by Evert Cilliers aka Adam Ash
So Petraeus stuck his beef bayonet up Paula Broadwell's sugar trench. These two 6-minute milers probably did the marathon in bed, ending with Olympic orgasms.
Can't people bump their uglies anymore? Why is cheating on your spouse a fireable offense? A career-destroying transgression? What's wrong with our country? Soon gay marriage is going to be legal all over, and we'll all be lighting joints in the street — thank heaven — but hey, when it comes to banging someone you lust after, and who lusts after you, you can't do that, because otherwise you can't be the head of the CIA.
Bill Clinton stuck his cigar in Monica's honeypot, and they tried to impeach him for that, but America didn't give a damn, and he wasn't impeached. You'd think that would show us the way. You'd think that if it's OK for the president to splooge his manbutter on an intern's dress, it would be OK for anyone to go pagan outside their Christian marriage and keep their job.
Like they do in France — where they are somewhat more affable about human nature than we are. There they think a person's private life is their private life, and more important than their public work. Here in America, we think work is something sacred; not even the basic human drive of sex should interfere with our notion of the sanctity of work. Work is holy, sex is dirty. Heaven forbid filthy fun should enter the citadel of serious work. Our work-life balance is so out of whack, we prioritize work over life itself. It's high time our Puritan work ethic went the way of the typewriter and the vaginal condom. In anyone's life, it's just as important for you to trade your bodily fluids as it is for you to render some sterling service to the public. You should be free to do both to your heart's content. Bill Clinton managed that superbly: conducting an important phone call of great national interest while being blown by Monica exemplifies the perfect balance of life and work.
I don't care if Petraeus pursues intense carnal knowledge of the entire neighborhood, including his dog. What does that have to do with his job? Heck, after a good bonk, you probably do your job better. There's nothing like a satisfying night in bed to set you up for a satisfying day in the office.
National security concerns my ass. It's not like he was diddling a Soviet spy. Blackmail? Give me a break. You try blackmailing someone in the CIA, you'll get a drone up your butt, if you're lucky enough to escape having your gonads hooked up to a generator.
Let there be sex, ferchrissake. Stop this prudishness. It's nobody business but Petraeus and his wife's, and Broadwell and her husband's, who they choose to swive outside their marriages.
People aren't swans, ferchrissake. We're not monogamous. We're naturally polyamorous. High achievers have high sex drives, so they are going to do the two-backed beast with more than one beast. Where do you think we will ever find strong leaders without strong libidos? Nowhere: such a creature is scarcer than a sexual organ on a tomato.
The noblest American of the twentieth century, Dr Martin Luther King, was a great swordsman. He did the wild thing outside his marriage like a hamster on heat. Did that stop him from being successful at getting Civil Rights for his people? Did that compromise his achievements? JFK slicked his shlong up every snatch within smelling distance. And I bet Bill Clinton hasn't stopped dipping his willy wherever and whenever a willing hoohah presents itself.
We've got the first bisexual woman in Congress; when will we have the first polyamorous president? When that happens, we'll know that the culture wars are truly over, and that the free-loving 60s have become our social tradition, as it should be.
No one should lose their job because of who they do the nasty with. Extramarital sex is a matter of discussion for the marital partners involved. No one else. We should stop sticking our noses in other people's business, and concentrate on sticking our sexual organs in there instead.