The Fortune in Men's Eyes
"Hey hey, babe, I got blood in my eyes for you."
Apologies for arriving a bit late to the Is John Roberts Gay? party. I have to say the mood seems inappropriately ebullient, as usual at such occasions, when really people ought to be asking What the Hell are we doing here again?
So Bush's surprise nominee for Chief Justice played Peppermint Patty in a High School production of "You're A Good Man, Charlie Brown." So he married for the first time at age 41 and is a father to adopted children. So he's posed with food, and a moustache:
Even if it's all true, so what? Isn't Roberts entitled to his self-hating closet every bit as much as J Edgar Hoover and Roy Cohn were to theirs?
Here's the so what: it's the pattern recognition. It's the mercurial advancement of a far-right cadre of closeted men. It's Craig Spence, "Jeff Gannon," Victor Ashe and the Texas Velvet Mafia. It's the games of Bonesmen. It's the stories of George HW Bush. It's Kay Griggs' persuasive accounts of rampant homosexual blackmail, rape, and systemic paedophilia in the highest ranks of the US military and government. It's the Eye of Horus. As I've written, it's the fascist imagination that links ancient mystery religions and secret societies to today's imperial death cult which binds itself in blood and semen.
A public figure's private sexuality is a tough subject to broach, as it should be. But the Roberts rumours are suggestive of a still largely unacknowledged trend that needs an accounting, and should not be played for the cheap laughs which invite the disgrace of homophobia. Because these stories are not about sex, but about the secret ley lines of power in Washington and the loyalties and obligations they create. And gay, straight or whatever, that's everybody's business.