John Edwards Sex Tapes: Tongue in Cheek? Almost


I don’t know if I should be ashamed or not, but when the early description of the John Edwards/Reille Hunter tape leaked–okay was put out there by Andrew Young–you know, you couldn’t see her face but you could see his, and you could tell she was pregnant, and see her necklaces, and, well I did the profane geometry in my head–and let me tell you it wasn’t pretty given the people involved, it kind of made me throw up a little in my mouth, then almost die of barfness–and I added in that she, the she-who-wishes-she-was-a-wily-huntress, him the tiger to be preyed upon–was a videographer and that made it even creepier because I am an old-fashioned girl and think the guy should always hold the camera, or at least it should be on the table during such moments, as it seems unladylike and sort of calculating to be videotaping your famous or even not so famous married lover’s face, just a situation ripe for misreading of one’s intentions, not mention sort of distracting from one’s own petite mortes, all that shaking and shuddering would make it hard to keep the camera focused and vis pisica vis versa too, and then today I read the eyewitness accounts which were far more graphic than those Young released, golly I wonder if he and his wife, oh ugh, did I just think that, yes I did, blech, where is the brain bleach, and I realized that my geometric calculations of physical proportions were right, far better than when I was in school two years ago, trying to finish my math requirements so I could actually matriculate into a baccalaureate program in religious history/anthropology with the goal of spending way too much time on a master, locked an ivory tower like the maidens in Remedios Varo’s Bordando el Manto Terrestre, weaving a world with no escape, learning suddenly that because of a painting, what I stood on had only been woven together, seeing the world refracted through my tears, those specific tears, as if evindices as yet unfound varied in important ways from cry to cry, because if  the tower is everywhere and that kind of deliverance no proof against its magic, what else, what else but the realization that the Tower shatters between the Devil and the Star, the dove and the serpent, choose ye well, and and and subtly yet surely, surely surely frankly, the gothic tower gives way to the mouth and hand, goodness gracious, great yod almighty.

tl/dr John Edwards is a not so very cunning linguist

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Lisa Derrick

Lisa Derrick

Los Angeles native, attended UC Berkeley and Loyola Marymount University before punk rock and logophilia overtook her life. Worked as nightclub columnist, pop culture journalist and was a Hollywood housewife before writing for and editing Sacred History Magazine. Then she discovered the thrill of politics. She also appears frequently on the Dave Fanning Show, one of Ireland's most popular radio broadcasts.