En Pleno Culo, Dept.

It's been a mixed week for gay lovin'.

Wednesday marked the dawn of legal same-sex marriage in Choc City.

Thursday, anti-gay, married, Republican California State Senator Roy Ashburn was arrested on a DUI after leaving a gay bar with some dude.

Friday, news broke of a Vatican chorister and the gay tricks he obtained for a married Vatican gentleman-in-waiting for €2,000 a pop.


That said, it was a great week to be someone possessed both of a pro-equality mindset and of a deep and abiding sense of Schadenfreude.

Let me break from this for a second to share with you my YouTube Comment of the Week. I'd googled the phrase I've used to title this posting out of curiosity to see where else besides my own mind it might have occurred. Under a four-second--yes, "four-second" thank you Marconi--clip of some brunette mannequin aspirant branded "Paula Davina," I found this comment, which contained the phrase in question:

Yo le meteria la lengua en pleno culo y le mamaria la chocha hasta que me diga "AY PAPI METEMELO YA QUE NO PUEDO MAS!!! AY, AY, AY, PAPI ME VENGOOOO QUE RICOOOOOO!!!! DAME LA LECHITA CALIENTE EN EL CULO PAPI ASIIIII!

I would translate, but it wouldn't represent the "fat guy who cracks up his friends" vibe of it. Suffice to say that there is no word of it that does not testify to his searing desire to fuck every square inch of this chick.

ANYhoo, what can I say about tragic situations wherein men who have profited in a variety of ways from their conformity to, or espousal of, viciously homophobic views then get fuckety-fuck-fucked for their blinding manlust in full view of Jesus Christ and everyone, thanks to the Interwubba-wubba-wubba, as Downtown Julie Brown might once have said. That I love them like a terrier loves equal and opposite tension on the other end of a chew toy? Like that fat motherfucker two grafs back feels about a woman he'll never, ever, ever, never meet? With the cumulative intensity of the sestrigintillion times this story appears or occurs or is quickly and violently hidden in America and Europe and everywhere that humanity is thwarted for the sake of Shit that People Made Up to Keep Others In Line.

The California shitbot--or his "reputational management team"--issued a statement that had a lot of "Ah-have-sinned-Lawd!" to it, the equivalent of him barechested begging strangers to piss on him in the back of some 1978 leather bar half a block from the West Side Highway.

The cassock queen spoke through his mouthpiece, Vinnie Boombats, and said something along the lines of "hurfle murfle privacy hurfle murfle allegations." Yet, according to a wiretap, this Stalwart Soldier of Christ had been ordering bespoke boys, including "'two black Cuban lads,' a former male model from Naples, and a rugby player from Rome," says the HuffPo. Oh, can you begrudge me my sloppy joy? Angelo Balducci, the oh-so-pious twunt in question--he was even a pallbearer for JPII!!--"[was] recorded describing precise physical details of the men he wanted." Let's guess the "precise physical details" he specified... I've got one! "MONSTER ROTO-ROOTER COCK" Yes.

Dear Jesus, it was a hectic week, but you made it so much better for me. My thanks to you and your excellent support staff.