Organ Grinder:
News for Pervy Little Monkeys

For the record, let me state that I am generally as adept at talking about politics as politicians are at talking about sex. Similarly, when forced into the position of talking about politics, I am evasive, in denial; whatever the political equivalent is of a lousy lay. However, I am not the kind of hedonist that can ignore the current state of our world. Personally, I am awash with blue ruin; full of suppurating grief for the victims of last Tuesday's WTC attack and for the thousands more, dead and scheduled to die in the Middle East.

Nevertheless, in the fine old tradition of the emotionally stunted and the genetically British, I carry on. There is the job to do, the article to write, the dinner to make. My God, my privilege is immense.

I will not talk about politics today. I will not appeal to your paranoia or your patriotism, those well-lubed levers of mass manipulation. I will not appeal to your sense of loss or your sense of revenge, though I have loved many Americans. I will not appeal to your faith, because if you have a Higher Power you don't need the Terminal City sex columnist to tell you when and for whom to pray. Events of the past week lead a person to the realization that, no matter how long we are alive, we really don't have much time. I doubt the bomb is going to drop tomorrow. I have faith in the human race, if not in our governmental bodies. That said, if these are the last words I am ever lucky enough to publish, I will not go out mouthing off about issues of which I knew nothing last week. Today, I want to talk about something I know; something I love: Something…. anything…. what was I saying? Let me start again:

Hello, World? This is Cass King. I don't have much time. I love you. I love you so fucking much. Remember when you got out of the shower and left a big pool of water in the bathroom, and I walked in and got a soaker on my fresh socks and I gave you shit and called you a mucky puddle-duck? I loved that. The sound of steel drums from really far away? Excellent. The smell of a mangled stargazer lily the morning after we made love on it? Divine! Saffron, red wine, garlic... Inspired! Celia Cruz, Cesaria Evora, Nina Simone: all deserve constellations of their own. The telephone line that carried my Mother's voice. The gasoline that burned to bring my lover to me. The feeling of two strong arms wrapped around me as I sleep. I don't have much time. Sunflowers. Tequila. Cabaret music. Matches by the toilet. My brothers. Platform shoes. I don't have much time. The email that came telling me everyone I know survived. My leftist friends who were right all along. The reassuring lies of the evening news. The smell of fresh, wet skin. The New Yorker. McSweeneys. Marijuana. All right, all right, fine: Cute little babies. I don't have much time. Wreck Beach. Michael Moore. Bata drums, Santeria, mystic realism. Honey, cinnamon, fresh water. Falsies. Nail polish. Fucking Amtrak. I don't have much time. Coffee. Angora. Red lipstick. Pasties. Big Bands. Sex toys. Naugahyde. Banging' on pots with old wooden spoons. Spooning in the morning. Balsamic Vinaigrette. Books. Books. Books. I don't have much time. Oral sex. Sex on the table, sex in the bedroom, sex on the floor, sex in the bathroom, sex in public, sex in private, sober sex, drunken sex, stoner sex. Bad sex. Yes! Even bad sex rules. But not as much as plaid sex. Fictional sex. Semi-clothed sex. Homo sex. Solo sex. Han Solo sex. (The kind where you think he's an arrogant prick but you kiss him anyways.) I don't have much time. I love you. I love you so much that I wish that Jerry Falwell and Pat Robertson would fall in love instantly, on camera, and jack each other off for Jesus. God knows they don't deserve it, but I think we'd all be better off if they were sexually satisfied. Same goes for Dubya and his puppet masters. Go for it guys. Hire the best whores you can afford (and you can afford the very best). Take a load off. Pretend your fat new war is a stargazer lily. Make love on it. Sleep on it. Smell it in the morning.