April 19th, 2006

more bad news

No, they were going south...south to Motherboy.

Let us say, just for the sake of imaginational whimsicality, that you are a crazy fundamentalist Christian asshole. And let us further say, just for a silly ol' why-not, that you, like many other crazy fundamentalist Christian assholes of your acquaintance, wish to have sexual relations with your adolescent or pre-adolescent daughter. Unfortunately, the law frowns upon this behavior, and, since you are not a Mormon, so too, at least nominally, does your faith. Is there a socially semi-acceptable way to sublmate your incestuous tendencies into a public display of some sort?

Yes. Yes, there is. You could go to a Purity Ball.

A Purity Ball, if you haven't been following hot new trends in the world of red-state fuck-knuckles, is a special ceremony where young girls marry their fathers. Well, sort of. They get all prettied up in ball gowns and exchange vows with their daddies: vows not to have sex until they're married. It's all very precious and holy and not at all insanely bugfuck when a seven-year-old girl says to her father:

I pledge to remain sexually pure until the day I give myself as a wedding gift to my husband. I know that God requires this of me, that He loves me, and that He will reward me for my faithfulness.

Nor is it in the least bit horrifically creepy and disturbing when a grown man says to his little daughter, in response:

I choose before God to cover my daughter as her authority and protection in the area of purity. I will be pure in my own life as a man, husband and father. I will be a man of integrity and accountability as I lead, guide and pray over my daughter and as the high priest in my home. This covering will be used by God to influence generations to come.

And then they all dance! But not too close because that leads to fornication, and that's what we're ostensibly trying to avoid. Yes, everyone loves a good Purity Ball -- it's fancy and fun and teaches the ladies who's boss, plus it's marginally less traumatic than actually doing it with your children! If this sounds like something you'd enjoy, why not buy a planning kit, or look at some of the not-at-all-sad-and-unsettling photos of other successful Purity Balls?

Oh, I know what you're saying: this makes me want to gouge my eyes out! But how can you possibly harbor cynical, vile thoughts about the snakepit of pitch-black, barely-repressed abnormal sexuality on display when you listen to charming testimonials like this?

How can you measure the value of your eleven-year-old looking up into your eyes with innocent, uncontainable joy, saying, 'Daddy, I'm so excited!'?

There is no way! NO WAY TO MEASURE THAT VALUE! Nor the value of your daughter saying things like this:

My daddy thinks I'm beautiful in my own unique way. My daddy is treating me with respect and honor. My daddy really loves me!

He really, really, REALLY DOES! Purity Balls! Have one today! Take two, they're small!