The Little Farm Girl - A Sexual Entrepreneur Who Found Her Conservative Calling With Donald Trump

Infanta Parsons was an Iowa farm girl, born and raised.  Her life was pigs, chickens, milking, and acres and acres of corn. This was the 21st century of course, so she was not hanging clothes on the line, cooking over a wood stove, or rising and sleeping with the sun; but she was the very image of the cornflower blue-eyed country beauties who had settled there more than a century ago. 

 

Now, Infanta, as much as she was attached to the land, the farm, and the quiet rural way of life, felt there was something missing.  Perhaps it was Bryce Humphries, the neighbor's son, a gross, acned, disgusting nose-picker who sat behind her in seventh grade, sliding his foot under her chair and grinning a self-satisfied horny look when she turned around.

It was Mister Leonard who interested her in that way, a handsome ex-football playing math teacher who called on her when the rest of the class stumbled on simple equations. He clearly had an interest in more than just Pythagoras. 

 

Despite No Means No, MeToo, and the universal opprobrium against teacher-student sexual affairs, Infanta and he found their own proper psycho-sexual niche.  She was chela to his guru, novitiate to his prelate, learner to his teacher in a one hand clapping happy sexual liaison. 

They did it on corn husk pallets, bales of hay, in stables and barns, and on the soft down mattress of her own bedroom. 

Word spread, and the school started investigating.  Any transgressions of sexual propriety would be met with censure, dismissal, and harsh punishment.  This, of course, was the opinion of the old men on the school board, all of whom wished that it could be they under the sheets with the marvelous Infanta Parsons.  

Mister Leonard was eventually caught in flagrante delicto, in the storeroom of Branch Middle School and was summarily dismissed while Infanta, reveling in her victimhood, went on to greater things.

Sex has always been a commodity to be bartered, bought and sold, held in inventory until the price is right, and then traded; and Infanta had a preternatural sense for its value.  She was the Wall Street trader of sexual commodities and looked forward to leaving the small change of Iowa for New York.

Now, it must be said that Infanta was no Belle de Nuit call girl. She had more patience and savvy than that.  Men were suckers, and harvest time was year round.  Mister Leonard was just low-hanging fruit.  Alderman Pietro Marzullo was more ideal quarry - an Italian American whose immigrant upbringings had been homogenized by Yale where he had been admitted as part of Italo-Search, Yale's first attempts at diversity. 

 

If Yale had to admit a social outlier, it wanted someone who could stymie the Harvard backfield, but Pietro (Pete) defied Inslee Clark's suppositions and turned out to be a wizard with formulas.  He graduated summa cum laude, went to MIT on a full scholarship but feeling homesick returned to Iowa where he met Infanta.  She had just petitioned the city council for more park space, an interested city volunteer but who was just biding her time, hoping for a New York opportunity. 

The alderman, feeling that he had found the one, woke one October morning to find himself on the curb and alone.  Men do the leaving; but sayonara was Infanta's poetry, and after a fling with a Jewish haberdasher, headed east, a simple farm girl who knew what was what - a sexual entrepreneur, a canny investor, a woman who understood worth, value, and market potential. 

It was not surprising that Infanta was a conservative, a woman who believed in free enterprise, free markets, and free expression.  She had never been enticed by feminism - the political home of desperate women - or bought into that protective, man-hating penumbra of progressive sexism. 

Sex has always been a commercially-traded commodity, whether on the open market or in marital bedrooms.  Women since time immemorial have realized the unique value of female sexuality and sold, bartered, traded, and dealt it according to market forces. 

And so it was that Infanta prospered at every step of the way on her very American journey.  Hollywood moguls bedded young starlets who traded ugly old Jews for screen time.  Sex was exchanged on Wall Street as readily as junk bonds.  Congressmen were not worth the votes cast for them without a little on the side. Sex was the currency of America as it had been for Aristotle, Augustus, Henry VIII, and Al Capone.

And so it was too that Infanta joined the Trump White House, first as an intern, then an aide, then as an advisor.  This administration was not one for pedigree but instinct, and the President knew a kindred spirit when he saw one.  Infanta was cut from the same cloth, a woman who had come to conservatism via the oldest private sector enterprise in history, the dispensing of sexual favors; just as the President, with the same canny basic understanding of socially economic behavior made millions. 

He never questioned her credentials, for they were irrelevant in an administration which was based on simple principles of supply and demand - an administration Machiavellian in spirit.  Whether national policy or international affairs, economic value or financial configuration, Trump was never constricted by idle concerns.  He did what was necessary, pursued his goals with purpose and defiance, and never stopped until he had achieved his ends. 

It was this same intellectual purity, moral indifference, and personal ambition in Infanta that so appealed to the President, and why he always introduced her as 'two peas in a pod'.  Her name did not feature on his Cabinet list or even on that of top advisers, but the kindred spirits were never far apart. 

Conservatism was not just reserved for partisan politics.  It was a universal philosophy, a natural Darwinian social pathology. 

The Odd Couple they were dubbed by the press who never could understand the underlying principles of Trump's radical conservatism and who were too distracted by hating him.  Had they looked at Infanta, at her underpinnings, at the very motivations which brought her from the farm to Washington, they would have begun to understand the conservative character; but they did not. 

Infanta stayed in the White House for a time, and then folded into something else, but true to form it was a seamless elision and colleagues and friends simply asked where she had gone.