Nothing pisses me off as much as positive thinking. I have to admit, though, that every once in awhile, when everything seems at it’s darkest, when you feel as though God has punk’d you something fierce, you can still find a scrap of good in is an otherwise squalid situation.
For example, I recently had to give up my cable TV because I’m so poor I make the Little Match Girl look like Leona Helmsley. How I miss it! I pine away as though that idiot box were filled with people I knew who had died — everyone on HLN, my “Fashion Police,” and every robot, alien and human creature on Futurama. I miss them more than people I’ve actually met. I try watching on my laptop when the jones gets bad enough, but as a rule I end up with the empty feeling you get when you have sex with someone to get over someone else and it works for about a minute and then makes you even more keenly aware of what you’ve lost.
Then I heard a story on NPR (at least the radio still works) about the money campaigners planned to spend on TV advertising in pre-primary Iowa and, from the bottom of my well of despair, I saw a teeny little ray of consolation: without TV, I realized, I’m only getting about one one-millionth of the tidal wave of Republican presidential who-cares coverage that I would be getting if I still had it (as a Democrat, the Republican primaries are of slightly less use to me than a mustache comb). It is a tiny speck of comfort, but I’m clinging to it like a conjoined twin.
This doesn’t mean I’m entirely out of the loop or unaware of the loopy. As I write this, ferinstance, Michelle Bachman has just left the dance, Rick Santorum proved the sleeper hit of Iowa and Newt seems willing to figure out how topiggyback onto the successful Santorum, which sounds hilarious and is probably against Santorum’s moral views. As your SexFeed writer it’s my happy job to pan the river of news in order to bring you the most entertaining or important nuggets. So I see political news a-plenty, TV or no TV.
Never mind, for a minute, that what I see is often enough to make Buddha want to punch someone in the face. When you’re looking at the news through the mindset of “Yeah, but where’s the sex?” even politics can be entertaining. Flipping through the Kama Sutra recently, as we all do when waiting for a slow-loading website (what, you don’t?), I was delighted to find that a lot of the names of the sexual positions had a slightly political ring to them.
So here are some actual Kama Sutra position names, as taken from Anne Hooper’s Pocket Kama Sutra reimagined through the murky lens of a campaign year.
The Yawning Position
Stare at the ceiling while you’re partner just goes on and on forever, whispering sweet nothings that will probably amount to exactly that, pretending right up to the last second that everything is going just great then dropping out, limp and exhausted. See: “Primaries.”
The Swing
Group sex where everyone just dives in and gives it everything they’ve got. Exhausting but worth it. See: Swing state.
The Pressing Position
Saying, in the middle of a sex act, “Oh, I’m filming this by the way, is that okay?” so that it’s almost too late for the other person to withhold consent. See riders.
The Suspended Congress
When you pretend to be satisfied just so you can get some rest. See “Can’t you just get this done? It’s Christmas.”
The Supported Congress
The joy euphoria a really good erection/election can cause which turns sour after it becomes clear that there’s no way for the reality to live up to the expectation.
The Turning Position*
Doing a 180 while in the act. True, there might be mitigating circumstances, like a bug on the sheets, but it’s kind of interesting to see where you start and where you end up.
The Widely Opened Position
When you and the other party approach each other with mutual trust and you work towards the happiest conclusion for everyone concerned, more interested in serving than being served. Have no idea what this looks like in politics.
The Elephant Posture
Position doesn’t matter, as long as whoever you’re screwing is broke.
Cynical? You bet! This is what happens when I don’t get my USRDA of mayhem, alarmism and irritating commercials via the Boob Tube. I once had a friend tell me that “Sex is a misdemeanor because the more you miss, da meaner you get,” and I guess it’s also true of missing out on Dr. Who, Dr. Drew and South Park.
But if it means side-stepping all the mudslinging, sniping and endless, pointless speculation I might happily remain abstinent from getting my TV back until November 8. Or later. Maybe even in December when the world is supposed to end. “Doomsday” might be the one moment that even the biggest TV hater can’t say “A thousand channels and nothing on.” * This is the only position for which the political description actually matches the physical one.