Obviously, with the recent signing at Tucker Carlson’s White Citizens Council newsletter of pathologically unpleasant word typist Betsy Rothstein , following her recent flushing from FishbowlDC , word is out to the rest of the DaCall staff to either go big on the troll-bait click counts or go home … by which we mean The House That Andrew Breitbart Built and Then Died In Front Of.
With few job prospects outside of becoming, once again, The Worst Agent Provocateur in the History of Mankind, the Daily Callers Patrick Howley rose to the bait and took a mighty gulp by confessing that all of you Gays out there (you know who you are … Lindsey Graham excluded) are falling down on the job at being gay enough for Patrick’s tastes:
Gays have become totally boring, this reporter has learned.
Although gay Americans were for decades popularly identified as daring, transgressive, flamboyant, colorful and sometimes menacing (though also intriguing) mavericks, self-styled advocates have managed to rebrand the gay community as a bland, tedious, grievance group eagerly seeking government approval.
With this week’s push for ENDA (the Employment Non-Discrimination Act), another anti-business piece of legislation that allows self-identified cultural victims to sue their employers after they get fired, all the familiar annoying characters have come out of the tastefully-refurbished woodwork.
Now before we start calling Patrick a closeted gay who indulges in projection, he is quick to point out that he has a
black gay friend and also that some/all people may think he is gay BUT HE IS NOT! and he is tired of being treated like a gay slab of man meat because you Gays are not pulling your weight:
Now, let me be clear. I love the gays. I have gay friends, gay mentors, gay acquaintances and associates. In fact, many people even assume that I am gay. Particularly women I’ve slept with.
Also old men. A lot of old men. I mean, seriously, if balding, beady-eyed middle-aged men in sweaters were hot chicks, I’d be Ashton Kutcher. I’m practically on the cover of their magazines. I can’t even walk around DuPont Circle on early autumn evenings or interact with male bank tellers without getting eyed down like a side of ribs. It’s not even flattering. I know why it happens. I only get it because I’m skinny and I look like I’d be a bottom. It’s demeaning, really.
He forgot to add that we have also seen the best gays of our generation destroyed by Will & Grace, starving and hysterical for a Pinkberry, and dragging themselves through the Provincetown streets at dawn looking for an open Ikea.
So it is up to you, Gays. It’s time to man up/strap on/lube up and provide Patrick Howley with some good old fashioned country fabulousness (maybe Gay Minstrel shows!) lest he spend his lonely winter evenings desultorily listening to Bohemian Rhapsody while watching DVR’d episodes of RuPaul’s Drag Race and hoping for that fire down below…