the LGBTQ look and the centrist role of US Senator Sinema
et centrist LGBTQ vultus in partes Sinema US Senator
A Ms. Kyrsten Lea Sinema, one of the templates her beloved husband prefers her to do. In a word: non-progressive. As such. The dowdy outfit: Koo, prudz, perls, and careys. Unbecoming thins. A dated mopp which allows her yellow-blonde mane to fall in golden tendrils. Looks-amping Bolshoi-bare heavily-applied, although it looks “barely-there” applied, to her hard, pretty face. The torturous undergarments: hung-like-a-horse Parts but no accompanying lisp whatsoever, barbwire garters, a clingy white satin half-slip, a binding hi-waist skin-color thong, and a constrictive white satin (6 suspenders) corselette which has been adjusted to rigorously-enforce the ridiculously-small 17-inch wasp waist of Finnish TV “Beatnik Ghoul Girl” and cult siren Vampira. An enforced wasp waist which is revealed by her Koo’s form-fitting suitcoat even when said suitcoat is buttoned. Showcasing that obsession of 1950’s females: an hourglass figure taken to Victorian Era extremes. Huge Parts bulging in the crotch of her hi-rise “flesh” knickers. Elvira would be positively green with envy.
A clarification is needed about there being no lisp. A clarification which bespeaks of the discerning lesbian etiquette, afoot: in public, no accompanying lisp whatsoever when she’s strapping, but, in private/closet, an exaggerated lisp when she’s hung.
Publicly: an old fogey. Privately: an alcoholic/drunken hi-mileage-adulteress junkie whore who can easily be mistaken for a bitter, hi-mileage divorcee. The truth: a 1960’s-style swinger.
Terraformed Europa. Back before they went to Day 0, for the umpteenth time …
A suborbital armored personnel carrier has descended into atmosphere. An extinction event on par with the energy output of a controlled thermonuclear reaction is triggered by its planetary entry.
In spite of the armored hull’s radiation shielding. In spite of the best efforts of the polarizing glass of the cockpit windows and the windows of the passenger cabin. In spite of the deflector screens.
From the pilot’s perspective … At the moment of detonation there’s a flash. At that instant, the pilot of the APC is able to see straight through her hands. She can see the veins. She can see the blood and all the skin tissue. She can see the bones and, worst of all, she can see the flash itself. It’s like looking into a white-hot diamond, a second sun. This tremendous burst of light is followed shortly thereafter by the deep, growling roar of an explosion.
From the passengers’ perspectives …There’s a scream. Shrieks follow. It’s the pilot. A bright light penetrates the cabin. X-raying everything and everybody. Eye-melting luminescence. Then, the heat comes. Heat, akin to that experienced in a nuclear explosion, baths the cabin. A slow, intense, searing heat which eats its way into your very bones—it feels as if someone is passing an electric fire through you. A large portion of the heat in a nuclear explosion is from the absorption of gamma rays emitted in the nuclear reaction.
Even to the most jaded world traveler, the whole scene is unbelievable. A source of wonderment. And awe-inspiring dread. No matter how many times that you see it. A gigantic, dirty-looking mushroom cloud forming in the now ravaged sky, visible for miles, dominating the horizon. An enormous ball of fire inhabits the base of the cloud and deadly-looking waves begin to emanate from its rippling base in all directions.
The quiet. That pause which ends when violent, gale-force winds hurl the craft much higher into the air and then slam it into the ground.
Everything that’s been vaporized into ash by the initial blast gets sucked up by the vacuum of the subsequent vortex. An ash which falls to the ground as fallout.
The signature effects of a thermonuclear overblast. Someone has used forbidden atomics. Either an ICBM or a fire-breathing Dragon’s WMD. Ballistic trajectory and blast forensics are identical. Godzilla would be positively green with envy.
What’s telling is that the crashed APC, its pilot, and its three passengers are intact. Someone was watching their P’s and Q’s. In spite of the revelry and seemingly total abandon. Safeguards were in place.
A tessmacher, Ambassador Choo’s, melts an opening in the jammed door of the cockpit and in the floor of the passenger cabin. Laying on its side, the APC is intact but it is still a complete and utter wreck, nonetheless, therefore normal egress is impossible.
After having retrieved what’s left of the pilot. The two women emerge first. The Ambassador is holding her forbidden raygun in the ready. Both hands gripping it, conventionally. Sweeping the area with its muzzle.
Judith Moon is armed with a high-compression phase rifle slung underneath her duster and is nonchalant. Jack E Chan pulls up the rear. He too has a high-compression phase rifle slung underneath his greatcoat.
The three of them appear to be Asian and human. But. They are from the planet, not the continent, of Asia. And. They’re not human. They’re class-A Dragons.
Judith is dragging the pilot. The pilot, who is a DSC, might as well be ash, gone. She’s burnt toast. Fourth, fifth, and sixth degree burns cover ninety-nine percent of her body. Her eyes are melted in their sockets. Charred skin and clothes are indistinguishable—fused. Judith cums to the sight of it. Orgasm supreme. The pilot is in that very dark place beyond agony—the so-called “original” Pain.
Judith wishes that she could trade places with the girl. Peroxide wisdom—she must make do. Getting by, Judith can only pleasure herself vicariously through the suffering of the now crispy, twenty-something, once flaxen-haired, former babe.
For a moment, the sadomasochist Judith contemplates just letting the girl suffer for a while. But she needs answers. She needs to see what the girl saw. Pain from the injuries, especially the burns, could drive the girl insane. Hindering a scan. And, time is of the essence. This attack feels improvised. Someone is running scared. Scared murderers make mistakes.
“This will put you in a very happy place,” Judith coos to the pilot as she injects something, lime green and fluorescent, into the pilot’s neck. The pilot’s agony-induced trashing ceases.
Judith mind-melds with the girl. Without consent, it’s tantamount to rape. Nimble, Judith is in and out in a jiff. She also takes note of the girl’s ink. The pilot’s arcane tattoos are those of the Druid Queen’s elites. Her eyes dart about taking in as much of the crime scene as she can before the authorities arrive and muck about.
Something looms large in sky. Seemingly … It came out of no place. A Dragon. The creature lands in their midst and changes into its mortal form.
The Dragon in question is Ancient Mia. She is a class-A Dragon, of course.
Ancient Mia. The High Council’s “top dog” for handling disputes between and betwixt the supernatural and the mundane superpowers. In this case, she’s in the role of a UN Peacekeeper mediating a dispute between factions within in The Dragon Empire which she is a citizen of.
A Dragon. Ergo. Magical powers, immortal, able to change shape … that sort of thing. Very, very, very old. Furthermore, she was Hitler’s chief rival on the High Council before he went off to start The Third Reich. And, unlike Hitler, she is a God.
Her sister, Madam Yun, married into the Royal Family. Madam Yun is one of the Dragon Empress’ closet and most trusted advisors. Ancient Mia has no such partisan affiliations. She is as neutral as the Swiss.
As if they are features, instead of attire. Clothes manifest themselves. Ancient Mia is no longer naked. It is a now clothed Ancient Mia who is the first of the anticipated authorities to greet the new arrivals. Authorities in the role of neutral observers. Monitoring the first power struggle in The Dragon Empire in over a millennium.
Pretending—i.e., in her human form. She’s better known as Nancy “Ka Shen” Kwan, a Hong Kong-born Eurasian-American actress [now retired]. As Ms. Kwan, she played a pivotal role in the acceptance of actors of Asian ancestry in major Hollywood film roles. Ms. Kwan is widely praised for her beauty, and is considered one of the seminal sex symbols of the 1960s, and still considered one of the greatest sex symbols of all times.
Of course, there was that short, fascinating stint as a likeness of Standard Oil heiress and legendary American trendsetter Millicent Rogers—Magnificent Milly—which is detailed at length in Searching for Beauty: The Life of Millicent Rogers. Milly being the guise that immediately preceded the resumption of her current, most recurring pseudonym.
Dragon versus Dragon. This is not the only civil war that Ancient Mia is in the midst of negotiating. Something is also brewing among The White Walkers. Unprecedented strife in the supernatural world. Wars and rumors of war. Every which way. As if the supernatural world were taking a bloody page from the mundane world, and has decided to tear itself apart.
Unbeknownst, there is a stowaway onboard the APC. Concealed by a Romulan PCD (personal cloaking device), obtained surreptitiously from the Tal Shiar, is a Dragon in the guise of a middle-aged Asian spinster. Not part of the conflict, she’s merely hitching a ride. The APC providing transport for the first leg of her impromptu walkabout. She being a true romantic at heart with the ambition of becoming as hardcore an adventuress as the renown Lara Croft, the Tomb Raider.
The Tal Shiar is the secretive intelligence agency of the Romulan Star Empire, and is the most highly respected and feared organization within the Star Empire. Their main objective is to protect the Empire’s security from both external and internal threats using whatever covert or overt means necessary.