By the Comics Curmudgeon
Well, if Prince is singing about AIG or something, then the recession must officially be sexy! It all makes sense, really: most pastimes Americans have up to this point enjoyed involve spending gobs of money ultimately derived from home equity lines of credit — with the sexy exception of sex, which is often “free,” and can take place in foreclosed condos and hobo shantytowns.
And how can we expect bored, horny Americans to keep their hands off of each other when America’s national leaders are on the teevee saying giggle-worthy things like “stimulus package,” all the time? This week, our political cartoonists offer a glimpse of the post-apocalyptic fuckfest that our nation will soon become.
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Check these sexy ladies out! With their lime-green suit jackets and slathered-on makeup, they’re on the prowl! It’s a good thing the management is selling morning-after pills from the gumball machine at this singles bar, because these chicks are ready to fuck and eager to control their reproductive systems! And that’s why they’ve come to the hottest singles scene in whatever terrible exurb they live in. Yes, the bright lighting, the pastel colors, the potted plants, the professionally framed art-like paintings, the wainscoting — it all screams “decade-old Olive Garden showing its age” or “Holiday Inn Express lobby,” which obviously gets everyone’s juices flowing for some hot, drunken, unprotected intercourse, for the express purpose of creating tiny fertilized eggs that you can then prevent from implanting onto your uterine walls without a doctor’s permission! Are you turned on yet?
But whereas those zygote-murdering strumpets can engage in their rampant sluttery in the harsh light of day (or the harshly flourescently lit light of night), our nation’s gays must still arrange their couplings with subtlety and discretion. Here we see the lead-in to a typical man-on-man hook-up. Gay #1 (a Catholic priest in a clerical collar, natch), having spotted a comely lad, stands around in front of one of his city’s dozens of failed banks, a sassy hand on one hip, shouting, “Hell, I’ll buy,” to nobody in particular. Gay #2, resplendent in his mom jeans, carefully assesses Father O’Likesmen’s buttocks. Is he interested in selling something that the good pastor might want to buy? The poignant scene leaves us wondering just how this will turn out. (The priest is carrying a bag nonsensically labeled “Monopoly money”; this will be used later, for erotic asphyxiation.)
And it’s not just humans who are getting in on the fuckfest action. Why, just imagine if stem cells were conservative, and could talk! They’d probably romance each other and have stem-sex, next to a potted plant! (What is it with these people and the potted plants? Is this some sick fetish I’m unaware of?) Anyway, these two stem cells are named “Barb” and “Jim-Bob,” and they’re obviously in the opening stages of sexy romance. You can tell they’re conservative because they’re actually exchanging names rather than just having sex right there on the chairs, like the liberals do; they won’t actually have the stem-cell equivalent of intercourse until the third date, after they’ve pretended that they might get married, someday. Hooray for Jesus! No, seriously, I would be very grateful if someone could explain to me what the fuck this cartoon is supposed to be about.
But you know, sometimes, love and sex can go sour! Say, for instance, you’re a tiny Mexico-dwarf, who’s been involved in some kinky, drug-fueled relationship with an older, richer, larger, flamboyantly dressed man. Then one day, he gets tired of you “sneaking over his southern border,” if you know what I mean, and his love turns to violence! Where will you run to? Into the arms of Canada, of course! Sure, Canada might not be very flashy — it doesn’t even have some hilarious caricatured outfit, settling instead for a bland suit — but it will always be there for you, no matter what. Canada will take anybody’s sloppy seconds.
If your relationship has true drama — if, for instance, it involves a sexy younger liberal black man and an older conservative white man — its flameout could at least provide violent entertainment for fans of trashy daytime TV. Ha ha, look, the one dude is going to hit the other one with a chair! Now here is the problem with this cartoon: it is attempting to claim that Barack Obama is cheapening the presidency or some such with constant TV pandering. But surely a significant portion of the country would gladly tune in to any show in which the president attempted to bludgeon Dick Cheney with a piece of furniture, or, as appears to be the case here, merely threatened to do so in order to induce a massive heart attack.
After the taping, Obama and his new boyfriend Tim Geithner planned to spend a quiet evening alone, but then they were lynched by an angry mob of drunken furries, the end.