The dream opens on another happy meeting of the Public Infidelity Re-enactment Society: politicians who have been caught taking the dick for an extra-marital outing. They are accompanied by those goddesses of Stand-By-Your-Man political expediency, their wives. The particularly industrious truffle pigs who make up the press smell something dank and tasty and are quivering in anticipation.

Cilda Spitzer and Hillary Clinton seem to have been appointed, in a bizarre process that one can only fondly imagine, as spokespersons for the women.

Hillary steps up to the dais and speaks: "LIBIDO has once again reared its ugly, one-eyed head! From puberty, when a fly landing upon the unfortunate organ could presumably cause an erection, until death removes all temptation (old age no longer being a bar thanks to those little pills), the phallus and its demands can shrink the reasoning part of the brain to the size of a bean. Wisdom, judgment, the shining future itself, all of these are trampled under its demands.

"Women (the weaker vessel?) were charged with foiling LIBIDO by planting the flag of purity squarely in its path, whether it be under those junior-high bleachers or in the back-seats of Buicks. Those who failed in this task got their just desserts. ("Pssst! did you hear about Maureen? She got herself in trouble!" A perplexing euphemism which begs the question: do these miracles of parthenogenesis take away luster from the Virgin Mary's feat?) But where is the punishment for those harpies of harlotry who have brought our men down?"

Cilda Spitzer takes Hillary's place: "To spare those present and the American people any more killingly awful parodies of remorse, the Loyal Wives Club proposes to mete out its own brand of justice." Monica Lewinsky and the upper-case "Call Girl" whore favored by Spitzer, as well as several other bimbettes, are brought forward. "These women will be sent out among you to poopy-scoop after your pets for the rest of their lives. Please feel free to request that they stick a broomstick up their asses and sweep the floor while they're at it. You may wish to throw a milk-bone their way from time to time, but do not leave them alone with your children. Do not turn your back on them--think how silly you'd look with a knife in it. These women do to "sisterhood" what Kraft does to cheese."

The media has its concerns: "Surely this could be potentially disastrous to America's pet owners? Why not just give them smallpox blankets?" (You see, when you tear away the mask of glamour, the press are simply concerned citizens like us.)

Another Fifth Estate member inquires: "What of the men who have cheated? Are these snot-buckets to be given a free pass?"

The assembled wives stop and turn back for a moment. "Yes," they reply. "Now excuse us, we need to boil ourselves in Clorox and burn our clothes."

AMATEUR HOUR INTERPRETATION

I have lived long enough to witness a black man elected President, and one can only hope that he has never taken his dick out and stuffed it in anyone's ear. I anticipate a feeding frenzy of press attention focused on the grubbiest of minutiae of the Obamas' lives. Not to offend Calvinists Against Cocksucking or any other grass-roots group, but the hows, whos, whens and wheres of getting one's knob polished should be no one's business but the possessor of said knob.

LATE-BREAKING NEWS

In January 2009, after CNN solemnly reported on what the Obama girls had eaten for lunch that day, I had this dream again.

EDITOR'S NOTE

I admire the analysis of that phrase "she got herself in trouble"--I never noticed that particular twist. Who knew cloning was so easy?

--Chris Wayan

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