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A friend sent us a link from the New Yorker which permanently changed us all. Cynikell realized she needed to shower immediately and curl into a fetal position. Mark realized for the first time in his adult life, he had no comment.

I realized I think I dated Scooter Libby.

Now, dear reader, if you are offended by graphic sexual descriptions, I have two things to say to you. First, you are probably reading this by mistake anyway. Second, you probably should move on, because I'm about to bring down the house.

So how did I find out I think I dated Scooter Libby? I read about his 1996 book The Apprentice. Excerpts from a New Yorker essay set the stage for my most recent traumatic dating memory:

    "The Apprentice"--Libby's 1996 entry in the long and distinguished annals of the right-wing dirty novel--tells the tale of Setsuo, a courageous virgin innkeeper who finds himself on the brink of love and war.

    Libby does not shy from the scatological. The narrative makes generous mention of lice, snot, drunkenness, bad breath, torture, urine, "turds," armpits, arm hair, neck hair, pubic hair, pus, boils, and blood (regular and menstrual). One passage goes, "At length he walked around to the deer's head and, reaching into his pants, struggled for a moment and then pulled out his penis. He began to piss in the snow just in front of the deer's nostrils."

    Homoeroticism and incest also figure as themes. The main female character, Yukiko, draws hair on the "mound" of a little girl. The brothers of a dead samurai have sex with his daughter. Many things glisten (mouths, hair, evergreens), quiver (a "pink underlip," arm muscles, legs), and are sniffed (floorboards, sheets, fingers).

    At age ten the madam put the child in a cage with a bear trained to couple with young girls so the girls would be frigid and not fall in love with their patrons. They fed her through the bars and aroused the bear with a stick when it seemed to lose interest.

    And, finally:

    He asked if they should fuck the deer.

    The answer, reader, is yes.

Pick your jaw up off the floor, and let's continue our journey, shall we?

I met My Scooter Libby on eHarmony, an online matchmaking company which should have as a logo a large red flag with Neil Clark Warren's face in the center of it.

My Scooter Libby and I emailed and talked quite a bit prior to meeting, and we got along fairly well during our first dates. Sometime later My Scooter Libby confided to me that he had a secret hobby: writing erotica.

Now let's get real.

What men say: "I write erotica." What women hear: "I write stupid porn."

A few days later I received an email from My Scooter Libby.

Subject line: For You.

Allow me to paraphrase the basic story line in his email.

    A professional woman rushes to take a phone call in a meeting just before lunch. After the phone call she can't concentrate on the meeting.

    She rushes out of the meeting early.

    She rushes by the bathroom to remove her panty hose.

    She rushes out to her car.

    She rushes to meet a man in the woods.

    She rushes over to his car.

    He pulls out his presumably rock hard 10 inch pee-pee, slams it one time into her, causing her immediately to have a series of orgasms, the likes of which she has never before experienced.

At a point like this, a woman can realize how this man has just shared one of his innermost fantasies to her, making him feel both excited and vulnerable at the prospect of her having read his writings, all the while understanding that a man's sense of his sexual appeal is central to his self-esteem and sense of well-being.

Unfortunately for this man, I wasn't that woman.

Instead I emailed back, "You've gotta be kidding me."

I never heard from him again.

I guess he wasn't kidding me.

Now, years later, sometimes I sit and think about my brief, yet intense, time with My Scooter Libby. And as I think about the ten inch penis story, I understand more clearly about perjury indictments.

Falafel Sex, and Other Things Best Left Unsaid

Originally posted to abbytaylor on Fri Nov 04, 2005 at 07:47 AM PST.

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Comment Preferences

  •  VERY disturbing (4.00)
    I don't know why I found this so horribly, skin-crawling repulsive. Maybe it's because I expected our political power elite to be above such debauchery.

    Maybe it's because I expected them to be better writers.


    by Cynikell on Fri Nov 04, 2005 at 07:56:38 AM PST

  • he wasn't under oath... (4.00)
    and you were fortunate not to be under oaf... (oh deer!)

    we'll stand him up against a wall and pop goes the weasel /rufus t. firefly

    by 2nd balcony on Fri Nov 04, 2005 at 08:07:02 AM PST

  •  What Amazon has to say (none)
    I just chekecd out Amazon to see about buying this book.

    A quick glance at the reviews gives us this from "Spiro Agnew's Headless Corpse":

    This otherwise played out story had bear rape. As a bear raper I can say that the idea of turning the tables was quite erotic. But then there was no more animal rape.. what up with that?

    It is out of print (I'm sure it will be back soon), but if you want it used, it will cost you $120, although hardcover is $2100.  $2400 will get you an enscribed, uncorrected proof copy.

    There is one copy available on
    for $100.78

    I found three copies on eBay starting at $51.

    "The room was dark as an honest politician's prospects." -- Dashiell Hammett

    by being released on Fri Nov 04, 2005 at 08:11:33 AM PST

  •  Lions and Tigers and Bears, Oh, My! (4.00)
    What a profoundly sick bastard.  And wingnuts insist on claiming that Dubya brought morality back to the White House.  Now, it's tired but true, but can you imagine the outrage if a senior Clinton official had written a smut book like this?  We need to throw this in their face as often as hard as we can.  Make sure the Repugnicans can't ignroe it.
  •  If you told him that you wouldn't mind reading (none)
    then it's not really cool to damn him to opening himself to you.

    If he was creep who sent it to you unsolicited, hell yeah, spit on him, stomp him down, tear this throat out, baby!

    but if you were supposedly cool with one another, and you invited him to send something, you made him feel that you were cool with him sending whatever whenever, you were cool with him opening himself up....... have a heart. you know?

    it's his fantasy.  the hardcore stuff works for men. simple as that. could have told him why it didn't work for you.  give him some insight into how real women work, how you work -- since he was writing it to try to make you enjoy it as well as himself.  he failed.  but if you dug him, he wouldn't have had to fail forever.  a man who could listen to you and incorporate your insights, man, you would have found yourself with a winner on your hands :)

    but i guess you didn't really dig him to begin with, to be that hard on him, right?   or was he just a creep bugging you from the get go?

  •  I think I am suffering from outrage fatigue (none)
    I read the essay in the New Yorker.  I wasn't surprised that Libby could write this kind of thing, but I was surprised both that he wrote so badly and that he found someone to publish it.

    Isn't this all of a piece, though, with the whole theme of "it's all about ME" that we've seen over and over in this administration?  Writing explicit sex scenes involving animals (including dead animals) and children is an extension of "objectifying the other" that we see in Abu Ghraib and the prison camp at Guantanamo Bay.  It's sadistic and it's dehumanizing and it's all about self-aggrandization.  I'm in control here and you can't do a thing about whatever I want to do to you.

    Something seriously and inhumanly wrong with someone who can imagine, write (or implement!), and make money from any of these kinds of ideas.

  •  Animal Crack-ups... (none)
    1. At some level, "frigid" is the most telling word in the offending paragraph. It betrays an understanding of women's sexuality that should have bitten the dust with the Studebaker and the Boston Braves. And this is before you consider the weird idea that a madam would want her prostitutes to be utterly trauamtized by sex, let alone the bizzarro method she chooses to make sure that happened.

    2. The other weird thing I've noticed is the fixation movement conservatives seem to have with bestiality. There's this novel, and there's the anti-abortion activist Neal Horsley who went on Alan Colmes' radio show, admitted that he had participated in bestiality as a youth, and seemed shocked that anyone thought that was the slightest bit odd. Even someone as educated and sophisticated as Justice Scalia, for instance, immediately jumped to liken sex between persons of the same gender to bestiality, despite the fact that you'd think he'd be able to appreciate that such a conflation is not only offensive and needlessly inflammatory but also damaging to one's own credibility. (I just don't think Rick "man on dog" Santorum is all that bright.)

    Reading about all of this stuff gives me the idea that movement conservatives have managed to convince themselves that if politicans don't draw strict lines of proscribed sexual behaviors, we'll all be doing the nasty with deer or bears or mules and whatever.

    Check out Answer Guy Online. Thoughts from a bottomless pool of useless information.

    by Answer Guy on Fri Nov 04, 2005 at 08:53:53 AM PST

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