Let's explain this clearly to all the deluded religious bags of nuts out there who cling to their destructive versions of sexual morality: if you're a guy who goes to a prostitute, there's only a few reasons (other than the obvious "not gettin' it at home" excuse). You go to a hooker because you can be reasonably sure the hooker's not gonna talk to the press. You just have to make sure you pay that hooker enough for the sex and for the silence. Another reason you go to a whore is because, for the negotiated amount of time and limits (maybe no cutting, nothing that permanently damages the merchandise), you fuckin' own that bitch. That means you get to live out your most crazed, perverted fantasies. Sure, sure, you might just like the usual, plain vanilla fucking, straight sex, crying when you come (see the "silence" clause above) 'cause your wife won't suck you off ("Oh, Esmeralda, why doesn't she let me put my Saint Peter in her mouth like you do?"). You might want someone who'll let you fuck them in the ass. But, truth be told, there's a good chance that, especially if you go more than once, what you really want is to get your freak on, have that slut ball gag you and whip you like they whipped Jesus (well, maybe not that hard) or for her to let you piss on her pussy for foreplay, fuck her in a puddle of your piss, and then, instead of pillow talk at the end, you shit on her face. Or, even better, get her to shit on yours. (You can change that "her" to "him" at will.)
So, sweet fundamentalists who cling to family values candidates like scared children to Chinese-made stuffed animals, while you're abstractedly thinking about Republican Senator
David Vitter visiting an escort service, regularly, your highly-regarded moral champion wasn't just unzipping his fly to quickly bang an escort under her skirt because of some forgivable male urges. No, no, chances are that
Vitter was bare ass naked, face down and tied to bedposts, while a high-priced whore reamed him with a foot-long black strap-on as he screamed the name of his savior over and over not out of prayers for grace and mercy, but because the fuckin' just felt so goddamn good. Praise His name.
How many more fuckin' times are we gonna go through this same pathetic charade with presumptive leaders for the religious right? For moral values supporters? How many more men, for indeed, can anyone name a powerful woman brought down in a sex scandal recently? How many hypocritical Ted Haggards and Newt Gingriches and Mark Foleys and David Vitters, all, all, all men that the religious right counted on to lead them to the promised land of political power, to keep those homosexuals down, to punish Bill Clinton, to make abstinence and anti-abortion policies the rule of the country? How many more men who make a show of deep faith who are just assholes who wanna get their rocks off? Vitter is sooo fuckin' proud to be Catholic, that his kids are Catholic, that one imagines the confession booth at his church is filled with the echoes of Vitter telling his priest about how many rim jobs he got from his hooker.
When do we get to act like a nation of grown-ups where we can say, "You know, I don't give a fuck if my candidate likes to have his nutsack stomped by a cross-dressed male hooker in stiletto heels as long as he supports my issues"? And where those issues can be shit like war and education and health care and not bullshit like who's fucking who and for what reasons?
Welcome back to what it means to be human, David Vitter. Your constituents in Louisiana oughta learn that it means you love the fucking, just like nearly every one of them.
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