WELCOME TO MY COMING OUT OF THE CLOSET PARTY!
Category: News & PoliticsBy: eat-the-press-do-not-read-it • 2 years ago • 17 comments
Why Hide In the Closet? It stinks in there!
CAUTION: Big Boy language slung about "Chere"! If you are queer that way, and, are offended by words , but, not by deeds, please, by all means available, speed, speed away from "Chere."
- Thank you, Management!
Friends, Romans, Countrymen, and, fellow Lesbians, you, all are INVITED to My "COMING OUT PARTY"! Finally, after all these years (76.7) I am coming out of the "closet". Won't you "come out" with me. The waters warm.
Do you know how much it stinks in there? The dirty shoes, the unwashed socks, the forgotten dry cleaning?
Stand up, turn yourself about, and shake it all out.
"Do the Hokey-Pokey", and sit down on someone's lap.
Set Yourself FREE!
Get up off your bending knee, and set yourself FREE. Do not be afraid to t ell Re-Puritans to suck their own Jonson!
Set yourself free, secretive, Lefties! I did it, you can, too. I no longer have to hide my true feelings, my impulses, or, my longings.
Because, this day, I, Solemnly, Declare to the World, that, "I AM A LEFT LEANING LIBERAL And, Proud of It, Pumpkin."
No longer will I stand with that, lying slimeball, "Traitor," Trump at freezing NFL games. From now on, I will, "Take a Knee" with the players. Even, in those rare moments when it is to the groin.
Nor, will I take a bullet for them! I am not Michael Cohen! I am me, and, you are you.
We are " free, free at last"! I tell you freedom is incredible, kiss my arse, lip lockers!
I should have "come out" decades ago. But, like, perhaps, you, I was afraid of what my wife, my only son, and, grandkids might think if only they knew how I really thought.
Once out of the woods, they all said that "they knew that I was sleeping in the closet because I was a Liberal living among Conservative Republican Bullies in a hostile town in the MidWest, where being kind is considered "unreligious"!
They, my family, sweetly explained to me, as I sat at the kitchen table, bawling my eyes out, absorbing their supportive remarks, and, occasional smacks across the face . . . a family tradition, in Christian homes.
Even, in that awkward moment when my right eye betrayed me, fell out of its socket and rolled across the kitchen floor only to stop at the refrigerator door, staring up at me, I knew this is what I should do. Do you know what you should do?
"It's OK, Poppa", I heard one child say, "we don't mind that you are maligned as a LEFT LEANING LIBERAL. We had no idea what that meant. That doesn't change anything. We still don't like you".
I can honestly say the only thing that changed is now, they ask for more money.
In my "Closeted Days", to avoid being seen, I would rush out of the house early in the morning to avoid the scream and curse from my fellow Christian Evangelical, Right Wing Conservative neighbors, loading and unloading their weapons. But, I couldn't shake the suspicion that something was amiss.
In my haste, I often forgot to remove the hanger from my shirt. It betrayed me daily, peeking out from the back of my shirt collar, exposing me as "non-authenticate" a mortal sin, one of many among Evangelicals.
Back in those "Dark Days Of Yore," I constantly denied my "true feelings," even going, so far, as voting for "Ronnie" Reagan in 1980.
In a panic, to avoid detection, I impulsively joined the party of Lincoln, only to be assigned membership to the Log Cabin branch of the Republican party.
To prove my manhood, I got the requisite "burr haircut," bought a blue suit, white shirt, and, a solid red tie.
But, It wasn't me.
To appease my nagging conscious, I would leave my "barn door" on my trousers unzipped.
Out of intense desperation, on Friday the 13th, I finally caved in and signed up for "Conversion Therapy", offered at the Church of the How Big Is Your Wallet - How Small Is Your Brain?"
Barely literate Calcified Conservatives would read books to me as I was tied to a window shade, by Goldwater, Ayn Rand, and, BRUCE WILLIS' Tweets, 24/7.
In a matter of minutes, I started to talk like our Fake Prez, "the Donald."
I learned "cuss words," and, hurtful phrases like "meathead", liberal commie fag, pinko, and, worse, "fruitcake," that I hurled like confetti as we cruised through the ghettoes shooting the place up with our AR 15s!
To fit in with my pack, I "packed" a loaded handgun, instead of a pack of "sugar-free" gum.
If truth be told, I was miserable hiding my true-self from myself, by myself, without myself, so help me God.
I was getting more and more mixed up with each passing day.
I would pretend not to cry during sad scenes in movies. I even went to boring baseball games with my sweaty, ill-mannered, loud, trash-talking friends and faked liking them.
I was forced to clapped with these Neanderthals when our team hit the ball with a stick. My head ached and my heart was broken so badly that pieces fell to the ground, which I hurried stepped on and kicked backward out of sight.
Shamefully, I booed the other side, when they did not "boo" us. I was becoming a hoodie.
Slowly, incrementally, I grew tired of tripping oldfolks on Social Securi ty suspected of being too Liberal, as they maneuvered the stadium steps.
The hollow, empty laughter of my peers, mingling with the screams of the frail, old folks (obviously on food stamp) no longer brought me joy.
I couldn't help but feel sorry for them as their flopping bodies careened head over heels, down three flights of steps, heads banging into the hard concrete, blood splattering everywhere on the steep steps of Riverfront Stadium, home to the Cincinnati Reds.
There was no joy in that. No joy, either, in discovering how Cincinnati's baseball team got its nickname, "Red Legs", chopping off their opponents legs in order to win a victory.
Often, on the way home from the game, I tuned my companions out as we rode through some of the marginal neighborhoods "making fun of the poor working class people." These week-end activities no longer filled me with a "sense of superiority."
I longed to be as I was in my youth, "fancy-free, sashaying back and forth with A Plum", a sexy, busty, free-spirited woman that I met at Woodstock! She taught me many things, even taught me what "Around the World" meant.
Now, thanks to LEAPING OUT OF THE CLOSET, I am free, free at long last.
I long for the day when my children's children will no longer be recognized for what political party they belonged to, but, by the contents of their skin tone.
So, F-off, bullies! You empty-headed Trump Athletic supporters.
BTW, asswipes, the jock strap goes over your "Jonson," not over your head.
M ight I say, also, so long, religious bigots, hope you all rot in HELL!
I was the one who took money out of the collection plate, not put money in it. Take me to Heaven and sue me there.
Wow, that felt great, was it good for you, too!
Embrace your "left-leaning Liberal tendencies," and, set free a "cage child," or, just beat the crap out of a Republican, whichever comes first. I make it a practice to come last!
BTW: If you are counting, there are 29 mistakes in this Epistle. Can you find all of them?