Matching Grant Challenge
alexPureWhen I met Alexander Cockburn, one of his first questions to me was: “Is your hate pure?” It was the question he asked most of the young writers he mentored. Cockburn’s rules on how to write political polemics: write about what you care about, write with passion, go for the throat of your enemies and never back down. His admonitions remain the guiding stylesheet for our writers at CounterPunch. Please help keep the spirit of this kind of fierce journalism alive by taking advantage of  our matching grant challenge which will DOUBLE every donation of $100 or more. Any of you out there thinking of donating $50 should know that if you donate a further $50, CounterPunch will receive an additional $100. And if you plan to send us $200 or $500 or more, he will give CounterPunch a matching $200 or $500 or more. Don’t miss the chance. Double your clout right now. Please donate. –JSC
 Day 19

Yes, these are dire political times. Many who optimistically hoped for real change have spent nearly five years under the cold downpour of political reality. Here at CounterPunch we’ve always aimed to tell it like it is, without illusions or despair. That’s why so many of you have found a refuge at CounterPunch and made us your homepage. You tell us that you love CounterPunch because the quality of the writing you find here in the original articles we offer every day and because we never flinch under fire. We appreciate the support and are prepared for the fierce battles to come.

Unlike other outfits, we don’t hit you up for money every month … or even every quarter. We ask only once a year. But when we ask, we mean it.

CounterPunch’s website is supported almost entirely by subscribers to the print edition of our magazine. We aren’t on the receiving end of six-figure grants from big foundations. George Soros doesn’t have us on retainer. We don’t sell tickets on cruise liners. We don’t clog our site with deceptive corporate ads.

The continued existence of CounterPunch depends solely on the support and dedication of our readers. We know there are a lot of you. We get thousands of emails from you every day. Our website receives millions of hits and nearly 100,000 readers each day. And we don’t charge you a dime.

Please, use our brand new secure shopping cart to make a tax-deductible donation to CounterPunch today or purchase a subscription our monthly magazine and a gift sub for someone or one of our explosive  books, including the ground-breaking Killing Trayvons. Show a little affection for subversion: consider an automated monthly donation. (We accept checks, credit cards, PayPal and cold-hard cash….)

pp1

or
cp-store

To contribute by phone you can call Becky or Deva toll free at: 1-800-840-3683

Thank you for your support,

Jeffrey, Joshua, Becky, Deva, and Nathaniel

CounterPunch
 PO Box 228, Petrolia, CA 95558

Willard the Weird

Mitt Romney’s Homosexual Panic

by JOHN ESKOW

First things first: you don’t have to be a shrink to know that no-one bullies homosexuals unless they’re tormented by their own homosexuality, active or suppressed.   Any physical attack on a “gay” man is de facto rape.  All that’s required to understand that basic fact is four years of  high school or two years in the military.  Mitt Romney’s serial “pranks,” like the gang-bang attack he led on a gay student while in prep-school at Cranston—Cranston!  how the name itself reeks of fey weakness and upper-class entitlement!—speak loudly to his own deep sexual confusion.  Who the hell seeks the help of a “champion wrestler”—gay-bells ringin’, are you listenin’—to pin the gay student to the ground while “viciously” hacking away at the helpless boy’s long blonde hair with a pair of scissors?  Who DOES such a thing?

Well, a guy like Mitt Romney, about whom a certain rapper—who bears a striking resemblance to myself–wrote this verse: “You don’t think I’m hard, I’m’a show you the proof—I put the muthafuckin’ dog on the damn car roof!  You think my sons are weird, I’ll tell ya why that’s true—I stuck their little bitty asses on the car roof too!”  In any case, a deeply sick man.

Romney’s obvious attempt to “castrate” Jonathan Tauber, the gay student, haunted the poor man for the rest of his life.  But Romney claims not to even remember it—denial, anyone?  Then, in classic Romney style, he makes his original lie exponentially worse for himself by amping it up with a second, even more laughable lie:  “I certainly don’t believe that I thought the fellow was homosexual. That was the furthest thing from our minds back in the 1960s, so that was not the case…”

Lie.  Stone lie.  I’m not that much younger than Mitt Romney, and I can testify that, like teenagers since the beginning of time—or, as Romney would say, for 6,000 years—we had powerful hunches about which of our peers was gay.  No doubt most of those guesses were hilariously wrong.  But in rural New York, we definitely would’ve pegged a certain Willard “Mitt” Romney as a “faggot,” to use the offensive parlance of the day.  And, to this day,  Romney speaks in a prissy, dare I say tight-assed, way; he wears mommy-jeans, with “magic underwear” beneath them, and folds back his shirtsleeves with a fussy precision; he spends hours at the hairdresser dyeing his stylized locks; he seems wildly uneasy in the presence of his wife; he doesn’t like sports, only the owners of sports-teams; and…his name is Willard.

And of course as soon as the world saw that he’d hired a gay man as a policy advisor he insisted on firing him, lest…lest what, exactly?

Whatever Mitt Romney’s true sexual orientation, America is prepared to accept him for who he is.  But first he needs to make peace with himself–and stop trivializing his attacks on gays  by calling them “pranks.”  Once he’s done that, we can all move on.

And then we’ll get to the subject of Michelle Bachman’s husband.

John Eskow is a writer and musician. He wrote or co-wrote the movies Air America, The Mask of Zorro, and Pink Cadillac, as well as the novel Smokestack Lightning. He can be reached at: johneskow@yahoo.com