H'okay, so, I used to go to church. Born n' raised catholic, attended catholic educational institutions until I was 14, intimidated by nuns and leered at by clergy (though I lack a phallus, and was therefore spared the wandering hands of the holy ghost, if you will). I used to actually parTICIPATE in this bullshit. Something tells me this is NOT what Jesus had in mind.
I'm not gonna embark on a 20 minute rant, because they are not worthy of my overly-flowery diction, or TIME, for that fucking matter. Couple of main points:
1. There is no cure for gay. It's pretty much ingrained. A guy I know, we call him J Kitt, strutted the fuck out of the womb in prada heels, ostrich feathers, belting Rent and waving a glittery rainbow flag. You could lobotomize, electro-shock, fuckin' Chinese water torture that motherfucker till he goes blind, but he'll still be groping for cock when you let him the fuck out. No camps, programs, handshakes from Jesus can cure that kinda hunger. Your "rehabilitated" gays are for sure blowing each other in the confessional when your back's turned. Trust me.
2. I don't fuck on your altar, stay the FUCK away from my pride parade.
There's this one bitch who's always at the Philly gay events, and she wears this unforgivable ankle-length denim skirt EVERY time. She screams shit like, "Homosexuality is a SIN!!" in this atrociously nasal falsetto, like a dumbass stripper voice, and every time I really wanna say, "So's your skirt, you fucking sand-vagged cunt." That's it, just made up my mind. I'm gonna.