Recently, I noticed a similarity between atheists and homosexuals that hadn’t occurred to me before. It has to do with the way they wage their wars. Basically, they erect straw men, put words in their straw mouths, and then engage in battle with these creatures they’ve cobbled together with spit and glue.
It just seems to me that it’s high time we began setting the record straight. To begin with, there is no such thing as homophobia. A phobia is defined as a fear or anxiety that exceeds normal proportions. Concocting the word was simply a rather sly way of suggesting that it is heterosexuals who are deviant. The other lie that is parroted with some frequency is that those who don’t fully support the gay agenda are most likely latent homosexuals, which is supposed to suggest, I assume, that lurking inside every heterosexual man is an interior decorator screaming to get out and do something about those curtains.
Odd, isn’t it, that you never hear about latent heterosexuals?
Even the ancient Greeks, to whom modern-day gays enjoy comparing themselves, never engaged in anything quite as bizarre as same-sex marriages.
The proof that heterosexual men aren’t all sitting around fantasizing being seduced by Boy George or Richard Chamberlain is that every heterosexual man I know prefers having his cavity worked on by a dentist than by a proctologist.
Homosexuals like to picture themselves as the innocent victims of the oppressive majority. The recent unpleasantness on behalf of same-sex marriages doesn’t happen to be a response to laws depriving gays of any rights or privileges to which they are otherwise entitled. They are as free as they’ve always been to marry members of the opposite sex. For several millenniums, everyone has understood marriage to mean the sacred union of a man and a woman. I have asked on more than one occasion if the institution of marriage is to be turned on its head to accommodate the ludicrous demands of a very small number of people, on what moral or legal basis does society than deny fathers and daughters, mothers and sons, or, say, your cousin Phyllis and a dozen Elvis impersonators, from tying the knot. If the parties merely need to be consenting adults, on what basis could you prevent Hugh Hefner and his bevy of blonde companions from pledging their troth before man and God? I have yet to receive a response.