Turns out he's having to self-publish but noted transphobe Jonathan Turley has written his memoir. Hot off the presses, an excerpt of his new book, due out Tuesday, SLEEPING ON THE RIGHT SIDE.
From the intro "Toilet Training and Predestination, PLESSY V FERGUSON and All That Jazz:"
I don't have an anal fetish. I don't. It's not my fault that so many conservatives are getting butt hurt these days. My kissing their rear ends to make it better doesn't give me an anal fetish. And if I'm already down there and decide to toss their salad, well that's just free speech rights.
Right?
Gas leaving the anal lips is a form of speech.
Right?
I think my anal fondness began as a small child when mother used to tell me I was a butt baby. Father would say she just meant I was end of the line -- fifth out of five -- but I knew what mother meant, I was something she squeezed out her sphincter -- hence my full name: Jonathan Sphincter Turley.
Mother left me in diapers until I was 17 and sprouted my first hair.
"J-J Sphincter Turley," she said to me, "that's just one hair, soon there will be many more. And Mommy can't keep changing your diapers. Icky poo-pooh's going to get in those hairs and the task is just too much for an aging woman like me."
Mother was wrong. Two weeks later, during my monthly bath, the 'hair' fell loose. It was a dingle berry. However, by then, I had already been toilet trained. I missed my soggy diapers but, since I was a senior in high school, I felt I was getting too old for them anyway. At least full time.
Right?
From the chapter "College Dreams, Dirty Schemes and ASHCROFT V FREE SPEECH COALITION:"
After my scholarship to Clown College fell through, I went to the University of Chicago because it had a reputation for further inhibiting the sexually repressed and for fostering War Criminals. Surely, I'd learn a lot about the law there!
I certainly hadn't learned a thing in Congress! It was my time in the House of Representatives that drove home the point that timing -- not foreplay -- is everything. I was a Congressional page from 1977 to 1978.
As such, I had the horror of never knowing if Mark Folely might have found me attractive. Oh, sure, I could send him childhood photos now -- and often do -- but I'll never know if his kind words ("Sit on my face, Junior!") are heartfelt or just his way of being kind.
Moments missed. A lifetime of them.
Right?
As a legal expert, I weigh in constantly with both blog posts and erotic fan fiction. I really do believe that if Bill Kunstler were alive today, he'd be doing erotic HART OF DIXIE fan fiction and that this realization is what originally led Darren Star to come up with the concept for SEX AND THE CITY.
But I digress, back to the most important legal decision of our time, HINGST V MELBOURNE CONSTRUCTION ENGINEERING . . .
