So I had this buddy, Dennis was his name, 7 foot tall and built to just under Greek god proportions. And queer as a blue horse. Nothing remotely effeminate, mind you, I guess what is sometimes known as a “bull fruit”. (if any of this terminology is offensive, apologies and back to my story…) Oh, yeah, this is about 1969.
So we’re hanging at this bar that has some biker and biker wannabe’s, pounding some suds and talking about nothing in particular, when this biker-looking guy sort of pointedly bumps into Dennis and gives him a glare instead of an apolgy. Dennis ignored this, and returned to his beer. Anyways, the guy comes back a couple of times, same kind of crap,…
Dennis sighs, buts down his beer, and swivels on his bar stool to face the guy and says:
“OK, I get the picture, you’re trying to pick a fight. Don’t much like fighting, but if you insist, we’ll go outside and we’ll fight. Just one thing I oughta tell you: I’m queer, and if I win, I’m gonna fuck you.”
The biker guy went dead pale, I mean Casper, staggered back babbling something that might well have been an apology.
Dennis swivels back, like nothing has happened.
“Now, where were we…Oh, yes, the thing about the Steelers is…”
Secondly, I wish I lived in Mass. so I could vote for Barney Frank. The man’s got stones, by God! If I believed for one minute that that was a direct result of being gay, I would check into having the surgery. Or whatever. I’m kinda uninformed about this stuff. So, Exprix, you’re already in it, so what the hell! If you got it, flaunt it!