The Gay Agenda, Part 2

Orientation Orientation

(Author’s Note: “The Gay Agenda” will be posted out of order. Just like Creamaster, only I don’t have Matthew Barney’s abs.)

Thanks for coming today, not that you had any choice. My name is Mr. Arthur, but you can call me Mr. Arthur. Today is your first day as officially gay, and I’m here to answer any questions you may have.

“As you all know from yesterday’s all-school, mandatory attendance assembly in the cafetorium, every student is required to pick their sexuality. You’ve all heard about ‘the choice,’ and that was it. I’m sure you all took the time to read through the textbooks and ask some of the juniors and seniors about their Sexuality Choosing Day and how it’s worked out for them. From the looks of things, the 10% rule looks like it’s held true again this year, which is hardly surprising but I congratulate you for the taste, style and intelligence you’ve displayed by selecting to be homosexual. It’s not an easy life you’ve chosen, but the rewards are many.

“We’ll get to all that in time, I’m sure. I see many of you are anxious to get this started, so let’s just clear away some of the most frequently asked questions first and save us all a lot of time, shall we? Lets!

“Firstly, for the gentlemen, no, you don’t have to take it up the butt. I know that this is generally, for whatever reason, one of the main worries about your choice. But let me stress that sexual acts are never, ever aligned with your choice of sexuality. Contrary to popular belief—and what you may have heard out in the parking lot—straight men enjoy anal penetration as much as gay men. They just can’t admit it. But, back to the original point, you are only expected to do the things you enjoy, or that you feel your partner enjoys but you may not so much. But there is certainly no requirement in that regard.

“Second, for the ladies, no, you don’t have to own a dog. Again, this is outside the parameter of requirements and more like a preference. You may own a cat, or a dog and a cat, or two cats, or a goldfish. It really doesn’t matter. The only exception is the Chihuahua, which is a dog specially bred for gay men.

“Back to the guys for a sec. I know some of you are worried that you’ll need to hold down high-paying jobs in order to afford all the interesting underwear, the multitudes of Italian shoes, the D&G suits, the tons of toiletries and the trips to Ibiza and Palm Springs and so forth that you read about in the orientation pamphlet. If you’ll read the chapter entitled ‘Friends of Dorothy’ you’ll note that most of those are acquired through a secret network of gay store owners, managers, travel agents and so forth who help us stay one step ahead of the straight world and provide deep discounts or directions to deep discounts and sales, where we can clean out the bins before the breeders are even aware that Marc Jacobs’ new handbags are out. Please, do you think I could afford this Paul Smith shearling jacket on a teacher’s salary?

“Okay, I’d like to open up the floor for questions. Honestly, ask anything you like. Yes, the cute boy with the Tintin in the front?”

“I was won…”

“Sorry, I should have mentioned that you need to always start off your question with a really happy-sounding ‘Hi!’ and then state your gay name, which is the one you selected from the guidebook and not the one on your name tag, and then proceed with your question, m’kay? Super!”

“Hi! I’m Clay, and I was wondering about that, actually. Why did we need new names? What was wrong with the old ones?”

“Great question, Clay, and you’re doing really well with your lisping. OK, most obviously, most of you come from straight parents who gave you, naturally, straight names. One of the goals of your sexuality is to extend the user base, so naturally the straight world has an advantage in that regard because they breed so fast. When you decide to be gay, you’re reassigned a new gay name. Lance, for example, is an old, honored gay name. Rock, Blake, Glenn with two N’s, Buck, Gene… these are all good gay names. Non-gay names would be Bob, Larry, Patrice, Chuck and Samson, surprisingly. Again, they’re all in the handbook and if you don’t like your given gay name, you’re allowed to choose another one that people can call you. Yes, in the back?”

“Hi! I’m Rick. Or maybe Dick. Haven’t decided yet.”

“Oh, Rick. Definitely. The other leaves you open, you should excuse the expression, to too many very bad and obvious jokes. Remember Rule 7 of the Gay Guidelines: Never Be Obvious. Well, except for the buttless chaps. Love the shirt by the way.”

“Cool, thanks. Um, I’ve already been called a fag twice and it’s only my first day. What am I supposed to do about that?”

“Ah, okay, name-calling is something every minority has to contend with. I’m sure our brothers and sisters of the chocolate and latte hues can attest to that. I see some nodding heads. It’s true there’s not an epithet you can easily toss back, and I’m certainly not advocating that. It’s just hurtful, and really, who needs more worry lines? Ignoring it doesn’t usually help, and I would refrain from baiting someone about their insecurities. Many times, so-called homophobic taunts are hurled by individuals, and usually men, who realized too late that they made the wrong choice and now feel regret and jealousy and hate that we can get away with wearing those awfully cute new Diesel slides while they have to be content with last year’s Hush Puppies. My advice is to sigh somewhat dramatically—rehearse your sighs every morning, I cannot stress that enough, just make it part of your morning ritual right after you exfoliate but before applying moisturizer—and then just say something simple like ‘Oh, please, is that tired old thing still being dragged out? Whatever happened to charm? I’m a buttfucker, dear.’ Ummmm, the girl with the ultra-fabulous tattoo of a kitty, yes, no the other girl with the tattoo of the kitty.”

“Do I have to do the Hi and all that shit?”

“Oh my God, girl, you have the ‘tude down! Kiss, kiss! No, of course not, if you’re going butch, the less said the better.”

“Right. I want a girlfriend. How do I get one?”

“Honey, keep that little sadistic tone up and I’ll be your girlfriend. I kid because I love. So, what have you tried so far?”


“OK, that only works with cousins. I assume you’re looking for some hot little thing in a Catholic schoolgirl uniform-type with the freckles and the button nose and the big tits, like? Some sort of virgin-whore who’s wild in the sack and talks dirty only when she’s whispering in your ear? Uhhhhhh, she’s right over there. Pass her a note, purse your lips a little, work that whole motorcycle leather thing you got going and you’ll be together by this time tomorrow. Keep in mind that I’m a gay man and all that advice is based on what I saw on Xena. Next?”


“Hi yourself, cutie. What’s up?”

“My name’s Chad, but I’m suddenly thinking of changing it to Steve.”

“Ouch. What’s your beef, Steve?”

“I, um, I actually like girls. Like, breasts and stuff. So do I have to, like, not… sort of…”

“Ah, the exclusivity question. Steve, let me ask you this: when you go to a restaurant and you order a Coke, and they tell you they don’t have Coke, only Pepsi, do you turn up your nose and go without or do you have your enjoyment, albeit not necessarily the kind you were hoping for? No need to answer, I’m just using a very poor analogy to illustrate a point. The whole question of sexual choice doesn’t have to limit you, kids. Sex isn’t quite that black and white, generally. You can elect to be exclusively one way or the other, but I would like to suggest that limiting yourself isn’t doing you any good. Stretch the boundaries and have some fun in life. I mean, what the fuck, right? So, Steve, you go right ahead and lick the nipple of your choice, regardless of where it may lie. Yes, um, here up front. My, someone’s been doing some pec work, haven’t they?”

“Hi. Chris. Do we get a free lifetime gym pass? I heard that was one of the benefits.”

“Yes. Next? Over here?”

“Hi, I’m Patty. I’ve heard of Lipstick Lesbians and Dykes on Bikes and so on, lots of labels. In addition to choosing our sexuality, do we also have to fit into some pre-defined category, now?”

“Oh, heavens no! But I know that some people are only comfortable if they can be labeled, and there does tend to be what’s referred to as cloning in the gay environment, meaning that type attracts type, circuit boy to circuit boy, gym queen to gym queen, bear to bear and so forth. Nothing wrong with that, nothing at all. But there’s no actual rule in the guidebook. It’s a useful tool to really freak out the straight crowd, but other than that it’s more of a convenience than an actual requirement.”

“Hi, name’s Cory.”

“You might want to think up an interesting way to spell that. Interesting spelling is very gay.”

“Huh. Whatever. My question is, what is Gay Pride anyway? And does everyone get a turn up on the float with their ass hanging out and all?”

“Gay Pride is like Straight Pride, only they don’t have a parade. Which is weird when you think about it, because the straights, Lord how they love a parade. Us, we prefer a nice drum and bugle corps exhibition or one of those ballroom dance competitions. We’re all about the structure and arrangement and very angular dance moves. But whatever. Gay Pride was originally a way to offend the most people in the least amount of time. There’s a little game we play, part of the contest of sexuality if you will, where we try to behave in ways that the straight world would like to, but they can’t because they dress so poorly.

“So now we have Gay Pride days almost everywhere, and it really isn’t about being gay or being proud, but more about getting up in front of a bunch of people who agree with you anyway and complain that no one listens to you and isn’t it a shame that we’re all so cool and good looking and funny but we still can’t even kiss each other on the mouth on network TV unless we’re witches or vampires or some other non-human entity. Oh, and you can get on the float and show your ass anytime you want to, frankly. All you have to do is ask. And have a good ass—but lately, even that prerequisite is slipping. Any more?”

“Hi! My name’s Kennedy. I was wondering if I have to listen to Erasure and Pet Shop Boys and like that. I mean, number one, hello 80’s! And number two, how does one rock out?”

“You should refer to the glossary in your handbook for required musical artists, I think you’ll find the selection quite varied. In addition to the artists you mentioned, there’s Ella and Sarah and the whole 40’s chanteuse thing, the drab and horrid thump-thump electrohell, and plenty of fist-pumpers in there, and yes I do mean that as a double entendre, thank you very much. I think we have time for one more?”

“Hi. Name’s Louise. Or Lou. Not sure yet.”

“Plenty of time for that, no worries. Question?”

“What if we second thoughts later on? I’ve heard of some Christian organizations that help you transition to the other side, and I’ve heard of homosexuals marrying non-homosexuals and raising families in a non-homosexual manner. I mean, I think I want to be gay but, like, what if it’s like deciding on a career now and then later something better comes along?”

“An interesting question, Lou-Lou. And by non-homosexual I believe you mean abnormal. Well, there are some challenges ahead for you as homosexuals. You’ll find that most of those problems will be presented by an over-zealous and rather boisterous element of society known as the Stupid People. Stupid People aren’t actually confined to any other organizational structure, they come in all shapes, sizes, colors, and affiliations. The defining characteristics are pedantry, ignorance, intolerance and a love of dairy to an extent that just is not healthy.

“You may experience feelings of guilt, inadequacy and moral turpitude when in their presence, but everyone does. It has more to do with this sort of sphere of hatred they give off, sort of like emotional pollution. You’ll find it even within the homosexual environment, as if you aren’t gay enough unless you adhere to their rules. But that’s beside the point and doesn’t answer your question, does it my lovely Louise?

“Let me put it this way: The non-homosexual agenda is all about trying to bring you into their fold. They’re having indoctrinations right now across the hall where they are being told that the main objective is to make everyone straight. I’m not making this up. Can you imagine how awful that would be? To have to behave in a way that just isn’t natural, and pretend for your entire life that you aren’t who you are, and to lie to everyone you love and betray your own feelings? This is what they want of you. I know it sounds absurd, but they honestly believe that they can turn you straight.

“Now, as I said before to Chad-Steve, exclusivity isn’t the point at all. If you want to dip your toe in the other pond, feel free! Sex and love, you know, two separate things. That’s why they’re called different things, see. You can have them together or separately, like port wine and a nice dark chocolate. Lovely when you have them by themselves, but put them together and something magical happens. And that’s the gist of this thing. It isn’t about sex—well, not only about sex. It’s about love.

“Whom you love is firmly attached to whom you’re attracted to. Attraction comes first, then sex, then love. But not always. Sorry, I know it’s confusing, and I wish I could tell you it makes more sense later on. But it doesn’t. Curiously, you’ll see more of them coming over to this side of the fence later on. It can be a scary decision to be in the minority. But in the end, no pun intended, I think you’ll find you made the right choice.

“And with that, I’d like to leave you with the words of our Patron Saint, Morrissey. Shyness is nice, and shyness can stop you from doing all the things in life you’d like to. So if there’s something you’d like to try, ask me I won’t say no, how could I? Cause if it’s not love, than it’s the bomb that will bring us together. So ask me, ask me, ask me. Ask me, ask me, ask me. And so on. OK, if you’d all please gather up your things and move along to your next class, which I believe is Bitchiness for Beginners. Ta!”

June 8, 2003

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