Support Public Education; Romney Still A Lying Prick


So. It’s another day in paradise—Texas beat Baylor in college feetsballs, the Santa Fe air is crisp and clean and I went and entire minute without thinking about sex. The sex I’m not having.

OK, stop. Can you think about something that is nonexistent, or can you only think of the actual thing and not having it? Sex you are not having is sex that never was, so, therefore, how can you miss it? I should be missing the sex I have had instead. I should be missing sex with SAC Ellen or Dr. Sam I. Am-Johnson, or one of my other ten ex-wives. Over my lifetime, I’ve had me some pretty terrific sex. Hell, it’s all been pretty terrific except for that one time my third wife and I fell asleep in post coital bliss down to New Orleans. On St. Charles Street. On the toilet seat. In the womens’ room at Chef Lagasse’s Delmonico restaurant.

I had the signature steak and Anna the Amazon—now my sister, Sister’s, wife—had the oyster special of the day. Anna came from deep inside the closet and fell in love with Sister when Anna and I were on our honeymoon, a story you can read if you buy my silly fucking book. Click over there =====}}}} to any Full Rising Mooner linkster if interested.

This was back before Emeril became a big time TV cook and he spent more time in his eateries than in TV studios, and Anna and I were engaged. Long story short, Anna and I were Bammed!!! and canned down to police headquarters, where I spent a lovely twenty-four hours with other miscreants and Anna, “Met several interesting female police officials,” as she later recounted.

Maybe I should have seen that early warning sign and saved myself a divorce, but without that honeymoon my sister would not have found her true love. Sister is one of my favorite people and I would gladly make that sacrifice again.

Instead I miss something I’ve never had. That sounds crazy any way I try to spin it. I was over to see Katy this morn at the Lesbian Soup site, and I found myself contemplating a sex change operation. See, Katy is going through a post relationship sex drought just like me and I like how she thinks and, likewise, I feel we would make a good match. My logic thread was that if I were a lesbian, Katy and I could live happily onward assuming Katy would move from Houston to Santa Fe.

Maybe I should speak to Katy before making a down payment on my operation. And maybe my ADHD has ruined life as we know it. My head is a swirling cesspool of stagnant and mostly malignant thoughts.

Look, what I’ve been trying to get to is to tell you that I no longer have a romantic relationship with SAC Ellen. My move to Santa Fe was seen by her as an abandonment while I saw it—romantically speaking—as an expansion. Where I saw new places to leave sweat and other bodily excretions together, SAC Ellen saw an out-of-the-way village that would take days away from her life.

Ugh. Ugh, and shit, and FUCK! I don’t have time to search and research for a lover.

When I was last speaking to Mother, my demented old bat of a mother said to me, she said, “Serves you right, Mooner. I told you those homo-sex-u-als were going to brainwash you.”

She then went on to inform me that President Obama is a closeted gay man who kills his male lovers to keep them from telling his secret. She said her preacher said that the Secret Service loans the Prez their guns. That would be a Southern Baptist preacher, an asshole I’ve not met and plan to keep it that way.

President Obama must have spent some time in Santa Fe and come under the spell of our local homo-sex-u-als. I’ve yet to meet the evil ones but Mother assures me they are everywhere.

Dementia is a terrible condition that afflicts millions of older people. When my mother first started showing early dementia signs, I hoped they signaled she would have the sort of memory loss wherein she forgot what a right-wing Christian shithead she is. But, and alas, my mother has become forgetful of the good in her life leaving her to focus on what seems to me to be her hatreds.

Mother was a teacher. A proud, hard-working teacher who cared for her student’s education and welfare. She taught hundreds of kids before retiring and many of them still keep in contact with her. She was a member and Representative of the Teachers’ Union, and she fought hard for better conditions for educators and students with vigor. She stood up against politicians and school board members when they tried to politicize our kids educations, and she championed efforts to help less privileged families find ways to keep their kids in school.

On the phone yesterday, Mother told me that teachers are what is wrong with public education and that she supports Texas Governor Rick Perry’s efforts to gut public schools in favor of privatizing education. “If that homo-sex-u-al foreign Muslim President is for it, then I’m against,” were her words when I questioned how she could turn her back on her own life’s work.

Then there’s Gram. I’m picking her up from the adorable little Santa Fe Airport in an hour and maybe that’s why I’m in such a good mood. Gram and her best buddy, the P-cubed, are coming for an extended stay. They wanted to drive up in Gram’s bright red Ferrari so they, and here I’ll quote the horny old woman when she said to me, “So we can pick us up some New Mexican hombres.”

I told her that I’d hire a car and driver to escort them on their courting outings and that she is forbidden from crossing state lines in her little hot rod. I haven’t had time to meet and greet every law enforcement officer between Santa Fe and the Texas border.

Anyway, time to head to the airport and time to say, “Manana, y’all.”

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5 Responses to “Support Public Education; Romney Still A Lying Prick”

  1. Squatlo says:

    Hold off on the male-lesbian sex change midlife crisis, Mooner. If you switch over to the other team, the Hooey Gods will send the love of her life into Katy’s soup and you’ll be stuck ‘nad-less in Santa Fe. Although I do understand the urge to make the switch… I’m often embarrassed by our gender. It’s like being a life-long Republican of the I-Like-Ike mode, only to find yourself surrounded by Rick Perrys and Rick Santorums and The Koch Brothers and Rush Limbaugh/Karl Rove/Michele Bachmanns of the world…

    Here’s what you do: Put a blender of Bloody Marys on ice, put a DVD of Slaughterhouse Five on the player, and sit back with a few daydreams of Montana Wildhack to keep you occupied until the mood changes.

    No need to thank me, this is a free service I provide.

  2. Mooner Johnson needs sexing says:

    Squat. Even if Katy’s love were off the table, it seems to me that a 6’4″ 240-pound lesbian with a man’s sex drive would be a hot commodity. Then again, maybe I’m nuts.

    I’ve been saving my next viewing of SH-5 for the first snowfall here to my new home. Having snowdrifts in my yard as the backdrop for that opening scene will be magic!

  3. Squatlo says:

    There you go… Just picture yourself in a bomb crater with Roland Weary, Billy Pilgrim, and Paul Lazarro and you’ll be set. Set for what, I don’t know, but set.

    The prospect of a 6’4″ lesbian sex-changer reminds me of John Lithgow’s character from “The World According to Garp”…

  4. bj says:

    So sorry to hear about you and SAC Ellen breaking up. No WONDER yer thoughts are all stemmy and dreamy and shit. I have trouble distinguishing between a female lesbian and …. well …… fuckin’ ….. ME! I mean, I been a lesbian ever since I can remember and I’m told I loved little women even before I can remember. I THINK it has to do with what the lady wants and not so much me. That’s prolly why MY sex life has been stagnant as a farm pond for so long as well. I thought about gettin’ a sex ADDITION back when I was in the street a lot and humpin’ anything that would hold still long enough. I wouldn’t get ANYthing removed, but I’d like to “walk down the other side of the street” a few times, if you get my meaning if you catch my drift. Manly mens is just too coarse and mostly about the takin’ and the gettin’, I think and wimmins is more about the sharing and are all sensitive an shit. I mean, MOSTLY … ’cause I knew this ol’ girl in Oklahoma who was a WHIRL WIND and knew just what she wanted and wudn’t afraid to TELL you if she thought you was slow walkin’ her. She didn’t care whether you got yers or NOT, ’cause she was gonna get her’n!
    But look at yer new surroundings as an opportunity to prowl fer Strange, though I doubt you’ll find anyone as strange as yerself, there, amigo.

  5. bj says:

    I meant STEAMY …. not stemmy above. STEMMY is a whole ‘nuther thang ……

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