How to Make Trump Fire his Anti-Gay Staff Members
What Homophobes get right despite my Burning Man Orgy
A few days before launching his presidential campaign, Dr. Ben Carson, now the Secretary of Housing and Urban Development, tested the waters by holding a press conference. Dr. Carson, the man Donald Trump calls his “housing boy,” popped his head up from his sleeping desk and announced his medical conclusion that homosexuality is a lifestyle choice and all those Lady Gaga fans are not actually born this way. His dirty talk proved to potential donors and staff members he could make headlines saying just any damn thing and it established his brand that he is anti-gay because he is all smart and stuff.
His announcement gave me insight into Carson’s character. I figured this out when thinking about two of my defining personal experiences.
First of all, I went through my 20’s convinced that I had no choice but to be hetero. I was even hornier than your average twenty-something and sometimes when my hairy sack of man hearts ached for some company, I remembered I could get a collage of body parts all over me if I went down to the men’s bathhouses and I would just have to inflate my pool toy.
But no. I knew I couldn’t fake it. It had to be a woman or, at least, my favorite red sock that I currently call “Ashley and Mary Kate.”
More proof my arrow is straight came early in a 2002 Burning Man orgy while I was wildly excited for lots of reasons. I was cuddling with my new friend, a cute girl who hooked up with me early in the week and we decided to keep doing that. This was our third date, and everyone was making out and reaching for more. We were buzzing on a cocktail of raver drugs designed to make you extremely attractive and open to suggestion. I was tickling the edges around her furry bikini when another friend came up behind me and started caressing my butt just the way I like it. That’s what I get for wearing a tuxedo thong.
I turned and was surprised to see my friend Rick, a very sweet, bright, funny guy. My first thought was, Hi, Rick. Then I looked down and winced at his hairy man hearts. I looked up to his face like I was timidly breaking up with him, “Sorry, Santorum. I got nothin’.”
That proved it. If I were ever going to climb that pole, this would have been the party.
These experiences convinced me sexual orientation is just handed to you like the food samples at Costco. You don’t choose what you get, but you usually like it anyway. But later, I had the mind-blowing realization that the anti-gay activists have been right about gay origins all along.
Like most people, I chuckle a little when seeing those annual news stories about another anti-gay activist getting caught with his hand in some man’s skate shorts. The most recent iteration arose in mid March when Oklahoma state Senator Ralph Shortey, a graduate of Heartland Baptist Bible College, was charged with soliciting and trafficking a young, male prostitute thus disappointing his wife, his two children and his boyfriends at Burning Man.
My personal history with this goes back to sixth grade when I met my very first politician, an Idaho state senator. He smiled at me and shook my hand while I was mostly impressed with the little elephants on his tie. I’ll always remember those little elephants with their trunks sticking up erect. I followed his career, especially after he washed into the US Senate in Ronald Reagan’s tsunami. His name, Larry Craig, might be familiar to you for a couple of reasons.
All those years, he got on TV a lot with his finger in the air talking about how we gotta stop these historic homosexual advances. Imagine my “whoa!” when he plead guilty to trying to seduce a man in an airport bathroom stall by forcing a moment of footsie with him. That man with the now-scuffed shoes turned out to be a federal air marshal, and he wasn’t up for some doggy tile or even a quick blumpkin. And he certainly wanted to stop Craig’s historic homosexual advances.
That’s when it hit me. All those years when Craig was saying that gay people are as nasty as they wanna be, he was speaking the truth of his personal experience. He and other anti-gay activists know it is a choice because for them it really is. They know in their man hearts they could be gay any time they want. They actively choose to be straight every time they tell their eager wives, “Yeah, we can congregate tonight.”
The anti-gay women choose to be straight every moment that they don’t sneak out to the rugby game and maybe taste some crimson cathedral. The men prove their willpower every moment they don’t sneak out to the bathhouses where the guys treat them like a piñata full of drugs and giggles.
You have to respect the willpower of these men and women who overcome one of the most powerful drives given to us by God. They show the strength of character, the perseverance, to stay on target like Luke Skywalker in his father’s death star trench.
These people are heroes. Like the man who watches gay porn for a bit so he can run upstairs and be super hetero all over his wife. Like the woman who copes with the smell of her husband’s man hearts by imagining she has Jennifer Lawrence doing the clitoris dance on her fingertips.
Conservatives can still win this argument about lifestyle choice by showing pride in how God created them with the ability to go both ways. They can prove sexuality is optional by speaking honestly and announcing they could nail everyone but they don’t have to (mostly).
They really could demand their own floats in the pride parades. I mean this sincerely. They could be up there waving to the crowd with the Beatles blaring We Can Work It Out. Of course, their children should be up there too to show it is working.
God’s word gives them the determination to determine their sexuality. We can call them determisexuals. I like that it has “deter” in it to show where their strength is.
So when you next see Dr. Carson, the man Steve Bannon calls his “urban guy” on TV learning what HUD stands for, tip your hat to him for being able to meet a stud like John Travolta and respond with his pillow-biting clench of a smile that says, “Nope, not again.”
But none of this is what I came here to talk about. Maybe you are still wondering how to get Trump to release his anti-gay staff members. Simple. Consider how Trump prefers to hire people who gaze at him adoringly. If he learns that his gay-hating staff are bisexual, he will be haunted by the thought of their fantasies involving his lustrous hair bobbing up and down in the Oval Office.
As with all of his actions and policies, his insecurities will make him react instantly when he gets excited. He’s most excited when he’s simultaneously tweeting, watching cable news, and formulating national policy on the toilet. The staff members in question will be replaced with memberless women and told: “Don’t ask Putin for a job like the one he’s about to give Michael Flynn.” Now your mission is to get Trump to read this article. I just need you to ask any white people you know if they can get me a meeting with him.
Hurtz Donut has a black belt in the marital arts.