In which I come late to the sex party

Well, I might as well mention this -- after all, everyone else is talking about it -- although, in truth, I came in late. Here's the gist: A nice lesbian couple made the trip to D.C. for a gay pride shindig. One of these ladies is a brunette who wears cute glasses. She also happens to be -- and I mention this only because it's an integral part of the story -- impressively chested.

This notable feature caught the eye of one Jack Burkman, Republican lobbyist.

by the end of the night (5 am or so), he was offering to pay for our room and give us a thousand dollars if two of us would fuck him. oh, jack burkman. his card is my DC souvenir.

The card is here.

Here's the upshot: Jack's the lobbyist for the Family Research Council, a conservative muscle group founded, in part, by James Dobson and two psychiatrists. (From what I know of Dobson, we should be glad that he has a couple of shrinks listed in his Rolodex.) The FRC leadership has ties to Gary Bauer and the bizarre Schmitz family. (One of these days I really must do a post about them -- Burkman at his worst ain't got nothin' on the Schmitz clan.) This well-connected pressure group advocates school prayer, censorship of library materials, the de-legalization of abortion and total abstinence outside marriage.

In light of what we may call "The Burkman Proposition," I should note that FRC has a rather, er, flamboyant anti-gay stance. Dobson made his first public attack on the allegedly homosexual cartoon character Spongebob Squarepants at an FRC banquet. The group condemned Disney for running a gay-friendly workplace. They've even attacked W himself, after the appointment of two gay men to administration posts -- choices which amounted to “implicit endorsement of the homosexual political agenda.” Or so sayeth the Council.

(Better not tell 'em the truth about W and Victor Ashe, college roommates and male cheerleaders. Have I ever mentioned the male cheerleader thing before?)

When I first learned of the Burkman proposition, I visited the MySpace page of the lady in question. I decided not to write about the topic, mostly because I felt some sympathy for the poor fellow. The worst mistakes of my life usually occurred when I heeded the advice of Downstairs Cannon instead of Upstairs Cannon. Besides, Burkman and I share the same appalling and unforgivable weakness for women who are, um, um, um, um, um, you know. (And by "you know," I don't mean lesbian.)

So why do I mention the matter now? Two reasons:

1. As of today, the woman in question has made her MySpace page private. She may have done so for personal reasons, which is why I will not mention her name or nick. But if she made the change because someone put pressure on her...

2. Wonkette (a role no longer played by Ana Marie Cox, or so I am told) made a fascinating catch:

Hey — any readers out there save their back issues of George magazine? There was an Ann Coulter column a number of years back about the disaster that is the Washington dating scene, and one of the illustrative anecdotes was about an unnamed Burkman.

Ann Coulter...? Mention of that name changes everything. At this point, readers should feel free to supply their own witticisms on the topic of gender confusion.