The Funny Stuff
Long overdue, I now present The Funny Stuff, which will hopefully be better than my previous excremental drivel.
While walking on campus today, I heard this (paraphrased but accurate) cell phone conversation. To fully relive the moment, add a gay inflection:
Yeah well I talked to my therapist about it, and she said blah blah (whatever it is therapists say—wasn’t listening). The thing is, my parents are so controlling in my life that…
What caught me off guard about this was the fact that the person saying this was probably around 18 years old. Maybe he wasn’t gay, but for the moment let’s assume he was. Now, I’m not a part of the gay community, but I’m sure they experience challenges everyday that most people don’t have to deal with. However, unless they are near a group that is afraid of and despises them, like Republicans, I would wager a guess that it’s on par with discrimination felt by black people, women and any number of minority groups that I am not a part of, being the white male bastard I am (read: The Man).
That said, no one needs to see a therapist that early in life unless they’ve experienced severe trauma. Well, I guess if you knocked up some girl who happened to be passed out on a sidewalk, you’d had some issues that might require some outside help, but other than that, your life can not be so fucked up from your parents that you need to sit down on a bad couch and talk it over with a therapist who makes somewhere between “A lot” and “Fucking A I could do that.”
Before I continue it should be said that I am 100% OK with gay people. I believe in gay marriage and all that. If you prefer companionship in the same sex, go for it, I have no quarrels there. However, there is something I want to address that’s been bothering me.
To illustrate, I’ll use an analogy. It doesn’t refer to anything specific, just gives perspective. You know when you’re at a concert, let’s say a heavy metal concert. Just go with me, it’s a goddamn example. And let’s say it’s a band that has been mostly underground but has recently garnered attention, and threatens to cross the threshold to mainstream. At the concert are the usual diehard fans, with their standard long hair (crap). But interspersed among them are a different breed, the wannabes. They only know the words to songs on the radio, and they wore the shirt of the band playing. Yeah, those people. The ones everyone hates.
It seems there is currently a gay trend. In order to easily identify (and thus avoid) these people (from here on out referred to as Dexters), I’ve made the following checklist which reveals their unimaginative nature:
- Sweater (especially if it’s not even cold out)
- Black boxy glasses
- Short spikey and/or messy “cute guy hair”
- Man satchel to store laptop or possibly nothing at all (must cross chest)
Now be careful, some people may check off some, but not all items (such as myself, see picture at top). To qualify as a Dexter, one must check off all items.
It’s my (and probably no one else’s) belief that these people are not actually gay, but are riding on it’s coattails for the potential benefits. These benefits include:
- Being able to talk about your feelings and having a witty response to the “Fag!” accusation by morons in trucker hats
- Getting girls to become so comfortable with you that they pretend you are a girl. This reaps so much in itself that it deserves a sublist. Thus:
•They get naked in front of you
•They choose you for the “Do my boobs feel bigger?” question
- Female friends wondering if might be the one who can “turn” you
To continue this thread of discussion to make readers question my sexuality, I’d like to talk about what I’ve dubbed “gay flair.” Gay flair is the demeanor exhibited by some homosexuals and every Dexter. You know, that feminine walk and talk that is either non-intrusive or completely over the top and irritating. If you’ve always spoken that way, you’re fine. However, for the others, I have a question. If you didn’t realize you were gay until a certain point in your life, did you talk that way before? If not, why afterward? Is there an unwritten law that says everything must be dramatic and that everyone within 15 feet should be able to hear about how you wanted to fuck the busboy at Denny’s?
I’d like to end with an anecdote that will hopefully save my soul from an eternity of damnation. Not antidote, that doesn’t come till Indy gives back the diamond. This event occurred about a week ago at Pray Harrold, when I was in the bathroom. I was at a urinal doing something or other when some guy came up to another urinal. The odd thing was, he was in it. He was leaning so far in, his hands had to be touching the Wall Of Pee. To really give you an idea, I spent a lot of time making this awesome illustration.
It’s obvious the gentleman couldn’t allow anyone to see his gigantic package.
While walking on campus today, I heard this (paraphrased but accurate) cell phone conversation. To fully relive the moment, add a gay inflection:
Yeah well I talked to my therapist about it, and she said blah blah (whatever it is therapists say—wasn’t listening). The thing is, my parents are so controlling in my life that…
What caught me off guard about this was the fact that the person saying this was probably around 18 years old. Maybe he wasn’t gay, but for the moment let’s assume he was. Now, I’m not a part of the gay community, but I’m sure they experience challenges everyday that most people don’t have to deal with. However, unless they are near a group that is afraid of and despises them, like Republicans, I would wager a guess that it’s on par with discrimination felt by black people, women and any number of minority groups that I am not a part of, being the white male bastard I am (read: The Man).
That said, no one needs to see a therapist that early in life unless they’ve experienced severe trauma. Well, I guess if you knocked up some girl who happened to be passed out on a sidewalk, you’d had some issues that might require some outside help, but other than that, your life can not be so fucked up from your parents that you need to sit down on a bad couch and talk it over with a therapist who makes somewhere between “A lot” and “Fucking A I could do that.”
Before I continue it should be said that I am 100% OK with gay people. I believe in gay marriage and all that. If you prefer companionship in the same sex, go for it, I have no quarrels there. However, there is something I want to address that’s been bothering me.
To illustrate, I’ll use an analogy. It doesn’t refer to anything specific, just gives perspective. You know when you’re at a concert, let’s say a heavy metal concert. Just go with me, it’s a goddamn example. And let’s say it’s a band that has been mostly underground but has recently garnered attention, and threatens to cross the threshold to mainstream. At the concert are the usual diehard fans, with their standard long hair (crap). But interspersed among them are a different breed, the wannabes. They only know the words to songs on the radio, and they wore the shirt of the band playing. Yeah, those people. The ones everyone hates.
It seems there is currently a gay trend. In order to easily identify (and thus avoid) these people (from here on out referred to as Dexters), I’ve made the following checklist which reveals their unimaginative nature:
- Sweater (especially if it’s not even cold out)
- Black boxy glasses
- Short spikey and/or messy “cute guy hair”
- Man satchel to store laptop or possibly nothing at all (must cross chest)
Now be careful, some people may check off some, but not all items (such as myself, see picture at top). To qualify as a Dexter, one must check off all items.
It’s my (and probably no one else’s) belief that these people are not actually gay, but are riding on it’s coattails for the potential benefits. These benefits include:
- Being able to talk about your feelings and having a witty response to the “Fag!” accusation by morons in trucker hats
- Getting girls to become so comfortable with you that they pretend you are a girl. This reaps so much in itself that it deserves a sublist. Thus:
•They get naked in front of you
•They choose you for the “Do my boobs feel bigger?” question
- Female friends wondering if might be the one who can “turn” you
To continue this thread of discussion to make readers question my sexuality, I’d like to talk about what I’ve dubbed “gay flair.” Gay flair is the demeanor exhibited by some homosexuals and every Dexter. You know, that feminine walk and talk that is either non-intrusive or completely over the top and irritating. If you’ve always spoken that way, you’re fine. However, for the others, I have a question. If you didn’t realize you were gay until a certain point in your life, did you talk that way before? If not, why afterward? Is there an unwritten law that says everything must be dramatic and that everyone within 15 feet should be able to hear about how you wanted to fuck the busboy at Denny’s?
I’d like to end with an anecdote that will hopefully save my soul from an eternity of damnation. Not antidote, that doesn’t come till Indy gives back the diamond. This event occurred about a week ago at Pray Harrold, when I was in the bathroom. I was at a urinal doing something or other when some guy came up to another urinal. The odd thing was, he was in it. He was leaning so far in, his hands had to be touching the Wall Of Pee. To really give you an idea, I spent a lot of time making this awesome illustration.
It’s obvious the gentleman couldn’t allow anyone to see his gigantic package.
posted by Ryan Duval | 2:43 PM
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