By: James Sacco & Andrew Otazo
I want to make it crystal clear to all LGBTQ+ people out there that I can totally accept their lifestyles while also denying their very existence to children because, though I regularly ask toddlers with no concept of sexuality whether they have girlfriends, I have a deeply internalized and unexamined association between homosexuality and pornography, which has nothing to do with my MFM fetish, as it allows me to truly appreciate that one vagina when it’s framed by twice the cocks and four times the balls, which is why, when watching Spartacus, I need to palate cleanse every 10 seconds of dudes making out with at least 20 minutes of gratuitous battle scenes and gore, because that’s what real men are all about: tanks, guns, planes, missiles, explosions, and arm wrestling… though I do sometimes wonder if the latter was just invented so guys could hold hands and stare penetratingly into each other’s eyes… (cough!) I mean, the way I penetrated this chick in college, which I mention upon even the slightest opening in a conversation with casual acquaintances, however, that doesn’t mean I want to hear about your Grindr date, because the thought of two men enjoying each other’s bodies just absolutely makes me quiver (what was that?), but I’d never let anyone within three feet of my butthole, except for that single, solitary, sole time I asked my wife to shove one, maybe two fingers up there, MAX, during fellatio, but NEVER three, and DEFINITELY not the thumb because that’s the gayest digit there is, which brings me to my frustration with HBO for making all its prestige shows about being gay by showing two bros sexily hugging, the same way Black Panther was all about White people because Andy Serkis was in it, and yet, even though the LGBTQ+ community has all this representation in mass media, I don’t understand why they get so sensitive when I make gay jokes, though I literally tried to rip a Bills fan’s head off at the Hard Rock for making fun of Tua before security stopped me, but look, I don’t mind people being gay, as long as they don’t hit on me because, although that overzealous #MeToo movement makes it impossible to know when I’m sexually harassing my coworkers, the thought of going to a gay club and possibly getting my ass grabbed is my worst nightmare, as it makes me viscerally understand consent, but what I really want to know is how you can even be sure you’re really gay if you’ve never been with a woman, though you will catch these hands if you ever ask how I know I’m straight if I’ve never slept with a man because I’m a real man, a real, 100% straight man, though if I were gay, I’d definitely be a top since they’re only like 70% gay on account of not surrendering their masculinity, which is why I’ve never even thought about being a bottom, except for right now… and… maybe whenever I get a little tipsy and watch Top Gun, the original, not the sequel, which is still pretty hot, I mean sexy, I mean manly, I mean sexy, I mean I love jets, I mean definitely not penis, because nothing is more straight than the military, where chevrons are literally abstract penises, and the more you have, the higher your rank, and the armed forces are all about straight talk and calling it like it is, so I don’t get why I need to go around addressing people by their chosen pronouns, even though I want to flip a table because Barbara in accounting keeps calling me DANNY, instead of DANIEL, because DANNY isn’t my fucking my name, Barbara!
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