Log Cabin gays are much like black Mormons – oil and alcohol, two elements that, no matter how much you dress them up and swirl them together, finally never hold hands. Gay Republicans demand civil rights, like the right to marry other gays and to face down the battlefield while telling straight soldiers they look good in their khakis, always remaining faithful to the masquerade of playing straight-laced conservative friends.
This set of gays will tell you how Ronald Reagan really tried to let them tie the knot, just before they hit the squash courts in cardigans and paisley. They want you to know just how individual liberty will save the country from welfare queens and the uninsured sick. And they won’t drink anything less than a twelve-year-old bourbon. They enjoy romps like “Brideshead Revisited,” and pray to God each Sunday before checking their stock stats.
Race isn’t an issue for gay Republicans because anyone who doesn’t succeed at overcoming unfair employee treatment or is caught after six years of illegally spraying crops with pesticides for untaxed salaries will find it’s their own fault, indiscriminately. John McCain wins their votes, and a spin on Daddy’s lap, in November because he secretly shook the gay Republican President’s hand and didn’t wipe it on his handkerchief.
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