In my defense I'd like to say that at least I'm past the suit-and-tie, demonic Dick Van Dyke phase I went through a few years back, when I dated a corporate attorney who was not so much evil as he was, simply and hugely, self-involved. It goes without saying that he sucked in the sack. He threw me out on Thanksgiving Day no less, and occasionally I still receive calls from him reminding me that he has forgiven himself. So at least I'm not into emotionally greedy little dicks like that. Not anymore anyway. Today I like men who will look you in the face and smile while they fuck you in more than just the physical sense, the kind of guy who will tell you, "Don't worry, you'll just feel a little prick," when he's really getting ready to shove an Eiffel Tower up your ass. Because evil, I tell you, is the ultimate aphrodisiac.

And if you're gonna get hosed it might as well be by someone skilled at it. Because, let's face it, even though Al Gore wasn't actually standing there handing President Clinton the tobacco tampon that almost toppled the presidency, he's still forever tainted by his association with the administration of a president who will go down in history as a lousy lay. Now if Bush -- with his pampered frat-boy upbringing and complete lack of experience in going unfulfilled -- were going to risk blowing the presidency (and I mean "blow" in the Clinton sense, not the Lewinsky sense), he'd do it for real sex, not a sequence of lame and furtive gropes behind half-open doors.

Old Dubya would go out with a bang, and I mean that literally. If he weren't driving under the influence, he'd probably have sex on top of a running washing machine with a stripper sporting fake boobs big enough to be tracked by satellites. And let's hope some residual cocaine would kick in, too, to give his boner a bionic boost, because sex is sex, by God, why waste it?

Private Life Romance, relationships, and the personal side of Table Talk