Last night at dinner, somehow, democrat James Carville’s marriage to Mary Matalin, Republican lobbyist, came up, and while I will admit that it was definitely a strange choice of words on the part of my mother to describe this relationship as “a little incestuous,” which she later had to recant because it’s really not incestuous at all, but the real fucking mind-blower was when my brother took umbrage with my mother’s account and then took it upon himself to come up with an apt description of this unlikely pairing of polar opposites by saying “no, it’s like digging a hole to China and having sex with someone there.”
Dear Brother #3116, what the fuck?
Love, Worker #3116
Anyhow, that stopped the conversation right in its tracks, if you can imagine, because I don’t think anyone in my family had ever heard my brother even say the word “sex”, much less use it in a metaphor as if he knew what he was talking about. This, of course, was the sensationalist’s view, because much more important than my brother’s invocation of sex was his totally incomprehensible use of it in a metaphor that I can only describe as “super duper cuckoo crazy pants.”