Whatever happened to dignity and decorum?
I'm very proud to be British today. Or, to be more accurate, I'm proud NOT to be an American. Watching the recent puerile antics of GOP Republican presidential candidates, if I were American I'd swallow arsenic, crawl into a hole and happily die in agony. The inane utterances and general craziness spilling from the lips of Republicans is beyond embarrassing. I realize that boys will be boys but there's a time and place for locker room banter, toilet humor and pee-pee jokes.
However, that time and place is not during a presidential election while the whole world is watching. The ongoing spat between the GOP presidential candidates is painful to watch. Marco Rubio—gone but not forgotten—Ted Cruz and Donald Trump: That triumvirate of bloated windbags has made reference to penis size, and Cruz and Trump are trashing each other's wives for being whores.
Call me old-fashioned, call me a stick in the mud, but I don't like waking up to the morning news, only to be forced into visualizing the private parts of these unattractive men and their phony plasticized wives-for-hire. I don't want to think about Donald Trump's crumpled button mushroom, Ted Cruz in bed with five different women, Heidi Cruz giving a john a $10 hand job up a back alley, or stare down Melania Trump's fake cleavage or at her facelifts that make her look like Sam the Eagle from the Muppets. I feel like I should be offering her a grape to reward her squawks of "Pretty Melania, pretty Melania." I don't want to think about the contents of their undergarments or what they do in their private moments.
More and more GOP politicians and wannabes are turning into Muppets, Trump's tantrums closely resembling those of the egoist Miss Piggy. I can hear Trump quoting her: "I would like everyone to take a moment, just a single moment out of your busy day, to think about how lucky you are to know me." I find the lives of these greasy swine—these omnivorous, even-toed ungulates—to be repulsive.
Other world leaders don't talk in this manner. The chancellor of Germany, Angela Merkel, doesn't talk about her penis, and Israel's Benjamin Netanyahu talk about her penis, either. In fact, nobody talks about Angela Merkel's penis. That's just the way I like it! Ronald Reagan, for all his failings, never talked about his genitals in public, or Nancy's for that matter, and Barbara Bush never posed in a catsuit and stilettos on a tiger fur rug like Melania. The positioning of Ms. Bush's nipples was a mystery to us all. I never thought about them once. Nothing was further from my mind.
I'm ignoring the fact that the Republican presidential candidates are all women-hating, fag-bashing, racist Neo-Nazis—as are all of their supporters, including Bruce Willis, Kid Rock, former KKK grand wizard David Duke and "Woman of the Year" Caitlyn Jenner. I'm just focusing on their lack of dignity and decorum. When did it become OK to put the spotlight on a politician's private parts?
I'll tell you when. Dignity and decorum left the building in 1998 with the Monica Lewinski scandal. "I did not have sex with that woman," Linda Tripp, Kenneth Starr and the blue dress, complete with sordid details, were dragged out of the bedroom and into the sunlight by the GOP to embarrass Bill Clinton. The Lewinsky scandal opened a can of worms (or was it a bag of dicks?) that I, for one, wish had been left tightly closed shut.
