Murdering two pear-tree partridges with one stone by marrying the holidays with current U.S. electoral politics, this installation of our irregularly regular feature of live-blogging erotica of questionable taste centers on ‘A Cruzmas Carol: Ted Cruz Takes a Dickens of a Constitutional.’
Join us, Tuesday December 22 at 9am Central, to brave discussion of activities and people that should have remained not only unwritten, but unthought.
I’m a little nervous. There are SEVEN chapters to this thing.
It starts off well. Chapter 1: The Lonely Oyster. “Feeling fresher and looking cooler than a head of iceberg lettuce on the first day of harvest, Senator Ted Cruz walked into the back room of the exclusive D.C. establishment Fizzywhigs, scanning the room for pussy.”
Ok Lyda – I’ve steeled myself best I can, let’s do this
Apparently it’s Ted’s retirement party and our hero feels this entitles him to “get his dick wetter than Neptune’s.”
Our hero wants out of Washington politics because of partisan gridlock and the fact that everything has basically gone on a “downhill slide inaugurated immediately after the Declaration of Independence in 1776.”
He walks into the room saying “What’s up y’all” in that “honeydew Texas drawl he’d picked up at Princeton…
Catching the eye of Roberta, the staffer who booked Fizzywhigs for him and who he had been “crushing on for years,” he wonders if it’s on.
wow – well no circumspection in this story!
OMG THERE ARE ILLUSTRATIONS. They’re hard to describe, but they’re done in woodcut style, like an old-timey Christmas book. I AM VERY AFRAID.
Now he ruminates on why he’s leaving office. He’s got his eye on “a high-paying K Street consult gig.” He wants to be a tank driver at a think tank, “just like that dreamboat-for-freedom Brad Pitt in the movie Fury.”
But he admits he’s not much for the actual thinking part. Instead he plans to write the occasional policy paper, “…cribbed from Ayn Rand or Henry Kissinger’s Wikipedia pages…”
He fantasizes about how great this will be and stuffing money into his “stylish Brooks Brother’s pants pockets that bulged now on either side of his immense and thickening manhood.”
I appreciate Ted’s self-honesty on the non-thinking part
The party begins with a cheer at their newly arrived man of the hour. Glasses clink. Our love interest Robert who is described as a “raven-haired, pale skinned beauty from Yale Law.” with “wide hips like a fertility goddess,” whines that he’s leaving her.
More weird illustrations. This one of a turn of the last century woman in period clothes…? (I’m very baffled by the inclusion of these. Not feeling it. Also terrified of a potential woodcut depicting a sexual act.)
He and Roberta have some banter about how he’s leaving her (he insists he’s not, he’ll only be down the street) but she pulls out the big guns (as it were) and says he’s leaving his “…constituents. Your fellow Americans” who need him.
His response is pure Scrooge: “Bah!”
wishing for a screen cap of one of those illustrations…let me see…
She insists that America needs him and lays her hand on his. “…she might as well have shot lightning from her nipples through her pantsuit and electrocuted him to death with sexual electricity…”
not gonna lie – no flow with that line.
And yet he manages another “Bah.” And so our desperate heroine does what any patriot would do in this situation. She coos (“like a lioness”) “Is there… ANYTHING I can do… to PERSUADE you to stay in the public sector?”
It gets weirder…. At this Ted’s “President Johnson hardened with utmost urgency, as did President Johnson after the Gulf of Tonkin incident….”
And weirder… “… [his “President Johnson”] pressed against the underside of the table. That’s how big it was. Big as a Texas bull.The table lifted from the floor every so slightly and wobbled as if they were at a seance.”
I’m still stuck on the fact that Ted Cruz is retiring to protest gridlock.
Calling your dick “President Johnson” when you’re a politician is actually pretty hilarious.
It’s a fantasy, Naomi!
More political sexing: He stares at the tempting offer of Roberta and imagines doing her: “How wonderful it would to be quarter my soldiers in thine thatched hut, Yankee wench, ‘gainst thine wishes.” Alas, he holds back because, “I have to leave. I never really cared about politics. It’s all just a bunch of… hooey.”
In my fantasies about Ted Cruz, he gets eaten by a velociraptor.
This makes Roberta sob. “Full-bodied.” “Her tits went up and down like hydraulic pumps.” (Because that’s sexy?)
That is a fantasy I’ll concur with, Naomi!
Hydraulic pumps – so hot right now.
Oh… Roberta is going into such drama because “Timmy” needs Ted to stay in politics. Apparently this moves him: “Ted was feeling really hot now. Something in his gut warbled. Was that his heart–his stone dead heart coming to life?”
Timmy is not explained, however.
Instead she goes on that she wants him to run forever “so that the American government stays out of people’s lives.” He’s like, yeah, okay, but what did you mean about PERSUADING me??? And this is followed by the description that she is a rare beauty, “this Buffalo Nickel of a dime.”
I was going to ask. Maybe she’s a superhot single mom and he’s her kid.
They snuggle up and the word shrinks to just the two of them… “alone on a lifeboat in the middle of Chesapeake Bay.” She eats an oyster and tells him that “seafood is an aphrodisiac.” And they FINALLY kiss.
That’s one of the woodcut illustrations, fwiw…
Is that one of the actual woodcuts in the book?
It’s a good kiss and almost persuades him to stay, but he needs a little more, so he asks her charms she’s got up her sleeve. She says: “Your Washington Monument.” … “Up my Washington Wizards Sleeve.”
And… he doesn’t seem to get it. “Surely this repartee was leading somewhere…” but now someone is standing over them Two suits have shown up: one Tucker McCann-Blandstein and Allagash Greenwood, Jr.
I would like that better if it were “Your Washington Monument…in my reflecting pool.”
NAOMI WHY AREN’T YOU WRITING EROTICA
This is why you’re a REAL writer, Naomi.
Now Ted wonders if knows these guys and can’t remember. Allagash wants to tell him his “non-filibuster filibuster” was a thing of genius. In light of all this praise, Roberta is forgotten.
OH MY GOD WHERE IS THE SMUT???
Now, see, there is stuff here I find hilariously plausible.
1. Ted Cruz is thicker than a foot-tall plate of pancakes.
So… these two start talking him into running for president, but he gets all principled and tells them to scat “ ‘fore I get a thirst for the cholesterol-filled blood of plutocrats!”
2. Ted Cruz is instantly distracted from sexytimes flirting by people showing up to flatter him.
3. Ted Cruz talks like someone off Hee Haw even in his private life.
They laugh and say “Oh, Ted. Don’t be such a Tedbeneezer Scruz.”
That’s solid logic, Naomi
That pun needs to be taken out and shot and then buried in an unmarked grave.
Now Ted is feeling… kind of sick, I guess? He thinks maybe he should go to the men’s room. Roberta wants to meet him there.
Ooh – nothing to build up sexytime chemistry like “oh I feel sick, please join me in the restroom…”
He’s like, yeah, no not a good idea. He apparently is really sick. “Something nasty was coming up.”
This story… I don’t know where it is going or for how long.
HIS WITHERED SOUL.
HE’S GOING TO VOMIT IT UP AND BE RID OF IT FOREVER.
Okay, but he “Hussein-Bolted through the crowd to the bathroom… And to destiny.”
Naomi – if only, for real.
End Chapter One and beginning Chapter 2: Fat Magic.
Maybe someone could go on an impossible quest to find Ted Cruz’s soul, Dick Cheney’s heart, George Bush’s brain…
He’s burst into the bathroom “terror in his veins like Robespierre.” Three stalls, all occupied.
Feeling the need for a sobering between-chapters shot of whiskey.
This would be a reasonable time to puke in a urinal, dude.
So he’s begging to be let in and a voice comes from beside him, “Not feeling so hot, Teddy Boy?” IT’S KARL ROVE.
tell me again how the prospect of retching is supposed to be sexy?
Oh! New idea! Puke ON Karl Rove!
Cruz then wonders why Karl Rove is there “aren’t you dead? Politically, I mean?”
Vomit is super duper not my thing but if you’re puking on Karl Rove I might be willing to go with it!
OMG is Karl Rove Marley’s Ghost? This is not working for me as Christmas Carol rip-off, btw.
Turns out Karl isn’t there as an attendee but a bathroom attendant. WHAT? WHAT IS THIS STORY? WILL IT NEVER GET SEXY??
Okay, he’s maybe supposed to be the ghost of Marley? because he says “He’s dead as a doornail in this town.”
And… “Am I hallucinating?” [asks Ted] “Is it the oyster or are you… not wearing pants?”
ohright – this whole premise is supposed to be A Christmas Carol-y
Oh, he is Marley because he reminds Ted they were partners in the whole “pulling the rug out from underneath Gore in ’00.”
please tell me Ted and Karl are going to get it on
Ted is like, right, but why don’t you have pants? (A SOLID QUESTION.)
Apparently, Rove can’t afford pants.
how the mighty have fallen.
Have they gotten it on yet?
Rove is like I’m an object lesson. Do something with your life or you’ll end up pants less in the bathroom handing out poporri soaps. And Ted is all, forget you, “I’m going to vomit up this oyster and then I’m going to bone Roberta…” and go to K Street.
Is the pantslessness supposed to be randomly sexy because there are all sorts of logistical problems.
way to stay on-task, Ted.
There’s a weird interaction with a moist towelette and a suddenly magically empty stall. Ted pukes.
Wow, this story.
Also you can find very inexpensive pants if you try.
you can find free pants if you try.
Also, seeing Karl Rove in a bathroom without pants would be the visual equivalent of a cold shower.
I’m trying to skim ahead here. This is so weird, apparently Ted takes a moist towelette after and it magically becomes bigger?
I don’t know what is happening.
He is the opposite of sexy.
It’s going to turn into a ghost of Something Past.
Maybe it’ll be the Ghost of Sexytimes Past.
Now Ted laments that his President Johnson has softened. He hears another voice. “Hey if you’re going to jerk the chicken, why don’t you just stuff it in here, big fella?”
I feel like we should have like vital-signs monitors on Lyda and EMTs on-call during these sessions just to make sure she doesn’t suffer a stroke or aneurysm or such as the one who’s reading the actual text…
There’s apparently a glory hole…. and Ted is super not interested but instead demands to know who is talking. It’s the “Bathroom Attendant of Consitutionality Past.”
I need more coffee to even parse that.
also – did the moist towelette become bigger or his President Johnson?
Ted’s no fool. He knows this is just “that Idaho Senator dude from the airport bathroom or whatever.”
The towellete, but why I don’t know.
Naomi – there’s not enough coffee in the world to parse that
Okay, but now Ted is locked in this bathroom. Magically.
next to Senator Wide Stance.
The glory hole voice tells him that he’s sorry, but “through here is the only way out.”
Side note: I learned yesterday that you can visit Senator Wide Stance’s actual stall of ill-repute:
The glory hole begins to glow. “and to the sounds of teeny-tiny fife and drum (John Phillips Sousa meets Spike Jones) and a radiant blast of magical light, Ted’s thang and his entire body was sucked through the other side.”
Well, it’s the men’s room. They’d look at me funny if I went in there.
Sucked through penis first? that sounds painful.
I think this is going to be about as much sex as we’re going to get, but I’ll keep reading. In hopes.
Everything about this story is trying to hit sexytime notes and making me wince instead.
ha – they would NOT look funny at me if I went in there, getting misgendered regularly as I do. Who knew that would actually come in handy one day!
Chapter 3: Snowbird. He’s rematerialized in another bathroom stall, the next one over. He could hear the toilet still running. Apparently, Rove’s towelette had clogged the thing.”
Hey, I heard Ted Cruz was having sex somewhere, and the more I know about that, the better!
yeah the wince-worthiness of this story is heading for being on par with that lesbian werewolf lactation consultant story…
He’s about to zip his pants up or, as the author put it, “sheath his saber.” But a voice tells him to leave it out.
I keep thinking, “there is nothing less sexy than [whatever]” and then they outdo themselves.
A clogged toilet. Nothing less sexy than a clogged toilet.
There’s a talking turkey.
I can’t even any more with this story.
Sidebar: I just had my first sugar plum cookie and it was delicious. I thought sugar plums were their own thing but they’re just…sugared plums. I hope I don’t end up seeing this one again.
“…big-breasted, brown, a glorious, mottled fantail posterior and a radiant, red gullet like that of an old man’s balls after a lengthy sauna session.”
Kylo – this is apparently the least sexy sexytime story you will ever know
There is nothing less sexy than a talking turkey.
Turkey says, “I said ‘leave it out,’ dude. Turkey likey.”
well – I’m glad the turkey on the cover played into the story somehow.
Nothing less sexy than vomit, pantsless Karl Rove, being pulled through a glory hole dick first, a clogged toilet, or a talking turkey that wants to stare at your dick.
wait – “turkey likey” was an actual quote?
well naomi when you put it like that….
There’s also a penguin on the cover. That implies we’re getting a visit from a penguin later. Also an eagle.
The turkey is dressed in the Fizzywhigs blazer for some reason. And the turkey explains that he really is the Bathroom Attendant of Constitutionality Past, because they used a feather from his ass to sign the Declaration of Independence. Plus, he was supposed to be the national bird.
and flags…which were cut off somewhat in my screenshot. because I’m a communist.
There is a woodcut illustration labeled “turkey likey.” I officially hate my life.
The turkey is about to take him on a magical adventure and I’m damn sure it does NOT involve avian sex.
Please tell me there’s some kind of gobble pun happening. Is there no justice in the political pornlit world?
Not so far, Kylo. All of a sudden, they’re flying over Washington, D.C. “swirled through the skies, going commando like Air Force Rangers, dangling above the monuments and the Mall.”
kylo – wurd.
More weird illustrations of flying turkeys with the caption, “Check this shit out”
Lyda, it feels weird to say this, but I’m on board so far
The turkey has flown Ted to his childhood him.
Ted attempts to speak to his mother but the turkey schools him with “are you an asshole or do you not know how this works? No one can hear you.”
Turkey is a serious trash talker.
Yes, we’re in “the house the company rented to his family outside of Calgary.”
that’s the only other illustration from the book I have access to…
We see little Ted in his bed… “the blanket went up and down in a repetitive motion that should have been obvious to anyone”
Mom busts in an yells at it for being at it again.
He’s fixing the cable?
Is that what the kids are calling it these days?
Oh no is this…no. Is this about to go there
Geez, lady. Leave your kid to jerk off in peace. It’s not like he’s doing it at the dinner table.
It turns out no. He was writing! He was writing “We the people…”
Oh hell no. I didn’t pay $2.99 for a poorly written civics lesson
She’s saying look, you need to stop being so anti-Canada. And starts trying to make him write the Canadian Constitution Act of 1867.
I want action, Lacey Noonan. You call yourself a biopornographer?
Wait, Ted Cruz was a kid in 1867?
He screams, “Why do you hate freedom and pure, unregulated markets mother, eh?” (Good use of “eh”)
Yeah, I hate to break it to you guys that there is no porn so far. NOT ONE LICK. (See what I did there.)
This would be amusing if it hadn’t been marketed as porn. It was marketed as porn, right?
No, mom just wants him to write the Canadian thingie.
Ted can’t even get laid in fiction
And yet, I get this image to never unsee: “The turkey was behind [Ted’s] young mother, feathering his ghost turkey wings per her body like French ticklers. He was grinding his turkey hips on her and gobbling seductively, “What’s up Mrs. C.? Turkey’s feeling perky.”
Maybe this is just the Ted Cruz version of Sweet Valley High
is there a woodcut for that?
Ted yells at the turkey to stop and so ends the chapter. We have THREE more chapters left. (And, no, no woodcut. Though for some reason we get a woodcut of a windmill in the snow.)
Why why why why whyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy
Should I keep going? I mean, I do not think anyone is getting laid in this story.
Can you skip to the very last chapter?
Does the turkey have its own book? I’d read that
Presumably if any sex happens it’ll be there?
Concur with the skipping to last chapter
I’m all in, this is great
I will skim.
Or we could throw in the towel on the grounds that it’s been an hour and all we’ve gotten is pantslsess Karl Rove and a turkey that hits on Ted’s mom.
I mean ffs we don’t have all day, Ms Noonan
Right, for the list: nothing is less sexy than a lacivious talking turkey hitting on your mom.
There’s so much potential here.
Well, next chapter continues the turkey reviewing Ted’s life. We get Ted meeting Ken Star at some legendary kegger at law office. (There is a wood cut of this.)
Nothing is less sexy than Ken Starr at a kegger. Or anywhere else.
Turkey tries it on with Kenneth Starr, too, with the line, “You know, Kenny, I’m mostly dark meat. Well, at least where it counts, anyway.”
I was hoping this book would be an actual Cruz fan fap fest, but it seems more a Ted Cruz lampooning perspective.
Also, if we’re doing a sexytimes tour of Washington Past, WHERE IS BILL CLINTON? I mean, the answer should be “everywhere!”
Chapter 5 is called: Chubb Rock.
What the hell
This chapter appears to start back up in the now, but things are terribly wrong. The toilet has flooded al of Fizzywhigs.
solid point re: Clinton, Naomi
Ken Starr: so not sexy. http://doarivri.com/brazosvalleyblog/wp-content/uploads/2011/09/17801.jpg
flooding toilets: THE OPPOSITE OF SEXY.
Okay, but it’s all still dreaming time. Because now he’s sucked back through the glory hole and is confronted with a bald eagle.
I think we’ve been catfished.
Did we ditch the turkey?
This one is the Bathroom Attendant of Constitutionality Present. Who has eaten the turkey character from the previous chapter. Because… wow, dead birds are always sexy.
Also, if he’s unconcious next to a flooding toilet, maybe he’ll drown in a pool of human waste?
I’d rather he get eaten by a velociraptor, mind you.
omg we’re only in the present, the future is still yet to come
He draws his powers from human waste. He’s about to become SuperCruz.
Now they’re off an flying, “into the night like a Cruz missile.” (You knew that pun was coming, only I thought it would be in reference to SEX, myself)
WAIT. I was joking about eaten by velociraptors but a character actually got eaten by a raptor! That’s … weirdly less satisfying than I’d thought it would be, because it wasn’t Ted who got eaten.
Yeah, the only thing of note is that we now know that Timmy is Roberta’s son who was FORCED TO GO ON GOVERNMENT HANDOUTS. (Oh noz!)
Timmy has a pre-existing condition.
I would lay odds that Cruz makes “Cruz Missile” puns about his penis for real. And I wouldn’t even begrudge him that. I mean.
gov’t handjobs? we’re writing this on the fly better than the actual author
I kind of wish we had time for more of this because Timmy is hilarious. He really wants to not go on a handout, because, “an individual mandate is a species of tyranny.”
always how it is, isn’t it Timmy? Good for the goose, but not the gander, amiright??
or the turkey. or eagle, or whatever.
Does Timmy actually have a solution to the problem of people with pre-existing conditions that doesn’t involve a mandate OR straight-up socialized medicine?
We move to another scene, a sinister one, with Obama unfurling “his secret prayer mat” and he lay on the floor facing east. Luckily we also get the wood cut “the eagle shat on them all.”
Because since he HAS a pre-existing condition I would assume that his solution is not “we should just die, like nature and God obviously intended.”
excellent use of “shat”
I’m not sure I have the fortitude, i.e. actual time in my day, to persist to the bitter end of this wretched non-erotic caper…
Chapter 6 is called “Yuppers.” and starts with Ted back in the flooded Fizzywhigs complaint that he can’t swim. And now Ted is trying to get through the glory hole again only he can’t and a bunch of Buzzards are literally trying to eat him.
They are the Enemies of the State. Obivously the future we’ll get without Ted Cruz as president.
Naomi you were incredibly prescient with your hope of Ted getting eaten by some kind of raptors
Sadly I bet he doesn’t get eaten all the way to DEATH.
The end is Ted waking up in a pool of vomit deciding he will run for president. “There was still time! Yes! He would run! Run he would for the presidency!”
I bet he just gets nipped a bit and whines some.
Oh, and this is the sex we get (Roberta, happy with this decision is very excited), “They made love on the table and then the table sank slowly below the rising waves.” (Apparently the place really is flooded.)
I feel rooked.
(Looks up Amazon link.) LACEY NOONAN YOU ARE DEAD TO ME. DEAD. DEAAAAAAAAAAD.
I’m sure Timmy would remind us that this is one of the perils of the capitalist system. You get what you pay for.
Thanks Lyda for being the actual reader of this session’s wretched writing – which was more wretched-er than usual.
Maybe I will write some erotica. It will involve Bill Clinton boning someone in the Senate Dining Room and then velociraptors arriving to eat all the politicians I don’t like.
Woodcuts. I may not recover.
Hahahaha! Yes, Naomi! DO IT.
as long as it’s not in a pool of human waste, I’m in Naomi!
“More!” she gasped, watching as the raptors stripped flesh and sinew from the bones of Karl Rove and Dick Cheney.
Stop, I’m getting hot. If only I had a president Johnson, I’m sure it would be doing a thing right now. A POLITICAL thing.
A jolt of erotic electricity shot through her as if she’d grasped a high-voltage line. She wasn’t sure if it was Bill Clinton’s magical dick, or if it was watching the velociraptors disembowel Wisconsin Governor Scott Walker that was doing it for her.
Sarah Palin and Michele Bachmann came running in, shrieking something about abortion or Alaska, and a passing pterodactyl bit off both their heads with a single “crunch.”
“Yes!” she moaned. “Yes, yes, yes!”
That is some serious sexy talk, girl.
Your true talents are arising.
And with that – we’re calling “Scene” on today’s endevours of erotica live-blogging. Next time we’ll bring more sexytime, and less turkey!