Walking to work the other day, from Hayes Valley to 5th and Howard where the Good Vibrations offices are located, I passed more than one nodded-out soul drifting along. I commend you all to the recently-posted sort-of-salutary comments on meth posted on December’s Meth Day entry, but drugs affect plenty of people in a problematic way, and nowhere is it so noticeable as in SOMA the morning the sugar daddy has been through. One guy was not nodding, though… he was going the other direction for sure, muttering and pacing around enough to take up pretty much the whole sidewalk. It was right outside the chi-chi new market at 8th and Howard, which must be a mindfuck of a place for homeless folks to hang out, like outside the pet shop would be to a love-starved little kid whose parents won’t allow a puppy.
So this one guy was not just taking up space: I saw that he was bumping into people on purpose. Not just any people: women. I cut a berth around him and didn’t get hit, but the women plugged into iPods and lost in conversation got shouldered roughly. Whatthe? A misogynist? Or was this as close to female contact as this poor nasty guy usually gets?
Of course, random females rarely wish to be the only female contact for random guys, especially this way. “Fuck you!” they yelled at him. “Fucker!”
Sigh. Fucking, which can be the nicest thing in the world, again used as an epithet having zero to do with erotic experience: instead, as shorthand for angry and violent sentiments. No freakin’ *wonder* the country is in dire straits. More good fucking (wanking too, of course) and there would be less energy by far for so many of the ills our mixed-up polity seems heir to: kicking Yale a capella singers, Abu Ghraib torture, extreme rendition… I could make the list longer, but it’d just be depressing. And even when actions don’t become physical, there are the words. And that, of course, just makes me think of Ann Coulter.
|Photo from TIme Magazine|
Or “The Coulter-Geist,” as I believe she’s been called by progresso-TV-pundit and dreamboat Keith Olbermann (yeah, I have a crush on him… so? But I *dream* about Stephen Colbert). “Coultergeist” is such a great quip because poltergeists, of course, are supposed to be the pesky ghosts of, especially, young girls: I’ve heard a Freudian spin to this, or I suppose in this case it’d be Jungian, considering that this is displaced *sexual* energy. I actually think that woman must be a freakin’ wildcat in bed, though I admit I can’t think of that too long without getting a little bit frightened. I know this much: if I had a penis, I could never bring myself to point it in that direction.
Coulter’s displaced whatever-the-fuck-it-is busted loose recently, of course, when she called the most adorable presidential candidate, John Edwards, a faggot. Or at least *alluded* to calling him a faggot; really she essentially said she WOULD call him that, but people who say “faggot” these days have to go to rehab. That couldn’t be the same rehab Ted Haggard attended, certainly. And the vision of Ann Coulter in rehab? Scared of that! Hey, I’ve read A Million Tiny Pieces, and even if half of it IS made up, I don’t want the vulnerable, fractious souls inhabiting one of those joints to have to do group with her. Get the restraints!
Coulter called Al Gore a fag last year, apparently. What, then, might “fag” mean to a person like her? “Democrat”? “Political opponent”? “Reasonable person”? She said it was more like a schoolyard taunt, which makes me sooooo glad I was never in a schoolyard with her, and begs the question: Why is the top conservative female pundit lobbing schoolyard epithets, if that’s what they are, at presidential candidates? *How fucking old are we here? And who RAISED this woman, anyway?*
But then I am compelled to note: conservative: that is such a *pale* word, next to the mostly secular Cruella-inspired brimstone that is Ann Coulter.
When she tosses these incendiaries, Coulter gets a wild, joyful look in her eye. She is SUCH a bad girl, and she so loves the feeling. Is this where sex-positive feminism has brought us: that there’s just no thrill anymore in being bad sexually, since so much of the stigma has been challenged, that now we have to toss our long blonde hair not after a particularly meow-meow stripper move, but after we excoriate a nice guy for being a fag?
(A nice guy whose WIFE had cancer treatments recently? What’s with these right-wingers and wives with cancer? I’m having a Newt Gingrich flashback. And now I have almost come to the end of my own very well-developed tolerance, mentioning Coulter AND Gingrich in a column that’s supposed to be about sex. Ewwww!)
This light in her eyes: she’s a lady rockstar of evil, all right. I know it must be an amazing high. I think it really *might* take rehab to adequately address it. But it reminds me of what Patrick Califia, I think it was, once said about Camille Paglia: she wants to be the only smart girl.
So smart that she stood at the side of Matt Sanchez, a new minor rockstar at the conservatives’ CPAC love-fest last week, just days or hours after her “faggot” crack, and beamed next to… a guy who used to be a gay porn star! The *very* hunky Rod Majors apparently reinvented himsef just like Jeff Gannon, the other gay porn star/escort who last year got press credentials to hang out at the White House (or was that *before* his press credentials)? There she was, right next to him (he’s a jarhead now), looking happy as a fag hag. (Hate speech alert: I do not consider either “fag” or “fag hag” an epithet when friendly people like me use the words; I was an honorary baby-dyke member of Faggots Against Fascism 30 years ago, people! And if anybody in the room is a fag hag, it’s *me*. But if you can’t stand the lingo or want to compare me to Ann Coulter, please hit that “comment” button.)
Perhaps it is a rant for another day, why there seems to be more homosexuality clinging to the conservative movement than cat hair on a goth kid’s Neo coat. But i just gotta say, Ann Coulter should either get on in to rehab, or get her Gaydar tuned up.