Obama’s rich pals attend Inauguration; voter asks for more methadone

The good doctor is in —back from an extended stay in an Australian methadone clinic that ended badly, primarily because I had to come to grips with reality: Barack Obama or Mitt Romney would be president in 2013. Who was I to vote for: the rich guy who spent most of his life running for president (rather creepy, don’t you think?) or the guy who pretends he hates rich guys when he really, really loves them? A lot. Especially if they donate to his causes and especially more than you.

Joel Kotkin writes for the New Geography:

Apple, Google, Facebook, Amazon and Microsoft are far from “the workers of the world,” but closer to modern-day robber barons. Through their own ingenuity, access to capital and often oligopolistic hold on lucrative markets, they have enjoyed one of the greatest accumulations of wealth in recent economic history, even amidst generally declining earnings, rising poverty and inequality among their fellow Americans.

Last year the tech oligarchs emerged as major political players. Microsoft, Google and their employees were the largest private-sector donors to the president. …

An even greater beneficiary of the second term will be the administrative class, who by their nature live largely outside the market system. This group, which I call the new clerisy, is based largely in academia and the federal bureaucracy, whose numbers and distinct privileges have grown throughout the past half century.

Even in tough times, high-level academics enjoy tenure and have been largely spared from job cuts. Between late 2007 and mid-2009, the number of U.S. federal workers earning more than $150,000 more than doubled, even as the economy fell into a deep recession. Even as the private sector, and state government employment has fallen, the ranks of federal nomenklatura have swelled so much that Washington, D.C., has replaced New York as the wealthiest region in the country. …

Like empowered bureaucrats everywhere, the clerisy also sometimes reserves a nice “taste” for themselves, much as the old bishops and upper clergy indulged in luxury and even prohibited pleasures of the flesh. Just look at the lavish payouts accorded to Orszag and Treasury Secretary-designate Jacob Lew, who, after serving in the bureaucracy, make millions off the same Wall Street firms that have so benefited from administration policies.

So who loses in the new order? [T]he biggest losers likely will be the small business-oriented middle class. Not surprisingly Main Street, far more than Wall Street, harbors the gravest pessimism about the president’s second term.

Newsflash: “Too big to fail” is even bigger. The debt is bigger. The spending never stops and the federal government runs its finances in ways that would get us thrown in jail. Meanwhile, there will be roughly 1 million people who descend on Washington, DC tomorrow to watch the president pretend as though he cares for them.

The difference between Mitt Romney and President Obama was never that one was overly concerned with “the rich” while the other one cared about “the middle class” (What is that, anyway? How do you define “middle class”?). The difference is that President Obama likes to pick winners (e.g., Google) and losers (e.g., oil companies) while Mitt Romney had the big-brass Mormon balls to say he wanted them all to be winners.

And so, that is why my addiction to opiates continues to bear down on my chest, like that big-boned prostitute in Poland. Was it that time in Warsaw, or was I really in Prague? That whole European excursion is a blur…

Regardless, I am back in the nation’s capital for a week, perhaps two, depending on how the social scene pans out. There are a lot of parties with wealthy Democratic (female) donors, and many of them are just as generous with their bodies as they are giving out other people’s money.

You have not lived until you have bedded a leftist member of the Beltway elite, particularly if they’re dumb. As they’re about to drift off to sleep I whisper in their ears:

• “CAFE standards are bullshit.”
• “I would have let GM go bankrupt.”
• “The Department of Housing and Urban Development is a joke.”

Sometimes there’s a momentarily flash of concern on their faces, as if they’ve just given up a bit of their soul to someone who isn’t one of them. The truth? Who knows what I am. I don’t even know. But I do know that the vast majority of politicians — including the Great Obama — are pretenders. Unlike actors and musicians and drug-addled bloggers, they have the power to craft and enforce the law of the land.

And without further adieu, I return to Dr. Bizarre’s secret chest of magic analgesics.

GOP clowns in bayou eye contest with clown-president

The most interesting thing about the Republican primary process at this point isn’t the fact that it’s still going on, but that the top two candidates actually think the general population cares which one of them gets the nod. Rick Santorum won the bayou state last night, to the sound of crickets chirping. And yet, his main rival still found time to send down some clowns to cause trouble:

But Romney aides were on the job Saturday night. In Green Bay, a Romney spokesman, Ryan Williams, showed up at the bar where Santorum was holding his election-night event, to make a few disparaging comments and put the Romney campaign’s spin on events. “This is the saddest, most pathetic victory party I’ve ever seen,” an AP reporter quoted Williams saying. “Where are all the supporters?”

Not long after, Santorum campaign manager Mike Biundo asked Williams to leave, which Williams did. “I didn’t think it was appropriate,” Biundo said later. “They keep wanting to write this race off and say that it’s done, yet they keep sending surrogates to our events to spin the press.

So the guy with the lead has top advisers who refer to him as an Etch-n-Sketch, and the guy in second place continuously takes the bait from news media that want to cast him as a social conservative whack job (e.g., he actually made ridding the America of pornography a priority in a country with $16 trillion in debt). Then, each of them find lame ways to cast the other guy in a negative light and they wonder why there isn’t any enthusiasm on the right side of the fence. Bravo.

In the other corner we have President Obama, who is so politically tone deaf that he can’t even pass a bill that would create an oil pipeline. During a time of high unemployment and sky high gas prices, the guy who went around the country talking about the need for “shovel ready jobs” put his foot down on…digging a massive oil pipeline from Canada to the Gulf of Mexico. Again, Bravo.

Clowns to the left of me, clowns to the right…here I am. Americans deserve better. Or maybe they don’t, since they keep electing clowns.

Political Gatherings: Meat Markets in Disguise

Young people at CPAC get drunk and hook up dressed like the Founding Fathers. Young people at the Democratic National Convention hook up in clothes inspired by whatever foreign culture is en vogue. This season the Old Navy keffiyeh scarfs inspired by Palestinian militants will probably get you lucky well before closing time. It's just a shame more people don't experience both.

CPAC, the annual gathering of Conservatives—where beautiful women instinctively flock like the Salmon of Capistrano—just ended. I, Dr. Bizarre, go there every year, just as I plan on attending the Democratic National Convention this fall. Why? Because I love idealistic beautiful women of all political stripes. While most media cover the surface stories (e.g., What does everyone think about Rick Santorum’s chances of finishing off Romney’s campaign?), your good Dr. goes where others fear to tread. Well, I guess a few others went there:

Elise, better known by his handle “Juggler” from Neil Strauss’ notorious pickup memoir The Game, was offering advice to attendees at conservative mega-conference CPAC on how to improve their dating game. Remember that old VH1 reality show The Pickup Artist with that lanky host called “Mystery” teaching people how to insult girls then hit on them when their self esteem is shattered? This is one of his top rivals, charging upwards of $5,000 for a one-day private session…

“The problem with conservatives on dating: we’re too uptight!” he said. “Liberals have the reputation for being fun, we have to go on the date and have fun without smoking pot.” …

At the very least, the session was an opportunity to acknowledge one of the less discussed dynamics of CPAC. Unlike most conservative gatherings, which often resemble Bingo night at the retirement home, the annual conference is usually dominated by college Republicans who bus in en masse. That means the dating scene is sizzling.

Here’s the truth: political gatherings mean nothing. No one’s mind is made up at these events, because their mind is already made up well beforehand. The old people go so they can catch up (and have sex) with their old friends, and the young people go so they can have sex with new friends. At Republican conventions, well-dressed young men who can garble a few passing platitudes about free markets through a drunken stupor end up sleeping with really attractive women. At Democratic conventions, well-dressed young men who can garble a few passing platitudes about diversity sometimes get to sleep with two women at the same time (e.g., a young Rob Lowe). Libertarian gatherings? Well…I can’t say what goes on there because I have at least a modicum of decency—but I highly suggest you find out for yourself. There’s no need for a wing man if you speak English and can pronounce the name “Ron Paul.”

The moral of this story? We’d be a lot better off if we settled arguments by having sex with our political adversaries. “You want to pass H.R. Bill 2357, Nancy Pelosi? Let’s see how long you can filibuster…in bed. PS: I have a gavel in my pants.” I guarantee you Congress would get more done.

This blog was paid for by Dr. Bizarre for Congress. I approve this message.

Rick Perry Sticks Wedge Issue Where It Doesn’t Belong, Leaves America Feeling Raw.

Rick Perry’s newest ad, “Strong” is the kind of political ad that only a desperate or crazy man would run. Correction: A desperately crazy man could have made it as well. In Rick Perry’s perfect world, gay soldiers are covered in camouflage and told to shove their sexuality into a little birdhouse in their soul.

I’m not ashamed to admit that I’m a Christian, but you don’t need to be in the pew every Sunday to know there’s something wrong in this country when gays can serve openly in the military but our kids can’t openly celebrate Christmas or pray in school.  As President, I’ll end Obama’s war on religion. And I’ll fight against liberal attacks on our religious heritage. Faith made America strong. It can make her strong again. I’m Rick Perry and I approve this message. (Emphasis added.)

If someone wants to be the President of the United States of America, is it really a good idea to start dividing people before they’re even elected? Barack Obama doesn’t have a “war on religion.” Were his gay paratroopers landing in Texas and ripping Bibles from the hands of babes? If so, I didn’t see them. I also haven’t seen a lot of jobs created since Barack Obama has been in office, so perhaps the Perry campaign would have been better off talking about the things people care most about—things like putting food on the table.

Question: When that openly gay solider with his legs blown off in Afghanistan wakes up in his hospital bed and turns on the television, does he really deserve to have Rick Perry denigrating him be the first thing he hears? When Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell was repealed how many Republicans in Congress made a fuss over it? Not many. In fact, the GOP was mighty silent up on the Hill for that one. Sure, Barack Obama was busy capitulating to the Russians at the time and screwing over our allies (i.e., the New START treaty), but members of Congress certainly let it be known that they weren’t up for a spirited discussion about gays in the military.

What makes Rick Perry’s ad even worse is that he feeds into all the ugliest stereotypes of Conservative Christians. He pulls out his big fat wedge issue and rams it into parts of the American discourse where it doesn’t belong. There’s certainly the proper entry point for the cultural dialogue he seeks, but instead the Texas governor goes the route that causes the most amount of bleeding. Sure, he feels good…but it leaves the rest of us feeling raw and violated.

Get off…the stage, Rick Perry. You’re a joke.

Herman Cain Suspends Campaign. History Wonders: Playa Extraordinaire?

Herman Cain has suspended his campaign and started a new website. History is left to wonder if the allegations were ever true. I hope not, but if they are it can only mean one thing: Herman Cain is a Playa Extraordinaire.

Herman Cain has officially suspended his campaign. It’s over. And in its place is thecainsolutions.com. Since a number of accusers have popped up over the past month he’s been accused of sexual harassment, language that made a woman feel “uncomfortable” (not that hard to do, but it garnered media attention), and a 13 year affair with Ginger White.

What’s most interesting about all of these women is that, in their own right, all of them that media have looked into appear to have tinctures of nuttiness at best, and full-blown weirdness at worst (e.g., charged with stalking and sued for libel). Does that mean that Cain is the victim of a massive liberal conspiracy, as he has been known to suggest? Of course not.

I now put before you an alternative, much more likely scenario: Herman Cain is a Playa Extraordinaire. My very first post was, in fact, The Cheating Manifesto for the Unrepentant Politician, so I know a thing or two about the deviant psyche. And, while I don’t like giving away too many secrets (I need them for myself), I’ll make this exception since Herman Cain appears to dabble in the dark arts of alcohol-inspired debauchery.

• If you are going to cheat on your significant other you do NOT cheat on her with a beautiful woman. Wrong move, Private. Instead, you look for the most hideous, out-of-shape specimen you can find. If you don’t have the stomach for this, do what Herman Cain (may) have done, which is to find women who possess such qualities on a psychological level.
• If you are going to cheat on your significant other, you should be able to walk up to your wife an admit you did so—only to have her laugh in your face and continue on with whatever it was she was doing when you interrupted her. If your lie is so big and “bold” (a word Herman uses often) that no one will believe it, you’ve won half the battle. The rest mostly involves being able to live with yourself, knowing that you’re a horrible person.

Note: I do not advocate doing this. In fact, I believe that such a lifestyle is not conducive to mental, physical, or spiritual health. However, if you’re going to do it (in a free society we’re also free to be stupid), then I might as well help you minimize the damage to the surrounding community. There is a certain chivalry among liars, and one rule they live by is that when it blows up it should mostly blow up in their face, with the collateral damage only being those unfortunate enough to be standing by the blast area.

Herman Cain, if you’ve done any of things you’ve been accused of, I feel sorry for your wife Gloria. The “Playas” of the world, however, salute you.

An Interview with Mitt Romney

After years of attempts, I finally landed an interview with Mitt Romney. If you want to know why he needs pictures of himself on hand at all times, this interview is for you.

Regulars to this blog know that I  love a good interview, and this week I finally landed one with Mitt Romney. I’ve been asking him for awhile, but he’s been on the campaign trail for the past couple of decades. Kindly, he was able to squeeze me into his schedule this past weekend.

Dr. Bizarre: Thanks for sitting down with me, Governor. Bizarre readers will be in for a real treat. I was hoping you could talk a bit about your 59 point plan to get the economy going again.

Mitt Romney: Actually, we found that no one knows what the 59 point plan is; it’s not sinking in for some reason, so we’ve updated it. It’s now the 118 point plan.

Dr. Bizarre: Don’t you think it would be easier to familiarize voters with a key principles that they can then apply to any public policy proposal? It seems to me that a citizenry armed with a solid understanding of core principles is what the country needs right now, not 59, or 118, or 177 “points.”

Mitt Romney: If you go to my website you’ll see an image of the night sky. If you scroll over the shining stars there’s a description of each of my points. If you connect them all together it forms a constellation: my face. My presidential face. Check it out. I think you’ll understand better when you get there.

Dr. Bizarre: Governor, one criticism of you is that you want to be president just a little too bad, and it creeps people out. What would you say to those critics that sense a weirdly ambitious man who seems to think only he can lead us out of the malaise the country is in right now?

Mitt Romney: Do I look at myself in the mirror, imagine I’m the president, and masturbate? Sure. But who doesn’t do that? Next question.

Dr. Bizarre: What about Romneycare? It seems as though your solution for the state of Massachusetts’ health care woes was, in many ways, a blueprint for Obamacare?

Mitt Romney: My failures are isolated to the state level, whereas Barrack Obama’s are national mandates for failure. States are supposed to be public policy laboratories, and mine was.

Dr. Bizarre: So you acknowledge that Romneycare is a failure?

Mitt Romney: Do you have a picture of me in your suitcase, there? I have something…I have something… in my pants I need to take care of.

I hope my readers will forgive me for not “sticking” around for the end of the interview, especially given that when someone’s moniker is “Dr. Bizarre” they’re almost contractually obligated to do so.

I’ll leave it up to you, the reader (and voter) to determine if Romey is the guy who should win the GOP nomination.

Paul Begala Criticizing Rick Perry Like Chimp Flinging Feces at Fellow Chimp?

If you're wondering why no one trusts the media, look no further than Paul Begala: the guy who defended Bill Clinton has the nerve to question Rick Perry's ambitions.

Rick Perry has entered the race for 2012. He side-stepped Iowa, where the rest of the GOP front-runners took the bait on a ridiculously dumb question regarding tax cuts. He refused to take part in a circus show where candidates had to play nice with Ron Paul’s bleacher baboons, the kind that hoot and holler like drunken frat boys whenever he opens his mouth and says things like, oh, it’s not really that big of a deal if Iran acquires nukes… (and the scary thing is, Ron Paul’s followers aren’t even drunk!)

In a political nano-second, former Clinton adviser Paul Pegala pulled some rhetorical diarrhea from his butt and began flinging it in Perry’s direction:

Even among state representatives, even among Texas Aggies (graduates of this cute remedial school we have in Texas), Perry stood out for his modest intellectual gifts. Hell, he got a C in animal breeding. I have goats who got an A in that subject. But lack of brains has never been a hindrance in politics…

Rick Perry threw his hair in the ring on Saturday. His entrance into the GOP presidential field can be a game changer. Perry can raise money as well as Mitt. He can rally the base as well as Michele Bachmann, and he will say or do anything—annnnnnnyyyyyyything—to win. And in today’s Republican Party, if you want to be the nominee you have to be willing to do some really crazy s**t.

First of all, at least the world knows what Rick Perry’s grades were—even if they happened to be unspectacular. Maybe he spent his youth doing hard drugs—one thing Barack Obama has admitted to. The world still doesn’t know what President Obama’s grades were (perhaps they’re locked away inside a Tootsie Pop?) Regardless, the fact that Perry was smart enough to sit out Iowa shows he’s got political savvy.

The more important point is that Begala is on to something with Perry—the phony factor stink test certainly comes up positive. There’s a John Edwardsonian aura to him that’s undeniable. The perfect hair. The perfect suits. The choreographed stump-speeches he can give in his sleep all reek of a sleazy (career) politician with either something to hide or a Machiavellian mean streak a mile long.

But should Paul Begala, a guy who defended Bill “it depends on what the definition of ‘is’ is” Clinton, be the one sounding the alarm? No one listens to Paul Begala except inside-the-Beltway types who make The Daily Beast one of their morning reads before work.

Rick Perry will be thoroughly vetted by the media if he gains traction—as he should be. It’s just sad that the process takes a long time because guys like Paul Begala are on the officiating crew.

CPAC 2012: Expect Helmetless Darth Vader Everywhere, Zero Gays. Breitbart Rightly Protests.

Next year, conservatism's biggest gathering will look even more like Darth Vader without his helmet on. Why? The Darth look is in with old white guys, and gays are out with the American Conservative Union.

CPAC has announced that GoProud, the gay conservative group that was a sponsor in 2011, can now “Go Home” when conservatism’s biggest gathering rolls around in 2012. Next on the American Conservative Union’s agenda? Dismembering the three-legged conservative stool of social, national defense, and financial issues because stool legs are somewhat phallic. Andrew Breitbart, rightly, says he’ll be staying home:

Question for conservatives: Say a guy believes America’s military should be strong, in order to check rogue nations from going on the march. Say a guy believes in low taxation. Say a guy believes America is a force for good in the world, and doesn’t subscribe to the kind of claptrap that blames the freest country in the history of the planet for all the world’s ills. Now say that same guy likes to sleep on a pillow of testicles instead of a pillow of breasts at night. Is there a particular reason why he should be kicked to the curb of the conservative movement? I’d rather have a guy who believes in a strong U.S. military…and penis…than Ron Paul’s wacky conspiracy theories and isolationist ramblings.

If social conservatives have a strong argument in defense of their values and their principles, they should welcome the debate. Instead, they’re going to seal themselves in a hotel ballroom in Washington, DC with a bunch of old, crusty white people who think exactly like they do. Real smooth, guys.

Remember how just the other day the GOP was telling us how they were going to win over the youth vote in 2012? Apparently, GOP sympathizers think the animosity with which they treat gay people is positively correlated with how much they’ll resonate with young people. Good luck with that.

Dear Andrew Breitbart,

Please throw a party during CPAC. Invite liberals and conservatives and libertarians. Invite gay people and straight people and really sexually-confused people. Then invite me, because I want to chronicle all the weird and wonderful stuff that goes down that night (no pun intended).

Dr. Bizarre

On A Desert Island With Another Man, Would Pawlenty Go Gay? He Doesn’t Know.

Tim Pawlenty showed the kind of leadership America has come to expect in its presidents when asked whether or not homosexuality was behavioral or a choice (i.e., he showed none). Two straight men stranded on a desert island might cut a deal after a few months and do each other a “favor” every once-in-awhile. That’s called behavioral. The second grade kid who has a thing for all things feminine while the boys around him are rolling around in mud? That’s called genetic.

By and large the vast majority of gay people are gay because…they were born that way. Others are just adventurous or freaky or experimental. Those people are outliers. While it’s annoying that Sunday morning talk shows feel the need to concentrate on gay issues when the country is in dealing with federal deficits that will leave America an impotent mess, I can’t help but be saddened with the Republican Party if Tim Pawlenty is the best they have to offer.

And yes, Barack Obama is just as bad (remember, his position is “evolving” on gay rights). On issue after issue our elected leaders are so managed and so scripted that they can’t even give the American people some straight talk without turning to a focus group. I’d rather vote for a candidate who I vehemently disagree with 10% of the time than someone who I sorta, kinda, hope I agree with 95% of the time because he refuses to give a straight answer.

Tim Pawlenty—you’re the most boring Republican candidate out there. Congratulations on taking the opportunity to once again reinforce that image on today’s Meet the Press:

“As I understand the science, there’s no current conclusion that it’s genetic,” Pawlenty said Sunday on NBC’s “Meet the Press.”

Saying he preferred to “defer to the scientists” about the issue, the former Minnesota governor said it was unclear if being gay or lesbian was a lifestyle choice.

“There’s no scientific conclusion that it’s genetic. We don’t know that. So, we don’t know to what extent it’s behavioral,” Pawlenty said. “That’s something that has been debated by scientists for a long time.”

Guess what, Tim? Economists have debated whether Top Down policy making is a good idea for ages, but you seem to have come out swinging in favor of the supply-siders. Why can’t you be just as forceful on cultural issues? The answer is easy: because you’re the kind of white guy Eddie Murphy mocked on Saturday Night Live back when it was actually funny. You walk around with your butt cheeks clenched tight because that’s what happens to people who are perpetually nervous voters might get a taste of who they really are.

Want to make waves, T-Paw? Before your next stump speech take notes on how to talk about gay people by Eddie Murphy. You’ll never be elected again, but the video will be played for generations.

Dirty Politico Parties Revealed: Where John Kerry and Richard Nixon Make Love While Bill O’Reilly Screams “Do it Live!”

Every city has its freaks and goons. And every generation has its Studio 54, where the weird and the wild mix and mingle into things sometimes scary, sometimes sublime, and often wrong. Most people are unfamiliar with “plushies” or “furries” or entire sub-cultures fascinated by sexual acts that involve grown men and women cavorting around in animal costumes. And so, it was up to yours truly to dig deep into The American Weird to find something even stranger than stuffed animal fetishes and sex with random strangers wearing Mickey Mouse heads.

Like Travel Channel’s Anthony Bourdain, who each week searches out great food inspired by exotic locations and cultures, I am on a mission. Only my quest is fueled for a desire to find people who aren’t sustained by cuisine served in Michelin star restaurants, but by the stuff plumbed from the depths of their basest desires. For now I’ve been satiated—by the nation’s Capitol.

Where else but Washington, DC does one go for gold standard in The American Weird? It took months of fishing Dupont Circle bars, the infamous K Street, and Capitol hot spots to find a deliciously sick sub-culture only the Beltway could create—those, the “Dirty Politicos.”

In a little bar down Pennsylvania Ave, just blocks away from the Capitol South Metro station the signal my contact mentioned jumps out at me. I was to look for old campaign buttons. There’s a lanky guy at the bar with a tiny Nixon button on his jacket. There’s a heavy-set woman sitting by herself in the corner with John Kerry’s image nestled nicely between her breasts. I pulled the Barack Obama memento from my back pocket, pinned it to my chest, and moved in for the kill. Only, like one of those deep sea angler fish with the light on its forehead, I was the prey. Before I could say a word I was snatched up and led out the door with Nixon heading up the rear. I was gently pushed into a Yellow Cab, which was instructed to go to Bethesda. A hand or two paused longer than necessary on my backside.

Somewhere along the way my new-found friends had pulled a mask from their respective purse and jacket pocket. This understandably startled the cabbie. I pulled out my wallet and slid a few large bills out just enough for his furtive glances to see green and be put at ease. No one was about to go Point Break on him on that night.

Now is the time when I come clean. The reason why it was the cab driver who was startled – and not me – was because I was expecting the masks. In fact, I had been instructed to bring my own. It was all part of the dance. And so, my Barack Obama mask, bought along the National Mall just before he was elected by some drunken vendor for five bucks, was reluctantly brought out. The nervous sweat from my forehead made it slide on with ease, as if faux-presidential foreplay was old hat.

Still, silence.

We got to our desired location, paid the cabbie, and got out. After many twists and turns in subdivisions one would never suspect of housing the Dirty Politicos, we were there. My female companion (again, wearing a very-male John Kerry mask) led me inside. Like Eyes Wide Shut on a Congressional staffer’s salary, it was a party of semi and fully-naked individuals, each wearing a mask or a homemade costume of the pundits and talking heads on your favorite cable news show. Why was Bill Clinton feeling a lot more than George Bush’s pain? Why was that Sean Hannity lookalike fondling Nancy Pelosi like she was a young Nancy Reagan? Who was the drunken guy done up as Bill O’Reilly screaming “Do it live!” over and over again? Where does one go for a Helen Thomas mask, and what mental jujitsu must they play to stay erect in one? I took it all in, or at least tried to, until both Nixon and Kerry simultaneously made a move on me. Their antsy-hands were too much. I voted for perversion before I voted against it. Even with obscured vision, I was able to eye the bathroom down a long hallway, gave a quick “one moment” gesture to my admirers, and headed for the door.

Once inside I locked the door. Trapped. I was somewhere in Maryland, ways away from a metro station, and no way to escape without blowing my cover with Richard Nixon and big-boned John Kerry on estrogen. I contemplated a quick index finger down my throat. I assumed high decibel gagging from the bathroom at a Dirty Politico party would be enough to turn even the most seasoned freak off (but then again, maybe not). Before I could test out my theory, another reflex took over; I threw aside the shower curtain, which revealed a window I’d be able to climb through with a lot of effort and a little willingness break my surroundings. A few bent hinges and some cracked glass later, I was free. I was lost, but I was free. And after three hours, an ATM stop, and a lot of cash I was home. In bed. Alone. And it was good.

After speaking with my contact (who claims he hasn’t dabbled in plastic mask pervert parties, but “knows someone” who does), it appears my Dirty Politico infiltration and subsequent freak-out rattled the community. Security has been tightened, so that only the hard-core DC deviants can find their way in. As much as I enjoy a good story, I can’t help but think it’s better this way.

I relay my experience not because I have any grudge against people who are so partisan during the day that they have to act out fantasies where right and left battle-ram each other with their sex organs at night. I tell the tale because I want the reader to know that humans are weird. Really weird. So weird, in fact, that there is no way that all of this is an “accident.” Animals rummage around for food, fight each other, and mate. The human creative well runs so deep and with such force that it’s not enough to create iPads, paint The Last Supper, or direct Citizen Kane. We come up with things so far out there that they must mean…something. God exists. He’s real. And your unalienable rights come from Him. I didn’t need Richard Nixon and John Kerry with a vagina touching me in appropriate places to make me a believer, but some do. And if that’s you, welcome you to the club. Cut down on the kink, and perhaps I’ll see you on the other side.

Stay odd,

Dr. Bizarre.

Washington, DC is a lot weirder than you think. Do you want to give up your liberty to these freaks? I didn’t think so.