Growing up in a liberal suburb of New York, I was raised with progressive principles: to unconditionally accept anyone regardless of race, gender, income, or taste in teak furniture -- and to always stand up to bigots.
The problem is, what if that bigot is a total beefcake?
On one hand, I know Paul Ryan’s comments about the laziness of “urban” America are indefensible conjecture. But when he struts that pretty little ass on stage, my incorruptible moral compass goes out the window, only to be replaced with pure, unbridled libido.
The problem is, I could never tell my parents any of this. “Didn’t we raise you right?” Mom would say. “He’s anti-choice, he’s a climate change denier, he’s a chauvinist.” I know in my heart of hearts that she’s right. But seeing him grab the sides of the podium as he spouts neo-conservative rhetoric, all I can think is how it might feel if he were grabbing my sides instead, whispering sweet nothings in my ear as I trace little itty-bitty circles in his thick, groomed chest hair.
I know this Trump business should pose more of an issue to me. Can I trust Paul Ryan to stand up to our populist commander-in-chief? Is he an enemy or an ally? A top or a bottom? Please, please let him be a top.
I didn’t choose to want to fuck Paul Ryan. It’s just the way I am. I hope my parents will find a way to move past their politics and accept me for who I want to be. Until then, I’ll be daydreaming of Speaker Ryan and me, taking that trip to Venice we always talk about but never get around to.
In Other News
"Hey Dad, it's me - Brian. Would you potentially be free later this week for a coffee chat?"
"His name is Poncho Firedust, and I need him to feel safe," demanded the 67-year-old chemistry professor.
“Admitting Frank into the undergraduate body goes against this university's principles. That kid fucking sucks.”
Joe began to laugh. “Who is Willy Valentini? Only the Dean of Columbia, the mad genius who keeps this whole place running!"
"After all, he was pretty sure that they have the exact same nutritional content as regular cucumbers. Probably right? Doesn't matter."
According to witnesses, the last words he uttered before chugging his sixth Bud Light and stumbling out the door were, “Imma bout to send it.”
"In the absence of any real personality, our midwestern students sometimes struggle to find their niche on campus, and must resort to misguidedly boasting about their native climate."
"All this time I was talking about rabbis, but he was thinking about priests?”
"I’ve always been torn between my love of Gertrude Stein and weirdly shaped plants. But now I don’t have to be.”
"There were at least 90 virgins in that room, so I do feel like I got some decent value.”