Senator Ted Cruz (R-Cancun) has penis envy – for Elizabeth Warren. I can’t believe I just wrote that sentence, but consider the Senator’s comments during a recent appearance in Nevada. “Elizabeth Warren told reporters that a guy came up to her and said, ‘I would have voted for you if only you had a penis,’” he commented, then added: “In today’s Democrat Party, how do we know she doesn’t?”
In today’s Republican Party, how do we know he does? But I digress.
“How could you possibly know?” he continued. ‘My name is Elizabeth. Call me Bob.’” Or you can call me Al. Or Sal. Or maybe Ted’s a gal. Perhaps he needs a pal. A pal named Bob who is really a gal. Or maybe not a human at all.
A mere four months ago the Senator admitted fantasizing about cartoon characters having sex. His erotic animation dream was triggered by the Disney Corporation’s opposition to Florida’s so-called “Don’t Say Gay!” bill, which incorporates censorship of information about sexual orientation and identity into an otherwise unremarkable parents’ rights bill.
“I think there are people who are misguided, trying to drive, you know, Disney stepping in saying, you know, in every episode, now they’re going to have, you know, you know, Mickey and Pluto going at it like, really?!” Cruz told his podcast audience. “Thank you for that image, Senator,” replied his podcast guest, undoubtedly checking his watch and edging toward the studio door.
Do the math: in the last four months, the Calgary native and junior senator from Texas has fantasized about Mickey Mouse copulating with Pluto (presumably dog-fashion) and Elizabeth Warren having a penis. And that’s only the part he said out loud.
Ted Cruz has issues.
But he’s not the only prominent Republican politician with a disturbing fascination with penises. Take the Arizona Republican candidate for governor, Kari Lake (please). She displayed her fascination with male genitalia during a recent appearance with Florida’s Republican Governor, Ron DeSantis.
“The guy has bigger … Wait, let me think about how I want to word this,” Lake told the audience. “My staff always says, ‘Whatever you do, do not say balls.’ So, I’m not going to say it. That guy has a backbone made of steel.”
She didn’t say what she thinks his balls are made of. Brass? Cotton?
“I’ll tell you what he’s got,” she added. “I don’t know if you’d heard of this. He’s got ‘BDE.’ Anybody know what that means? Ask your kids about it later.” In case you don’t know – and bless you if you don’t – “BDE” stands for “Big Dick Energy.”
Wouldn’t you love to be a fly on the wall when all those MAGA-loving Lake supporters ask their kids what “BDE” stands for? Family values, folks.
“I call it ‘Big DeSantis Energy.’ Right?” said Lake, pretending to be clever. “He’s got the same kind of BDE that President Trump has. And, frankly, he’s got the same kind of BDE that we want all of our elected leaders to have.” Including Elizabeth Warren?
Since Kari Lake wants to be an elected leader, she apparently aspires to “BDE” herself. Presumably, she doesn’t have a penis, although, to quote Ted Cruz, how do we know she doesn’t? How could she acquire BDE? The easy answer: she needs to borrow a penis. But, from whom? Fortunately for Lake, given the state of today’s Republican male leadership, that’s an easy problem to solve.
If Kari Lake needs to borrow a penis, she only has to travel to Bakersfield. That’s where Kevin McCarthy lives. She can borrow his; he hasn’t used it in years. But she can’t have his balls. They’re still at Mar-a-Lago.
In an already peculiar political environment, the GOP’s fascination with male genitalia is the oddest turn yet. Who knew the elephant’s trunk was a metaphor?
We have serious issues to confront in 2022. Climate change is the most critical. Here in the west, we are dealing with the worst drought in 1200 years, as well as record heat waves and wildfires. The Covid-19 pandemic still warrants attention and inflation is eating a hole in the pockets of many American families. Vladimir Putin has launched the most serious ground invasion since World War Two and Xi is recklessly rattling China’s swords. To quote Crash Davis, “We’re dealing with a lot of shit.”
Democrats believe they can retain control of Congress by emphasizing accomplishments, such as legislation addressing veterans’ health, infrastructure, semi-conductor manufacturing, drug prices and climate change; and foreign policy, including strengthening NATO and arming Ukraine. They’re telling voters, “Vote for us; we get things done.” Republicans, on the other hand, have a far simpler message:
“Vote for us; we’re bigger dicks.”
Is that a sensible campaign strategy? I dunno. Ask your kids about it later.
© 2022 by Mike Tully
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Time Bends, Then It Breaks
On January 21, 1886, Albert Tully was born in Tucson, Arizona. About a week later the first gasoline powered automobile was patented in the United States. Vancouver, British Columbia was established in April of that year. In May, Emile Berliner began work on what would eventually become the gramophone and John Pemberton began to advertise a new beverage: Coca-Cola. That fall, President Cleveland dedicated the Statue of Liberty in New York harbor and Heinrich Hertz verified the existence of electromagnetic waves.
In 1886, in the foothills of the Santa Catalina Mountains north of Tucson, a baby saguaro pushed through the soil and tasted the sun.
There were no houses, resorts or country clubs. There were cattle and cowboys and a sprinkling of ranches. There were the plants and animals of the high desert, saguaros, mesquite and Palo Verde trees, bobcats, coyotes, javelina, roadrunners, quail and rattlesnakes. On occasion, mule deer and mountain lions wandered by.
The baby saguaro was shaded by a Mesquite “nurse tree.” The giant saguaro cactus, famous for its stature and multiple arms, comes into the world as a fragile infant. Most require a nurse tree to protect them from the glaring violence of the sun and the assault of monsoon rains.
In 1900, fourteen-year-old Albert Tully got ahold of some liquor. He drank himself full of courage and rode his horse into a downtown saloon. His father, Charles Hoppin Tully – co-founder of The Arizona Daily Star – fetched him home. The saguaro, still protected by its nurse tree, was barely two inches tall.
Albert Tully passed away in late 1971. By then, the saguaro had outgrown its nurse tree and stood twenty feet above the surrounding desert. It had sprouted what would become four powerful arms, reaching for the sky. Change was taking place. Not far to the north, Skyline Country Club’s new clubhouse dominated the upper foothills. Surveyors trekked the area, platting subdivisions. Roads were bladed. Desert plants, including saguaros, were removed to make way for houses.
The saguaro silently watched the changes take place around it. Birds carved holes for their nests. The nesting holes on its southern exposure resembled a face, with two eyes and a gaping mouth. With its uplifted arms, it seemed to be shouting. Rarely has a silent object been so loud.
In 1977, a young developer named George Mehl built a house uphill from the saguaro. The home was one of several in a new subdivision known as Skyline Belair Estates. The house had a large wooden deck along its north side. The saguaro was the prominent feature in the back yard. The construction did not impact it or its mesquite tree neighbors.
But there was a danger: The County’s plans called for Skyline Drive to be extended eastward from Swan Road to Craycroft. The designated roadway was 150 feet wide, with 75 feet taken from Skyline Belair Estates and the Skyline Country Club Estates to the north. The saguaro was dangerously close to the proposed roadway.
Then came a savior: George Mehl. He and his brother, David, masterminded a foothills development that included the Westin La Paloma Resort, a golf course, commercial development, and residential areas. Sunrise Drive was extended east from Campbell Avenue to Swan. The Skyline Drive extension was no longer needed and the County abandoned the right-of-way in 1980. The saguaro was spared.
A century after Albert Tully – my grandfather — was born, we moved into the house George Mehl built. Our offer was a long shot; my law practice was young and cash flow was sporadic. But when we saw the view from the deck – a sunset view to the west and the Santa Catalina Mountains to the north – we made an offer. My realtor told me later that we were the least qualified buyers the day four offers came in, but the owner chose us because I walked the grounds with him and admired the saguaros.
A few weeks later we moved into the house with its majestic anthropomorphic saguaro that seemed to be waving to us and shouting as we settled in. During our house-warming party a pair of Great Horned Owls danced and circled in the backyard before coming to rest – on the saguaro.
We’ve lived here through many life changes. Our daughter was a toddler who left as a young woman. I was a young man when we bought the house. Kris and I lost our parents and saw beloved dogs come into our lives and leave too early. The saguaro was always there, with its waving arms and gaping mouth. But there were troubling signs.
Several years ago, as an infection was attacking saguaros in the area, our backyard saguaro began to rot at the top. Eventually, it’s upper 18 inches dried up and fell off, leaving the saguaro with a flattop. It grew an appendage that looked like a beret. But the saguaro endured, the monarch of our little kingdom.
But all was not well inside the giant. The infection that cost the monarch its crown apparently remained, slowly weakening the saguaro from within. Two weeks ago, a few days after a vicious monsoon felled our beloved Shoestring Acacia tree, the king silently fell into the surrounding desert. The ancient giant saguaro, born the same year as my grandfather, returned to the mesquite trees where it had been sheltered in its infancy long, long ago.
© 2022 by Mike Tully
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