On top of Strawberry Hill’s sister

Young women today report that they are aware of hardly any female peers who have not willingly taken or sat for nude photographs. The ubiquity of intimate nude portraiture may well vary regionally and subculturally, but we’d be fools to believe what provincial elites declare about the modesty and chastity of THEIR girls. There are genuinely conservative religious communities that I might believe have significantly lower rates of sexting than the modern cosmopolitan average, but what their leaders have to say about communal morals has John Dennis Diddly to do with it. The sexual practices of Hindus in rural India, Muslims in Indonesia or Saudi Arabia, various conservative Christians in the Americas, or what have you are practices, not sermons.

Mainstream American culture is too fucking retarded to get this. We know, however, what Polish cradle Catholic Robert Dziekanski would say about the ubiquitous production, transmission, and curation of digital home pornography in this, our time of equally ubiquitous and reliable* electricity: You’re killing me, Biggie; I’m literally shocked.

*Yeah, yeah, too much wind for the hydro, eh; true dat, Juice. The point here, of course, is that a society does not in fact consistently create what it communicate. That’s bullshit.

And that’s why mainstream Americans believe it. Ours is a deeply, deeply disturbed national culture. If it weren’t, we might more readily notice how utterly divergent so much of what passes for Christianity in the United States is from Christian scripture and tradition as they have been passed down over the centuries nearly everywhere else.

A full treatment of Christian sexual ethics would be exhausting and largely superfluous. Suffice it to say that what prevails as an excuse for Christian sexual ethics in American public life today is thoroughly mala fide and bogus. We’ve watched the parade of serially married adulterers, teenybopper fanciers, loudly anti-buggery closet cases, serial accessories to sexual assault, and outright rapists angrily thump the Bible on the capital steps. These are worth a periodic review: the Katie-bar-the-door (lol) Ten Commandments judge who got banned from the mall during his time as a county prosecutor because he kept cruising the premises for jailbait, and the square in front of the courthouse, too; the Brokeback Mountain-ass anti-sodomy activist, previously investigated for using the Congressional Page program as a catamite reserve, busted by a plainclothes vice cop for trying to hook up in the men’s room; the Speaker of the US House of Representatives who divorced his second wife as she lay dying from cancer and he dogged the President over an office affair; the subsequent Speaker, also a self-righteous Slick Willie wrangler, who turned out to have spent his prior career as a high school boys’ wrestling coach fucking his way through his teams; the powerfully turnt Supreme Court nominee who screamed his way to confirmation after belatedly being exposed as a blackout drunk with a lengthy history of assaults, sexual and otherwise.

These are, not coincidentally, Republicans. The last Democrats of national stature to be so bold and shameless about their prerogatives as duly inaugurated officials, or about their privileges in general, must have been Bill Clinton and Jim Traficant. The Big Dog is indeed a rare bird (don’t overthink the phrasing), or was, before he lost his touch. So was Traficant, albeit in starkly divergent ways. The House Democratic Caucus pretended to be scandalized to learn that Traficant was an extortionate, freeloading crook; its true but unspeakable objections were that he said the quiet parts about the prevailing business practices out loud and refused to get with their neoliberal program. They don’t mind a mobbed-up freak per se; what gets their panties into a twist is a mobbed-up freak who defiantly plays to type. I’ve sat on the outskirts of the Hill at rush hour and been attentive, or present, as they say, and I can testify to what I saw. Jimmy was bullshitting if he meant to imply that any of the fucking nerds who run things in that neighborhood would ever loosen up enough to widen their bottoms.

Pay close attention to how the Republican Party reacted to these scandals. In most of these instances, it went to the mat for its shitheads. Ironically enough, it did not so much go to the mat for J. Denny Dundiddly, who knew a thing or two about what we might call the fucking mat.

Goodness, we don’t talk like that; we’re good Christian conservative sex pests with that old-time religion-style thing for the jailbait. Gadsden Lovin’ said so himself. It was old-fashioned Southern Christian courtship, as Southern Gentlemen have always practiced upon unchaperoned ladies of early debutante age out behind the general store. That guy was too shameless and crass under fire even for the national kingmakers not to disavow, but he stood his damn ground. It was the same song with Todd Akin, another of the silent teachings committed by an overly exuberant disciple to hymns of praise and sung with raucous spiritual abandon in the streets.

The Denny Dundiddly deal provoked the opposite sort of crisis PR response. Diddlin’ Dennis corncobbed himself through the federal court and prison systems. Meanwhile his fellow travelers, freshly scandalized to be associated with a man of his character, acted like the dog that hadn’t just shat on its master’s tucker box: oyt, mate, let’s use our misdirected gazes to dereify the pail and the turd by denying them the object permanence they demand.

This is a surprisingly relevant and important sidebar. The authorities in Australia don’t throw a goddamned fit over the publication or broadcasting of the Heavy Seven. The story about the dog who shat on his master’s tucker box was reprinted in so many words in the Qantas inflight magazine. One can read about it aboard–Scout’s Honor, this is a real plane; I was just on it–Kakadu.

Said you like the way, I pail my shit now; lemme be yaw caga. I’m absolutely not trying to humblebrag here. Thinking these episodes over on a trip through a foreign country peopled and led by what seem to be psychosexually normal and well-adjusted adults is powerfully clarifying. I’ve tuned into Australian news broadcasts, and I’m detecting NOBODY in a position of civil or cultural power who id overtly deranged enough for Capitol Hill. Observing a political class that acts like reasonable grownups really drives home the truth that the prevailing community standards in American politics are The Lord of the Flies with the launch codes. Hearing from premier of the year ScoMo, Anthony Albanese, and even onion enthusiast Tony Abbott highlights the sheer dysfunction of the US Congress for deferentially extending one to two full terms of executive power and supreme military command to a sundowning geezer who habitually barks bullshit at the press pool through deafening prop wash. I get the feeling that that messy bitch wouldn’t last a month in Australia’s most celebrated summer gig.

Culture has consequences. American political culture is not eccentric or quaint or charming. It is insane, toxic, and dangerous in ways that should alarm the entire world. Grabbing an airsickness bag and returning to Trump, we may recall that, in addition to carrying on about inflammatory communal grievances like a discount bin Radovan Karadzic, he is accused on the record of serial sexual assault, has bragged about barging into the dressing rooms of underaged models, and is widely reputed to be the subject of an FSB blackmail videotape featuring watersports in a hotel bed in Russia, presumably as something like a sex hex on Barack and Michelle Obama.

This is all utterly outrageous. Even the unproven rumors are outrageous enough for impeachment. Like, okay, champ, here’s the breaks: you do not get to distract the rest of us from the people’s business and disgrace our government with your low-functioning sexual deviance; therefore you are being removed as the head of state and government. For the same reasons the tarmac shouting fits are enough for impeachment on THEIR own, the point being that the Congress will not tolerate in a sitting president the mad king cosplay of a narcissistic celebrity asshole who abuses pool reporters detailed to his office by yelling at them over the engine noise of waiting executive aircraft instead of using any of the dedicated venues available to him on demand for press conferences or impromptu pool interviews.

That is, this is a serious office with serious duties, and we will remove your sloppy fat ass from it if you hold it flippantly. Besides, routinely yelling at reporters in front of running jet engines and helicopter propellers without ear protection is an obvious physical and mental stressor, especially in an obese elder of mediocre physical fitness. This motherfucker is the head of state and government in the world’s preeminent imperial power, and he cannot refrain from engaging in thrillseeking behavior involving his household air fleet on live television.

There’s an overwhelming public interest in deterring such bad behavior by removing from office those high officials who insist on engaging in it. This geriatrically adolescent piece of shit deliberately holds pressers in the noisiest environments available, spends hours a day having emotional meltdowns while watching extremist talk shows, apparently abuses Sudafed for the high, and is a safe bet to call a cokehead.

It gets better. This fuckhead’s party is the same one that impeached his recent predecessor for having a very modestly sexual affair with a junior subordinate. The Clinton impeachment queered the impeachment process for decades. One exceptionally insane faction with its own closet full of skeletons used impeachment to humiliate an opponent for his least vicious sexual misdeeds, and now it’s spoiled for cases of rape, incitement to genocide, and manifest unfitness for office.

The Republicans could not have cared less about the threshold of high crimes and misdemeanors, or about where the Arkie-on-Cuban-on-Angelena hanky-panky fell relative to this threshold, wherever Congress chose to draw it. They ultimately impeached Clinton for failing to confess his sex life with scrupulous honesty to an inquisition including Ken Starr and Brett Kavanaugh.

These were their values. Pass it on, bitch. The plump Jewess engaged Slick Willie with full enthusiasm. He, not she, put the brakes on the affair. This was the Big Dog’s mistake. Surely we no longer imagine, if ever we were so naïve, that Kenneth and Brett Michael object to rape.

The Clinton impeachment, along with the nonimpeachments of all three successive presidents to date, set the standard for what Congress will and will not tolerate on the president’s part. It is an impossibly incoherent and arbitrary standard. The Republicans prefer it that way; the Democrats are too comfortable losing to particularly care.

The shitlib pearclutching after Rashida Tlaib’s “impeach the motherfucker” outburst was all too instructive. The liberals scolding Tlaib for being so rude professed to revile Trump, but they were, as always, such limp little weenies that they insisted on despising him civilly. This absolutely is not principled Christian cheek-turning; consistent with their sore reaction to Tlaib’s bluntness, they never hesitate to punch left, or down on the poor. Remember our boy Wide-Bottom Jimmy again, and how he discomfited the PMC enforcers in his own caucus by being proudly, trashily rude before them, so menacingly threatening to kick them in their assets.

These are favors they hate to have returned by their inferiors. The Donald, whom they swear they so deplore, is an odd case, famously rich* but proudly vulgar. (*The boy ain’t. He’s a hustler who plays his wealth times orders of magnitude on TV.) This confuses the shitlib response a bit. Tlaib is more straightforward in class terms. She, like inferred reluctant Trump voter Michael Moore, has credible working-class ties.

To be fair, Trump is not by inclination a motherfucker, but a daughterfucker. The devil is in the details, and these are sick. So is the DLCC response to this hostile scumbag, this Hitler-curious Borgia as interpreted by a sundowning Don Rickles. What the hell do these sniveling losers imagine they owe HIM? He could choose to defend himself against impeachment by not doing everything in his power to insult and humiliate sitting members of Congress. He’s old enough to understand this. He’s of age. (LOL.) I’m not talking about his sex partners.

Acting like somebody is owed a fucking apology for hearing a fed-up official speak coarsely of that widely hated asshole is pathetic. The Speaker, of Chuck and Nancy, didn’t even have any believable tactical concerns about how to proceed against Trump. She’s just another prissy rich bitch whose material are served by 1) ongoing liberal fear and outrage about an entrenched impeachment target and 2) Trump’s own platform. Of course she’s sandbagging members of her own caucus who are more popular nationally than she’ll ever be. On Zinfandel Lane, who wouldn’t?

This brings us to Katie, unable to bar the door against her own soft expulsion from–yes, your cracker is here to say it–the Hill. Katie Hill went down on history so early in her career for having threesomes with a staffer, followed by something more like twosomes after her husband, originally the number two, made sure to act the part, being as he was in possession of photographs and memories.

Hill is hot. She is also bisexual. Let’s go stroke it to someone else. This is a salacious distraction. Her ex-husband, a bitter, angry piece of shit, retaliated for the divorce by leaking a set of nudes to the gutter press. Will it surprise you to learn that he was abusive while they were still together, too? The guy didn’t get all bent out of shape by being dumped; he proceeded from love to loss already like that. It was why she got rid of him in the first place.

She isn’t the problem; he is. It’s appalling that this has to be spelled out, but it does. He’s the one who held and then released blackmail material on a sitting member of Congress. The material itself, although salacious, was and is wholesome enough: a private orgy among three competent, consenting, fully grown partners who enjoyed one another’s sexual affection. The ex turned it into blackmail material by releasing it for revenge after their relationship soured, knowing that it would stir up a furor among the sorts of people who get titillated by the sex lives of elected officials and documentation thereof, a furor entirely out of proportion to Hill’s innocuous sexual activity in comparison to that of any of the (ostensibly) undocumented molestations, forcible gropings, sex trafficking conspiracies, and rapes publicly attributed to her colleagues.

This is an egregious transgression. That scumbag’s life needs to be turned upside down. The temptation to salaciously expose or threaten sitting members of Congress needs to be chilled with immediate consequences for all who are nasty enough to try. It’s a disservice to their constituents not to fuck the creeps up. It’s subversive of constitutional government.

In her resignation speech Hill rued the barrage of rape threats she had received since the leaking of her nudes. There’s something badly wrong when anyone over the age of fifteen thinks it’s possibly at all safe to communicate threats of violence to a sitting member of Congress, to think that anything that even plausibly sounds like a threat won’t call down hellfire from every available cop, lawyer, and private investigator.

This isn’t really about what’s strictly illegal. A competent detective squad or plaintiff’s legal team can jam an edgelord miscreant up for days, if not months, before all actions against him are dismissed or appealed to exhaustion. This assumes, by the way, that the defendant has absolutely no prior history of similar bad acts that can be used as corroborating evidence or pursued separately until all legal avenues are exhausted; i.e., not in any way a fellow whose relatives or buddies or exes can say is a creep.

We have a model for this. The Secret Service scrambles squads to investigate threats against protectees. This is universally understood, to the point that only a hardcore idiot expects to brag promiscuously about harming a current or former president or presidential dependent without being confronted by armed G-men.

This is of course another reason to impeach Trump, on the basis that a protectee should forfeit his office if he insists on abusing it to incite violence, inevitably provoking additional threats against himself by parties he has threatened or angered, and forcing the Secret Service to investigate these threats. Like, look, pal, you’ll still get the detail, but you’re done with the official bully pulpit to waste its already stressed resources.

Americans know better than to go all Manuel Ramos about how they’re gonna fuck the President up. There’s no ambiguity. The hyperbole or figurative license has to be unmistakable to prevent an interrogation. This isn’t lie, oh, lighten up, I was just kidding. They don’t give mulligans for that trap.

This makes it impossible not to wonder what the hell went wrong to make it seem viable to mail or call in threats of premeditated felony violence to Congressional offices. There are draconian sentencing ranges just for the criminal use of telephones or the US Mail. Rape and murder threats would seem to meet the threshold for shit you aren’t allowed to communicate via federally regulated media. They’ll hand out tenners for running mail-order numbers rackets.

Where the fuck are the cops? These threats demand all-hands-on-deck interagency investigations. They are not legitimate grievances. They are not complaints to elected officials that they’re disserving constituents or are of unfit character to hold office or anything like that. They’re campaigns to subvert self-government.

And where are the trial lawyers and PI’s to hound the creeps if the cops won’t? Nancy can personally afford the bill. The Democratic Party sure as hell can.

A lot of this shit would be too menacing for anyone without a violent criminal record to consider sending to a fellow private citizen. Either the cops will be banging on their door within the hour or a vigilante will drop by for an extrajudicial full-body kneecapping. “Bitch I’ma fuckin’ rape you you slut.” Gee, do you suppose that’s a thought you might want to keep to yourself? Christ. And that’s on the mild side as rape threats go, according to their addressees and staff curators.

We can tie ourselves into knots making devil’s advocate arguments about how it’s hyperbolic or figurative. These are fair defense arguments, but let’s think about how a reasonable person would react to a graphic rape threat from a stranger. This ain’t the BDSM issue of Penthouse Letters. Ask: Is this something appropriate to tell a stranger? If Vinny No-Knees phones me about what nice knees I’ve got–he’s still got his, you see, EY–do I take him for a hapless criminally inculpable lunatic, or do I pick my brain for cops I trust and start placing my own calls?

It doesn’t have to be about sex, although I suppose when it’s coming from alt-right pied piper/incel trash and addressed to Katie Hill, it does. It does have to be about power and force projection. If the Secret Service didn’t track down and investigate every threat intercepted against its protectees, the discourse about the executive branch would be 24/7 boasting about going full East Timor Brimob on the White House. Instead, it takes a Stauffenberg to pursue such plots anywhere close to fruition, and most of these losers are no Stauffenberg.

This is how the Democratic Party would respond to blackmail dumps and threats against its elected if it took such attacks seriously. It does not. It prefers to lavish its millions on otherwise unemployable grifter scum. Neera needs her spot on the milkline. Without his own, how could Adam Parkhomenko would have worked? The party has the cash flow to fuck the creeps up with lawfare, and it’s exactly the worthy insurance benefit voters would be glad to help fund if the coffers started to credibly run dry. Ordinary constituents would not need much convincing that it’s worthwhile to fund legal programs to dogpile this insurrectionist scum with FOIA demands, summonses, injunctions, demands for legal fees, digital and in-person contact traces on their associates, background investigation-grade interviews, the whole fucking hog. The consequences for so much as playing cute with the caucus about this shit should be a week tops till they know everything about the aggressor that he hasn’t taken active measures to hide.

It goes unmentioned in the salacious news reports, and most likely uncontemplated, but Katie Hill practices much better opsec in the curation of her nude portraiture than most threatmongers do. These guys are pretty fucking dumb. Rarely are we dealing with savvy operators who use misdirecting noms de guerre and encrypted transmissions on virtual private networks. Some of the professional right-wing candid camera gotcha goons are no more professional themselves. James O’Keefe does not particularly comport himself in the fashion of a man capable of his own toileting. Counterinsurgency lawfare isn’t just for the proletarian stochastic outburst types. It’s powerfully salutary on wingnut welfare shysters like O’Keefe, to show them for once that they are fundamentally stupid and that their fathers cannot bully, cajole, or bribe them out of their every self-inflicted jam.

Using Katie Hill as an object lesson in recklessness with digital media is surreally insane. She fell victim to a treacherous spouse. The fashy armchair foot soldiers and shit-for-brains silver-spoon grifters they worship need about five minutes in front of a computer to make her look like Snowden. One of the crazy things about this is that she sets herself apart from so many of her colleagues and socioeconomic peers just by tacitly recognizing that there can be consequences for reckless or controversial behavior and acting accordingly. She was quite discreet about her sex life; it was her ex-husband who found her discretion so stultifying, and who so spectacularly and unilaterally breached it. She got into trouble for private threesomes involving a woman she and her then-husband knew well, and don’t come around here acting like she’s the only Esteemed Colleague to be getting frisky with a staffer.

This woman is too judicious for our national political class. What was so emblematic about Brett Kavanaugh absolutely flipping his shit the first time in his career that he was asked pointed, adversarial, intrusive questions by a hiring committee was that he had made it into his fifties assuming that the universe would always expunge his record on demand. Anthony fucking Weiner was never so arrogant. He’s known for years that he has a problem and that his problem keeps making a huge mess of his life. He was on the record about this long before he slipped into FMC Deviants–I mean, mercy, Rajaratnam did a bid there, too; why am I impugning him by association?–for his residency as a mandatory Masshole.

Hill wasn’t impulsively sexting strangers for the thrill. She wasn’t chasing or grooming jailbait like so many of her incumbent and temporarily embarrassed colleagues. She wasn’t sexually assaulting anybody. She wasn’t blacking out drunk and either spreading her cunt over some casual acquaintance’s face at a house party or staring at a total stranger and then starting a bar fight with her because she thought she was Gwen Stefani. She was sexually and romantically involved with a staffer who had attained full majority.

She understood from the start that this was salacious enough to try to keep out of public view, and /questionably sober Steely Dan voice/ Katie tried. We don’t have to call what the mob and her own party’s leadership did to her a half-crucifixion to say that it was totally out of line. I can’t be the only one who would bloody well like to see any of the congenitally privileged wingnut shitbirds who have outlasted her in office face half the consequences she’s faced for their incomparably egregious misconduct and criminality. Hill was absolutely right to take a direct parting shot at Trump in her resignation speech, explicitly stating that he remains in office and has been publicly accused of rape. She was right not to roll over like a cowed little bitch and take all the blame.

That is not how the Republicans roll. Brett Michael spent an afternoon seething through a mist of tears about how he was suffering the Passion of St. John Dennis Hastert for facing threats, ultimately lasting about two weeks, to his career coaching a teenyboppers’ girls’ basketball team in More Than Friendship Heights. The Democrats, and in fact our entire godforsaken republic, could use more leaders who show some fucking backbone in the face of flagrant dirty tricks. The Republican Party at this point is Doug Ford casting the deciding vote to install Rob Ford on the Supreme Court, then turning around and berating the Democrats for being crooks, drunkards, and vulgarians with rude things to say about the Jamaican community. By all means, this country needs a viable left whose members have the nerve to start their journeys into the wilderness by pissing back into the tent on their way out.

As they say, it ain’t beanbag. It’s more like Gateside Downlow having a page push the beanbag into his bussy for textured pleasure while he bellows at his opponents that they’re nasty sodomites. That was gross, but ask yourself what you’d think if you were minding your own business taking a shit and some rando stuck his hand under the stall divider to show you his wedding band. That is exactly what Larry Craig did in his fruitless prairie home effort to ya, don’tcha know with the nearest available companion.

Hmm. In that case, let’s stipulate that you are not well, are doing questionable work, and do not need to keep in touch. Every one of these ridiculous, shambolic, antisocial sexual deviants will seize every possible opportunity to call Katie Hill a filthy slut. Jealousy isn’t quite it; half of them are gay, and her ex is available. It’s more an ultrarefined entitlement and spite. Those of us who could stand to watch it got to see Gadsden Lovin’ go full George Wallace in the schoolhouse door about how the people of Alabama demanded to be known for and represented by himself, a persecuted Christian. There’s no making this shit up.

Frankly we need to purge Washington of every one of these creepy perverts before breathing another word about how Katie Hill was reckless with digital media and young women should learn from her mistakes. She was one of the rare birds on the Hill (lol again; why shouldn’t I?) to recognize the risks of her sexual practices and take measures to minimize them. Her much seedier predatory colleagues always assume that they’ll be able to have their way and do what they please without consequence.

There’s a class element here, I suspect. The armchair threat traffickers discussed above tend to come from the criminal underclass. They’re often in and out of jail for exactly the low-functioning impulsive behaviors that have people in and out of jail. The professional dirty tricksters who goad them on are much more often from the upper-middle and upper classes: hence their smugness and smirking and shrieking like stuck pigs when challenged and shady backgrounds that magically vanish from the public record for decades at a time. Katie Hill presents as solidly middle-class, specifically as somebody who has things to lose for being reckless. She acts like she is expected and expects herself to function as a competent, upstanding member of a community in some fashion or other.

Hill recognized all along that it was better to exercise some tact than to brag indiscriminately about being a slutty dipshit. There’s a stark class divergence between her discreet, private, consensual, apparently sober sexual activity and Brett Kavanaugh’s habit of raging around the Yale campus in a drunken rage thrusting his cock into everyone’s face.

Here’s the big problem: Hill’s mode of living is not the Washington norm. What’s-his-name from Arkansas or whatever the hell who splashed into the fountain at the Tidal Basin because he thought he was being chased by buzzards was too grounded for the current crop of unaccountable freaks. Afterwards, released from police detention, he was like, shucks, I was drunk. It takes nothing short of an lace-curtain Irish lawyer from the MontCo house party scene to yell at the Judiciary Committee about how he liked beer, but legally and responsibly. One does not so thoroughly elide and erase one’s own seedy behavior without it. Fuck, even Rob Ford came down off that perch to say that he must have been real drunk to smoke crack.

Posting nudes is a distraction. What we need to talk about is the truly sleazy shit that Americans either post or brag about, then throw a fit when somebody they either didn’t keep from becoming aware of it or expressly authorized to see it or was present when they said it uses it against them. We’ve previously discussed these shitheads in painstaking, even excruciating, detail. I wouldn’t be nearly so interested in their shitty behavior if I hadn’t been there for it and witnessed it with my own lying ears and eyes. It’s beyond chutzpah; it’s extreme hubris, the malicious, gratuitous aggression of people who have never in their lives been meaningfully deterred from or punished for their bad behavior, no matter how vile.

The sequence here is gross. These creeps do something outrageously offensive or scandalous, then flip their shit and cry betrayal when their bad act is publicized and used against them. How could this uppity little pig I’ve always abused ever dare have the nerve to say I’ve abused him? We’re friends!

In case you were wondering about the American college fraternity system, this is it. There are exceptions, but not as many as a decent person would hope. I was unaffiliated in college, but in some crucial ways I wasn’t. Michael Pennington and the Insurance Schmuck hazed me and ran our clique as a frank cult. Brett Kavanaugh reminds me of these guys for good reasons, and for equally good reasons Mark Judge reminds me of myself. Both of those guys are still dipshit enough to post cringe on main under privacy settings allowing me to lawfully access their work. I believe, and I would say quite reasonably so, that this is more evidence of their privilege and arrogance. Scold me all you like for posting cringe of my own, but know this: If there’s anything I’ve created that I don’t want either of those fuckers seeing, it’s locked down such that they’d have to hack it or schmooze a buddy to be their third-party mole.

The misdirection over sexting isn’t very subtle. We keep having a moral panic over the old Nudie Judy and not considering that there might come a tipping point at which our nation’s many RICO-ready fraternities get prosecuted into dissolution. It’ll probably coincide with prosecutions of white collar fraud at the big banks, which we used to do, until rather recently. It’s more alluring, for those of who are male and straight, to crank it to pictures of Katie Hill brushing her staffer girlfriend’s hair, but say, maybe little Brock over there would be wise to shut up about his rights of voluntary association when there are dozens of witnesses to his using these rights to paddle some schmuck’s bare ass while the guy vomited his last ten shots of Jim Beam into a trash can. You know, just an idea, kid.

Although it’s unduly entertaining that Lesbos is Greek, Katie Hill doesn’t act like she ever was. Granted, sororities are usually less physically psychosexual than fraternities. Nebraska Coeds is fiction. It might as well be Harry Potter. Nah, on second thot, it mightn’t. The wizard shit is worse. The point, however, still stands, as she said. Katie doesn’t act like a mean girl. Nancy does, and Chuck’s right with her, but Katie seems all right.

If you’re thinking about suiting up and mounting your white horse to rankcheck any of these characters like that bumptious Army lifer son of a bitch Vindman did for himself, don’t. It won’t make our politics any better; it’ll just make you worse. Auspol saves itself a whole lot of buffoonery by paying no heed to that horseshit. One would hate to be called “mister,” “sir,” “boss,” “man,” “dog,” or “you fucking weirdo,” all of which I’ve been called to my face by my most unemployable neighbors.

As I was ostensibly saying, Katie is a few cuts above her own party’s leadership, and certainly above the current baseline for American politics. The prevailing community standards do not allow Members to focus on doing something for the homeless. Both houses have, as Chuck likes to say, six ways from Sunday about not doing anything about any of that.

It’s suspicious, and for the leadership awfully convenient, that Hill got caught up in a single two-bit sex scandal and had to leave town. It’s suspicious that, quick on the heels of her resignation. Cenk Uygur boosted himself from C-List center-left political commentator to Congressional candidate. He isn’t exactly bad; in absolute terms he’s all right. But there’s no way the ghouls who run the Democratic Party aren’t relieved to be able to push the Overton Window back to the right by switching their bullpen midgame. It’s a bit foily to say so, but ((extremely nerds voice) My Totebags) This I Believe.

Hill wasn’t about to bounced from the Hill. Yes, I enjoyed writing that, because she wasn’t. She got ratfucked. For the love of all truth Larry Shittershagging Craig got to leave on his own terms. Hill could have run out the clock for the balance of her term, waiting for whatever slap on the wrist her colleagues and their staff felt like administering at the end of their investigation. She well might have been able to win reelection. By the ethical standards of her office as they are actually enforced, she didn’t do jack shit wrong. The hell were they going to do to her? Pass a censure motion? Have Gateside Downlow call her a nasty, naughty girl?

I can’t blame her for not having the fight in her to stick it out in the face of violent threats at a time when her own caucus and leadership did so little to back her up. That might have made the difference Hill needed to stand her ground. It would have been brutal for her regardless–it’s much worse than they make it look on television–but she never had the opportunity to try to salvage her career and agenda under the protection of a party that gave her its full support.

This is a key reason why we’re taking the wrong lessons away from this scandal if we’re interpreting it as a cautionary tale for young women who are tempted to be unabashedly sexual. Hill sat for nudes and then got ratfucked. It wasn’t some inexorable natural law that caused her to face such a chilly reception from the leadership of her own caucus. It was Nancy Pelosi. Let’s not beat around the bush. It was Nancy who yanked out the linchpin.

And let’s fucking face it: that bitch is troublesome. The young guns in her caucus have good reasons to distrust her. Everybody’s tiptoeing around her, scrupulously refusing to breathe an ill word on the record. There are some not terrible reasons to be so discreet, but I good and goddamn well don’t have any myself. Chuck and Nancy are the nexus of their party’s dysfunction and disunity more than Bernie or the Squad, if you ask me. They didn’t ask me, but do I sound like I give a shit? What the fuck are the Republicans gonna do if a dispute between the centrist shitlib establishment and the upstart leftists goes public and makes the party look fractious? Hate Nancy Pelosi even more? At least the lefties have the self-respect not to crawl around in the mud trying to kiss the asses of enemies who will never work with them in good faith or good cheer. Chamberlain was hardly such a suckup before Hitler. It’s disgraceful.

A rogues’ gallery of creeps who couldn’t care less about their own sexual propriety might call Katie Hill a slut, and it made the Speaker and her henchfolk uncomfortable. Fuckin’ A. This is the shit the machine bosses wanted to nip in the bud. They preferred to grovel before Jim Jordan about how their fellow traveler had been a bad girl instead of sticking up for her and showing some damn honor. Mind you, when I describe them as fellow travelers I’m taking some license; they were never exactly on the same trip.

Forget keeping your legs shut, missy. A better lesson to learn here is that dogshit mentors can be a useless pain in the ass. This is exactly the lesson the idpol hustlers want us all not to learn. They seek to prepare for the distaff among us Madeleine Albright’s special place in hell for women who don’t support other women. Framed that way, it sounds like an oath that would bind Nancy to defend Katie, but these rules are for commoners, not queens.

You don’t have to put on the foil hat, but I do. The hopelessly grasping and neurotic #LeanIn sleazeballs who run Washington as women resent fellows like Katie Hill for being at liberty, not in bondage. I’m serious. Warning that employers or background investigators for security clearances or some such censorious trash will take adverse action against applicants for posting horny is servile as hell. I’ve known the kinds of women (and men!) who craft their lives, or at least document their personas, to exclude and erase all evidence of sensuality, all possible gaudeamus igitur levity.

They’re fucking freaks, is what they are. I’ll be damned to concede that Katie Hill is disordered and they aren’t. Fuck off with that. Washington is full of such cases. If nothing else, Hill doesn’t act like one of them. It doesn’t seem coincidental that the Democratic Party is seedily content to soft-86 Hill from the Hill (lmao, that again) and at the same time flood the zone with spook trash like Buttigieg, Slotkin, and Vindman. Cenk Uygur is a few cuts above that, but again, it seems awfully convenient to the bosses for him to march so promptly into the vacuum following Hill’s resignation.

If it seems politically or socioeconomically germane that our girls are immodest sluts, we’re doing it wrong. We don’t even have a liberal party, in the senses that make liberalism mean something. The Republicans, except for Trump and a few of his secular advisors in their more liberal moments, keep thumping the Bible about fornication, adultery, sodomy, and their other favorite customs. The Democrats keep shitting their pants about how an incautious fleeting episode of loucheness or sensual abandon could ruin their children’s careers and lives. It’s all test prep and reputation management and resume-padding in their world. They aren’t exactly better than the GOP; they’re mainly a different style of rotten.

We need points of light to guide us out of this abyss of finding young women problematic for being sexual in their capacity as young women. In times like these, I often think back to the chick I overheard at a Starbucks in Stateline or thereabouts telling her friends that 1) “I could have gotten so much dick last weekend,” and 2) “Sequoia is a fucking bitch.” As I wrote at the time, that young lady needs to run for elected office ASAP. She’d have a hard time making our politics any worse. If it feels like a relief that she’s politically absent, take another moment to recall who’s present. Sex negativity does nothing to get rid of the promiscuity; it just serves to degrade it. We definitely need more leaders who are regularly getting action in healthy ways and aren’t all weird or hungup about it.

We obviously need more whores in our politics, too. They’re even better than sluts, because sluts are crazy. Nicole Papamichael may wonder why her best friend from high school became a hooker, but I don’t. Nor do I want the detective eeso much as registered to vote until she’s either gone full-time back into the bag or taken her streetcorner dom act into the private sector, where it belongs.

Being genuinely disinterested in sex when it’s time for politics is another option, but it’s a fearsomely ambitious one for America. Good luck.

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