There are maybe a half-dozen moments from political debates that anyone remembers today, and that's more than anyone can remember even the morning after one of those stupid spectacles. This is because they're almost entirely meaningless and should be done away with as soon as possible. You don't learn a goddamn thing from them and, by the time they finally come around, the tools participating in them have already been on TV for two fucking years.
Of course, I watch them. But that's only because you don't have to. I'm a glutton for punishment and sometimes knowing bizarrely esoteric shit gets me laid. If you can explain how that works, I'm all ears.
Anyhow, I watched the Second Titanic Battle of the Witless last night, and I pretty sad to see that Barack Obama pretty clearly won it, if only by actually showing up awake this time. I was having a really nice 12 days of not hearing fuckheaded Republican hacks constantly wetting their pants about "skewed polls." Having said that, since the Joe Biden-Paul Ryan debacle last Thursday night, said Republican fuckheaded hacks have been constantly wetting their pants about the moderators.
Here's one of my much celebrated trade secrets behind caling elections: The side that's bitching and moaning the loudest about meaningless shit is almost always the side that's losing. Now you know.
So, I watched the big debate last night and it was pretty much what I expected: Both candidates relentlessly lying about things that traditionally have nothing to do with the executive office of the president; such as student loans and oil drilling. All things being equal, I was delighted that neither side mentioned the death penalty, the Pledge of Allegiance orWillie Horton. Elections that are about nothing usually go for that trifecta.
But there was one thing that amazed me, if only because it was just so incredibly odd.
The candidates were asked about pay equity for women, which also has nothing at all to do with the executive branch, or even the federal government, under the Constitution. The President gave his standard meaningless liberal boilerplate answer, which probably made broads smile.
Then Romney took the mic ... and things got Well and Truly Weird.
CROWLEY: Governor Romney, pay equity for women?
ROMNEY: Thank you. And important topic, and one which I learned a great deal about, particularly as I was serving as governor of my state, because I had the chance to pull together a cabinet and all the applicants seemed to be men.
And I -- and I went to my staff, and I said, "How come all the people for these jobs are -- are all men." They said, "Well, these are the people that have the qualifications." And I said, "Well, gosh, can't we -- can't we find some -- some women that are also qualified?"
And -- and so we -- we took a concerted effort to go out and find women who had backgrounds that could be qualified to become members of our cabinet.
I went to a number of women's groups and said, "Can you help us find folks," and they brought us whole binders full of women.
But only very rarely have I been brought "whole binders full of women." In fact, it only happened in one place.
This was back in the early 90's at a place called the Fairbanks Hotel. Back then it was in the Dufferin and Lawrence area of Toronto, near my dearly departed father's office at the time. The ground floor of the establishment was a strip-joint, which was serendipitous because strippers just happen to be my favorite people in the whole world. I also think that Dear Old Dad might have been the establishment's loan officer, but I don't know that as a certainty because I didn't care.
So I went. How could I not? After all, I'm widely regarded as the Ferdinand Magellan of strange poontang, and properly so. You have your Spice Islands and I have mine.
It was an experience unlike any other, before or since. And I was maybe 21 the first time I darkened the door of the Fairbanks.
And what a door it was. To get through it you had go through a metal detector, the only time outside of court or an airport that I had to do so. And the doormen were especially surly Chinese gentlemen. Come to think of it, the patrons were all especially surly Chinese gentlemen, too. This lead to numerous rumours that the Fairbanks was run by the Triad, which it almost certainly was.
That was something else that I didn't care about. Ah, youth!
As I remember it, there was no stage, which was unusual for a peeler joint. And there were no dancers wandering about constantly pestering you for a dance. It was also almost impossible to get a drink in this place, something else that you never see with places that make their money wirh naked girls.
Instead, what happened was that a somewhat less surly Chinese gentleman would bring to the table, you guessed it, a "binder full of women" Said women were exclusively Asian, but what women they were!
Because I'm the curious sort, I asked what was up. It was explained to me that very few of the dancers spoke any English at all, which couldn't be more serendipitous because the only people I like more than naked women are naked women that don't speak English. You'd be surprised how many problems you can get around that way. Really, you would!
It was all so innocent. You'd point to the picture of a young lady that struck your fancy, and she's be brought to you within minutes. Also, this was in Ontario's Dark Ages, when lap dancing was illegal. This is something that no one had bothered telling the dancers in their native tongue because they would spend as much time (and money) as you had creating enormous and unmistakable snail trails across the crotch of your pants. Like I said, it was a magical time and one I won't soon forget. Sadly, the original Fairbanks burned down in the mid-90s. I thought it was gone forever, along with the best years of my life. It might put a spring in President Obama's step to learn that a great deal of my student loan was spent there between 1992-'93, not long after he graduated from Harvard Law, full to the brim of idealism. He had his dream and I, my friends, had mine.
Last night wasn't an entire waste. After nearly two decades of trying, I finally felt connected with Mitt Romney in a way that didn't involve us both being ruggedly handsome and willing to say whatever was necessary to get what we want. It was as close to spiritual as I probably get.
And to think that it all happened over binders full of women.
Epilogue: Not too long ago, I learned that the Fairbanks hath been reborn near Dufferin and Eglinton. Just seeing it from the street, to quote Axl Rose, "reminds me of childhood memories." So to anyone who says that you can't go home again." I say "fuck you!"
If'n I'm of the right mind (and assuming the money doesn't run out) I might just go back someday.
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