Putting the mental in fundamental

You know your public relations campaign for your own particular brand of sexual deviancy is in bad shape when a disgraced leader of a national evangelical religious organization would rather cop to buying an illegal drug rather than own up to some quite legal hide-the-sausage (et al.) antics with a hunky male prostitute.

If you haven't been following this little flurry of pre-election sordidness (probably because you knew I'd follow it for you), let me recap: The allegedly Reverend Ted Haggard (appropriately named because crystal meth'll do that to you, I hear), jefe of the National Association of Evangelicals, a 45,000-church and 30-million-member strong umbrella organ (if you'll pardon) for fundamentalist Christians, was accused late this week of having sex with and buying drugs from a male prostitute, the generically named but not unappealing Mike Jones. Read all about it here.

At first, the Rev Gauche denied the sex-and-drugs-but-no-rock-and-roll-we're-evangelicals-thank-you scenario, until the Rent Man provided more evidence of phone calls from one to the other. (Nonetheless, all the Rent Man's accusations have yet to be proven. Some credibility issues there. From a prostitute, imagine that . . . .) Then the Rev decided to fess up to buying crystal meth from the Prostitute, which he claims to have thrown away. (What? You just wanted to understand its chemical make-up for your kid's biology class report? Try Wikipedia next time). Oh, and he had requested a massage as well. No word yet on whether the Rev threw in (or away) the towel on that one. Again, just to better understand the biology of it all, I'm sure.

I can only hope that as the Rev made this confession, some of his teeth fell out, clattered across the pulpit, and clunked into the baptismal font (another side effect of meth use, apparently). Perhaps, too, the scent of massage oil began wafting through the church and a Yanni CD went into heavy rotation on the sound system. Relax. Take a deep breath. That'll be $100, bud.

But wow. The Far Right must be really, really, really, really, really uptight about sex--entirely legal sex, mind you--if ticking the box marked "own up to crystal meth use" seems like the better fall-from-grace-on-your-face, soul-saving option. I mean, in a perfect, gender-neutral world, a fundamentalist admitting to playing with his or someone else's dong would seem like the safer choice. After all, it's just sex--it's not illegal like acquiring and possessing a homemade recreational pharmaceutical with addictive qualities.

Granted, however, soliciting a prostitute (or "escort," if you prefer, as if you needed help finding your way to your genitalia) is illegal, but I would suspect that would be a misdemeanor in the eyes of the law, not a felony like possession of illicit chemicals made in some ol' hippy's dirty kitchen from two parts Red Bull and ten parts Sudafed.

But whose law is it, anyway? In the eyes of evangelicals, we're talking fundamentalist Christian law here, the Shariya of America as it were, or at least a pinched and persnickety interpretation of it. So the slap-and-tickle with another male member would be the felony, I would imagine. I'm surprised emergency rooms all over the country haven't reported a rise in finger blisters on the hands of fundamentalists as they speed-thumb through their Biblical concordances. "See, I told you! Not one mention in the New or Old Testament of crystal methamphetamine abuse! But, lordy, look at the listings condemning happy finishes with massage therapists!"

So why say yes to drugs and no to carnal pleasures? Well, I don't quite get it myself, except that with drugs, well, it's an addiction, isn't it? The countdown to the Reverend Haggard professing that he's an addict of some sort begins NOW. Not to make light of a serious issue, but it has been done to death of late. Fundamentalists would be more sympathetic to that, I would imagine. He could go away, get treatment, and be invited back into the fold in time for Easter service.

But sex with another man? Hmmm. Is that a choice? If it is, then I would guess fundamentalists would consider it a poor, unsavory one, generally removed from their experience, except while away at Christian summer camp or during that long weekend hunting trip in North Georgia that no one likes to talk about. And despite some hope-against-hope homosexual "cure" programs like Exodus, if you're an evangelical, there's not much you can do to remedy--or forgive--a lifestyle choice you abhor, especially one involving coconut oil rubdowns and the exchange of bodily fluids in a downtown hotel.

But what if it's not a choice? What if the Rev's having sex with another man is indicative of something innate, natural even, at least for some male members of the species? Wouldn't that just blow away any plans you had for, say, banning gay marriage in Colorado or elsewhere?

Thus, I suspect the Reverend Haggard's I'd-rather-snort-than-switch-hit approach to his predicament is in part political. It's hard to rally God's self-annointed army to fight against gay marriage when you've been known to enjoy the fruits of lust's labor's lost in the Adam and Steve honeymoon suite at the Denver Hilton with a guy who has a bigger chest than your wife's.

That sort of realization is bound to wreak some havoc on your political clout, not to mention dry up any invitations to the White House for hot dogs and sausages on the 4th of July. Too embarrassing to put that on the invitation now. Might be misunderstood.

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Back to that Gay Agenda public relations campaign for a moment. Note to Doogie Howser--it's nice of you to offer your support. Really. We're very proud of you for making the leap from perpetual blind item on Defamer and Gawker, to real, live, dancin', prancin' homosexual. And nary a public latrine, teen chatroom, or Congressional page was harmed in the making of this coming out story. Good show!

Still, it took you long enough, and no one's really surprised to see you at the planning meeting for the PR push (a penchant for starring in Sondheim musicals on Broadway? c'mon, way too easy). But . . .

Sorry, we had someone else in mind for the lead spokesmodel role. Say, for example, someone who doesn't come off like Felix Unger channeling a gay leprechaun and who has never worked as a male prostitute or recreational pharmaceutical supplier.

Nevertheless, you're well-groomed and personable and haven't brought down any evangelists lately through a heady mix of shiatsu and Oxycontin. (At least as far as we know.) I'm sure we can find a place on the dais for you, Lance Bass, and T. R. Knight.