Welcome to Straight City, everybody. Population: Me!

Didn’t know that? Now you do! I’ve never been more straight than I am right now, and since I’ve never been the slightest bit gay at all, then that’s pretty darn straight!

If I were any more straight, I’d be a flaming homo, that’s how straight I am, at the extreme far end where any more straightness would make you just gay, just push it too far, you know? It’s like being butch, you can be butch and clearly straight, but then if you get too butch, it’s like you’re doing it on purpose, right? Catch me? So me, I’m right up alongside that razor’s edge of straight as can be, but with no little danglers hanging on the gay side. This is complicated, straight man stuff here.

My favorite color? Brown. Can’t get much straighter than that. Ugly old brown. And not brown like poop on your dick either. No siree, I don’t like that at all. Not my style. Just plain-old UPS brown, that’s the color of my straight love.

Favorite movie? Armageddon. You read that right. What self-respecting fag could love a hetero-wonkfest like that thing? Ew, no way. Diagnosis: Straight.

Nope, no kissing pretty South American boys in the back room of throbbing disco clubs, not for me. Not any more, and not ever previous to now either. You’re thinking of somebody else.

I don’t even like fags that much. Not Tony, anyway. He and I are NOT friends, any more. Chaz and Hank? Those guys are alright. Same goes for Bruce, Tuti, Blaine and Federico. Not the worst people you could ever meet up with for fancy cocktails. Not in a gay way though, no “cock” in the “tail” if you know what I mean. I sure don’t. You may know what that means; I don’t pretend to know whether or not you’re gay. I’m okay if you are, I mean as much as a totally straight person ever could be. It does make me a little queasy though, to be honest. It’s just so not-me.

I mean, could you even imagine me being gay? Don’t try.

When God was going all “duck, duck, goose” and picking out the homos up in heaven, I wasn’t even there, I was off taking a leak. No gooseneck for me. No sir.

I’m so straight I might even up and marry a woman one day, just out of the blue as a total surprise, even though you thought we were just friends, just as an example of how not-gay I am! And not an androgynous, David Bowie woman either. Or a campy gay icon like Bette Midler or Liza Minelli, not that type. Nope, a real man’s woman, with curves and tampons. A real baby factory who’s not at all a fag hag like you might have heard. I’m going to watch sports while she brings me bland, characterless American beer that’s full of carbs and there I am, dressed in sweats and a mismatched top without a hint of irony!

Straight? You don’t even need to ask. But feel free to if you have any questions. And tell a friend!



It’s About Time I Won Something
All I can really say upon receiving this terrific recognition is: it’s about time. Other people get rewards for doing nothing, easy stuff like acting or hitting a baseball.

All I’m Looking for is the Perfect Gangbang
Picture this: Just you and the anonymous woman, and four friends who just came with you from the last party. And she’s a doll, too, like a slutty Katie Couric, but not too slutty. Dressed in some alluring and only slightly skanky lingerie, bathed like the room in the red lights of nearby lamps.

Those of You Worshiping My Brother Are Making a Mistake
Phil’s got good hair, I’ll give him that. That’s always been his strength. And I can understand people seeing that, and thinking “You know, that guy’s got great hair. I bet he’s got it all figured out” right before they shave their heads and start wearing the periwinkle jumpsuits. But hold on one second, pilgrims.

Way Inside Jokes
Having your own abbreviations and slang just makes life way more fun. Like whenever someone tells me they’re a fan of something or other, I like to think that “fan” is short for “fancy vagina.” Then nobody knows why I’m cracking up because that fat guy in the third row just announced that he was a Philadelphia Phillies fancy vagina. What a dork!