Gays attack culture; nothing happens

Gays Attack Culture! Nothing Happens! Oh my!

In several state legislatures this week – in states absolutely broke and about to crash into financial ruin – there was much testimony against the “greatest threat to civilization” as some characterize it. The out of control spending? Nope. The too high taxes? Nope. The unfunded liabilities, of course not. What then was all this testimony about? And what threat to us all could it be?

It was the icky! The icky requested a nice word about us. We’re like the Untouchables of India, I dare say. People so icky that nothing ever should be said nice about us. Why, many of you are so sure we’re the Untouchables of America that you won’t talk with us, or even be in the same building with us. That’s how icky we gay folks are. Untouchable so.

The Family (in which no gay people exist) Research Council, National Organization (Against Gay) Marriage, Americans for the (un)truth about Homosexuality, and others too numerous to name, though equally Orwellian in their names, were out in force proclaiming to legislators in lobby huddles, divers offices, and right there in open testimony in a Free Republic’s elected legislatures for the decent respect of mankind towards a more perfect union and E Pluribus Unum that gay folks are indeed just the worst thing that could come along since, well, since anything really. For not much else is called a “threat to civilization.” Mars could attack Earth, and these folks would say gay folks are a bigger threat.

They marshaled their evidence against us – for they study us incessantly. Why, they know quite a bit more about me and mine than even me and mine could know. Of course, that’s because they make a lot of it up, but still, it’s impressive the evidence they have gathered in support of their contention that we shall remain the untouchable icky people of the nation. There they stood, with their facts and figures, to present to a candid world –. and presented the searing facts of the impending doom if gay folks are given one nice word about us by the government to whom we pay taxes:

1 – there’s not a lot of us and they’re not happy there’s so few;

2 – we’re icky, very very icky;

3 – we smooch and cuddle with others of our kind;

4 – we swish and wear tight undies;

5 – we own hair salons and run with scissors;

6 – we own antique shops and sell curios and tacky lamps;

7 – we are airline flight attendants who bolt the cockpit door against real terrorists;

8 – we are waiters at more than 100,000 restaurants nationwide; and rarely drop hot coffee.

9 – we are in schools as sissy boys and tomboy girls and we get beat up and don’t fight back;

10 – we live in every single town, burg, city, county and state of the nation in a vast conspiracy to infiltrate the nation with a hidden agenda of some kind, which comes nefariously down to:

We’re here, we’re queer, get over it.

Such a brutal attack upon churches we wage that we are often seen sitting quietly in pews nationwide praying to God to soften the hard hearts against us. It is said that even our asking for intercession from Heaven above is a brutal destruction of God and Nation. Because, you know, we’re icky. Indeed, “Americans for the (un)truth about icky people” is absolutely livid that any church would let us in the door. They are quite sure they have the right to tell other churches whom shall be untouchably icky, and who shall not.

Such a brutal attack upon family we wage that we’ll get together for Sunday dinner with our moms and dads, or perhaps someone else in our extended families, or maybe just a friend’s house. I suppose the brutality is in the wrong wine served with dinner. But still, we’re against our own families because we’re icky. And I dare say these groups probably don’t like our families for being nice to us.

Such a dastardly destruction of all that’s holy and good that we cause, the ruckus of violent “radical” “militant” “homosexuals” rampaging through the streets – oh wait, that’s right. It’s a bizarre fantasy world our detractors live in. For you can’t even see us when we cut your hair at SuperCuts. Nor do you seem to see us when you get flowers at the florist. We’re quite invisible on 14,000 flights a day across America. We’re absolutely nowhere to be seen anywhere in our attack upon God, nation, family, kids, civilization and whatever — because not only are we actually – in the real world – and not in the fantasy land that our opponents live in — peaceful, friendly, productive citizens – but um, you folks are sometimes so blind it’s hysterical. But that’s OK, icky isn’t contagious. You got to be born icky. It’s not even a club you can join. You either are icky, or you are not. Very simple, actually. Yet, so near impossible for so many to grasp this elemental truth.

But you know, if you say something nice, well, then, that would be bad. For to say nice things about such obviously good people is not OK – because you say we’re icky, it must be true! Still, fear not, you un-icky people, you would not be whom we are. It’s a moment-of-conception thing, you wouldn’t understand. And you say, with all seriousness – we’re Icky! And we, the Icky of the Nation, do wonder what your problem is. Though thankfully God does not give us more than we can bear, and we bear our ickyness with quiet dignity.

You guys are so dead set against the untouchable icky that we are you won’t even marvel at our fortitude. Yikes!

And you’re quite mad at us for getting people to like us. And you know we must be crazy — for when a mere 15 or 20 million attack 300,000,000 — well, that’s suicidal lunacy. (We’re just not that crazy, you know.)

So praise God for icky folks, who bring a glow to those who know us. And Amen to soften the hard hearts of the anti-icky brigades!


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