[Greyson]

Okay it's Friday and time for a little fun. I read this today from the SF Chronicle newspaper straight out of the Land of Sodom and Gomorra, aka San Francisco. It is all very "Tongue-in-Cheek." I am sure this is what many of the extreme right ilk imagine is taking place in those bastions of Lefty Liberals. Enjoy.

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Official member: Evil Gay Conspiracy

By Mark Morford, SF Gate Columnist

Friday, March 26, 2010

"Texas Freedom Network, Planned Parenthood, and the Human Rights Campaign work together as 'triplets' and speak with one voice. Mark Morford is a part of that network. What parent in his right might would want TFN and their network to have any influence over what impressionable and vulnerable students are taught?" -- In hilarious defense of the odious Texas State Board of Education, apparently Here's how it usually goes down:

"The network" usually meets every Sunday morning at the churchly hour, right about 10 a.m. or so, at a top-secret location that is definitely not the latex water bondage olive oil leather-curing rope-making genital-torture foosball dungeon-slash-jam preserves stockroom over at kink.com, so please stop pounding on the door and begging to come in, OK?

It always starts the same way. Everyone hugging, kissing and injecting the demon seed into his/her genitalia and then inseminating the 13 glistening, moaning virgins, as we casually swap stories of our recent kitten bloodlettings and imbibe copious amounts of laudanum and absinthe from the polished skulls of Christian babies culled from last week's clandestine raids at various Orange County Gymborees. Then, coffee.

After six or seven hours of foot massaging, chanting, flagellating, bathhouse-grade sodomy, and the scraping of evil fingernails against the Great Chalkboard of Unrepentant Doom ($29.99, IKEA), we start the meeting.

Correction: It's not really a meeting, per se. More like a salon, an idea swap, a wicked cauldron of perverted inequity, wanton inebriation and sweaty yoga that's overslathered with entirely reasonable desires to deeply corrupt and misguide the youth of America, touch all straight people and make them gay and/or perverted, and further analyze methods by which we can seed giant clouds over Kansas, Texas and Utah to rain down body glitter, organic kombucha and Hendrick Hertzberg articles. You know, typical.

We're all there, like the Super Friends of Sodom, like What's Wrong With America, Inc.: Members of the ACLU, the Human Rights Campaign, Planned Parenthood, GLAAD, MoveOn, NOW, The Sierra Club, the liberal media (ahem), and many, many others, various and sundry groups/acronyms whose mission statements only seem to promote helping millions of people live better and more freely, but are really dedicated to converting unsuspecting adults to the joys of skimpy spandex bathing suits, champagne enemas and making Lady Gaga Supreme Leader of the Known Galaxy Including Hawaii.

Barbara from Planned Parenthood usually makes these crazy delicious cupcakes, totally decadent chocolate things with rum and real cream, covered in candy sprinkles and the scorched ashes of the Fallen.

Every once in a while she throws in a surprise flavor, and the lucky person who takes a bite of her Abortion Rights Special (tastes like choice!) gets to immolate herself at the Great Altar of Gleeful Lube -- basically a big, acrylic bust of Dan Savage -- while we all watch and cheer and whip the Mormon slaveboys into bringing us more drinks.

For the record: Screaming Moloch's many glorious names during the Ritual Call of Happy Blasphemy sounds totally funny when you do it through a mouthful of chocolate cupcake crumbs. Just FYI. We always crack up, even as the floor rips open and spurts up the blood of the Master. When Satan invariably appears, looking, somewhat oddly, like a cross between Thomas Friedman, Bill Maher and Charo, he's always, like, "WTF are you guys laughing about? OMG, tell me!" Drives him totally crazy.

Then he has a cupcake. All better. Barbara = awesome!

It's not always perfectly attended. Sometimes Rich from the ACLU can't make it, has this or that sudden flare-up issue to address, perhaps some lesbian high school prom thing in Mississippi or a racist toy at a Des Moines Wal-Mart, that sort of thing.

Do not misunderstand: We all think the ACLU does fine work. It ain't easy chasing down some of society's saddest and tackiest table scraps, just to make an example of them, to set the standard, to keep the constitutional vultures in check.

But damn, the poor guy's always dashing off to some reeking hellhole in Kentucky, Louisiana or rural Texas to fight for a fundamental basic human right you thought was pretty solid, but which is more slippery than it should be, amidst a sea of spit, intolerance and twangy country music. He almost always misses Vatican Pedophilia Scandal O' The Week (a slideshow, Benjamin Blower as soundtrack).

Of course, we all have our issues. One of the most poignant moments in the meeting comes when we all share a personal tale of just how tough it can be out there, how completely exhausting it is trying to inform/pollute so many human souls with notions of blissful dirty sex, unchecked joy and self-determined happiness.

It ain't easy extolling the idea that God is not what you think she is, that you have far more spiritual freedom than they tell you, that gender is fluid and love is a liquid pulse, and you are already hot like wicked sunshine with divine perfection. Not to mention how Jesus was just a weird mystic anarchist who hung out with hookers and freaks and would have completely rejected/abhorred every megachurch, pastor, pope and homophobic GOP doctrine in world history.

Turns out many people hate hearing that stuff. Just can't handle it. Personally, I can't count how many times I've been told I'm going straight to hell for whatever reason: championing gay rights, sex-positivism, proposing free Hitachis for every 14-year-old girl, that sort of thing. A hundred? A thousand? So far, I feel pretty good. Nothing's fallen off. Nothing on fire. At least, not in a bad way. We'll just have to see.

Speaking of the kids, we all take turns with the tutoring. Every couple weeks I spend a solid day with a few dozen or so, training them in the Beautiful Dark Ways, filling their sweet, innocent heads with simply luscious lies suggesting that, say, homosexuals are very nice people, gender and sexuality are far from fixed in nature, history is mostly spin and PR, Catholic schoolgirls are shockingly/delightfully well versed in doing quite nasty things with their mouths.

And they soak it up! Kids these days are so bright and willing, eager and wise! I always leave upbeat and encouraged about the future. Of, you know, evil.

Did I mention the orgies? How could I fail to mention the orgies? Every Sunday night, it's like a meth-fest gay nightclub in Rio meets a Roman whorehouse in Mickey Mouse's pagan daydream on the dark side of the Dog Star, but with a lots more Ecstasy, single-malt scotch and leather. But I'll hold off on the details; some things are better left to the imagination.

After all, as you surely know, nearly all the desperate or otherwise hateful reaction I/we always get from conservatives and fundamentalists alike invariably stems from, of course, insane jealousy. It comes with the territory, you know?

Hey, it ain't easy being part of a great and sticky conspiracy to defile/illumine the very soul of humanity. But sweet Jesus with a Burning Man ticket and a well-thumbed copy of the Bhagavad Gita, it sure is fun.


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