(The arithmetic of soul-consuming denial.)

I came across the popular Christian blog Christwire at the direction of a Huffington Post jocular mention of an absurd article there, entitled “Is My Husband Gay?” and I may have to send the HuffPost contributor a gift basket. Without reading the article, I can say that, if you have to ask that question, the answer is a brash, Sean Hayes-style ‘yes.’ And he simultaneously hates you and loves you for being his repressive social costume piece. But that’s beside the point. Christians have the right to despise homosexuality, even view it as a threat. It’s a religion, after all, all versions of which have inanities liberally peppered in with the good ideas. And just like the Bill of Rights, one cannot cherry-pick and still actively subscribe to the tenets therein. But what the Huffpost article failed to mention is that the authors of Christwire (Stephenson Billings, in particular) are of another breed, the kind that puts Gertrude to shame in protesting too much.

The site’s ‘mission’ is to usher America into a more moral era, by which it means, kill the queers. According to the article, there are 15 solid signs your husband is gay, and I immediately sent this article out to all of my buddy’s women, because every hetero man I know is guilty of at least half of them. What does it mean when your man comes home tired from the gym? He had a good workout. He was getting butt fucked in the shower. When he trims his pubes? He’s a considerate, hygienically concerned mate. He’s way too compulsively neat to be straight.* When, in conversation with his male friends (and he may have far too many), does he often supply a witty retort? He’s interesting, and a good conversationalist. He’s a sassy, mouthy bitch that does not enjoy sex with his loving, Christian wife. And if he likes big dicks in his porn, it isn’t because tiny pricklets are anticlimactic bores, it’s because he also likes big dicks in him. No arguing the logic there. If your husband engages in any or all of these disgusting activities, he probably trapped you in your sham marriage because he is justifiably ashamed.

They did claim they consulted experts.

The biggest tip-off that Christwire is the fruitiest conservative outlet since George Rekers is the downright obsession with The Golden Girls as the greatest evil ever to grace the airwaves, and another way to tell your husband is digging divots on the other golf course. The geriatric hethens of ’80s sitcom fame seem to come up in every other article. I haven’t heard a man mention The Golden Girls this much since that effeminate kid that was raised by his grandmother in grade school extolled it as his favorite non-musical show. That poor sonofabitch had to spend years in therapy erasing the Catholic shame before he finally came out, and by then he was an irretrievable mess. Stephenson Billings is right, most straight dudes do not like the show, despite the fact that it is generally recognized as a landmark in television comedy that launched the careers of more important writers than can be enumerated here. Still, how he got 1,108 scathing, literally apocalyptic words out of the release of the 25th Anniversary DVD collection (and that’s just one of the articles!) is beyond the purview of this heterosexual. I guess you just have to be gay to understand it that well. Did you know Golden Girls fans were responsible for 9/11? You do now.

Or consider the twin articles on Vajazzling and Vatooing, the very worst examples of vagina decorating, which is Plan A in the continuing plans for a dystopic American gynocracy. In order to take over the world, women go to college (where they have absolutely no place), and put jewels and ink on or around their “peri-vag area,” in order to seduce the young men there into banging instead of concentrating on their studies.

“In some cases, they even color their separator flaps so as to really catch the eye of whoever they flash.”

Hahaha! I haven’t heard a better term for labia since ‘beef curtains;’ I’ll have to use that next time I want to express my disgust for heterosexual sex, while still wanting to leave the impression of interior decorating in the scarred-for-life mind of the poor female. “If you leave the lights off, and I can pretend I’m somewhere else, I will totally *gag* touch my meat thingy to your *gag* devil mons, and procreate with you by entering your hell canal through your Taiwanese blinds.” Jesus, not only are you gay as scented candles, your mother must have done a Frank Sinatra number on you.

To be fair, she has trouble remembering her dorm room number.

These guys are fucking petrified of women, and entirely averse to enjoying them sexually, which is an entirely hetero thing to be. The only good vagina is an unkempt Everglades: a wrinkly, forested, brown puddle of subservience that should be heard and not seen. Check out this bit at the end of “Vatooing, New Freshman Female Trap for College Men,” which paraphrased would not do the comedy justice:

Parents, and men who will be freshmen this year, I leave you with this final image and haunting scenario… [It is late and you are studying with two girls from class] They brought brownies, and you eat some. Your head is swimming and the next thing you know, ‘wanna see my ink’. You nod yes and you see the abdominal-pubic image up above, with the suggestive number 69. The next think you know, in confusion your mouth is now filled with sin and from groggy, syncopol eyes you see this girl who for some reason has sat upon your face is now messing with your pants, but instead of mouth-dabbling as she’s forcing her victim to do, instead the friend sits her sin down upon your erected pole thingy [For real?].

If you were waiting for the haunting part, that was it. He wasn’t, like, suffocated or anything, except by Satan, presumably. If homosexuality is evil, Christwire, then start growing your Hitler mustaches, you just won the big gay centerpiece.

Of course, while not a member of the tribe, I certainly don’t wish to disparage the gays: go to, sodomites, rip each other several new ones in new and interesting ways. In fact, I’ll take it a step further and say you’re not doing enough to rub it in my face, with all of the goopy, gritty details of each encounter intact, because that’s just hysterical. But I do wish to make a special place in my blackened, Christ-free heart for the kind of unbelievable scumbag that can be so obviously, self-hatingly gay that he has to devote a website to condemning his own people. With articles like “Why Do Rabbits Rape Cats?” and “Chinese Scientists Create Pandagators” I was even tempted to believe Christwire was an ill-conceived, sick joke; but, it turns out this hate repository is wonderfully, disgustingly real. Which makes it even better.

That bitch Rue McClanahan made me commit the sin of photoshopping. How GAY is that??

I encourage all of my readers to spend an evening in a scented bath with Christwire, as I guarantee nothing will entertain you as much this week. Each long bout of wisdom is ‘packed’ with incredible platitudes like “separator flaps” that I couldn’t come up with in my wildest writer’s wet dreams. And if the inanity overwhelms you, and you succumb to the Jesus-raping, at least you can drop the laptop in the tub and end it all.

*I find that particular bit to be especially hysterical. While the author claims evidence of homosexuality to include incredible neatness and organization skills, these articles are some of the most articulate I have read from a blog, perhaps ever. The arguments are so well-worded, so meticulously laid out – one might call them compulsively tidy and well dressed.

(“You should stick around for the double feature. It’s supposed to be a surprise, but I’ll give you a hint: what’s smaller than a breadbox, and covered in cum? I’m sorry, I’m not good at this.)

My man Martin Ssempa over there in Uganda has the right idea. He’s a pastor in a country that makes homosexual acts illegal, with sentences as severe as death, and he makes damned sure his parishioners don’t slip up, and live to the ripe old age of 30.

“The major argument homosexuals have is that what people do in the privacy of their bedrooms is nobody’s business but do you know what they do in their bedrooms?,” the pastor asked. Ssempa then displayed a slide show of [hardcore] gay pornographic pictures… “This one is eating another man’s anus (eds: correct),” the pastor said, before going into graphic scatological descriptions.

Atta boy! Pillow biting movie time for Jesus! This guy is a goddamned genius, showing his 300 strong congregation (that’s including children, for those of you keeping score on your home edition of Super-Perv) hardcore porn to keep them from fagging out. Gather round, kids! Take it from an American, here’s nothing less fun than watching porn. When everybody sees how unpleasant porn makes sex appear to be, they may never want to so much as shower without a burlap body condom on again. Children will wear ties in the pools, and men will dam their anuses with Wrigley’s and duct tape rather than do the horrific things in those – - hey, was that an orgasm?

Wait, what are you going to do about the people, who have never been exposed to homosexuality outside of constant demonization, and think to themselves, “Hey, that looks like a pretty swell time!”? Or lean over and say to their wives, “Say that looks just like when I give you a Mexican Facial, and that’s always an enjoyable experience. Perhaps I should consider broadening my horizons.” Wouldn’t you just be giving your followers an illustrated

I am very wealthy, as you can see by the many chickens I have brought for choking.

how-to class on opening their own 24-hour fudge packing sweat shop? I mean, sure, you could probably set an armed guard to waste anyone leaving with an obvious boner, and you might even be able to tell who’s coming back for seconds with their tuggin’ pants on and put them in the special poisoned wine line. Some will undoubtedly get through the net; they look just like real people, what can you do? You’ll get a whole bunch though, so nobody can say you didn’t do your part in the murderin’. The only problem I see with your adult book store arcade/church is the expense of mending all the glory holes these guys will drill into your pews. I swear, they must walk around with those comically large, drywall sodomizing corkscrews you see in ’60s spy movies in their fanny packs at all times.

[The new law, of which Father Knucklehead is a major proponent] would criminalise public discussion of homosexuality and could penalise an individual who knowingly rents property to a homosexual.

Dude, isn’t having to clean the scent of potpourri and Arbor Mist out of the apartment punishment enough? If discussion of homosexuality is illegal, how are you going to brainwash your people that it’s evil? Not to mention, you can straight forget about your dude-centric movie nights when the law passes. What do you say to your detractors who might claim the punishment harsh, if not downright impossible to prove in the first place? Or ask you why you have so much gay porn laying around, which, I know, is so totally beside the point it might as well be the world’s biggest “I’m With Stupid” t-shirt?

However Ssempa has remained unrepentant, claiming he will take the pornography to the parliament.

Whew, I thought you wouldn’t have a rational, totally not retardo plan for this contingency. A priest that promises to roll up to parliament with a slide-show of tea-baggin’ jesus-hurtin’ pucker-blastin’ semen-gurglin’ analingus and three-ways has my full attention. Especially if they don’t donate a Ssempa wing to the local asylum. Let me follow you and learn of your ways, Rabbi! Sensei’s got a black belt in letting bitches know where he stands, and the dojo just exploded for not being able to contain his crazy cajones.

The pastor, whose previous feats included publishing the names of homosexuals in newspapers, said he wanted the bill to be passed as law by Easter Sunday — April 4 — as “an Easter present to the people of Uganda”.

To which Jesus responded, “I’m so happy I could just die… again!” and everyone shared a hearty 80′s sitcom closing laugh, complete with the ubitquitous queer burning.

(I got this story here, here, and here, all of which have slightly different interpretations. If you care then you’ve missed the point of this site, and will have to stay after school.)