Thank You For Being A Gay Friend

By DuncanRhys C. Liancourt

––I get Rick Santorum around this friend thing completely because I, too, have the kinds of friends that surprise people and make them incredulous, and I have also been harassed with the same type of gotcha question with which Don Lemon attacked Santorum:

LEMON: Do you have any gay friends?

SANTORUM: Yeah. In fact I’ve had gay people work for me.

LEMON: Yeah. And friends.

SANTORUM: Yes!

LEMON: You know when people say I have black friends.

SANTORUM: I – well, I mean, yes, I have – in fact I was with a gay friend of mine just two days ago. I mean, so, yeah, I do. And they respect that I have differences of opinion on that. I talk about these things in front of them and we have conversations about it. They differ from me. But they know that I love them because they’re my friends. And they know that I respect and we have respect for their (inaudible).

Of course Santorum has gay friends. Should the fact that he continually compares homosexuality to polygamy, adultery (one of the things he tried to help John Ensign get away with), incest, man on child sex, and man on dog sex keep him from having a gay bosom buddy or two? Santorum has said he has no problem with the gay “orientation,” merely that “I have a problem with homosexual acts.” He is perfectly clear, in other words, that he could have homosexuals around him who don’t commit any homosexual acts, so why should he not have as many lonely, celibate, loveless, hollow, soul-deadened, self-hating, abject, bad-dressing, poorly-groomed, hypocritical, nature-denying, wooden, emotionally-stunted, frozen, fear-mongering, progress-killing, bitter, self-serving (or other) gay pals as he can attract?

I get Rick Santorum because I have a thrice-born, ultra-conservative evangelical Christian friend. Myrna (let’s call her) loves me and I love her, and the fact that she believes the government should implant a chip in my body to keep track of me can’t change that simple fact. I did once ask Myrna about the chip––she had never mentioned why I should need keeping track of––and she explained that it was only a matter of time before I molested a child, or an animal and that the government would need to locate me for deportation to a special island reserved for the spawn of Satan.

“Of course,” she said, “by then it will have been too late for the innocent victim of your depravity. Maybe they could make the chip hit you with a high-voltage electric shock if you tried to harm a child, or corrupt one with your lies.” “But,” I said, “what if I am only talking to a child, helping my nephew with his homework, for instance,” to which she replied that a gay couldn’t help himself from trying to recruit. We decided to table the discussion and watch the first of several DVDs she’d brought, Mel Gibson’s “The Passion of the Christ.”

Toward the end of the second film, Newt Gingrich’s “Rediscovering God in America,” with a few Vodka rocks in her, Myrna began to say, well mutter under her breath loudly, really, that the gays were the reason the recently scheduled Rapture hadn’t taken place. She thought her god wanted the righteous to cure all the gays before the rapture, as a test, or something. I did feel a little hurt, but I knew she was suffering from depression since the failure of the Rapture so decided not to mention it.

About a week later I received some mail form Myrna. She’d sent me literature about Bachmann and Associates Christian Counseling Agency, the family business of Congresswoman Michele Bachmann and her husband Marcus, which talked about God’s word on homosexuality. Sensing a distance growing between us, I rang Myrna right up. I reminded her that I was not of her faith, but she said that was exactly the problem, that I was both lost and confused or stubbornly refusing to hear and heed the undeniable word of God. I reminded Myrna that it was my right as an American to have any or no religion as I saw fit, that her freedom to worship was just that, her freedom to decide how she would worship, and that it did not give her a right to decide how, or even if, other Americans should worship.

Myrna got a bit shrieky then, and repetitious (word of god, Christian nation, bible, etc.), and I figured I’d let her vent, but then the threats started. I hit the record button and after the pitch-covered flaming roses and headless doves were found on my doorstep the restraining order was granted. I still, however, get massages from Myrna. Every one begins with, “your secular laws have no power over me because I follow a higher law,” and the like. The police say I can press charges over Myrna’s violations of the restraining order, but I still hope our friendship can recover. After all, if Log Cabin Republicans haven’t given up why should I?

P.S. A deeply coded message that only gays can read for Rick Santorum’s gay friends:

RainbowPrideDavidBeckhamGetOutNowPointyShoesSeriouslyNowBenCohenandmakesure

youknowwhereyourdogisbecauseyourfriendRickiswaytoofocusedondogsexjust

sayingLadyGagaJockstrapsGarethThomasDanSavageItGetsBetterGoChazRememberyoucan

begayaroundRickbutnothavegaysexbuthecanhavesexbecauseitcanpossiblymakebabies

whichaccordingtohimisallthatmattersbecausegodintendeditorsomecrazyshit

GoogleSantorumandgetoutnowgetoutnowthereisstillhopeforyoubeingRickSantorum’s

friendiscurableDavidBeckhamagainbecauseWowyoucanbecomeanexfriendofthe

Santorumandthenitgetsbetterwestillloveyoueventhoughyouseemtohateyourselfandus

Whereisyourdog?GetoutnowBeckhamGagaPeaceLoveEqualityRealFriendsexist.

 

Comments
One Response to “Thank You For Being A Gay Friend”
  1. Laura says:

    Yay! I can read the coded message perfectly, confirming my suspicion that I am a gay man. I hope Rick Santorum and I can continue to be friends.

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