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March 22, 2010

Dear Esperanza:

I met the most wonderful man, he’s sweet, handsome, kind–I’m so in love with him. He’s perfect in every way…except one.

His politics.

That fool’s got some crazy shit in head. We can’t even watch the news together, he goes off on this Rush Limbaugh speech, talking nonsense. He pissed me off so bad I threatened to flatten his chorizo with my straightening iron. It got ugly.

But then we’d have super-hot make-up sex and were in love again. Until the next time the news comes on.

I don’t know what to do.  I love this man with all my heart, but I think I might eventually scramble his huevos if he keeps talking that conservative ca-ca. For real.

I don’t want to lose the love of my life. And I certainly don’t want him to lose his chorizo—at least not while he’s with me.

Ayudame, por favor.

Lilly la Liberal


Dear Lilly la Loca:

This is a horrible, terrible tragedy.

Sex and politics go together like Sarah Palin and Russia. Like Nancy Pelosi and Botox. Like huevos and chorizo. They’re intertwined, an integral element of one’s performance in bed.

I have personally documented the correlation between sex and politics. I filmed a documentary of my research—it was hot—and tried to sell the video to the Discovery Channel. They referred me to Animal Planet. I’m still waiting to hear.

One’s political affiliation influences what kind of lover they’ll be…

THE COMMUNIST: I slept with a Che Guevara wannabe—beard, fatigues, machine gun…the works. He was a fantastic lover, extremely generous—in eeeeeevery way.  Except one night, I woke up wanting more and mistook the machine gun for his chorizo. Luckily, he only lost his middle finger.

THE LIBERTARIAN:  Pretty good, but can be a bit selfish. Once I nibbled on a Libertarian’s chest (I’m a biter, BTW) he lost a little blood and insisted that I replace it with a blood transfusion.

THE DEMOCRAT: Excellent lovers, but will inevitably ask for a three-some. They love girl-on-girl action. Sorry, I don’t do chocha.  

THE REPUBLICAN:  Loves to scream, “Oh God, Oh, God, Oh God…” and protect their chorizos with at least three condoms—the max I’ve seen is six.  There’d be more Republicans if they let loose once in a while.

THE ANARCHIST: They love hair. My Anarchist wouldn’t let me shave my legs, armpits or chocha—it grew like a jungle down there, probably cut back on global warming.  But the worse part…he wanted foreplay after sex.  Ay.

THE INDEPENDENT: Great lovers, but you never know which side they’re on. If their apartment is tastefully furnished and they recognize which knock-off label you’re wearing…you ain’t getting any.      

Back to Lilly…

To brainwash your man into agreeing with your politics requires not only ingenuity, creativity and intelligence, you’ll also need…

A blue pill.

Before the evening news airs…spike his drink with a blue pill.

The blue pill rushes blood out of your man’s big cabeza and into his little cabeza. He becomes dizzy, distracted…soon enough, he won’t give a rat’s ass about politics. He only wants one thing and will do just about anything to get it.

Including agree with your politics.

Love is a mucho splendored thing.

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