I was doing some chores with my dog when I saw on 57th & 9th Avenue this man in a sharp navy blue suit, with a clean shave and a high and tight haircut, hair gay as a fox. I’m sorry, did I write “gay”? I meant “grey.” I was the only gay as a fox one at that moment. A gay fox that is.
I went over to him and said, “Excuse me, you look a lot like Anderson Cooper.” He smiled and nodded at me. He stuck out his hand and my dog smelled and licked it. She later revealed to me in private that she smelled semen on his hand and, because she didn’t get a sniff of his ass, she could not fully determine his smell signature and was unable to determine beyond a shadow of a doubt if it was his spooge or someone else’s, possibly the gay Scientologist, Tom Cruise. I told her that perhaps her detective work could earn her a job on Law & Order: Bodily Fluids Unit. We both shared a laugh and agreed that no matter what disagreements we may have in the future, Ice-T was not allowed to be on our new show, that while we both thought Kianu Reeves was a solo cesspool of waste regarding acting ability, that Ice-T also waded in the same shitpool.
Back to Anderson Cooper…I thought it might be rude if I said, “Uh, how about a yes or a no, jackass? If you’re incapable of that, you can stomp your foot once for yes and twice for no.” I assumed his smile and nod was the equivalent of a hoof clapping the floor once. If a hoof claps and there is no one there to hear it—does that mean “yes”?
“I wanted to ask you a few questions,” I continued. I didn’t wait for his hoofed foot to stomp. “Is it true you were in the CIA?”
“I worked there as an intern for the summer; it really wasn’t anything big. I don’t work for the CIA.” I felt like he had landed a straight jab to my chin. In the opening round he was attempting to knock out of my head a hundred hours of conspiracy theory regarding this. It stung but I was still in the fight.
“People think anchors like Bill O’Reilly is calling the shots but I have heard that there are others behind the scenes who are really calling the shots. Are the anchors really just mouthpieces speaking an agenda that is dictated from others above them?” A jab right back at you, grey head!
“There isn’t anyone pulling the strings. We have a lot of leeway with what we want to cover.” Short, sweet and wrinkled, like the taste of my cock after soaking it in cold agave syrup for an hour. I was starting to run out of steam and thought I’d throw a wild punch and see if it would knock him off balance or put me on my ass.
“I saw the Republican Presidential debate you monitored. I am a big Ron Paul fan,” I said as I touched his arm, trying to soften his defenses with a gesture expressing, “I may not be gay but I’d gay for you.” “You cut him off during an answer and promised you would get back to him and then never did.”
“I know, I know. I meant to I just forgot. It was not intentional.” He did seem to have a slight cut under his eye from this punch of mine but the only way to get Anderson Cooper on his back was to offer him head.
I let him go after my last question, probably because I don’t particularly like people I don’t know getting in my business and wanted to extend the same courtesy to him, even if he is a New World Order mouthpiece. I thought I did pretty well for being unprepared and thinking on my feet but on review was disappointed in myself for letting him get away with his lies unchallenged.
I was reminded of an exclusive Oprah interview with Michael Jackson where she asked, “Your sister, Latoya, wrote a book about you—“ “I didn’t read it,” interrupted Jackson and Oprah was like, “That’s good enough for me. Let’s go on to your music…” If she weren’t treating him with kid gloves she would have said, “Here is what she wrote: ‘Michael used to stir the glasses containing the wine he gave the 8-year olds with his unpigmented pecker.’ First of all, is it true you used to stir the wine with our cock? And as a follow-up to that, does it really have no pigment or is it spotted like a hyena, only in part due to the lipstick you made the 8-year old boys wear when they blew you?” Now that’s reporting!
I questioned whether I was star struck and that is why I didn’t bare-knuckle and ask him the “unpigmented pecker” question. I could have followed the CIA question with a query on Operation Mockingbird, the CIA program to infiltrate and manipulate the mass media and, in light of that, “how interesting” his summer job was. My summer jobs were much less interesting, ranging from watching fat naked men in the locker room of a public pool as the laziest locker room attendant to ever work north of the border, to waiting at a country club—not as in lounging around for something to happen but as in taking orders and serving the snobs that went there—only to be fired soon after I taped a “KICK ME” sign on the head manager’s back during a huge 400-person law firm event we were hosting. If I was the son of socialite elite Gloria Vanderbilt and was recruited by the CIA like Anderson Cooper, perhaps “I could have been a contender, instead of a bum, which is what I am,” to quote DeNiro playing Jake LaMotta in “Raging Bull.”
I could have followed up his, “The stations let us anchors decide to report whatever we want,” fairytale with, “Can I send you a copy of the documentary “OUTFOXED” which clearly documents that Rupert Murdoch gave specific marching orders of following a biased agenda and if you didn’t play ball you were fired and that what you are saying is not true?” I would have also loved to follow-up his “If I admit to being a little wrong at the debate would you not ask me the ‘unpigmented pecker’ question?” with, “Why in the history of every single Presidential debate ever held has it been allowed for a candidate to answer, “That’s a great question about the economy. I’m going to talk about foreign policy instead,” and when Ron Paul tried to do that to offer a response to a question asked earlier of his opponents but not him because he was being shut by your controllers through your puppetry, you jumped off your sodomized “Skull & Bones” ass to stop him? Was that total bias or the worst moderating by a New World Order bitch ever?”
In his defense, he was courteous enough to field a few of my questions, especially considering the fact that I was wearing a pair of dirty-looking sweatpants, had my long hair flying in all directions and was wearing a T-shirt that said One Nation Under Surveillance. A lesser New World Order stooge would probably run as fast as he could in the other direction faced with such an opponent. Not Andy.
Since his answers were lame and bullshit anyway, it would probably have been best if I followed my, “You look a lot like Anderson Cooper” intro with, “I hate Anderson fuckin’ Cooper!”
No hablo español pero ahora en tu sitio Web Hispanico es mis palabras hermosas!