Here there be monsters (socratic) wrote,
Here there be monsters
socratic

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And there goes the perfect game

I've been pretty grim in my journal recently so I wanted to write something somewhat humorous before I go back to school. I gave it the old college try and this is what got crapped out. Oh well, if you read my journal on a regular basis you're already used to bad writing, and if you don't then you might as well read it and be made to feel better about your own wordsmithing!

Caution: May offend you if you are human.

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A lot of people have been talking recently about how the gays are co-opting the institution of marriage. How their getting hitched over in MA will lead to an invalidation of marriage in the broader culture and the eventual neutering of the institution. I remain unconvinced, however I think there's another institution that is threatened much more directly by gay people. This threat has not garnered nearly the publicity or backlash that the threat to marriage has, but it exists all the same. A venerable institution is on the brink of destruction, and it's all thanks to those sneaky gays. That institution, is male bonding.

Back in the good old days, when gays were repressed and harassed, they served virtually no impediment to male bonding. You could count on gays to either be swishier than a broom in a centrifuge, or so deeply closeted that you couldn't even see the light peeking out from under the door. Sure, there was still the transsexual issue. If you went to certain seedier bars or clubs there was a chance that the very pretty lady wearing too much makeup in the corner had a very ugly secret underneath that dress. If, while out with a few buddies, you picked up a transsexual and they found out about it, well you pretty much had to move. To another continent And change your name. Still, this potential issue could be dealt with by simply repeating a mantra even more important than "bros before hoes." "Check for the Adam's apple, check for the Adam's apple."

Unfortunately, those carefree days when gays risked professional ruin and physical violence if they were outed are gone, at least in certain parts of the country. The fairies are out in force, and this isn't a midsummer night's dream, this is real life.

The worst part is, you can't always tell who they are.

I think we all agree it was pretty bad when black people were integrated into our most cherished institutions. It's not that I have anything against black people, quite the contrary, but let's face it, as a privileged white male (I've got the whole Jew thing going on but nobody counts that anymore) they crimp my style. Have to watch what you say around them. Can't point out that they're such superior athletes 'cause of all the running from lions and tigers they did over in Africa. No wearing white hoods after Labor Day, that sort of thing. Fortunately the blacks have the good manners to be easily identifiable, so that one can get around the problem of their presence by talking behind their backs, not promoting them so they don't disrupt board-meetings and other important social enclaves, or applying to exclusive country clubs where there just 'happen' to be no African American members. Tee-hee.

(Yes I know there are light-skinned blacks, but they're the exception that proves the generally applicable rule.)

The gays are not so cooperative. Sure, some of them slink around in outlandish clothing and affected accents, looking like Liberace after an assault by a graffiti gang. They are not the problem, though. You know where you stand with the limp-wristed show-tunes crowd. No, the real threat comes from those gays who are 'passing.' They put on business suits to go to work. They drink normal beer without counting carbs or calories. They even watch Football for the athletic competition, not just the spandex clad butts. In short, they are just like us, but fruitier than a vegan dessert plate.

These suit-clad sports talking fellows may be a little light in the loafers, but so what? It's the 21st century and those of us who no longer live in caves or communicate through a series of Tim Allen-esque grunts have come to accept that Homosexuals are among us, not that there's anything wrong with that. After all, you don't need to fantasize about Carmen Electra's nether regions 14 times a day in order to be an effective manager, and it's easy enough to pop back into the closet if you need to close a deal at a gentlemen's club.

No, my friends, the problem with this new brand of manly gay is outside the workplace. I should take a moment here to talk about the metrosexual. These are heterosexual men cough cough who enjoy the sort of spa and personal product pampering usually reserved for womenfolk and sissies. This means that sexuality is now a sort of Venn diagram, with the gays reaching pretty far into the macho spectrum and some of the straights knowing way too much about cuticle care.

So far this is not a problem except for the homophobes though, right? I mean perhaps it means that the average guy might be a little more hesitant about stripping down in the locker room or slapping another man's ass at a sporting event, but those were never the kind of activities that were cherished by your normal, red blooded, straight guy. If you're pining for the ass slap, that's a good sign you might be playing for the other team.

The place where things really get hairy is when trying to deal with other males on a social basis. It used to be that when you told a guy "let's go get a beer" you both knew what you were saying. You were suggesting that the two of you head to a nearby tavern or pub to enjoy a frosty barley pop and convince each other that you could totally score with the 25 year old bartender who has that butterfly tattoo right on the small of her back if you weren't worried about messing things up with the current girl you were seeing. (That's seeing, literally. As in through a darkened window at night. Through binoculars. Despite the restraining order.) It was an innocent and rather pure affair that might end with the sort of intimacy that comes with maxing out your credit cards together at a strip joint or holding your chum's coat while he pukes in the alleyway, or even emptying your pockets together to try and come up with bail, but definitely no lip-on-lip contact, or even a hug.

Things are more complicated now. And it's not because the gays are trying to stealth date us, no. I've never heard of a case where a homosexual asked a straight guy out to the Nets game and then demanded sex from him afterwards, a sort of stealthy way to get a debtfuck. Gays are men too. They just aren't that clever. No, the real trouble comes for straight guys doing the asking. No longer can you just go up to a guy and say, "want to get some drinks?" What if he's a gay? When a woman hears that line she knows, or should, that the proper translation is "I would like to violate you and I think alcohol may help me in that pursuit." Do gay guys think that too? What if they think it means that you WANT to be violated? When you bend over to paint the sidewalk with a Technicolor rainbow and your buddy pulls down your pants, that's got to be an awkward situation for both of you.

Of course gays are rational creatures (I already mentioned that they were men) and are unlikely to assume that drinks or a meal include the implication of desert when the guy making the offer is of indeterminate orientation. There's another threat out there though. What happens if the guy you're asking out is as straight as the Autobahn and assumes that YOU are singing in the special choir? If he's a progressive guy you can both laugh about it and then go somewhere with exposed female breasts. But he might not be progressive. Maybe he's regressive, and maybe he starts to hate you. Call this homophobiaphobia. So you're stuck suggesting things that these guys are unlikely to think that Judy Garland fans enjoy. That's how you find yourself deer hunting on a Sunday afternoon when you'd rather be roller-skating or catching a matinee.

As we can see, male bonding has taken a serious hit from the integration of gays into everyday life. Nude locker rooms have gone from carefree zones of towel-snapping repressed sexuality into somber affairs of open sexual tension, where eyes and penises must never, EVER, meet. The high-five has quickly become the symbol of athletic solidarity, and the guys' night out has become a minefield of potential sexual innuendo or advance.

Look what they've done.

You might claim that gay male bondage, I mean bonding, has been a staple of Western society since before there was a western society. After all, the main way that the ancient Greeks bonded was nude wrestling and man on boy anal sex. That may be true, but I don't think that those were necessarily gay activities. It was more of an innocent time back then. A time when one could run ones hands over another man's naked body, or bend a young boy over and give him a 'special' proctology examination, without it meaning anything. These men still had wives. They still procreated, grudgingly. It was man on boy sex, sure, but it was innocent man on boy sex and totally classy.

Plus, they didn't have a hell of a lot to do back then. It's not like they could have gone to a bar and had beer. It was pretty much philosophy, wrestling, anal sex, and war. Those were the options. If you were tired, stupid, and didn't want to die, you really didn't have a choice. I think it's unfair to stereotype a race of people just because they enjoyed a little rear door entry.

Of course it doesn't stop there. The gays even have our boys questioning their own sexuality. There's plenty of them who say "Oh I didn't know I was gay until I was 25" or some such nonsense (though an equal number admit that they knew what they were in their teenage years.) Now our young men are questioning themselves at every turn. If you can't get it up even though she's hot, why you might be gay. If you get a random erection in conjunction with brushing against another man's ass or seeing some cut abdominals, your best friend might be Dorothy. If you spend 3 to 4 hours a day jerking off to "Boys in Paradise 6" oh, look at you, you're a fairy.

That's bullshit! We shouldn't have to be concerned about any of these innocent past-times. It's time for us heterosexuals to take back our lives and our culture. That's why I'm proposing a constitutional amendment requiring every gay man to have some sort of identifying mark. Like a bouffant hairdo, or maybe one of them rainbow ribbons I seen around. Perhaps a Carmen Miranda headgear? I'm open to suggestions.They need to be as easy to identify as blacks are. Only then will our culture be safe. Lesbians already have a dress code. Flannel. As for the so called lipstick lesbians, well if they're not wearing comfortable shoes then they're just repressed straight women who need a good deep-dicking to sort them out. No problem there. Anyway, gays can be here, they can be queer, but we aren't gonna worry about them when buying our buds a beer.

Oh, and they should all be REQUIRED to get married. Nothing's more of a dead gay giveaway than "My husband should be here any minute."

P.S. Yeah I know Glavine lost the no-no. That's the way it goes for the Mets. *sigh* I probably jinxed him.
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