In which Poppy discusses the hypocrisy behind a macaroni casserole, streakers, and having a spy as a lover…
What an amazing couple of weeks we’ve had in the good old U.S.A.! Right, Pop Tarts? Landmark Supreme Court rulings, Pride in SFO and NYC, and our very own soccer team winning the Women’s World Cup! Brava, ladies!!!
Never in my life have I seen that many lesbians so proficient with balls!
Anyway, it’s an amazing time to be an American – if you’re not stuck in 1950, that is. If, for example, you happen to be a white, middle-aged, Republican who is also a Fundamentalist Christian – you’re not having such a good summer. No, right about now the “good ol’ boys club” is ready to chew nails and spit bullets – which is appropriate since they are so madly in love with guns and their sanctimonious “Confederate Flag.”
And listen – I grew up in the South. Don’t lecture me about how “it’s all about heritage,” or that “it wasn’t actually the flag of the Confederacy.” Those are simply arguments of distraction. I can smell that bullshit from a mile away. I was raised among a lot of the people who adore their “Stars and Bars,” and I assure you – none of them would be tuning in to “Showtime at the Apollo.” It’s about time that we put that nasty little banner in its rightful place – a history book.
Speaking of things that belong in history books – Donald Trump – as in…he’s history. Over. Done.
So that woman who “went viral” online ranting and raving over the Supreme Court’s decision regarding marriage equality is a pisser, isn’t she? I find it rather amazing that one could go on a tirade about the perils of our sinful society and our shocking lack of morality when said person is either drunker than Cooter Brown and/or high as a kite on an undisclosed stimulant. These people are something else, let me tell you! They think just because they can spout off the Ten Commandments and bring a macaroni casserole to a church fellowship supper that they have a direct line to the Almighty. It’s ridiculous. The funniest thing is that she starts off by saying that she was “housecleaning.” Housecleaning what? A meth lab? As my Granny used to say, “sweep around your own doorstep before you sweep somebody else’s.”
Incidentally, Cooter Brown was the town drunk in Possum Trot. He was famous for going on a bender, stripping buck naked, and running down Main Street shouting, “The British are coming and so am I!”
Thankfully he wasn’t.
If only Cooter had looked this good from behind…
There is a young Russian woman sitting at the window-side bar at the moment. She’s young and pretty and talking very loudly on her cellphone with a deep, resonant voice – all in Russian, of course. For those of you wondering if it’s just as annoying when someone speaks inappropriately loudly in a foreign language as it is when they do it in English, let me tell you – it is.
I dated a Russian gentleman once – his name was Sergei. He was very tall and swarthy – very Slavic, you know. Luckily he was hairy in all the right places, meaning he didn’t have any on his back. He never told me what he did for a living, but apparently it was all very clandestine – he said once that he knew how to kill a man 50 different ways using only a paper clip. Pity he didn’t know how to give me an orgasm.
Well, gentle readers, that last anecdote has made me hungry for vodka and caviar…and a swarthy Slav…so I’m off to find those things. Thanks for reading “Poppy’s Coffee Corner,” as always, and let me know what you think from time to time! I always love to hear from you!