Our Godless Gay Marriage Plotting: Phase 3 – Operation Fabulosity

Dear Readers and Breeders:

I am currently reading Simon Doonan’s latest book, “Gay Men Don’t Get Fat”. While it’s patently obvious that his little “tour de forced” is a rather reductive* knock-off of my sensational, socially-explosive blog, I do find bits of his writing amusing. I might even go so far as to say I occasionally chuckle as I read and do credit him with some low-level insights into breederdom.

* Reductive in the same sense that Madonna implied Gaga’s “Born This Way” a reductive knock-off of her own Vivaldi-esque “Express Yourself”.

Doonan’s premise is that gay men are kindred spirits with French women in that both tribes are bitchy, smug and self-assured. Yet, despite these similarities, Doonan rightfully adds that gay men have an edge over breeder Frogs by virtue of ACTUALLY BEING FABULOUS as opposed simply to believing themselves so. Reductive Doonan, admittedly, seems to be onto something here.

Back to me.

What if some fabulous, gay married couple – say, for example, Rick and I, just to throw an idea out there – were to describe in detail how FABULOUS our lives are in comparison to the dreary existence of their married breeder friends, relatives, neighbors, co-workers and acquaintances? Could we make them realize the futility of their bleak hetero relationships? And, in doing so, could we cause breeder divorce rates to skyrocket, with the resulting divorcees turning to gay club drugs in order to escape (which would be a super-lucrative opportunity for the 99% of gay marrieds who deal in illegal substances)? Would we married gays thus be in an ideal position to scoop up their contested assets and adopt their children into our own Godless homes for recruitment into the gay lifestyle?

Clearly, the answer is a resounding, “Of course, darling!”

So, for all my breeder fans, listen up whilst I regale you with the details of Rick’s and my BRILLIANT, CHIC and EXCITING GAY MARRIED LIFE. If this doesn’t have you heading to Las Vegas in a black cloud of despair for an overnight decree, you must be illiterate (in which case I’ll draw some pictures for you later). For those breeders who can read however….

Here is a typical day at the home of Rick and Pete, your average married gays:

  • We are asleep in our bondage bed wearing silk pajamas that are hand-stitched by our live-in tailor/sex slave from Hong Kong, Wen.
  • At precisely 7:00 am, our Brazilian houseboy/sex slave, Paolo, arrives and wakes us by gently clinking a sterling silver Tiffany letter opener against two Waterford champagne flutes filled with Dom Perignon. The champagne glasses are on a gold tray loaded with whole grain toast (no butter), fat-free Greek yogurt and 3 different club drugs to start the day right.
  • Once breakfast in bed has been served by Paolo, Wen is summoned by means of an antique Flemish tapestry bell pull and brings in our mink-lined cashmere bathrobes and diamond tiaras. We must be decently attired, for it’s now time to give audience to the drug/food serfs that work the land around our condominium to provide our restaurant-quality produce and our illegal substance ingredients (poppy, cannabis, etc.)
  • Once justice has been dispensed to the drug/food serfs, it is time for the first orgy of the day. 20-30 underwear models are led into our dungeon and our live-in handyman, Vincenzo, sets up them up with slings, leather whips, wooden paddles and other orgiastic accoutrements. Vincenzo also brings fat-free tea sandwiches and Earl Gray with Equal for everyone. We want the boys to be happy in case we want to marry several of them later.
  • Fast forward several hours and it’s time to sacrifice animals to the Dark Lord. Paolo has been to Chinatown while we were having our orgy and he bought a goat, a possum and three Andalusian chickens. Rick and I quickly change into our devil-cult cloaks and hoods, head out onto the veranda, and chant while slaughtering the animals, drinking their blood and reading their entrails to see when The End of Days will be coming. (We actually spare a baby llama because we may want to marry it later, along with several of the more endowed underwear models.)
  • By this point, the day’s invitations for lunch with members of the highest social circles arrive and must be culled. Sadly, all but one will be rejected. After some debating, we finally accept an invitation to the Kennedy compound in Hyannisport. We insist they send a private jet to collect us, as we have another sex party scheduled for high tea-time on Ibiza.
  • Before lunch, we still have to recruit children into the gay lifestyle; we are behind on our monthly quota. We quickly change into our leather chaps with no underwear and spandex tank tops. Using a rather clever combination of candy, hypnosis and spell-casting, we recruit all the children we need to meet our monthly quota… and then some! Wow, what a day!
  • We chain up the kids fotr transport and jump into our limo. We race to Logan airport and hop aboard the Kennedy jet. Arriving on Cape Cod, we choke down the horrid luncheon of bland, overcooked Yankee food and bid them farewell… relieved to have that obligation behind us.
  • We request that the pilot stop in Colombia to replenish our supply of cocaine, Ecstasy and other gay club drugs. We need to stock up before we fly to Ibiza. Besides the orgy, we have a Dolce & Gabbana trunk show to attend.
  • When all is said and done, we have done the Marquis de Sade proud and we’re back on the Kennedy jet with a huge steamer trunk full of the current season’s D&G collection.
  • Upon our flight’s arrival back in Boston, we are greeted by Lady Gaga who begs us to have dinner with her. Oh, dear. We are caught in a social conundrum, as we have been asked to attend Whitney Houston’s funeral and then hop over to LA for dinner at Steven Spielberg’s house with Meryl Streep, Andre Agassi, Hilary Clinton, Queen Elizabeth, Miss Piggy, Tiger Woods and Cher. Poor Gaga; we express our regrets but promise to attend her Christmas party.
  • Apres Chez Spielberg, Rick gets a hankering to defile a church in Tuscany, but I’m way too tired. I need a mani/pedi, so we take a limo over to Newbury Street dressed in drag. When we get near the Boston Common, we ask the driver to pull over for a short while so we can make lewd advances on some straight guys in the public restroom.
  • That done, we get our mani/pedis and take more club drugs and drink champagne mixed with the blood of a virgin.
  • When we get home, we make a $10,000,000 donation to The Gay Agenda Committee, which is secretly working to take over the world and has sent us some lovely free personal address labels to thank us. (Sweet!)
  • Next thing you know, it’s time for bed. We sodomize each other, change into a fresh pair of hand-stitched silk pajamas, take more gay club drugs and get ready to start it all over again tomorrow.

You see, breeders, we gay married people really do have lives that are SO MUCH MORE FANTABULOUS than yours could ever possibly be. Why don’t you just surrender, get divorced and hook up with someone of the same gender? The best thing you can do is to follow the advice that Anita gave to Maria in the classic musical West Side Story: “Stick to your own kind, stick to your own kind!”

_____

p.s. – Mom and Dad, I know you’re not reading this because you guys don’t “do the computer”… but we’re still taking your marriage down.

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17 thoughts on “Our Godless Gay Marriage Plotting: Phase 3 – Operation Fabulosity

  1. Jamie says:

    Holy hell! You are tres fab! I would love to switch lives with you, but I would so much rather be a gay man than a lesbian! And it is true…gay men really are fabulous whereas straight men have highly elevated sense of self which is usually not deserving.

    Just a reason why you are fab and my husband is not…he wears elastic waist shorts. He used to tuck his shirts in too until I made him stop by shaming him.

  2. I don’t know, it sounds a little exhausting. I would have to get out of my fuzzy slippers and stop snuggling with my daughter. Takes too much energy. I’ll just have to live vicariously through you.

  3. leongeoxavier says:

    I agree with everything; your day pretty much mirrors my own. However, there is a little detail: “Earl Gray with Equal”?. Surely that was a typo, for I am sure that you received the memo that we Equal was replaced by Splenda last year and just a few month ago Splenda was replaced by Truvia. I know the inter-community memos are hard to keep up with, but we all have to do our part.

    • I fear you may still be getting the printed verson of the gay lifestyle memos newsletter. Please update your preferences online to receive the HTML newsletter format.

      Like many fabulous gay men, I found the yellow coloring of the Splenda packet a poor complement to my skin tone and viewed it as another “New Coke” mishap. As for Truvia, the Council of Gay Fabulosity in The Hague ruled it to be too “natural” for A-list homos; they proposed that it be marketed to lesbians instead.

  4. Jonny says:

    Thank you for the email update. I didn’t know the day was cloudy until I got that piece of sunshine. I hope you’re wearing your crown because I am bowing before you, Your Majesty Pete. Yee, whom I genuflect to in my ultimate gay humbleness. I am but a subject and a slave to your literary desires upon which gives me to breathe to go on and on (borrowing that from Celine Dion). You are like the dew creatures, which come out at night from below the blades of grass to suckle on the beads of moisture that feeds them life itself, then to disappear again when the dawn breaks, lest they be seen as they really are. You never see them; I’ve never seen them, but being invisible doesn’t mean they aren’t there. We gay boys can be like that; we used to be like that, but not anymore. You bring to me a smile and I thank you for it, Your Majesty Pete.

    • You’re most welcome, Our Dearest Vassal Jonny. We are glad to have made your day. And we have, indeed, suckled dew unseen. Please follow our blog and encourage thy friends; we will be every so grateful.

      HRH Pete

      • Jonny says:

        Oh your Royalness, to have spoken to me from the throne itself gives me plenty to lament upon. Would be that you might touch my shoulders with thy sword and anoint me with your gift of Knightlyness? I have been, and always shall be yours. I will follow you till the end of time; your insight, wisdom and charity to our cause. Through dungeons, across bridges and moats that try to separate us, I will endure whatever pain takes me there. Especially the dungeons, they’re not that bad when tortured by the right king – Your Majesty Pete.

  5. I weep. Today I took my kids to see the Fresh Beat Band. May you never know who/what that is. And if you’re ranking marriages to destroy in order of, uh, I dunno … fun? — shall we begin with Newt and Calista? I’d just like to see what that would do to her hair. And his Catholicism.

    • Oh,my dear. Newt and Calista are such low-hanging fruit. Like I have to do anything to make him divorce a wife?! Hah! But if they don’t appear to budge right after he loses the election, I’ll definitely cast some kind of curse or something.

  6. sweffling says:

    It sounds kind of samey to me, just one long round of pleasure.
    Now wouldn’t you much prefer my breeder style: mucking out the geese (while wearing diamonds of course), waiting hours for the husband to be much later home than he said thus preventing my doing what I had planned, booking a diving lesson for grown up son (he too busy of course), eating egg and baked beans on toast for supper because i was too tired to cook and husband had gone out again anyway and was being fed by others, putting out food for the badgers on their nightly visit, making a round of phone calls to women friends who needed support, and falling into bed alone (husband still out) with laptop to write comments on strangers’ blogs. And tomorrow will be totally different.
    See what you are missing?!!

  7. yellowcat says:

    Seriously?! Sacrificing animals before noon? I always heard that was a night time project.
    :)

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