Let’s Talk About All the Good Things and the Bad Things That May Be

What an incredibly long week it’s been. I can’t believe we all made it through with justunder half of the country involved in one sex scandal or another. Like, I feel like my week has been really long because I haven’t gotten enough sleep and things are a little rough at work. But I bet General David Petraeus and Kevin Clash slept even less than I did (though neither of them had to get up for work).


I have always personally resented American sex scandals because I bore a strong resemblance to Monica Lewinsky during the Clinton Impeachment, which is a lot to shoulder for a pre-teen, now known as a “tween”. But these stories don’t involve anyone who looks like me, so I’m in. This week we learned that people in charge of things were getting it on in direct opposition to the honor codes of the things which they were/are in charge of. Kevin Clash, aka Mr. Elmo, who became a household name after starring as the subject of Being Elmo: A Puppeteer’s Journeyin 2011. This week he was accused of having consensual but illegal, and moreover icky, sex with a sixteen year old. This is not a good look for someone who makes his living working with children. Turns out the accuser didn’t remember how to add the years of his life and recanted his statement right after being fired by his lawyer. America heaves a collective sigh of relief.

Guys, it’s ok.

Simultaneously, the dark sexual underbelly of high level Fox News watchers and the military personnel who love them has been exposed and it is gross. No one knows if General Petraeus had affairs with both his biographer, Paula Broadwell, andwhat I can only surmise is the local Tampa procurer for the US military, Jill Kelley, except for Patraeus and Kelley, and probably Broadwell deep in her heart. No one knows if FBI Agent Fred Humphries, to whom Kelley turned for help, sent her the below picture as a joke or as some sort of sexual proposition. Judging by the picture, I’m going to say sexual, but that’s really just conjecture. Who knows how many of the marriages touched by these affairs were already sham marriages and how many are being shattered by these public revelations. Who knows what the hell Broadwell’s North Carolina driver’s license was doing in Rock Creek Park in Washington D.C., which is not close enough to NC to accidentally lose it on a stroll. (All joking aside, this detail chills me to the bone. I half think Broadwell blew this whole thing wide open so she would be safe in the public eye. But I still refuse to believe that Sarah Palin, not Bristol, gave birth to Trigg, so I’m half a tinfoil hat away from needing to be medicated.) I appreciate that the sex lives of consenting adults are no one’s business but their own, but when you stumble on a high ranking military key party, it is impossible not to be fascinated.

He’s asking for it.

At the end of the day, I am a lot more relieved that the beloved voice of Elmo doesn’t have to register as a sex offender than I am interested in the sexual habits of the rich and powerful of Tampa, Florida. But I’m mostly relieved that none of the people in the news currently look anything like me.


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