I am not a Gay American, nor am I a Power Bottom.

8:15 pm, November 26, 2004

A quote comes to mind. For any of you who're familiar with the ABC/FOX sitcom "The Critic," it stars Jay Sherman as a film critic who's pretty hideous and awful with the ladies. He has a boss who frequently questions his sexuality, to which Jay replies with a belabored sigh,

"I am NOT GAY!"

I can't believe I have to answer to such slanderous Ricky Martinesque accusations, but the more I think about it, the more I can believe people would foist that label on my person.

I wouldn't be surprised if some of you were participating in a pool to see when I'll come out of the closet. Well, you'll be choking on your own spleen when I'm done with you!!!

As it stands, I've got nothing against the gays. I've been caught a time or two calling things "gay" in front of actual gay people, but, you know, they still seem cool with me. I'm all for gay rights if nothing else than to cheese-the-fuck-off all these religious asswipes and morally conservative politicians. And . . . yeah yeah yeah, the civil rights of gay people wouldn't be too bad either.

Anyway, here are the reasons why I couldn't possibly be gay.

- Would a gay man dress like me?
- Would a gay man have this body?

OK, so those reasons are too superficial, stereotypical, and most of all obvious. I can still hear some doubters out there, so let's delve deeper.

You see me and you see a writer. Pretty gay profession to aspire to, no? Well, that's what they tell me, anyway. You see me and it comes to your attention that, not only have I never had a girlfriend for the length of time you've known me, but I've never even come close. Kinda strange, yes?

Well, I can't argue with any of that. At least I try to write in a semi-manly way (whatever the tits that means). So, if you buy the me-being-gay theory, then it's an open and shut case. However, if you're skeptical, then you have to admit that I'm more complicated than you ever would've thought possible.

Now, I don't want to think about that, but it's hard to beat off (ahem) a gay rep without simply mounting the next breathing female of age I come across (ahem) right in front of all of you.

So, what to do ... what to do. On the one hand, we can all just continue to believe I'm the flaming Gunther-esque man-chaser with a suppressed gag reflex and an anus you could drive a Boeing hangar through. Of course, if you knew me, you'd know that my social life is next to nothing, almost exclusively on display for your very eyes whenever I'm hanging wit y'all. Even if I knew where the nearest bathhouse was, odds are I'd be too damn lazy to drive the 3.2 miles due East on the way to the Tacoma Main Public Library to spend the ten dollar entrance fee, much less bring my own heat-sensitive KY Gel.

Or, on the other hand, you could let me mount you (female readers need only apply) and let me prove my non-gayness.

Failing that, there is no way I can accept further speculation or scrutiny on my sexuality from ANY of you ladies. As for the gents, well, who gives a fuck what the gents have ever thought?

All right, stop talkin' about me!
We weren't talking about you, Farva.

So, if you're gonna further rumors about me, how about gabbing about my horse-hungness or my world-famous love of cashews. No, that is NOT secret gay code for testicles.

Even Jay Sherman got a girlfriend eventually, you panty waists!

Of course, what's the most important thing in getting a girl to go out with you? Not saying anything stupid.

But, everything that comes out of my mouth is at least 87% stupid!

What have we learned? Find a stupid girl. Natch.

Current Mood: YOU! I want to take you to a GAY BAR! ... I've got something to put in you! At the Gay Bar!
Current Music: Electric Six - Gay Bar

2004-11-30 02:36 pm
I don't have any comment on your gay bar song singing. But

Re: Blog
2004-12-01 08:36 am
It's a dark day when an asinine word makes the Dictionary.