When I was a young kind in the 50’s I don’t remember if we really had a word that would be the equivalent of gay, queer, or fagot! It was only in the 60’ s-70 that those words became offensively popularized. Today, most homosexual men don’t have a problem addressing themselves with any of the aforementioned terms. We Doomers seem to be living through another cycle—this one language—and I kind of enjoy it; I’d rather use language and laugh than provoke.
I remember that I used to get regularly pissed at a guy name Raymond Powers. He was a good-looking kid, always impeccably dressed, who sang in a boys’ soprano voice. Sound familiar? In any event, everywhere Raymond went, the girls would follow. Not being a very smart kid, it took me forever to figure out that the girls liked Raymond because he did everything they did. He even jumped rope, for God sakes! The problem I had was that I lacked a really good, rotten word to call him. I think I settled for “creep” and then asked him for a few pointers about the rope thing—Banana Split was my favorite!
Of course, unless you’ve broken all the mirrors in your house and city, you probably have noticed that the times, in addition, to your waistline have changed. But this thing that Raymond had—whatever you choose to call it—seems to be spreading, even to our best friends!
I am worried that my neighbor’s dog is gay and he might influence the behavior of the younger pups around him. This animal, which believe it or not, is called “Butch”, can regularly be seen grooming himself not just in the middle of the parking lot, but in the middle of his you-know-what! He seems to prefer the afternoon hours in the shade of an old tree. After watching this behavior for a while, I am beginning to wonder if Butch’s true motivation is cleanliness, as I’m sure he would profess if he could articulate. In any event, he takes an awful long time doing what we humans accomplish is just a few seconds with a washrag and bar of soap. In fact, just when I think he has finished, he gives me a knowing “Well, why not look,” licks his chops and dives back in for seconds. I sometimes anticipate that he really wants to light a cigarette after he has finished. Obviously, in doggy- world, mothers must check more than hands before dinner.
So, I thought I would take my problem to my friends Harry and Patrick. Harry and Patrick are two of the best friends my wife and I have. They have been a couple for over 20 years, so you might guess that they know something about the subject that was troubling me.
I told them about Butch and Patrick assured me that Butch was performing a totally natural act, and that he wasn’t a Homo—just a doggie! He also said that I shouldn’t really worry about the other dogs because it wasn’t SOMETHING they would unless, of course, they had the inclination.
This, of course, is also reassuring information for all the former and current gymnasts out there who can stretch, bend and contort themselves in positions the Kama Sutra would envy. If you get the urge, don’t worry: You’re not gay, you’re a dog! This information will especially comfort their families. There is always room for another “ Spay” in the family, but another Gay—well, that would spoil the litter!
Billy P.
I remember that I used to get regularly pissed at a guy name Raymond Powers. He was a good-looking kid, always impeccably dressed, who sang in a boys’ soprano voice. Sound familiar? In any event, everywhere Raymond went, the girls would follow. Not being a very smart kid, it took me forever to figure out that the girls liked Raymond because he did everything they did. He even jumped rope, for God sakes! The problem I had was that I lacked a really good, rotten word to call him. I think I settled for “creep” and then asked him for a few pointers about the rope thing—Banana Split was my favorite!
Of course, unless you’ve broken all the mirrors in your house and city, you probably have noticed that the times, in addition, to your waistline have changed. But this thing that Raymond had—whatever you choose to call it—seems to be spreading, even to our best friends!
I am worried that my neighbor’s dog is gay and he might influence the behavior of the younger pups around him. This animal, which believe it or not, is called “Butch”, can regularly be seen grooming himself not just in the middle of the parking lot, but in the middle of his you-know-what! He seems to prefer the afternoon hours in the shade of an old tree. After watching this behavior for a while, I am beginning to wonder if Butch’s true motivation is cleanliness, as I’m sure he would profess if he could articulate. In any event, he takes an awful long time doing what we humans accomplish is just a few seconds with a washrag and bar of soap. In fact, just when I think he has finished, he gives me a knowing “Well, why not look,” licks his chops and dives back in for seconds. I sometimes anticipate that he really wants to light a cigarette after he has finished. Obviously, in doggy- world, mothers must check more than hands before dinner.
So, I thought I would take my problem to my friends Harry and Patrick. Harry and Patrick are two of the best friends my wife and I have. They have been a couple for over 20 years, so you might guess that they know something about the subject that was troubling me.
I told them about Butch and Patrick assured me that Butch was performing a totally natural act, and that he wasn’t a Homo—just a doggie! He also said that I shouldn’t really worry about the other dogs because it wasn’t SOMETHING they would unless, of course, they had the inclination.
This, of course, is also reassuring information for all the former and current gymnasts out there who can stretch, bend and contort themselves in positions the Kama Sutra would envy. If you get the urge, don’t worry: You’re not gay, you’re a dog! This information will especially comfort their families. There is always room for another “ Spay” in the family, but another Gay—well, that would spoil the litter!
Billy P.
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