No More

I would like to go on record as being against procreation. No more kids. No more gap-toothed heterosexuals with a 4th grade reading level bringing up another set of what our President turned out to be. No more explosives-wielding, gun-toting, potty-mouthed, unruly, disobedient banshees whose parents look the other way like it's not their problem. You want a gay agenda? I'll give you agenda point 4, section (b), subsection (iii):

"Children, to the greatest extent necessary, should be eradicated from society along with those who created them."

This means no more American Family Association being worried about what's on my TV because it may negatively impact the children I don't own. Note to Don Wildmon: The dog has never once exhibited promiscuous behavior from my watching Days of our Lives. Nor has he ever used "cocksucker" in polite company after watching Deadwood. Perhaps it would help if you spay or neuter your children? I don't care to have my television options sanitized down for the consumption of a 4 year-old.

No More Children means that eventually there will be no more young homosexuals. We middle-agers will become attracted to today's 20 year-olds at the appropriate time. And that generation beneath us would never have their heads turned by someone 20 years younger...because they wouldn't exist. "But," you protest, "...eventually there will be no more ANYBODY if the breeders stop breeding!" Perhaps this is true, but once you die, tell me you're going to give a shit. It's like one final fling with Narcissism: No more after me!

No more young homosexuals will mean the eventual return of the only music handed down directly from God to Man: Disco. Soon, the thumpity thump thump of this lyricless mess of noise will dissipate into the bad dream it was meant to be (crystal trips notwithstanding) and we'll actually get words back in our dance music. They've taken the words out because younger homosexuals can neither read nor remember for long periods of time. I've yet to meet a gay man under 30 who could recite the words to both "It's Raining Men" and "I Will Survive". And I'm a little tired of having them look at me funny on Oldies Night at the bar. In time, today's young "queers" will be middle-aged and cranky with deteriorating joints and they'll long for the smooth, therapeutic dance therapy of Disco.

No more children means heterosexuals will have to stop using their kids as the reason they hate us. They'll have to hate us on their own two feet. Soon, straight women everywhere will have good reason to fear going to the beauty shop. Straight men will start guessing at their inseam length. All heterosexuals will have to eat at home for fear that the queens they've slandered will spit something toxic in their food. (And don't think we wouldn't.) Broadway will charge heterosexuals a Breeder's Premium to come see the gay folks they've pissed off: just because. Any movie with a gay actor - including the Mission Impossible series - will be Off Limits to straight people as reparations for the decades of shit heaped upon our heads.

Lesbians would turn their strollers into portable coolers. Gay men would turn their baby beds into uber-chic bars. Donna Summer will be forced to pick sides once and for all. Mr. Mapother would have to choose the closet or the crypt. Anne Heche-DeGeneres-LaFoon would spontaneously combust. Like fireworks. Which is where I had this idea in the first place.

Children with fireworks gave me a vision for the future. I will likely not live to see it fulfilled, but it was a beautiful glimpse of What Could Be. Will you join me, hand-in-hand, to build a better future for ourselves and our libidos? Imagine Jerry Falwell's head on a stick at The White Party in a sort of Taliban-cum-Circuit victory dance. As Tinkerbell told Peter, "Just close your eyes and think happy thoughts!"

Oh....and don't take the extra Klonopin when you go to bed. When they say two is the limit, they mean it. Two makes you happy and sleepy. Three gives you dreams of offing straight people and preachers' heads on sticks. Just two. No more.

(No children or heterosexuals were harmed in the making of this entry.)