While the Spitzergate shit continues to hit the proverbial fan, my personal feelings are probably best summed up with an exchange I had with Siege earlier today, in which I said something to the effect of: Men fuck whores. Who cares. The thing I suppose I find mildly fascinating is how everyone knows this, but everyone uses morality debates to disguise the reality of America's relationship to the story, which is: We are curious. And that is human. Fascinatingly, one of the most insightful and moving pieces of writing on Whoregate came from none other than Alex Balk. (Although, one cannot help but wonder what My Cock would have to say on the matter. My Cock?) Oh. I forgot something. Thanks to all the Newsweek readers who have sex with prostitutes for sending me their letters from johns.
I guess what I’m saying—or not saying—is who the hell knows why we do what we do? One of the five people whom I consider vastly more intelligent than myself once told me his theory that human beings “nearly always end up working out traumas and rejections and fears in their sexual desires,” and I don’t doubt the essential truth of that. Why did Eliot Spitzer screw whores? Maybe it had to do with all those Monopoly games. I don’t know and I don’t care; the only thing this story proves to me, once again, is how badly we fuck ourselves up when it comes to sex. At the end of the day it’s probably just easier to say “My cock made me do it.” You don’t have to look at any of the deeper causes that way. Which just seems like a tragedy for everyone.
