Alcoholics are like gay folks?
Alcoholics are like gay folks?
Well, no. No one ever says that. No one in their right mind says that being an alcoholic is like being gay. I’ve certainly never heard it. I’m pretty sure it would be covered by the catch all societal prohibition about “promoting homosexuality” to even utter such a thing. And I’m pretty sure that the Christian based Alcoholics Anonymous and the Salvation Army would be up in arms if the comparison was made.
But of course, being gay is likened unto being an alcoholic. By no less than the Pope himself. Now, he’s a fine fellow, and a good apologist. But, with great respect for his otherwise good works, he hasn’t seemed to have thought this through. And former Senator Trent Lott said the same thing: “Homosexuals are like alcoholics.” Indeed, this comparison, this analogy, this logical connection, or comparison is bandied about by many a soldier in the culture war against gay people. Though, again, naught seem to have thought the matter through.
So let’s take a peek at the analogy and see if it can hold a beer or two, shall we? After all, since these great thinkers are so sure that being gay is a great threat to family, society, the nation and civilization itself, and is evil to boot, and perhaps should be outlawed again, it behooves us to examine the issue, yes? To devise the methods whereby which you will cure us and prevent anymore of us, no? For surely a great threat to civilization itself must be prevented, right? I mean, can’t let a few sissies wreck the place now can we? No we cannot. This is what Tony Perkins and his FRC are working on, for sure. Cure and prevention, very good. Failing so far, but a nice try. You’ve had much more success with alcoholics for sure, than changing any gay man.
Still, when we switch the proposition from “gays are like alcoholics” to “alcoholics are like gays” the whole analogy falls to the floor.
After all, no alcoholic was wandering around the kitchen one day and realized that he just liked looking at beer bottles.
No alcoholic ever strolled through the dining room as a 10 year old and upon seeing the gin said to himself “Now that’s beautiful! What a hunk of gin!”
No alcoholic ever went to the beach as a kid and saw the fine form of a bottle of wine and got a tingle in his throat or gullet or up his leg or in places where only TSA agents dare go without permission.
No alcoholic ever strolled through a shopping mall and pined for a fine afternoon lolling around the house with the bottle of Crown Royal he saw standing near the shoe store.
Do alcoholics know as children that they will grow up to become major imbibers of the demon rum?
Do alcoholics flip through the department store catalogs and have a moment of fairy tale bliss that one day they’ll meet their vodka charming and settle down to a long winter’s nap?
Do alcoholics wander through school and think to themselves that they’d really like to kiss Johnny Walker or Jim Beam?
Do alcoholics wake up as teenagers and dread that once again they have to go to school to be tormented as alcoholics?
And that before they might ever have touched a drop.
Before any beer, wine, spirit or cordial ever passed their lips no alcoholic thought to himself “Yes, I’m one of those.”
And no alcoholic ever told his mother that he was an alcoholic one fine afternoon after the mother once again inquired as to why our fine budding alcoholic didn’t have a drink in his hand.
Neither did any father ever yell at his son “You throw like an alcoholic!”
Nor did any alcoholic steel a glance at the inside of a cartoon of liquor and wonder what jewels lurked up there.
Neither did any alcoholic ever say to himself “I have to get out of this town and find out where all the alcoholics hang out.”
Nor was any alcoholic ever taunted with “Your kind move to San Francisco.”
For sure no alcoholic ever was fearful in saying he wanted to put lips to a long neck beer.
No budding alcoholic didn’t try to get an adult to buy him some alcohol, perhaps.
And of course, alcoholics often are created well into life, when some disaster strikes, like say the fag bashing of her son.
Perhaps a man might turn to drink when he realizes his son is not going to be the big strapping football player he wanted, but instead seems to be inordinately concerned with the organization of the colors in his underwear drawers.
And then too, alcohol is a product made. There’s factories. There’s chemical processes involved with making alcohol, and thus alcoholics. Quite natural, too, it’s said. Which is even funnier for the fallacy of the analogy, for alcohol is natural indeed, and alcoholics are just those who consume too much of the natural spirits, as it were. But gay people? No, we’re not natural. Or spirit is to be denied even. God made alcohol, for sure Jesus changed water to wine, though never wine to water. And most everyone, from the looks of it, enjoys a fine toddy from time to time. Alcohol is a fine thing, except when drank too much. But gayness natural? Why, the very point of the analogy is to say being gay is a sin and not natural. But if it takes alcohol to make an alcohol what on earth are gay folks consuming to make us gay? Is there some gayberry bush at the back yard fence no one knows about and the little boy starts to eat and by the time he’s 14 he’s gay from gayberries fermented into gayberry wine?
For no one makes gayness. There’s no factory. There’s no gay outlets. You can’t go buy a six pack of chilled gay. We don’t come in 24 can suitcases either. Nor do you need a can opener to get the gayness out. Nor a corkscrew to drink too much gay with your spaghetti. You don’t have to mix gayness with tonic or juice to give it more pizzazz. Certainly having a little gay at the office Christmas party is frowned upon. No one ever set out a bowl of gay punch for all the ladies who tipple away the philandering of their husbands while playing bridge. Do they?
Nor can you put up a big billboard along the freeway saying “The finest gay, made just for the holidays.” No one says “Fine Gays Since 1795.” I’ve never seen the “Traditionally Gay Since Friar Tuck” or something. Nor is gayness kept in casks for a few years to age, before being bottled and labeled and shipped overseas so that it might be consumed to excess. I can’t even imagine the French and the Californians arguing over who grows the finest gayberries for their wine.
Alcohol is an external physical thing, with mass and weight and density. It conforms to all the natural laws for liquids. It sits inert on the shelf for years and might still be good. And without this alcohol there can be no alcoholics. Alcoholics must ingest the alcohol, no? I mean, how else would one become an alcoholic? Indeed, in societies with no alcohol there are no alcoholics. But there sure are gay people.
But ingest gayness? From what wine glass? From a bottle? Or does it come in one of those new box contraptions? Where do I buy this stuff, this gayness, which I must logically pour into my body everyday in order to be compared to an alcoholic buying alcohol to pour into his body? And are there different flavors of gayness? Or different strengths? You know, 80 proof queer, versus 40 proof fag?
Even more devastating to the analogy is what of those who drink alcoholic responsibly? What of the social drinker? The guy who has a beer at night to worry away the fret of taxation? The man who has a drink on the plane, served by a gay guy no less, so that he might calm his nerves against the true threat of crazed lunatics screaming Death to America! Can they be likened to experimenting alcoholics? Are they on the road to perdition? If alcoholics are like gay people, are social drinkers like bisexuals or something?
The whole thing is so preposterous that I just wonder at the banal way the comparison is made. And yet these people liken themselves to great thinkers as their analogy can be burned away like so much alcohol in a beaker.
Yah, sure, gays are like alcoholics. And the Gay Promotion and Marketing Board implores you to be gay responsibly this holiday season. Don’t be gay and drive. And of course, if you have had too much gay you should get a designated hetero to bring you home, no doubt.
And now, a word from our sponsor of the half time show of this next year’s Superbowl, “The Big Gay Society Destruction Company.”
And certainly, tonight’s holiday special will be brought to you by “Fairies, the finest gayness. Made of pure sugar plums and puppy dog tails.”
But you know, don’t consume too many. Might make you gay.
And that President Obama, is how you bust a myth.
And would someone impeach that man already. He’s imbibed too much socialism. Which is much closer to alcoholism than being gay is. For it makes you drunk with power. And government power is a far greater threat to family, society, the nation and civilization itself than any 10 lads a leaping in tights because they’re natural born sissies.
Alcoholics are like gay people like rocks are like birds. And gay people are like alcoholics like birds are like rocks. Other than that, it sounds good, I guess.
Now, I write this early in the AM, so I shall not have any alcohol to push me to alcoholism. But I did wake up just as gay as a goose with absolutely no effort. I just hope my, um, chestnuts aren’t roasted over an open fire on the way to reinstalling the theocratic police state against us gay folks as some still aspire to do. And in this holiday season, too! Why, it’s like getting a lump of coal in my stocking.
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