Haggard, Foley, and Effing Foucault

So... Haggard is “guilty.”

I bet Big A that he wasn’t.

I’m mad because now, I’m out of $10. I’m mad because I was so completely fooled by what I read as sincerity in Haggard’s preliminary denial, which came prefaced with, “I never claimed I was perfect…”

I guess that it could translate into good news for anti-Repubs this close to the elections. But I’m mostly just tired of the Haggards and the Foleys. Tired of the messy deceptions, the pious hypocrisy, and sad about the turmoil they must put so many families, including their own, through.

I’m tired of people lashing themselves to the posts of untenable deprivation only to inevitably stumble into self-defined depravity. If Haggard wasn’t so preachy about homosexuality being evil, his crime would be the simpler one of drug abuse; not sex with a male prostitute, adultery, hypocrisy, deception, and drug abuse.

I wish society would re-discover moderation. Discover that it is possible to indulge desire safely, honorably. In moderation.

I’m sad when people have to depend on a posse of Weight Watchers to tell them that one slice of pizza = cool, five slices = not such a good idea. I’m sad when they flinch from human touch, from yoga, a piece of chocolate--because they’ve been conditioned to think of them as alien and/or evil.

I wish we could be truthful with ourselves, be in touch with our desires, keep a warm, open, welcoming mind.

I wish we could remember that we tend to obsessively desire exactly whatever it is we punitively deny ourselves.

I want to yell, “Read some fucking Foucault, you dimwits.”



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