IT’S FUN TO BE G*Y, PART 1

REQUIREMENTS INCLUDE BUT ARE NOT LIMITED TO:

• Must be totally interchangeable with other g*ys, and be named something like Brock, Blake, Brant, Kyan, Killian, or Keon.

• Age, level of goodlookingness, height, hair length/style, style of dress must all be commensurate. NO exceptions made.*

• Must be untroubled by any complications of coming out or being g*y, or really of anything. Just be happy, happy, happy like a lobotomy victim. I guess the headbands are some kind of joke about that.

• Must want to be part of a “dude clique” just like the one that ostracized and terrorized you in high school. If you can emulate your former tormentors as much as possible, you can get back at those guys that called you a faggot! Yay, you! You’re the excluder now! It feels good, doesn’t it?

• Your personality must be less than “this deep” [makes room for one molecule between thumb and forefinger]. Go to the g*ybar, the g*ygym, the g*ysalon and keep your mouth shut. Personality is NOT a plus. Pecs are what matter.

• Must suffer from crippling fear of 1) being alone; 2) being around people that aren’t exactly like you. Autonomous thinking must terrify you like the middle-school girl you are mentally.

• Must go barhopping in a pack of 30 or 40, are not allowed to leave the pack or invite any outsiders to join it without group approval: And no group approval is possible. You will leave with your posse or you are out of the posse.

*Wait, that one guy 5th from the left is not smiling! Why can I not see his perfect white teeth, like his clones have? Oh, I see why: He’s as much as 4 lbs overweight! He’s scared he might get kicked out of his clone squad! Who can smile when the posse is threatening to kick you out? Go directly to the gym and lose 4 lbs or find another posse.