Month: November 2008

Now that Barack has finally been elected–an objective the Gay Uncle has been actively supporting since 2006–he faces a number of extremely difficult tasks: choosing members of his transition team; selecting qualified people to run the governmental departments currently led by incompetents, antagonists, and party hacks; and burying the Republicans in a shitstorm so deep that the GOP will need to change its nick-name. But no challenge will be as large as fulfilling the immense promise he made on the stage in Grant Park the other night: getting his daughters Malia and Sasha a puppy.

Gunc usually says, if you”re considering a pet, start small. It cuts on the initial investment (cost-wise and emotionally) and if the pet dies (which it eventually will) it’s easier to replace. At the pre-school he ran, he had a policy excluding pets bigger than his hand, ones that had fur, or anything that needed to be taken home during vacations, leaving a horde of snails””all bred, hermaphroditically from a pair found under a slide at the playground–as the classroom mascot. The kids used to delight in letting the molusks slither up their arms, and watching them eat cucumber with the toothy mouth on the underside of their foot. Because they lived, mated, gave birth, and died with amazing alacrity, they were a great life cycle demonstration as well. They also make their own gravestones when they perish, leaving behind their calcified shell.

But Gunc generally feels that a living object like a pet should never be used as a bribe or reward. Such a practice, he suspects, falls into the category of Bad Karma. So he fears a bit for the ju-ju in the Obama’s new home. (Fortunately, this can be offset with some good Feng Shui. The G.U. suggests moving that quilted blue couch in the Oval Office about ninety degrees to the left, burning a smudge stick in any room Dick Cheney ever entered, and adding tons and tons of donkey figurines and fresh lilies.) At any rate, since it’s clearly too late for Barack to reneg on this canine campaign pledge, Gunc recommends–as with any new addition to a child’s life–that consistent and actionable structures need to be set up prior to the pooch”s arrival. Both girls are clearly old enough to perform daily caregiving tasks like feeding the puppy, taking it for a walk, and bathing it. But perhaps most importantly, it will be imperative to assign them the prestigious job of cleaning up its poo. Michelle has plenty of her own minefields to navigate. The Secret Service doesn’t need any additional duties (groan.) And the White House has been full of shit for long enough.

Gunc would also like to suggest that in order to get their total “buy-in” the girls be involved in naming the pet. Dogs’ names are often derived from the animal’s shape, color, or behavior (e.g. Pretzel, Goldie, Pissy-Puddles) so he doesn’t want to jump the gun on making recommendations. But he kind of likes the moniker Sarah Palin for a bitch.

The Gay Uncle is not gloating today. But he does have one thing to say: He’s extremely pleased that when Sarah Palin’s name was mentioned during poisonous toad John McCain’t’s deservedly contrite concession speech, the crowd of grotesque Republican true believers erupted into a spontaneous boo.

One more thing: Does anyone know Bristol Palin’s home address in Wasilla? The G.U. would like to send her an autographed copy of his book. Girlfriend’s going to need some good advice, and lord knows she’s not going to get it from any Secret Service mannies anymore.

It’s election day, and the future of our country (and world) is in your hands. The Gay Uncle doesn’t care what your political preferences are, so long as you make sure you get your lazy ass to the polls, carefully consider your decision, and then VOTE FOR BARACK. Gunc means it. For the sake of your children, you better vote Obama. Unless you want them to spend their formative years looking at John McCain’s mean ugly face, and suffering through his mean ugly policies. Or if you like the idea of them living in a cardboard box, wearing a barrel, and eating shoe leather soup. Or if you actually hate polar bears. And ice. We have a chance, maybe our last good onee, to make something of this country besides a mess. Take it.

The Gay Uncle’s extended family had a banner meeting this past weekend, when his boyfriend Tal’s brother Marty went down to the Keys with his daughters to meet up with Gunc’s sister and her two girls. Marty can be something of a wild card (you might remember him from this piece, and this one) and while his children are generally delightful, putting four kids in the same room always has the potential to degenerate. So the G.U. was pleased to hear that there was no name-calling, fistfights, eye scratching, or other forms of smackdown. Not that he really expected anything like this (though maybe for the sake of this column, he hoped for a bit more conflict.) The girls discussed school, activities, and recent films in a very refined manner, the only blip being an eruption over a noise-making, squishy, duck toy, the incessant squeezing of which caused the Gay Uncle’s sister Roxy to lose her shit, and scream at Marty’s older daughter. “Enough with the duck!” (This blow-up also resulted in his niece Amber taking her mom aside for a gentle scolding, “Mama. I think you went a bit overboard with the whole duck thing.”) Gunc couldn’t figure out why this summit had such a polite temper, until Roxy revealed that its wheels had been greased by the presence of the ideal (children’s) social lubricant: immense bags of Halloween candy. Apparently, the girls all had their booty-satchels with them and spent much of their together-time laying out their collections, sorting them by shape, size, color, ingredients, and brand (and presence or absence of razor blades), and then performing sophisticated swaps and trades. Though Gunc recalls the delights of this practice with his three siblings–all of whom had staked out very different confectionary preferences– he’s not exactly sure what the exchange rate is anymore on Reese’s, Snickers, Twix, and Dots. Are Three Musketeers plummeting with the dollar? Is Toblerone rising with the Euro? And what about Swedish Fish? Anyone have any ideas?