Manly Chests

Please read this column on the "Renew America" web site by right-wing crank Fred Hutchison. I have yet to come across a better example of the circular logic and sexual paranoia of the Religious Right. He's created an entire belief system crafted to keep him from ever having to question himself, or consider the points made by anyone who contradicts him. I especially loved his 7 step guide to becoming evil.

Of course, this guy is obsessed with gay sex and manliness. He believes that gays are on a path that will eventually lead to terrorism. He also tries to slip Islamic fundamentalism, and for the hell of it, Communism, into this same system. Yet it's evident that these evils are but pale shadows compared to the true monstrosity of, well, gay vampires:

The first chapter of the book The Abolition of Man, by C. S. Lewis, is titled "Men without Chests." Lewis cites the classical idea that man is composed of three parts: the head, the chest, and the belly. The head is oriented towards a higher realm of reason, metaphysics, and spirituality. The belly is oriented downwards towards the sensual appetites. The chest is designed to mediate between the head and the belly.
(snip)
Men without chests are sensual. Lewis said that without the chest, the head becomes detached from the body, and withers. Then the belly with its appetites unrestrained becomes the predominant motive force of life.

Gay males are men without chests. They have an aching void where their manly chest is supposed to be. They seek to fill this void by attempting to suck the maleness out of another man through sexual appetites of the belly. Gay sex is parasitical and has nothing to do with love.

Suck the maleness? I can't even begin to wrap my mind around the "aching void" that must haunt poor Fred Hutchison every waking moment of his lonely life. How ever does he valiantly resist all those wicked homosexuals trying to suck his maleness from him?

But it gets better! After reading this whole essay, this claptrap of desperation, this punched-together piece of superficial classical learning and pseudo-Christian apology, I was curious about Fred Hutchison. So I clicked on the biography link. There are no words to describe what was revealed:








Yes, this is Fred Hutchison's bio picture.

Really, all you can say is....
Bwahhhhahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!

Not to be cruel or anything, but, well, fuck him. Let's be cruel:

He's a retired accountant, having refused to get his doctorate because of his fear of becoming a "talking head" (I didn't know that the producers on the cable networks and Sunday talk shows were so hot for commentators with that ever-sexy "scary man in a van" look).

Despite the fact that he spends much of the column defending boring married sex, there is no mention of his being married.

He's wearing a pink blazer and holding a fucking pink rose!

I would bet dollars to donuts that this is one of those guys who has a pornography collection in his basement. I don't mean a few dusty videotapes, but one of those world-class pornography collections, tens of thousands of magazines and tapes and discs, meticulously catalogued and shelved with infinite care, each item lovingly placed in its dust jacket, arranged and cross-referenced by featured act and flavor. When he finally kicks the bucket, his distant heirs will stumble across this beloved treasure, and the pieces about "Uncle Fred" will fall together. If they are enlightened sorts, they'll contact a museum or library, to come out and sift through this fantastic window into late-twentieth century erotic history, and to learn from one man's dedicated chronicaling of it. If they are not so enlightened, his heirs will rent a dumpster and spend three days hauling the stuff out in wheelbarrows, so they can unload the house as fast as possible.

Oh well, at least that's just how I imagine it, with his Penthouse filed right next to his Plutarch, his C.S. Lewis side by side with his Lesbian porn. I'll freely admit, unlike Fred Hutchison, that I could be wrong.

Heads-up to Sadly, No!