Life’s been a ball this week. There was the Met Gala ball with AOC’s “Tax the Rich” ballgown, and #Ballgate with Nicki Minaj’s cousin’s vaccinated friend’s swollen balls. We also had Brett’s Balls virtually in our face (again!), when Crybaby Kavanaugh and four of his fellow Right-Wing Supremes voted to let the Texas Taliban practically outlaw abortion, at which point, he personally received enough popular blowback to make him go crying (again!) into the empathetic arms of Congress and the Bezos Post.
It’s also Self-Love September (SLS), which is good for the bollocks, as well as the female or gender-fluid equivalent. A couple weeks ago, we celebrated Labia Day, so it’s only fair and bonoboësque to honor the boys too. Though, according to the Internet, SLS is more about lofty ideals of self-improvement than the earthy reality of self-pleasure. This may be because it’s only been around a few years (in contrast, May as Masturbation Month goes back to 1994), or because promoting solo sex benefits is still (rather absurdly) taboo.
Of course, “self-love” means different things, from hiking to volunteer work to baking yourself an “I Love Me” cake. However, in this not-so-humble sexologist’s opinion, if a little quality masturbation time (which could include the mutual kind), isn’t part of self-love, well, you’re just not fully loving yourself.
Brett’s Balls
If you need inspiration, as well as a little background on Bretty the Bully’s much-deserved blowback, this week’s throwback is our “Self-Love September Climax 2018: Bosom Ballet, Incel Orgasm & Lying Crying Kavanaugh.” Yes, exactly three years ago, the world was treated to a Great American Showdown, the WWE of Supreme Court Confirmations, #MeToo vs. the Repugnican Frat House, broadcast live from the Senate chambers. In one corner of the ring, we had Christine Blasey Ford credibly recalling a teenage drunk Brett Kavanaugh clumsily trying to, as they say, “ball” her after a house party. In the other corner was our future Supreme Court Justice Brett “Crybaby” Kavanaugh, bawling (about balling!) like a spoiled brat whose silver spoon had been momentarily removed from his blubbering mouth. This performance alone should have disqualified him from getting a job as a substitute kindergarten teacher, let alone a permanent seat on America’s highest court.
However, like most professional wrestling matches, it was really no contest at all. Though most of the distinguished Senatorsseemed to be impressed by Ford and disgusted by Kavanaugh, and even the Trumpus professed to despise crybabies, it simply didn’t matter, not to tRump who stood by his crybaby, nor to the captains of capitalism nor their handmaids in the Senate, including Susan Collins of Maine. The supposedly pro-choice Collins assured Maine and America that Lying Crying Kavanaughwouldn’t let down American women on the “settled law” of Roe vs. Wade when she confirmed him… and now she opposes a Democratic bill to prohibit states from enacting restrictions on abortion.
In any case, the Senators did not even hear about two other sexual assault allegations, including that one from Deborah Ramirez, who claimed that Kavanaugh sexually harassed her in the 1980s when he was a member of DKE (Delta Kappa Epsilon Fraternity). Back in the 1960s, another amoral, bullying, corporate-shilling scion of American privilege by the name of George W. Bush was branding new recruits with a lit cigarette when he was DKE president (developing a taste for torture he later expressed in Guantanamo and Abu Ghraib, with the blessing of lawyers like Kavanaugh). In the 2000s, DKE attained infamy when members marched around Yale’s Women’s Center chanting: “No means Yes! Yes means Anal!”
You think that takes balls? Well, Deborah’s description of Brett’s harassment involved her getting up from the floor at a DKE drinking party to find the Kavanaugh Crown Jewels (nonconsensually) in her face.
And now they’re (metaphorically) in ours.
Though some fellow Yalies could have corroborated Deborah’s forced teabagging tale, no Senators even heard it, unless they happened to read the New Yorker piece, co-written by Jane Mayer (proving at least some of my Yale classmates are cool). Turns out there was a lot more those Senators didn’t hear about, and neither did we.
Yet it wasn’t until this week of balls that the ball dropped on the FBI’s Kavanaugh investigation which was really no investigation at all. This was one of those *secrets that everybody knew,* like Saddam not having WMD. However, the other day, it became official: our fabulous FBI didn’t interview anyone about Brett Kavanaugh. They just slept on it—or through it—and passed all of the thousands of tips and bits of information they received onto “White House counsel,” which meant tRump, which meant straight into the shredder. For this, and so many other reasons, U.S. Supreme Court Justice Brett Kavanaugh should never have been confirmed.
But he was, and now here we are, with the Texas Taliban rolling like a lit cannonball into our bedrooms. Christine Blasey Ford let us know that for a few awful moments several decades ago, Brett Kavanaugh took away her freedom of choice. Now this religious rapist crybaby is doing that to all of us, taking away a pregnant person’s freedom of choice.
So, Americans of conscience have been going BALListic, protesting on social media, signing petitions to impeach Kavanaughand seeking to subvert the Texas Taliban, as well as the coming deluge of states clamoring to satisfy their panting fundamentalist lust to turn pregnant humans into, as George Carlin so aptly put it, “brood mares for the state.”
About fifty of these Americans expressed their disapproval by protesting in front of Justice Kavanaugh’s house. It appears to have been a nice peaceful protest put on by ShutDownDC, and surrounded by police. Videos show the lights are on, but no one’s home; the Kavanaugh Family wasn’t even there. Apparently, the neighbors approved and, as the protestors paraded down the well-manicured Chevy Chase, Maryland street, some of those neighbors even applauded.
However, the entire bi-partisan Washington elite—from Senators in both parties to the MSM—freaked out like they’d each been raped, robbed or someone snatched their powdered wigs. Influencers even murmured about it being, combined with the 2018 anti-Kavanaugh protests, the left-wing version of the January 6th Insurrection. All this bawling hysteria because a few officials and fake journos—aka Da Rich—are nervous that some irate citizens—aka Da Mob—might possibly block their 400-foot driveway or cross the alligator moat to their McMansion.
Well, what do they expect? Despite popular disapproval, these Senators, with the help of the media, put this unqualified, malevolent misogynist on the Supreme Court forever. We can’t vote him out. Therefore, Americans are peacefully protesting in front of his house, just as they do in front of politicians’ houses all over the country. The Bezos Post has some balls (Blue Origin blue balls?) to whine about this, especially considering the boss’ own penis pics are floating around somewhere out there, and I don’t mean his billionaire dick in space. It would be funny to note that Bezos’ and other billionaires’ concerns for protecting their own personal cojones—and property—is what’s animating this righteous indignation over Bawling Brett’s sacred sidewalk, if it weren’t so disturbing.
No matter how self-loving you are, it must be torture to hear your fellow Americans calling for your impeachment right on the street where you live. But then Kavanaugh helped make torture cool for the Bush Administration. So, the ball’s in his court now.
I’m sure the protestors feel his pain. As one tweet put it: “As soon as you leave my body alone, I’ll leave you alone.”
“Packing” is a term for artificial stuffing a man’s pants to make his “package” (balls included) look bigger. While insecurity is usually the impetus to pack one’s pants, “packing” the courts would be a sign of strength for the often impotent Democrats. In other words, Biden should have the balls to pack the courts!
Can a Democratic Socialist be the Belle of the Ball?
One of the Dems that supports court-packing is New York Congresswoman and self-described Democratic Socialist, Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez (AOC), a charismatic rising star in what’s considered the progressive wing of the Democratic Party.
This brings us back to the ball at the Met, with tickets going for $30,000 each, the proceeds earmarked for the Metropolitan Museum of Art’s Costume Institute, though certain stars, ball players and politicians (like AOC) are invited free of charge.
So, there she was, Cinderella at the Ball, wearing a snow-white ballgown with “Tax the Rich” streaked in bright, blood-red strokes artfully across her buns.
She looked great. She could have looked better, in my unexpert opinion, if she’d worn her hair down, but all in all, she was the Democratic Socialist Belle of the (otherwise rather boring) Ball.
As soon as the photos emerged, pundits on the right and the left began to denounce her, some saying she was inappropriately socialist, and others that she wasn’t socialist enough, or that her attending such a glamorous event was self-serving, and wearing “Tax the Rich” among The Rich was hypocritical and “performative.” One of my favorite journalists even complained that she looked like she was “enjoying” herself. Mon Dieu!
If AOC were the Mother Theresa of America that some want her to be, or even Katie Porter, she’d have given her ticket to the designer, Aurora James (one of very few Black designers represented at the Met this year), and arranged for her to wear the dress. Though that might be against the rules or James’ wishes.
AOC also could have made a scene, like brave antiwar activist, Iraq veteran and true American hero, Mike Prysner (whom we met with his partner Abby Martin when she was on DrSuzy.Tv), who recently interrupted George W. Bush’s speech before a polite Southern California “Distinguished Speaker Series” audience, shouting that this miserable war criminal should “apologize” for his “lies” and the deaths they have caused, including over a million Iraqis. Even as he was booed by the blue-nosed crowd and roughly hustled away by security, Mike kept shouting, “When will you apologize?” Check it out and #GoBonobos for Mike Prysner!
However, not everyone has Mike’s balls of steel, and that doesn’t mean they shouldn’t protest injustice in their own way. AOC is a sexy, sexual, slightly exhibitionistic politician who was invited to a well-watched ball (like many Congresspeople, though the others prefer to stay on the sidelines), and she wore a dress emblazoned with a progressive protest slogan. Remind me again, why shouldn’t she do this?
No offense, but most of her detractors sound spiteful, jealous, petty and/or sexist when they judge AOC because of her dress. I say, judge her for not helping Joe Biden find the balls to pack the courts. Judge her for not fighting hard enough for Medicare-for-All or student loan forgiveness. Judge her for not coming out forcefully against the U.S. military’s terrible “pivot” to China or it’s obese budget and constant, tragic, “performative” use of drones.
But her dress? Really? I don’t see these AOC wardrobe critics criticizing any dudes (Roger Stone notwithstanding) for the dumb outfits they wear to glitzy fundraisers. Would you rather Cinderella stay at home scrubbing the bidet while the oligarchy dances on undisturbed by her challenging, if imperfectly “performative” presence?
Though Emma Goldman probably didn’t utter the snappy phrase she’s most famous for, “If I can’t dance, I don’t want your revolution,” she did enjoy a good ball and was criticized for it by her fellow, more serious anarchists. She told them to lighten up or take their insurgency elsewhere.
As for the message, “Tax the Rich,” maybe it’s not the most revolutionary; moreover, it doesn’t specify that these taxes should not support the military, prisons, ICE, the Wall or other nefarious American taxpayer-funded projects. Still, it’s a good, simple slogan to flash before the fashionistas ogling the frills. Indeed, AOC’s little act of performative exhibitionism got #TaxtheRich and #EattheRich trending on Twitter, which is better than JLo’s Ralph Lauren Cowgirl hat (though it is a nice hat), not to mention Melania’s 2018 jacket, “I really don’t care, do U?”
No, “Tax the Rich” is not enough. We really need to “Fuck Da Rich” (which is why it’s the name of my show), and that’s the ballgown I would have worn. It’s also one reason I wasn’t at the Met Gala, and AOC was, so I was happy to see her wear “Tax the Rich,” because we really need to start somewhere, and fast.
For instance, many of our Reddit listeners liked AOC’s ballgown, and they generally loathe socialism, so this is one way to get them to say, “Tax the Rich” with a smile on their face. One preferred Cara Delivingne’s “Peg the Patriarchy” bib (I’m not disagreeing), and another said they would have worn a ballgag to the ball. That reminded me of one of my bondage-loving sex therapy clients who likes to wear a ballgag under his facemask to make masking up more fun, which is pretty important where he lives in Tennessee, this ball of a week’s top American state for Covid-19 outbreaks.
Nicki Minaj Stars in “Ballgate”
Which brings us to #Ballgate. A big reason to get all gussied up for the ball we call the Met Gala is for the PR, but it turns out you can get as much PR for not going as going, at least if you’re Nicki Minaj. It all started with the Rap Queen from Queens tweeting that she would not be attending the Ball because the Met requires vaccination. She also tweeted that her Trinidadian cousin’s vaccinated friend had become impotent with swollen testicles, whereupon his fiancé dumped him.
One can just imagine this poor dude down in the Caribbean languishing on a hammock, his painfully tender pudenda busting through his swim trunks, as he cries like a Kavanaugh, mourning the loss of his girlfriend who so heartlessly rejected him over the vaccine’s effect on his innocent, inflamed testes.
Goodness, Gracious, Great Balls of Fire!
Twitter went nuts (so to speak). Among other eminently sensible pro-vaxxers who tried to drop-kick Nicki for spreading anti-vax falsehoods, Joy Reid stepped up to the plate but fumbled the ball when she greased it with sanctimony. Playing a whole different ball game, Queen Barbie clapped back at her accusers, saying she’d previously tweeted she was planning to get vaccinated for her tour, but not for the Ball. As #Ballgate snowballed, much confusion ensued over whose court the ball was in, whether or not the White House was inviting Ms. Minaj for a visit, and which “Legally Blonde” pink suit she might wear. Joining the ball game, Fox fiction storyteller Tucker Carlson and #MeToo activist Rose McGowan defended the Rap Queen’s honor, and a few of her over 22 million followers protested in person against what they considered to be her mistreatment. No “Tax the Rich” ballgowns were worn.
Meanwhile, less ardent followers wondered if perhaps Nicki’s cousin’s friend’s swollen balls were a symptom of a sexually transmitted disease (STD), which also might explain his fiancé dumping him, since it would have been proof the dude cheatedon her. Then again, maybe the poor guy has testicular cancer, or ate some bad pholourie. Or perhaps it’s just one of those tall tales from Trinidad.
This meant that even Trinidad & Tobago Health Minister Terrence Deyalsingh, looking rather weary and very embarrassed, weighed in to confirm that “swollen testicles” are not a side effect of the Covid-19 vaccine. Apparently, his team had searched scrotums all over Trinidad, pulling down covers, pants and underwear, commanding all vaccinated Trinidadian males to unzip and show their stuff for the sake of science and vax-skeptical fans of Nicki Minaj.
Sorry Dr. Deyalsingh, but this is what it means to be a health official in 2021, so chin up and let’s talk nuts.
After all, as we speak, men of all ages from Trinidad to Tasmania are now clutching their balls, refusing to get the jab out of fear for their future offspring. Some are even saying their balls are now swelling like melons after ingesting vaccine-laced salad dressing, that tip thanks to former Defense Intelligence Chief Michael Flynn.
As for Nicky, she’s the one who named her little dust-up #BallGate because, vax or no-vax, she is a businesswoman with an ear for turning Twitter lemons into PR Lemonade. Barbz says Twitter censored her, though they deny it, and her account has never been shut down. Of course, she has the right to free speech, and people who disagree—like me—can counter her Tall Trinidadian Tales with science. Best to try to present that science artfully, not sanctimoniously, or a good rapper like Nicki, even if she’s wrong, will as soon bust your balls as bust a rhyme.
My favorite response to #Ballgate is from “Doctor Rapper” Raven Baxter, aka Raven the Science Maven, who raps about why vaccines work in a catchier, friendlier, more effective manner than any lecture or Charlie Brown ball-kick that lands you flat on your back with Lucy twirling that slippery ball of truth.
Balls to the Wall
It’s one thing to miss a ball kick, and it’s quite another to miss a drone strike, murdering nine Afghan civilians, which—talk about “performative”—was done purely to satisfy American bloodlust after the awful ISIS-K attack and which, the U.S. military just acknowledged as a “tragic mistake.” That’s no consolation, but let’s hope this acknowledgment is a step to stop the droning.
For Self-Love September, let’s support playing with our balls, not our drones. Could be basketballs, baseballs, footballs, ping pong balls, bocci balls or, you know…
That funny word “testicles” comes from the same root as the word “testify,” the Latin testiculus, the diminutive of which is testis, meaning “witness” (from Ch. 5 of The Bonobo Way: “Erotic Politics & Bonobo Economics”). So, a guy’s junk is his “little witness” or, for some (like Nicki’s cousin’s friend), the star witness in the trial of his life.
Back in Old Testament days, when our forefathers swore an oath, they didn’t put their hand on the Bible because these were Bible times, and the Bible hadn’t been written yet; they put their hand on their testicles, i.e., they swore by their family jewels. The Bible coyly calls this part of the male body the “thigh,” as in Genesis 24:2 when Abraham tells Eliezer to “put thy hand under my thigh and I will make thee swear…” Whereupon Eliezer cups Abe’s patriarchal sac of tiny future Israelites and testifies. Don’t try this in court, but do consider it for what it is: a Biblical bonobo handshake.
Can I get a witness?
The FBI certainly couldn’t—or just didn’t—get any witnesses in Kavanaugh’s confirmation, even though they had thousands of tips and potential witnesses, offering to prove this misogynistic frat boy crybaby’s unfitness for office.
Was this a “tragic mistake” or just a case of swollen balls?
And the D.C. elite wonders why Americans are taking to the street holding signs and shouting slogans outside Brett Balls-in-Your-Face Kavanaugh’s house.
A little bonoboësque ball-busting is nothing but good for that bully.