can call to avoid such tawdry images? And why oh
why couldn’t someone in the Vegas media market have written the headline
HUCKABEE SHOWS (up at) HOOTERS! I’d buy that issue. The woman with
Janet Reno’s sense of style and Bay Buchanan’s sense of place stands
behind her man in every photo op—usually involving a lasso, a horse shoe
and a smiling preacher. No visible hooters.
But let’s face it—at least Huckabee is
honest and consistent about his narrow mindedness. He’s as predictable a
candidate as you can find and he drives a straight and narrow line when he
judges our lives. Other candidates performed contortions. Yes, Mitt quit.
Sure, Rudy rolled. But before they did, they gave us whiplash with their
swift U turns. Mitt wanted us in Mass and ditched us in Iowa. The GQ
gentleman who could have gone left of Senator Teddy Kennedy went to the
right of the entire field. Did you hear the tires screeching? How about
the homos who helped him become governor?
Meanwhile, Rudy walked the Gay Pride Parade
with us, then headed to NASCAR to talk to “real Americans”—a place
where the tooth-to-people ratio is really scary—but Republican voters
are en masse. “You’ve painted up your lips and rolled and curled your
tinted hair Rudy are you contemplating going out somewhere?”
Well, Rudy—RuPaul wants her outfits back.
And the gay couple you lived with wants their keys back. Liar, liar
pantyhose on fire! You didn’t lose because of the dress, Rudy. You lost
because you had no foundation—no foundation in principle and bad
foundation in pancake and garments. At least Gomer stays true to—and
grounded in—his gay-bashing. No more campy cross-dressing kissy-kissy
metrosexual bullshit while slipping a knife in our backs, you creep. When
you marry wife #4 and stay in a party that preaches the one man one woman
gospel you deserve what you get. NEVER EVER FORGET WHAT ROMNEY AND RUDY
DID TO US BEFORE THEY GOT OUT.
And then there was one. One elephant in the
room. One former POW who’s pretty much MIA on our issues thus far. It
remains to be seen whether John McCain will wield the bashing bat. He said
the Falwell wing was wacky eight years ago, but then he kissed all their
rings this go round. The radio ranters on the right are introducing him at
every campaign stop along the way. But if elected (my hands tremble at the
typing of it)—would McMaverick, in fact “take James Dobson off of the
White House speed dial” as the Log Cabin apologists promise? Or will
Preacher Mike have his ear and sing the hucka hucka burning love diddy—leading
all the way down a primrose path that will stain the constitution on the
issue of marriage? The primrose path started as a cutting of poison ivy
planted next to a log cabin.
But I don’t care, because if this
national nightmare happens, I’ll be in Canada. Calgary, take me away.
Brent Mundt makes a living in Washington and a life in Rehoboth
Beach.
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