Cory Booker is the current mayor of Newark, New
Jersey. In politics, I suppose that this would be considered the ultimate entry
level position. Everything and anything that comes after Newark would be a huge
upgrade. So, Mr. Booker is attempting to escape perhaps the most reviled,
dysfunctional city in America by running for the United States Senate, and if I
were him I would do the exact same thing.
Mr. Booker is also somewhat of a star in Democratic
circles. He is handsome, smart, witty, and makes a good speech. He is also black,
a bonus. This week he’s been out in Hollywood making the fundraising rounds,
schmoozing the beautiful people. The usual suspects have been on his arm, the
Barbara Streisands, Sean Penns of the world, making sure he’s for abortion on
demand, and the legalization of marijuana.
He has not disappointed, and has returned to Newark with 4 million in
his campaign war chest, raised from people constantly railing against the evil
influence of money in politics.
Upon his return, we discover in a story from the UK
Telegram, that Cory is apparently quite fond of a Portland, Oregon stripper
named Lynsie Lee, whose Twitter bio reads, “wits and tits #stripper #model
#model #weirdo. The story reveals several flirtatious tweets between the two.
First of all, what it is with British newspapers
always getting the story first? But that’s a story for another day. Since Mr.
Booker is single, and has had to answer questions about gay rumors recently,
this revelation will probably help him. While I might question his taste in
women; Ms. Lee is the personification of the word skank, he is free to tweet with anyone he pleases. What caught my
eye in the Telegram story was not that a young up and comer like Booker would
be involved with a tattoo covered stripper, it was something else entirely.
Further along in the story we discover that Ms. Lee worked at something called
a “vegan strip club.”
Try as I might at 6:00 in the morning, I just can’t
get my mind around the meaning of such a thing. A vegan strip club? My first
image is of a juicy, plump ear of yellow corn freshly shucked, laid bare on the
bar in front of a dozen salivating farmers. No, it can’t be that, in Nebraska
maybe, but Portland Oregon? It must be something else. Then I imagine a room
full of metrosexuals ogling Ms. Lee as she does her pole dance, while
delicately dipping their broccoli heads into little bowls of soy sauce. Instead
of a Confederate flag draped on the wall behind the bartender, there’s a portrait
of Che Guevara, flanked on one side by a Rainbow Coalition flag and on the
other by the baby blue banner of the United Nations.
A vegan
strip club. Can a left-handed coffee shop be far behind? How about a diabetic bakery?
A transgendered car wash?
I could go on like this for hours…
