Stormy weather, or how things change
I noticed something years ago about the sexual revolution: by the time I arrive to take part in the seminal social conflict of our time, the revolution has packed up and moved on. This happens
to me a lot, I fear, and it is tremendously disheartening to be always a
bridesmaid and never a bride. So you can imagine the joy I felt when news of the
Stormy Daniels affair broke. I was finally going to fight the narrow moralistic
bluenoses who couldn’t stand the idea that someone here in America was enjoying a bit of fluff on the side. I mean, really, didn’t we all go through this
twenty years ago? Wasn’t there a national uproar about a President lying about
extramarital sex? Didn’t Congress
impeach the President and the national life of the country come to a near halt so
that we could all learn more than we really needed to know about the President’s
sex life and what the meaning of is is? Didn’t anyone learn anything from that experience?
Apparently not, so this time I was ready for
anything the dirty-minded neo-Comstocks had to throw at me. The President’s
affair, if you can dignify a one-night stand with the title of affair, was
consensual on both sides. President Trump saw a chance to grab some you know what and Ms. Daniels was not averse to having her you know what grabbed, so
what’s the harm here? It was just sex,
after all, and sex in private is the business of the people involved and no one
else. Yes, it was adultery, and adultery is on the Top Ten list of things that people
should not do, in particular a married man whose wife has just given birth—there’s
no way the guy in this situation comes off as anything other than a complete
and utter sleazeball—but then again, none of us is the Lord and therefore
who are we to judge? Remember that the
Bible says that it is better to pull the speck out of a neighbor’s eye than to
pull a beam out of the eye of a Camel, especially an unfiltered one, and don’t you
forget it, buster. Moreover, we should remember that the President was not the
President then and that Ms. Daniels was not some poor naïve teenage girl duped
or bullied into dropping her panties in front of a movie camera; she was an
experienced performer with a lengthy filmography behind her. So how is this anyone’s
business but theirs? I think it is time
we all took a deep breath and just moved on.
Well, I may think it’s time to move on, but it
seems that I am the only one who thinks so. I went forth to battle the new
Puritans who seek to oppress us all with their retrograde religious morality and found
that they agreed with me, for the most part, and that the sexual
revolutionaries were the ones foaming at the mouth about what two consenting
adults chose to do with their genitalia. I found this more
than a little confusing, to say the least, and so I had to sit down and eat Chinese food (the
roast pork with broccoli and wonton soup were very good, thank you for asking)
in order to relieve the cognitive dissonance and sort out just what in the blue blazes happened here in this our
Great Republic while I was not looking. Someone
changed the rule book somewhere along the line and no one bothered to tell me
that Comstockery was back in fashion. Well, everything old is new again, as the
saying goes, and there is no new thing under the sun, but I cannot help but
notice that the new version of Comstockery is remarkably like the old
libertinism complete with extra servings of wanton soup, with the singular difference that the new Puritans didn’t mind
when a President they liked and supported did this sort of thing while he was
actually President and they do mind a great deal when a President they loathe
and despise did the exact same thing when he wasn’t President. Nearly a quarter of a century separate the
initial inaugurations of these two men and much can change in a quarter of a
century: the Internet barely existed in 1993, film photography was photography, I was
forty pounds lighter—really, I am not making that up—and so I am sure that this
sudden concern for the private morality of public people is the product of a
generation’s coming of age and rejecting the immature ideas and commitments of
their salad days. Or the new Puritans could be just a bunch of sleazy
hypocrites. That’s always a possibility, you know, especially if you are
cynically inclined, as I tend to be.
Labels: baked goods, comedy, Donald Trump, hypocrisy, news media, Politics, Roberta Vasquez, satire, scandal, Stormy Daniels, yellow cling peaches in heavy syrup