In the Daily News today, Elizabeth Benjamin writes about embattled Senator Hiram Monserrate. He claims that he’s being targeted “because he is a Latino.” Not because he cut up his girlfriend’s face in a jealous rage, and was convicted of this crime. No, that wouldn’t be the reason. Instead he's compared himself to, according to Benjamin, “murdered civil rights workers” because he’s about to lose his Senate seat. I don’t know anything about that, but by a strange coincidence, an unnamed source emailed me this letter today:
I want to you to kiss me, beat me, and make me write bad checks. I want you to slap me silly. I want to worship you. I want you to grow tomatoes in my backyard. I want you to grill steaks, shoot deer, shovel snow and take the garbage out at night. I want you in all your manly manliness. All your girth. Your wisdom. Your big head, your devilish smirk.
You’re the Prince Charming I’ve always dreamed about. You’re the Boricua in my cup of tea. You’re my tamale, my chorizo, my empanada. Together we’ll build a home on Long Island or Staten Island. I’ll stay home and make the babies. I’ll pour your coffee in the morning, clip your toenails in the afternoon, and watch you belch after dinner.
And if I ever want to fuck a cop I won’t be a bitch about it. I’ll invite you along to watch. You can take pictures if you want, and email them to all your cronies in Albany. What fun you and the boys will have laughing about my tits and my ass. Then I’ll blow you when you come home, and mix you a martini, shaken not stirred.
Please tell me I have chance. I love you, Hiram Monserrate
Psssst. Tina. I saw him first. Now back off, bitch!
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