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I was Tom DeLay’s surreptitious suitor


The Webster Retort
By Stephen Webster
Investigative Reporter
June 16, 2006

I was Tom DeLay’s surreptitious suitor

I … have a confession to make. Everyone, please be calm.

I know this may be a lot to absorb in such a short amount of time but Yes, the Rumors Are True: I was Tom DeLay’s surreptitious suitor. You know, “Gentleman Friend”? Cavalier inamorato? Sumptuous steady, inamorata arm piece -- en privy, of course. I confess. I was Tom DeLay’s ever-faithful Ace in the … ah, you probably get my point. But that is only the beginning of my morose lament.

Those Godless Democrats! Filthy, immoral, activist judges! How could they steal him away from me?!? I have so many fond memories of our time together. Oh, those years now seem so far away. Back when Tommy and I would casually walk the beaches of Sai Pan, where he and Uncle Jackie had come to work on government things. There were so many native children there, and Tommy was so sweet to them. He would tell me, “I got these kids jobs they could have never had if I didn’t accept this money.” And he’d whisk me away in a flight of fancy, running through the sand, carried on the strong, capable backs of 12-year-olds.

I never paid much attention to his business, but I read some things in that horrible Liberal Press. Like Tommy always says, Don’t Believe Anything in The Liberal Press. They’re all liars. Every last one of them. Except Chris Matthews, who used to join us on golfing trysts to Scotland. Oh, I remember it all so clearly! There’s Grover, that scoundrel! (He could do the most amazing things with that cute little beard of his) And Scooter, and Dick! Those two are always getting into trouble. The kind of trouble that makes you want to say, “Oooh!” with a Wink.

I was enamored with this tower of a man. While he may be relatively short face to face, Tommy was like a 20-foot tall bronze statue to me. I looked up to him in everything I did. We’d spend long nights in straw huts, lounging in hammocks made of black, beautiful, silky-soft human hair. Bald native women would bring him drinks in cute little coconut cups while he sat and puffed on a Cuban cigar. Sometimes I would oil his soft, warm chest with smashed olives and tears collected from the local children. Oh how he loved those!

He would visit with local dignitaries and let me watch them and they … ah, worked out a “compromise” over their now-legal sex trades. But Tommy was always so understanding. He brought hope to all those poor prostitutes. And with a little bit of extra man-handling (tee-hee!), he even brought them the clients they needed! By working it out so American Corporations, God bless ‘em, could bank offshore and avoid paying taxes altogether, I was always seeing the joy in the eyes of those healthily-rounded CEOs, running off into the jungle with the natives. Little boys, especially. But Tommy was okay with it. After all, it was just another political victory for God’s Team! I hear he was recently elected as Chairman of the Texas branch. Good for him. But I wish I were there to have heard his acceptance speech. I was at home, far too broken up over Tommy to care what God had to say.

Ronnie Earl, that yellow-dog coward! He knows nothing of law! I don’t care of he’s prosecuted more Democrats than Republicans! He should know which side God is on! God is on the side that helps the needy people of wherever. Like those thankless Iraqis we keep helping. When was the last time Ronnie Early ever helped anyone, I ask you? The only person he’s helping is Howard Dean! Makes me wonder if there is anything more to them than meets the eye. I hear they both have a taste for sodium pentothal. Sinners.

I’ve made some new friends since Tommy told me I had to leave. Our split was a soul-wrenching heartbreak. I have not recovered yet, but he said it was for the best. I’m with the new speaker now, but Denny just doesn’t have the same passion. Sure, he runs with some of Tommy’s friends and business partners, and he even earned an honorary “Under Investigation” badge from the Department of Justice. But his heart lies with Karl, whose Roving Thunder will darken my horizon for years to come. I think Tommy is going on trial because he is kind and sweet and honest. The Democrats are trying to Destroy the American Dream!

From this day forward, I’ll hang Tommy’s police mug shot on the wall over my bed. He has such a wonderful smile. His courage and determination know no bounds. He fought the war against the Democrats and won the title he so deserved: The Hammer. And between you and I, that hammer was good for more than just three things. I just hope the bravery I had to muster in order to come forward and reveal the truth brings a smile to his face.

O! Where art thou, Tommy? I know you will meet another, there behind bars. I hear the stories, but I will not dwell on it! Tommy, I beg you; do not DeLay your return! This lonesome soul and the child sex slaves you so valiantly fought to keep legal … We desperately need you in this, our hour of loss. You might not be number one in Congress any more. But you are still number one in My Heart!

Stephen Webster is an Investigative Reporter with North-Texas weekly The News Connection, a Staff Writer with Peace Journalism Magazine and George W. Bush's hometown paper The Lone Star Iconoclast, a former contributor to The Dallas Morning News' Science & Technology section and the former Editor-in-Chief of Binary Culture. He is also eternally heart-broken.

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