I just realized it is Martin Luther King's birthday holiday--I always have Monday off and blew the morning at the dentist. So, let's celebrate.
But getting back to the master race and its possession schema, its constitution of itself. I forgot to mention homophobia--I was late for a root canal, is my excuse--sorry guys. Yes, homos and cripples, the flesh, like pussy, mired in the substance of the body, of all that is too human. So the new evil empire, the dark and the flesh, the mass of humanity conspires to dispossess the purity of whiteness, through blood, and bone, and cum, and placental slime, through land and earth--all the stuff of life itself, conspires against the crystalline purity of our master race. How can they ever hope or dream of escaping the fecundity and mire of all that? It is almost medieval, as we approach in peasant rags, boots and bare feet knee deep in mud and stable dung, "Begg'n, your leave Sire, but kinna've a word with your worship?"
So, the master race, re-incarnated as the whitewing knaves of the castle really get their knickers in a twist over queers. This titillation has been gone over before, but what if Clinton had been goosing one of the boys? Oh, god, oh, god, just imagine it! Would the cigars taste any different afterward? DNA on the back of the boxers--how did it get there?
Let's call witnesses, absolutely, gotta have witnesses for that one. But what of the children, snickering in the corner? How do we explain it to them? How do we explain soiled DNA on the back of the boxers? What if these were Presidential boxers? Better or worse?
Oh, Lordy, lordy, no. How do we explain the vileness of it to the children? Best to just get red faced and blustery and threaten a beating at the mere hint of it all--even the thin trace of a childish smile must be erased. No dimples must show in those cherubic cheeks, as dimples are the precursor to smiles, and smiles are knowledge, carnal knowledge. Oh, dear god, sweeet jeesus, you don't think they know? How could they, except from public schools--all the filth that goes on in those places. Unspeakable filth.
Chuck,
tripping on how the fecund mire of flesh and earth and their materiality sews together all the threads of race, gender, ecology and class.