John Edwards to Jessie Jackson, womanizing daddy boys to many children, no telling how many. Billy Clinton to Larry Craig, Oval Office to Airport Bathroom, just a bunch of hanky-panky. Not so sure Larry is hot for girls, though. Eliot Spitzer, Barney Frank, David Vitter, certainly The Three Musketeers of those delightful ladies of the evening.
So many of those boys of history, so many of those boys of typical masculine behavior.
Grandpa and grandma are off heading up to Eagletown riding our mule drawn wagon, off to Crutcher's general store to buy some supplies, socks and Mason canning jars, I think, maybe a fifty pound sack of flour as well. They will be gone for hours; mules are annoyingly slow. Not much to do on a Saturday except chores which I always avoid when my elders are not around. Of course, I always earn myself a butt switching from grandpa when he returns and discovers I did not do my chores.
I am out sitting on our front porch watching horny horse flies chase each other around, sitting there sipping white lightning. Not much else to do on a rural Oklahoma farm, except chores. Here comes Sally walking down the dirt route with her brand new hairbrush in hand. I always wanted a hairbrush but, well, we cannot afford such things.
Sally and I are well seasoned teenage girls, we are both thirteen and uppity. She brushes my hair which is like brushing tangles out of wild morning glory vines. Lots of fun to sit there swapping lies, talking boys and sipping white lightning. We swap places, I take to brushing her pretty and tame white girl hair. She sips a bit more from the Mason then up and says,
"Those boys, all they want to do is take adventures of you."
I love the girl; she provides a best all time quote I use to this day.
I am requested to perform one of my belly dance routines during a private dinner party after a primary debate between John McCain and Barack Obama. Cannot remember if the first debate or the second. No matter, a fancy affair, quite eloquent, least till I strut out and take to dancing. Month later, a photo is secreted to me, I think from a friend in the press corp, not sure, maybe Helen Thomas.
You can see in my photo up there, Republican boy, Democrat boy, no different, just boys.
Do not think me left leaning although I am in my photo. Truth is, I am a very conservative red skinned Okie farm girl who never tolerates wild liberal like behavior. No, ma'am, not me, I am about as straight laced as can be; just ask my husband while he has a foot planted on my back and is lacing up my corset. I am an icon of a God fearing proper Republican woman.
I am not one of those left liberals. Nope, my left leaning is simply from my taking several gulps of Mason jar white lightning before parting the curtains then dancing my way into history books and into political infamy.
Those boys, all the same, just a bunch of womanizing Neandertals. Those boys, all they want to do is take adventures of you.
This is why I always vote for girl politicians and you should too.
