“You really shouldn’t bring up the candidate’s butt, or even the candidates bad hair or small hands, for that matter. Those things aren’t relevant and just turn the whole thing into a freak show.” Yanaha was once again pretty irritated with Tante.
When the white man brought the Golden Arches to the land of Yanaha’s people, they suffered. The changes in diet and lifestyle that many of the indigenous of America experienced at the hands of the imperialists were almost as devastating to them as the wholesale slaughter and infectious diseases that took so many. Yanaha became quite heavy in her youth, something that had been painful for her in many ways.
“But there’s nothing wrong with a big butt! That’s the point!” Tante really was pretty oblivious to many of the social niceties of much of the world. Folks of her mother’s culture tended to be pretty transparent and authentic. So much of the philosophical discussion they’d been having seemed kind of like common sensical stuff to her. She tried to explain.
“It seems to me that when she stands up there in that awful outfit trying to hide her big butt, it’s just like trying to pretend that the money handlers don’t own her. They obviously own her. Her butt is obviously big. Lots of folks like big butts, there’s even a song about it.”
“There’s a few. Yanaha has lots to love, and I love it all!” Arnold kissed his blushing bride behind the ear as he said it. Unlike the woman in the pants suits, Arnold was being totally transparent. Yanaha was a big woman when her met her and every bit of her beautiful.
“Yeah, that’s it. Yanaha never tried to pretend to be anything but a big beautiful woman. Even the Trumpeter doesn’t pretend. He’s a narcissistic fascist, a bigot, and a war monger, but he doesn’t try to pretend to be anything but that. The people who vote for him are voting for exactly him. It’s different with that woman.” Tante had mistakenly identified the presidential candidate as the one with whom her husband denied having sex, assuming that celibacy and sexual frustration was perhaps part of the woman’s problem. She was attempting to find common ground with her. “She’s trying hard to hide something.”
“What about Baltha and her burka, walking around with only her eyes showing so often?” Ina had never met a Muslim woman before and was curious. Baltha was, after all, gorgeous in face and form, and an extremely sexual being. Hiding her natural beauty seemed a real shame to the little Mocoví woman. “Is she trying to hide something?”
“You bet. She’s keeping just how hot she is under wraps.” Tante had already had the discussion with Baltha, who was just entering the room wearing sweat pants and a t-shirt.
“Yes, I find that the men of most cultures of the modern world become too easily distracted by my beautiful boobies.” She sighed. “It wasn’t that way in the outback. If I want to engage intellectually, hiding my body is most expedient. Even the women tend to stare at my boobs if I leave them unfettered.”
“They are fabulous.” Zeus offered his not so humble opinion.
“Yes, very nice.” Arnold agreed.
Ja just blushed.
“It is your odd culture that has created such nonsense.” Ina had had similar experiences. The men of this world, from whom the natural beauty of boobs had been withheld, seemed distracted beyond reason by their mere presence in the world. It was mind boggling.
“Sexual repression has been one of the greatest ills to befall humanity.” The conversation was moving right up Juno’s alley. “Forcing women to deny their incredible sexual power is a mark of the patriarchy that needs to be erased.”
“How did we lose it?” Tante was really curious. While there was a brief time during her fast paced development when all the boys at Uluru showed at least a little interest in her, she’d never been a Baltha. She was far too skinny, something that made the issue of big butts a mystery to her. She’d wished for more butt and boob when she started seeing the Barbie doll images online, but shape shifting wasn’t part of her programming.
“The same way we lost our connection to the living world. We forgot our animal nature. We started to imagine ourselves above them, as gods.” Zeus was quite familiar with his animal nature. He’d learned to embrace it.
“You know how we lost it.” Baltha looked at her friend.
“Yeah, well, there is the god of Abraham and his hair-brained notions.” Tante sighed.
“The Hindus and Buddhists aren’t a whole lot better about it, lots of celibacy being preached to those seeking enlightenment.” Ja was a pretty chaste guy; the girl with the flowers in her hair had moved him in ways he was still grappling with, working out his own perspectives on sexual love. He did know that the love between his parents was deep, abiding, true, and a thing of beauty. It was a lot like what he saw in Yanaha and Arnold. While Zeus and Juno’s relationship seemed to work for them, he wasn’t sure it was for him.
“Sex is part of being human. As a man, I think about sex many times, every day. Among the Mocovi, sex was as natural as breakfast. When we wanted to have sex with each other, we did. When we didn’t, we didn’t. There was no rape. It is easy to spend ones sexual energy in other ways, there were not the silly prohibitions that I learned among the Jesuits.” Alonso shook his head.
“Forced celibacy is a disaster, it is unnatural. Choosing celibacy is fine, and at one point in my life, I tried it for a while. I didn’t much care for it.”
“And am I your one and only?” Yin smiled at her lover.
“No, my love, but you are my partner.” Alonso smiled back. They’d gotten very transparent with each other right away, and Yin had taken another lover at the Zen center as Alonso watched. Yang and Ina preferred remaining monogamous with each other.
“Even this conversation, which really is about making fun of people and honesty, has become about sex. Obviously, it’s a pretty important topic.” Ja was fascinated, and Baltha definitely turned him on, Burka and all. It wasn’t about her fabulous body or fairness of face, it was about Baltha. The sexual desire was kind of something that showed up after the other feelings he had for her had grown.
“All a person has to do is look online or at the screens at the airport.” Tante hadn’t seen TV anywhere else, Arnold and Yanaha gave their’s away after Boston Legal got cancelled. “Sex sells everything.”
“And what’s really sad is that the people buying all that crap aren’t even getting laid.” Ja had been engaged in deep contemplation of the whole marketing thing ever since Haile left them. It seemed to be a very effective strategy for herding the sheep.
“Which brings us back to the bullshit factor.” Tante was really starting to embrace being exactly who she was. “My whole point wasn’t to suggest that the woman’s big butt is an issue worth considering. The fact that’s she’s trying to hide it is. The Trumpeter’s bad hair isn’t an issue, but it is probably one of the indicators as to why he acts like such a jerk. He’s trying really hard to have nice wavy blonde hair, when in truth, he’s a bald guy.”
“Gods, doesn’t he know how hot bald can be?” Juno loved her partner’s shiny pate.
“Even worse with the small hands.” Arnold jumped in. “In urban legend, that translates to small dick, which brings us right back to the sex thing. I remember the pissing contests of youth, probably just as silly as the girls with their boob jobs and stomach staples.”
“The whole point is that somewhere along the line, the guy who is out there with his fake blonde hair and trophy wives and his hate filled rants learned how to hate himself and everything else in the world, and he’s not afraid to speak his truth about it. The woman learned to lie and lie and lie and say what people wanted to hear to force her agenda on those around her and not to worry too much about who or what might get hurt along the way.” Tante paused, gathering her thoughts. “What’s different about the Socialist? He’s on the same ticket as the woman who lies, and both of them oppose the truth telling fascist. The people seem to seek the truth, whether it is hate filled truth or love filled truth.”
“The Socialist has bad hair as well, or at least the press seems to think so.” Juno had taken over as fashionista since Haile’s departure.
“His hair is lovely!” Baltha did a brief stint as a light breeze blowing through it, couldn’t resist.
“His hair is authentic.” Ja.
“It’s more than that.” A lightbulb had illuminated in the imaginary space over Tante’s head. “The truths the Socialist speaks are those same truths we all came up with the other day, truths about right and wrong. The truths of the Trumpeter are ugly and hate filled. The woman just lies.”
Yes. Again, it became so blindingly obvious to all of them it was simple. The truth, in all its variations, was simple for those who wished to see it. Hate was just as true as love, it was all a matter of which one a person chose to embrace. The lies were another matter altogether.
The End is Near