The "Stupidity" of Gay Marriage : By David Lawrence

[Fay Dickson-- AKA doofs]

 

You’re so proud of yourself that you accept gay marriage.  How generous your spirit.  You congratulate yourself that you are able to think beyond conventionalities.

 

Tradition is nothing to you.  You are so clever that you can be illogical and promote anal intercourse without a chance of procreation. You got everything ass backwards but won’t accept normality.

 

Marriage is an institution not chaotic self-destruction.  It is not same sex meaninglessness.  It is not love without structure.

 

Like acceptance of gay marriage is a sign of intelligence rather than a failure to face reality.  Like going against the grain fertilizes intellect.

 

Yeah, you are brilliant because you defy nature and the history of beautiful heterosexuality. For you anal sex is a sign of great intelligence. A hemorrhoid is a logarithm.  It is the mathematics of being asinine.

 

You are an ass. Yet you feel that your head is screwed on right and that you are superior to normality, that your following the road less traveled by will bring you to Oz.

 

Perversion is perversion.  It doesn’t make you a bad person.  You may be beautiful in other parts of your life. But walking on the wild side of sexual perversion, you are out of touch.  You are in a mentally sick world.

 

When I see same sex marriages on television I wince.  I’m not even too enthusiastic about regular marriages.  But same sex puts the corn on corny.  Pass the butter.  Let me slide out of your embarrassing joy.  I turn my eyes.

 

It’s not that as a gay academic you are stupid in math and literature but that you are stupid in your sex life.  If you can’t follow what makes sense you walk off the road and injure yourself on the cliffs of perversion.

 

I feel sorry for you.  You shouldn’t defend your doggish position just because you are impelled to kneel.  Admit that you veer from normality. Don’t be proud of failings.

 

Be what you be but don’t deny that it is a sad world that you inhabit. It may not be your choice.  But it is your choice to rub it in our faces.

 

Lay back.  Do your thing.  Don’t ask us to be an audience to your perversion.

 

Your release from the closet is creased pants and tripping on the hangers of twisted metal.  You are out of touch with the rack of normality. The price tag on your clothes is the cost of insanity. Close the door.  Be more than an exhibitionist.

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