EX-CONGRESSMAN DORNAN: Kids to Feed: No Job, No Brain

If there was one loose-lipped, self-important, perversity-talking, mastur-de-bator in Congress who relied almost entirely on anti-gay demagoguery to do blowhard jobs on his constituency, it was the sometimes-bearded "butch" wonder, Ex-congressman Bob Dornan, whose wife was always just dying to get into First Lady drag, something, fortunately for everybody, she failed through him to manage.

Mrs. Dornan's husband, who is now just Mr. Dornan, a demented goon, had been goosed by the Aspiring First Lady's idea she implanted without mercy and went to the far edges of respectability, taking a seedy clown show--a regular circus of anal retentives--on the Presidential Campaign Trail in '96. He declared himself--ha ha--a candidate for the Presidency! He said, "I am the one inside the beltway listening to the screams of the Christians as the lions roar." What was he trying to tell us? That those Christian Reich types make the best lion fodder? And was he really hoping to see the financial failures of Orange County, and his conservative sex agenda (more sodomites in more expensive jails) repeated nationwide after he became President?

Yes, that was what he'd hoped. But instead, he found himself deservedly defeated by other more impressive presidential candidates. Even more unsettling to this explosively-tempered Sissyhater, this Bob Dornan, was the losing of his seat as a revered and legendary Congressperson to, oh god, an Hispanic wooooman, and, eeegads, a Democrat. Dornan refused to believe he'd lost. He couldn't have lost. It wasn't true. Alien voters did it. More of them than anybody knows. There has to be a re-count.

He even used an old cliché, saying it wasn't over until "the Fat Lady sings." Several fat ladies, Democrats all, went to his office door and the media listened as they serenaded ol' Dornan--a bye bye song--over CNN. Still, that Bob boy fellow didn't want to budge.

Only a few months before his 1996 presidential announcement, The Unknown Dispenser of Justice had rewarded California's Orange County, represented by the pseudo-moralistic Dornan, with total bankruptcy. This observer had hoped for a sizable Dornanesque media earthquake to top off Dornan Country's financial disaster with whipped cream, one in which the Congressman might have lost his unmemorable member in the nether parts of another one of those philandering televangelists. Pat Robertson would have done the trick nicely. One could have hoped too that Mrs. Dornan, wielding her gigantic rubbery ideas around, would then reveal who wears the underpants, divorcing her Catholic hubby on the grounds that Pat Robertson is not only a renegade Protestant but the "the other woman," also.

Robert Dornan was always a hopeless Presidential candidate, and he gave Californians an unfortunate reputation for kookery. Clean shaven, his face is still as blank as his brain. Bearded or no, his beady eyes communicate a pitiable search for undeserved applause. His best lines, however, are always meandering clunkers. They wander into spinwheels, his thoughts scrambling to get nowhere fast, like a hamster's feet.

Following Dornan's strained digressions, hoping for a moment of clarity or intelligence, is an exercise so futile, one can only marvel he has "courage" to speak his "mind." The fact that this red-headed monkey once became a congressman proves that even orangutans can win.

Even so, Rep. (Reprehensible) Dornan outranked his congressional peers with one spectacular idiosyncrasy. His colleagues now know from their bitter experiences that he spoke in seizures from the highest peaks of virtuous ineptitude about a variety of his most pitiable obsessions, the outstanding one being his unnatural preoccupation with homosexuality. (Homosexuality is his word-choice. He once delivered a stern lecture on the floor-- in goodness knows what physical position--about how politicians must never never use the word 'Gay." )

Because Dornan concerned himself with such nonsense, financial failures deservedly flew about the empty heads of his too-many Orange County constituents, a much shrunk number now, which speaks well for Orange County, or if not well, at least WELL! It is an honor to announce that finally--after these tortured 18 years of Bob Dornan---Orange County voters seem to realize they've been typed as asleep at the brain's switch, something which the remainder of the nation suspected them to be because they continued to re-elect Dornan.

Robert Dornan should have always been carrying a sandwich board inscribed with a daily choice of his most deranged messages instead of being allowed, for 18 years, a Congressional bully pulpit which he used--like the macho pretender he is--to bully Latinos, gays, and, you know, the whole bunch of pinko, queer, foreigners-in-this-our-own crazy-quilt country.

The Dornan's--as a couple-- are clearly the Connie and Raymond Marvel of American politics. They're still scheming to return to their "rightful" place. (See the cult film, "Pink Flamingoes," now enjoying a 25-year revival, especially the blue-haired, toe-oriented love scene.) The one talent with which Dornan has provided our nation is his uncanny ability to access an amazing range of bombastic imbicilities, unrivaled not only here, but in the world. "You need to see a psychiatrist!" a former speaker of the House told Dornan. But no. Congressman Dornan needs to see a proctologist to get rid of those rubbery ideas that are stubbornly stuck there.

A Dornan is a Dornan, and, you must see, a shrink wouldn't really help. It was Orange County, California that needed help, financially and, many have thought, intellectually. Its this County, after all, that's put him where he was, and which, because it actually did have--surprise, suprise-- a modicum of decency, finally tossed him with his wife's ideas where the sun don't shine. If a new election were held today, Re. Loretta Sanchez (D.-Garden Grove) would again defeat him, according to an Los Angeles Times (April 17) report. Yes, the new (Times) Orange County poll gave Sanchez a 49% lead over Dornan's 36% failure to lead.

Jane Fonda, a favorite Orange County whipping girl, called Dornan "a really vicious, low-grade person." Hey, Ted, now you can dump Dornan's stupid circus side shows. No more Crossfire gigs, OK? It didn't good CNN news make, hosting a "brain" Dead as A Dornan.

Film director, Oliver Stone, says Bob Dornan "is a threat to tolerance; a threat to democracy; a threat to everything civil." But if Dornan's so vicious and low-grade, why couldn't his constituents see it? Probably, goddess forbid, because many were more low-grade and vicious than he. At least 36%. Its loonies like Dornan who, today, help make individualists squirm at the very thought of being represented in Congress.