Open Letter: Newt Gingrich

Dear Newt:

I'm sure you're aware you're a funny guy. To hear you say you want to lead a new morality slays me. And slaying me was probably your intent. After all, I am a part of the "gay secular fascism" that is looking to use violence to "take over the government" and "destroy traditional religion".

And we were getting along so well.

I know you've had a rough go of it. With your affairs and divorces and ethics violations, your morality line got muddled. So I understand why you would want to attack people like me. Gays are an easy target. We raise a lot of money when you start cranking the fear machine. And we take the focus off your egotistical fuck-ups. But, to be honest, I take slight offense, Newt. I say "slight" because if you were anyone but you I would be highly offended. If you were, say, Oprah or Obama or Justin Bieber - people worth their name - I would be devastated. But you, Newt Gingrich, are nothing but an ignorant motherfucker.

When you say gay people are violent and are looking to ruin traditional religion, there are people out there stupid and scared enough to believe it. So when I walk into an Applebee's (like that would ever happen, but go with it) and there sits one of your supporters, hitting on the waitress while his wife is in the bathroom changing his daughter's diaper, that Moral Compass is going to take one look at me, in my blue striped button-down shirt, red tie, and navy sweater - he hasn't even noticed my hair - and know that I am one of them - the gays! - looking to tear Jesus apart with my bare hands. And that may make him want to tear me apart with his bare hands. As our ideals and consciousness continue to evolve, those left behind get twitchy around people who, you say, hate 6000 years of their believed history.

Newt, I don't give a shit about Jesus. I give a shit about you talking like you're an expert on second class citizens and how our wish to be equal is somehow an agenda.

The only agenda I have is to be a published author.

If you don't believe me, come over. We can have a light lunch on the terrace (it's actually a deck, but you strike me as "that kind" of fussy.) You'll see there are no signs of violence, no plans for using violence, and that I'm actually not so bad. I'll tell you stories about how I carry my grandmother's purse for her when we go to the mall together.

In the meantime, Newt, lay off. You're no prince, no King of New England. (If you get the John Irving reference, I'll demote you from Ignorant Motherfucker to Motherfucker.) You have no more legs to stand on when it comes to being an example of morality. I hope you do run for president so your opponents get the chance to remind you of it, every day. 

Good luck,

Whack-A-Muse