"I wish Agnetha and Frida would . . . ."This was how the Music Lover began a train of thought somewhere between the Blacksmith's Shop and the Mechanics' Building--a veritable nineteenth-century encantation of the Village People, if you will--on our tour of this historical landmark, a religious commune, full of industry and piety and a commitment to abstinence--except when, according to the tour guide, sect members "chose to marry and start a family,"
Ahem. In that order, more or less, I'm sure.
Once I stopped snickering over the sentence, I decided that for me, the second gayest sentence in English begins with the phrase,
"I think Kylie and Dannii should . . . ."I realize to a layperson's ear these probably sound like innocuous enough, albeit obscure, statements. What could they possibly mean? Why would they be considered particularly gay, let alone the gayest, sentences in the English language? And who cares anyway?
But look at it this way--at least by your lack of comprehension and interest, you're guaranteed one truth in this world: You're probably not gay, nor do you hang around with anyone who is a known Friend of Dorothy or Homeboy for Oscar (Wilde). Take comfort where and when you can, my peeps. Why, it's like an evangelical's (or Bishop Robert Duncan, the anti-gay head--chortle--of the Episcopal Diocese of Pittsburgh (Southern Cone)) Christmas wish come true! No. More. Homosexuals. Ever!
Now if only you could explain away your husband's obsession with holiday garland, your wife's ability to cut a rug just like Ellen DeGeneres, your teen-aged daughter's need to put Katy Perry's "I Kissed a Girl" in heavy rotation on her iPod, and little junior's repeated requests for a full run of Bratz dolls from Santa, you might just be able to dispense with donning all that gay apparel for another year. (Check your designer labels first, though.)
Well, I doubt it--but Happy holidays anyway!
