Self-Loathing

I just read on Wonkette that Mel Martinez is being pimped for Chairman of the RNC now that Ms. Mehlman is stepping down. The article jokingly headlines that the RNC is "flirting with heterosexuality" or something close to that.

Look, there's been a ton of press in the last few months about all the self-loathing faggots in DC who work, strenuously, and against their own interests as human beings, for anti-gay Republican candidates in order to secure good jobs for themselves after said fag-bashers are elected to public office.

They see absolutely nothing wrong with it. It's just about "winning" in their book.

They mentally disconnect themselves from the real-life physical harm that may/probably ensues to real-live gay people out there in the hinterlands at the hands of overzealous followers who feel justified and redeemed in their views that the "only good queer is a dead queer" because their rabidly anti-gay candidate won by a landslide.

Never mind that said candidate has an office full of queers, manning the campaign.

Meanwhile, after "their guy" wins, those selfsame queers circulate throughout the inner-beltway, flitting from gay bar to cocktail party to fundraiser, winking and smiling and pinching each others bottoms, in an endless round of utter denial than anything they have done has any implications whatsover in the lives of millions of gay people out there, somewhere, west of Georgetown.

Remember the 1994 mid-terms? That's when the "Contract with America" crowd got elected. I was down in Rehoboth Beach the following summer, as I had been for umpteen eons, drinking like a fish and hanging around the gay bars in this seaside resort where Haute Gay Washington (and Baltimore) spends the summer.

I was in one of my favorite watering-holes, The Blue Moon, one night, elbow on the bar, looking pretty good for a man in my pickled condition, when this beautiful young thing sidled up to me and flashed me a winning smile. "Hi" he said. "My name's [fill in the blank], and I work for Congresscritter So-and-So" (which meant nothing to me). He just got elected from [some district way out there in JesusLand I've never heard of]... [HERE COMES THE KICKER] ... AND I BELIEVE IN THE CONTRACT WITH AMERICA."

I was stunned. I mean, first of all, who in their right mind deliberately "outs" their political affiliation in the middle of trying to pick someone up? Do serial killers announce their intentions when they first meet their next vick?

And then to top it off with an admission that you enthusiastically work for and support anyone who is antithetical to everything you are to your very core is... well, I think it's an abomination.

I looked at the hapless twerp and said very sharply, "Please get away from me you freak."

In retrospect I shouldn't have been surprised. It was his first summer in Rehoboth and he probably had every reason to believe, based on things he'd been told by others of his ilk back home in DC, that Rehoboth was "the summer Capital" (which it advertises itself as), and that everyone there was going to be just like everyone back home in the bars around Dupont Circle.

Boy, was he wrong.

I'd already had a Republican boyfriend (I'd just left my ex the previous December) and I wasn't interested in finding another one. In truth I wasn't looking for a boyfriend at all. Twelve years later I'm still boyfriendless (and loving it). But that didn't matter.

It was the fact that he was living such a self-deluded lie that horrified me.

I'm no saint, but at least I don't sell bullets to my executioners.