As promised, here is the continuation of the Neo-con bourgoise hell.

So, we came to the check-in table for the event and signed in. We made it through the creepiest parts of the event – or so we thought. Upon entering the room, we noticed that it was a sea of white faces. Well, with the exceptions of the two Asian and three Black kids. All of which were from a Prep school. I scoured the room and realized Libertarian Boyfriend was the only Jew. While scouring the room, I also had another wonderful observation: virtually all of the women were sitting, speaking only to other women about – presumably – womanly things; the men, on the other hand, were standing, loudly speaking to other men – presumably about important men business like investing and how difficult it is to be Mr. Money Bags. The only thing I could get out at the time was “Jesus fuck, this is so gendered.”

Cue skin crawling here.

As you could expect, from what you know about me and the way I’ve described Libertarian Boyfriend, this was also our cue for the litany of snide comments from both of us. At one point, I mentioned my fear that if we got too unruly, they’d turn around, scream “KIKE” and it would be the Holocaust times a million. He responded that it was okay, because despite my white trashiness, my name is uber-WASPy and despite my Italian ethnicity, I look the part. I followed up with a comment that they might decide I’m a race traitor and therefore lump me in with him. After all, by having sex with him, I am a complicit part of the Jewish World Domination Scheme (which in my mind, is kind of like Amway, except better and certainly more profitable).

After a half hour of running editorial commentary from the two of us, the Foreign Policy Research Institute finally set the metaphorical cookie in the center of the room. But wait! Just beforehand, we were warned that the acoustics in the room were excellent, and even rabble rousers in the last row could be heard up front. Apparently, we personally received the stink eye from our Abe Lincoln lovin’ emcee. I guess my comments about how we were sitting right behind a fresh crop of soon to be rich kid gang rapists didn’t go over well with the crowd.

Since we’re resourceful, we then had to rely on simply writing shitty notes to one another at the top of our notebooks. The whole basic gist of the “presentation” was that Abe Lincoln loved Black people, the Emancipation Proclamation was not political rhetoric, and slavery was the only reason for the Civil War. Despite the facts the my new BFF Mackubin Owens neglected to mention Lincoln’s intentions for all freed slaves to return to Africa, the Emancipation Proclamation didn’t actually free one slave (and Lincoln wasn’t even terribly hep on the idea that Blacks and whites were actually equal), and that Owens even cited restoration of the Union, as well as Northern economic interests being two of the main factors that caused the Civil War. As to be expected, there was little to no mention of any sort of historical context and the basic point seemed to boil down to “if u dont <3 abe lincoln, u r a member of stormfront! ILU BLACK PPL!" Oh, and the other major point I gleaned was that Lincoln : Dubya :: Slavery : Terrorism. Yay Iraq War! (Or, if you're thinking individuals like us, "So, by your own admission, that means the Civil War was unnecessary, resulted in unnecessary deaths of US citizens, was a huge waste of tax dollars, and was responsible for glaring violations of basic human rights?")

We finally bailed during the Q&A portion, which was maddening, partially because the questions were ones which would have been better deposited on the metaphorical cookie in the center of the room, and partially because I had to practically sit on Libertarian Boyfriend's lap due to the rich fuck next to me who had his legs spread so far open that he was causing me severe lower back pain. Seriously, I had to contort myself just to cross and uncross my legs in my chair. The only thing running through my mind was the myriad of feminist theory pieces relating to women and taking up space.

But if you think that was the end of our fun at the Union League, then you haven't experienced the Hall O' Presidents! And by "Hall O' Presidents," I mean "Hall O' Republican Presidents!”

No shit. It was a room with about 20 or so portraits. We know that they were all Republicans because we felt the need to walk back into the room simply to confirm. The best ones are a toss-up between the George W. shrine, in which he still looked like a smirking frat boy, and the George H. W. portrait, in which he wistfully stared off into the distance with what can only be described as “bedroom eyes.” Oh Babs, you are one lucky dame! Libertarian Boyfriend got a photo of the Dubya shrine, before I ran over to it (no small feat for my uncoordinated ass to accomplish in 3″ pumps) and gave a thumbs up. Before you ask, of course we documented this on his phone.

The only good that came of it was finding out that my TA described part of my paper as “hilarious” and that I now have two totally awesome blog posts detailing that hellish experience.