Rick and I, like all married gays, lead a bizarre, mentally-ill homosexual lifestyle filled with Caligula-esque sex parties, illicit drug-usage, thumpingly licentious club music, seduction of innocent breeder men who were simply confused or lonely, and the induction of Christian children into our Satanic cult of homoeroticism. What breeders can’t fathom is how we manage such a wicked, decadent existence while holding down 9-5 jobs, keeping our condo clean and eating nutritious meals.
I’ll tell you: Damned fine time management.
Yesterday, for example, was chock-filled with social fabric-rending activities. Here are the highlights of day:
1. Sacrifice a goat and drink its blood to help call forth Mephistopheles; mix in Creatine and Soy Isolate Protein to ensure a really good workout afterwards.
2. Set up a table with candy and cookies outside the local Catholic school and nab as many children as possible to force them to sign up for our Degenerate YouthTraining Program.
3. Hop on subway to work wearing a lycra jumpsuit and no underwear. Upon arrival, slip club drugs into public coffee-maker to help make co-workers gay or at least get them questioning what gender they like.
4. Head out to grab lunch and find anonymous sex partners – preferably terrified straight men – at the salad bar.
5. Draw pentagram on floor around desk and sit in middle so as to maximize potential of channeling demons while creating Powerpoint slideshow for client presentation.
6. Make pass at several breeder male colleagues and hypnotize them so they won’t remember the details but will increasingly question their attraction to women.
7. Submit timesheet; report 666 hours of work each day.
8. Head home for dinner, followed by sex party with 40 other gay married men as well as assorted animals (some of which we may want to marry later).
9. Donate $5,000,000 to promote the homosexual agenda and ensure that kindergarten children are taught about gay sex in painstaking detail to include explicit photos and live demonstrations of anal sex.
10. Watch the news and snack on Kettlecorn sprinkled with Ecstasy.
11. Set alarm clock, then change into leather chaps pajamas and whip each others buttocks until we pass out from exhaustion.
I think Steven Covey would be quite proud of how well we are balancing our priorities. Maybe I should write a book called, “The 666 Habits of Highly Homosexual People”?
Oh, breeders, you are in deep doody.
Now you’ve done it. I’m afraid to leave the house.
so little time so much to do
Hi guys, Judah just gave us the link, I’m addicted! Love Ingrid and Greg
Hi, Ing! I’m so glad you and Greg like it. Hope you’re both well
xxooo,
Uncle Pete
I like this post, but I don’t understand why it’s tagged “satire”.
Love,
Beth (your straight nephew’s straight girlfriend)
(unmarried)
Dear Beth:
There’s an old, gay saying that goes: “Never judge a post by its tag.”
Furthermore, I would add: “What is the sound of one hand clapping?”
N’est pas?
(Yeah, me neither.)
Uncle Pete