I Wish the Homos Could Be Happy

A couple days ago my wife walked past a table in the restaurant where we both languish. She overheard someone make the comment "I saw that the gays have been protesting again. You know they protest because they're unhappy people".

People this ignorant should be forced to submit to a beating just for speaking out loud. And they had children with them, so, of course, the kids'll grow up hearing about how the "gays" need our pity and sympathy, and the "gays" need our charity to get by, and the "gays" need us to be ever so nice to them because they'll never be content on their own. No matter what they do, as long as they're queer, they'll never be happy. Goddam, and here I thought "gay" MEANT happy.

I find it difficult to believe that a person can be so naive as to actually convince themselves of something like this. I realize the Bible says faggots go to hell, but it also says that God loves all his creations. It doesn't leave any out. Also, as the story goes, if you accept Jesus as your savior, you're in. No stipulations about "gay" this, or "homo" that.

All these rules that people make up, it's absurd. We don't discriminate against gay animals, and yet instances of homosexuality in the wild are common as houseflies. Let's be perfectly honest here: this God you believe in, this one-and-only omnipotent God; he created EVERYTHING, right? No, don't try to weasel out of it with some half-baked argument your pastor concocted when he was drunk last week, just answer the fuckin question. Did your God create everything? I thought so. Therefore he's responsible for everything that goes on here. He is in control. You idiots say that all the time when bad stuff happens; "Don't worry, God has a plan".

If God created everything, then he's responsible for homosexuality, too. There's no way around this. People throw around words like "abberation" and "unnatural". Let me tell you something; those words don't mean anything. In the entire universe, there are only natural occurences, there is nothing unnatural. And there can be no abberations, because God has a plan. I'm not sure how you folks understand "omnipotent," but when an omnipotent dude makes a plan, there are no abberations. Can't be. Look up "omnipotent" if this confuses you. Therefore, if God is in control, nothing has surprised him. Not Adam and Eve fuckin up the Garden, not Cain killing Abel, and certainly not the millenia of constant homosexual activity that have led to the year 2006 CE.

So. God has created homos for you, the Christians, to save. It's the only explanation. They are a challenge, not an abberation. I'm sure he and his son are tired of you whining to them all day long about how much you want a pony. He created butt sex solely so he could hate it. Then, he created people that want to have butt sex all the time. Then, he told you that he just couldn't stand these people. He told you that it's your job to "correct" whatever it is that's wrong with them. What's funny is that he ALREADY loves them. What's even funnier is that he made them the way they are. And you can't correct them any more than they can correct you. And believe me, you need it more than the gays do. This is where God gets his kicks. Watching you hapless morons scramble around and try to figure out What Jesus Would Do. You know what Jesus would do? He'd have compassion and sympathy for anyone in front of him. You should try that sometime instead of pity and superiority.

It's a shame you fuckers are cursed with free will. You're not using it and you'd be so much happier without it.

God Gave Me a Fish

Last week off the coast of Kenya, a fisherman caught a tuna. What could be more normal, you ask? It's true, fishermen off the coast of Kenya catch tuna all the time. This tuna was a little different, though. This was Allah's tuna.

According to the source, there was a verse from the Qur'an written on the fish's side. The verse read "You are the best provider". It wasn't written in Sharpie or anything, it was the fish's natural coloration arranged to spell out the holy words.

Predictably, imam's in Kenya have gone crazy, preaching that the tuna is a sign from God. Obviously (at least to those of us capable of abstract thought) this is ridiculous. Why would God send you a fish? This guy sends world-ending floods, pillars of fire, plagues that destroy nations and the like. If God were trying to tell you something, you'd know it. He wouldn't put faint, shimmery words on the side of a bloody tuna fish.

Secondly, why are you looking for a sign anyway? What's the matter with your faith? You need some proof, or what? By definition, faith requires nothing to back it up. You can't proclaim your rock-solid faith to the world, then crow about signs that prove God's existence. Matter of fact, your faith would cause you to view such "signs" as totally spurious. Being able to prove to yourself or others that all the crazy shit you believe is really, really true, is totally irrelevant.

Also, what could it possibly matter, even if it were honestly a sign from God? YOU BELIEVED IT BEFORE, YOU WRETCHED FREAKS!! How does this change your day to day life? Yesterday you believed every word in the Qur'an. Today Allah sends you a tuna with a verse from the Qur'an on it. So what? Do you believe MORE today than yesterday? Perhaps the tuna will sway the fence-sitters. Those that aren't quite convinced Islam is the way to go. Unmoved by the promise of 72 virgins when you martyr yourself and blow up a few hundred infidels along the way? Check out the fish!

If you mentioned to a Zen Buddhist that you had proof that Buddha loved us, he'd smack you with a tuna and laugh while you bled.

Back for the Attack

Aaahh, I'm home. Spent four days in Vegas, and, I have to say, I liked it better there. Warm weather, all sun and no rain, and free fuckin hootch.

Vegas is sweet because it's one of the few vacation spots where it's really OK to be a tourist. You go to the top of the Eiffel Tower, you see the lions at the MGM and the tigers at the Mirage; you gape at the inside of the Luxor and stride through the Bellagio half expecting to see Brad Pitt. You go to shows and yell and scream for the Blue Man Group and feel no compuction whatsoever at letting your mouth hang open at Cirque du Soliel.

I loved it. I threw money around like I was Sean Combs and gambled like I was Dennis Rodman. Not only was all this expected of me, I was never made to feel the least bit self-conscious about it. I gorged myself in fine French resaurants and made sure I rubbed my crab cakes all over my rare prime rib before eating with my elbows on the table. Why should they care how I behave? I'm willingly handing them my money in order to be able to act like a rock star. I was tempted to piss in a slot machine just to see what would happen. Of course, most rock stars wouldn't go broke in a measly four days, but, hey, I was just renting my status.

And what could cap off this vacation? What could make it OK that I left 90 degree weather at noon on Thursday to return to drizzly, cold, Lexington that night? I'll tell you what. Seeing the headline in Friday's paper that Ernie Fletcher has been indicted. Burn, you motherfucker.

Wake up and resist.