A noted (and how) candidate in the state of Delaware's Republican Senatorial Primaries running under the aegis of the Tea Party Express, Miss O'Donnell is old school Roman Catholic... like a mofo.
Her positions mirror Catholicism circa 1500, her vision for us as a nation just as scary as American style Christianity, maybe worse. At least evangelicals can get divorces. But, to be honest, lady's walking around with a big, fat target on her back -- especially for creeps like me.
God, where to begin? She's really too easy. A Catholic of the Bill Donohue abstinence before, during, and after school, the lady wears her faith like a scar carved into the middle of her forehead. Truthfully, I almost feel sorry for her. Her remarks per sex alone are fashioned after another era and while easily lampooned do induce a sort of pity... and not just for her stupidity, either.
I don't know if if Miss O'Donnell ever considered such a vocation but her morality is, allegedly, intact (unless she has an affinity for horses and bicycles) as are her morals. Touted as the next big thing by the likes of Mama Grizzly Sarah Palin, she looks like a true contender.
Now, rather than re-hash the standard hyperbole about the the woman (and my own moribund conclusions per) I'd like to instead address Miss O'Donnell's controversial stance on masturbation.
But not in Miss O'Donnell's world. From what I can remember per my own abysmal parochial school career masturbation was a kind of double sin: First there was the actual physical act itself, then there was the sin of even considering the act in the first place. Now, while not an expert in Canon Law I think there might be a third or fourth sin tucked in there, too -- considering to consider considering to consider consideration, and oh yeah, the victim of your masturbatory fantasies is somehow committing a sin as well, though I haven't quite figured that part out yet.
More confusing still is the whole concept of what O'Donnell refers to as "lust in your heart". Now what the hell is that supposed to mean? What else could you call one of those intense sexual attractions one gets every now and then other than "lust in your heart" and a couple of other places as well? This is, of course, a sin, too. So what are you going to do -- find the ugliest, most grotesque member of the opposite sex (sorry gay folks, no dating in the concentration camp) you can and go read the bible -- Catholic, thank-you-very-much -- together?
No, wait, let's make it like a movie; the two of your strolling through a carnival sharing sticky cotton candy, gently wiping the pink strands from the corners of one anothers smiles as you laugh that soft gosh-we're-in-love laugh, the barker's rhythmic spiel ringing in your ears as you help the Ferris wheel operator wedge your companion into one of the swings, this after slipping the guy a fin for letting someone as big as your date even get near the thing.
No more "lust in my heart", huh? Let's see... no more Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issues for me. Those vampire shows, gee, most of commercial television actually -- buh-bye. Movies, too. Hooters is history. And thinking about what might be beneath that wind-swept summer shift as she passes you by one sun speckled afternoon? Better stop at the bra and panties, cowboy. Stop and say a prayer. The other thing? Think about your dog throwing up or something. It'll go away eventually.
Imagine, if you will, Miss O'Donnell's perfect world -- thought crime implants, sex police, being yanked from that bathroom and hauled out to the paddy wagon while the "beat" cops hold up your movie star magazine and mutter things like "evidence" and "castration".