I don't engage in sexual politics, as a rule, but I won't deny that it pleases me that among the studs plugging my hole of late, is this hardworking guy with two kids, drives for Lyft and satisfies tricks on the side. And no, I didn't go on the prowl looking for a Muslim guy to fuck me, nor was I trying to make a point. The fact is that he'd been taking care of me way before Donald Trump dropped his pants and churned up the pent-up resentment of menopausal white men Republicans and the girls who want to be like them. However, like I said...my sex life won't take a political slant, but I'm so happy that Islamic seed has coated the walls of my own love canal...just too fine...better than ever thanks to Trump. Sometimes sex takes on an unexpected significance.
Back in the day when Vietnam was changing people's lives and not for the better, people fucked for peace. That's what they themselves said, as I recall. The symbolism eluded me at the time, being too young to understand what were customarily dismissed as longhaired hippie weirdos, but people 'fucked for peace.' Well, I'm fucking Muslims for peace. And a fair shake. Donald, pull your pants back up. Please...before your hotels, and all the nice people who work at them, go to hell.
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