O, karma: that cosmic equalizer, that leveler of souls, that reamer of hypocrisy.
It seems that two-term Republican U.S. Senator, Larry Craig, of Idaho, may have been trolling for anus, a lay over a layover, at the Minneapolis / St. Paul International Airport in early June, 2007.
Unfortunately, the ass of his attraction was attached to a police officer who was trolling for trollers.
I know what you're saying: What's so funny about the intersection of trolls and anuses?
To which I respond: Duh.
Also: It's even funnier if the intersecting troll is a current U.S. Senator who has repeatedly voted against any measure supporting gay rights, moralized against them, and, in general, been a dick about hate crime protections for homosexuals.
An enormous, hot, hard, throbbing dick, no doubt.
Methinks the Senator doth legislate too much. Could it be that all this time he's been a fucking asshole to gays, he's been fucking gay assholes?
It's not the first time, apparently, that Senator Craig has been the subject of serious speculation over his sexual preferences.
The Senator denies that he did anything wrong, that he accepted a misdemeanor charge out of duress.
Given his behavior in the bathroom stalls of the airport men's room, however, I have to wonder: What was he doing?
I've sat on many a public restroom toilet, and, with the exception of trying to squash the occasional rabid squirrel, I've never had reason to let my foot wander into thy squatting neighbor's holy realm, much less make Hot! Sweaty! Foot-to-Foot! contact.
You really have to reach to do that, and I have very long legs.
This is to say nothing for the hand gestures he allegedly made repeatedly under the partition, which, given the delicate nature of the business transpiring when one is perched on a toilet, represents a sacrosanct barrier among men. Women are so damn supportive and nurturing, they probably hold hands under the elevated wall and offer words of encouragement for all I know.
Regardless of whether or not Senator Craig committed a crime in the legal sense, he did act in a manner one can only label as horribly creepy.
So, now that he appears to be standing in the shards of his own glass house, I offer, as a public legal service, pro bono for the Senator, a range of possible activities that he could claim to have been entertaining on that fateful June afternoon other than cruising for anonymous buttsex.
1. Only wanted public, anonymous, gay oral sex, not public, anonymous, gay sex sex.
2. Working on his one-man, one-toilet-stall version of Stomp!, and he's taking it all the way to Broadway!
3. Checking for shoe bombs in his neighbor behind a lavatory safety shield.
4. Using the universally-accepted hand signal to ask his neighbor for a condom so that he could safely screw the female, heterosexual prostitute that he had with him in his stall.
5. Measuring the stall's dimensions to see if they were up to code to accommodate a man of his sheer moral gravitas.
6. Playing Poop Time Foot Tag, a game he remembers fondly from his childhood in Boise's wacky public restroom scene. You're it.
7. Indicating to his neighboring toilet patron that he was married; and, therefore, even thinking about having gay sex with the Senator would be illegal.
8. "Passing on a crappy piece of legislation."
9. Jerking off to this month's Hustler magazine.
10. Tapping the floor to find the hollow spot under which his forefathers buried a treasure chest brimming with gems of immeasurable value.
11. Toilets make him nervous; he was seeking out human contact, a TurdBuddy if you will, to help him through the difficult minutes ahead of him.
12. Anything but taking a crap. Never admit to that; you can't possibly get re-elected if your constituents find out you eliminate waste.
13. Doing a little speculative, "door-to-door" election canvassing; checking to see if his stall neighbor passed the "Are you from Idaho?" shoe-touching test.
14. Was reeling in delight of his ability to self-fist.
15. Was wiggling around, trying to get a reluctant turd into the toilet, hand gestures were for more toilet paper.
No... he can't self-fist... he tries, but he c...
Uhhh... never mind...
Nice weather we're having, hey?
(whistles to himself for a while)
It's funny that you mention women being supportive because a few of us were lauging about that the other day...how the "sting" wouldn't work in a women's bathroom. Women will commonly ask for toilet paper to be passed to them under the divider (yeah, they run out of toilet paper a lot in women's bathroom and you can't just get up to get more). Sometimes, you'll also see multiple feet in a stall and in funny positions, but that's when one woman is puking and kneeling and the other one is in there behind her holding back her hair and rubbing her back until she's done and feels a bit better. Unfortunately for those at the DJJD this weekend, port-a-potties just don't lend themselves to that same comraderie...
I guess men just have sex on their minds (or nether regions) more than women do. Oh, wait, I'm a woman in her 30's and I guess I do think about it pretty much all the time too (except for when I'm in the public restroom)!
Yep, would definitely not work in a women's restroom.
Men puke on their own, by the way.
I mean, by themselves, not "on other men"... though that happens too, I'm sure.
I hate it when anonymous women in my general age range admit to thinking about sex all the time, and don't even leave me their phone number or dirty internet link...
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