I am as straight as the aisle that runs down the middle of the Senate chamber but I'm here to tell you I don't need a girlfriend. I already have a woman that I devote every waking breath and thought to, her name is politics. I don't have time for a human woman and all of the accompanying problems and headaches. Politics may be an icy succubus but she sure beats all the girls I know. My mistress doesn't require flowers, chocolates, dates, effort, affection, understanding, compromise or even a sense of humor. That's why I love her and that's also why I'll never leave her.
"But Uncle Tom," the unenlightened herd of humanity asks, "what about those long and cold nights? What about the warm touch of a woman? How can you survive without that?" First of all, anytime I've held hands with a woman, I get sweaty palms. There is nothing so disgusting and ultimately vomit-inducing as sweaty palms. I'm surprised anyone even holds hands at all these days. It's so uncivilized and vulgar. The animals don't do it and if they don't do it than it's unnatural and anything unnatural needs to be avoided at all cost.
I look forward to the day where I can bind myself legally ad loftily to politics. The great thing about this current gay marriage debate is it will open up the arbitrary marriage debate. Soon people will be able to marry their most beloved ideology or theory. That is the day I will be truly happy. Then I'll settle down with the Mrs. and start a family of theories and diabolical schemes. I'll be bouncing baby ideas on my knee and then watch them grow and mature. Their mother and I will grow old together and live happily ever after.
Your Love Struck Servant,
Uncle Tom
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