Sunday, April 17, 2005

Email From Canada

A writer friend in exile emails:

"When Bush landed on that aircraft carrier in his flight suit,
did he look like a war hero to you, or like the lost sixth member of the Village People? Does your gaydar ping when you look at Falwell?  Ralph Reed? Pat Buchanan?  Ding ding ding. My faghag gaydar pings like a pachinko machine when I look at Frist and Tom DeLay. They seem so LATENT and FRUSTRATED to me. It's like a homoerotic cartoon of 'hetero' manhood.
"In other news, get this:  I am going to meet the Queen of England and her pompous consort end of May when they are touring the colonies, because my dad wants me to go with him to this event he's invited to and we would be presented to their Royal Minuses at it.  How insane is that?  I hope I can keep a straight face.  I have to wear gloves, as she of course will, because not only can her delicate blue flesh not touch my foul mortal flesh, but apparently, my flesh can't even make contact with her glove fabric.  How insane is that?  I think I have to curtsey too.  Some official government types are sending over a protocol packet so I don't commit any enormous faux pas. (It's futile, like teaching Tarzan table manners.)  Any message you want me to pass along to them?  Presumably, I'll get about ten seconds to speak to them, (but only if they speak to me first, as I must not sully their tired blue ears with commoner prattle).
"Just sign me,
The Uncommon Commoner"


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