Hi, gay people! How’s it going? Don’t tell me… just super, right? That’s what you people say isn’t it? Not that I would know, not being gay and all.
I’m sorry if that sounded like an odd thing to say. I don’t normally declare my sexual persuasion so abruptly. But I’ve heard you like to convert normal people with your gay agendas and your corrupting lifestyle choices, and since I’m being so open and friendly I didn’t want you getting any funny ideas about recruiting me.
I also heard that gays are pretty upfront and brash most of the time, so I’m pretty sure you’ll appreciate the candour. Just so long as you promise not to get turned on by it. Unless of course you happen to be lesbians. But only the hot ones that look like normal women.
Anyway, I just wanted to write to you because it seems your cunning plan to get accepted and respected and have “rights” is starting to get a bit of media attention. I don’t know if gay people read the news - you’re all probably still out clubbing and being immoral, but hopefully one of your straight friends will send you this and give you the heads up.
Now look, I’m totally up for you guys doing some of the things normal people do, like voting, cutting hair, and eating in the same restaurants as straight people, but I think you may have gone a bit too far with this whole gay marriage thing.
I mean seriously. Marriage? Could you have picked a more beloved heterosexual institution? I know you’re not doing it on purpose, and I know you all have kind hearts and are very good at “being there” for a lot of our straight women when we break up with them, but there’s a few subtle things about marriage that your gay brains probably aren’t able to understand, a few of which I will now attempt to decode for you, hopefully without being infected by your gayness.
Firstly, for not-gay people, marriage is a sacred institution. It’s probably the most sacred heterosexual institution outside of the Bathurst 24hr. And it goes back a long long way, even back before the seventies when being gay was invented.
Since the dawn of time, when straight men realised if they didn’t force women into legally binding social contracts they may never get to have sex again, straight people have upheld the act of marriage as the sacred defining moment of not being gay. In fact it’s so sacred that we virtually allow any two people to do it, so long as one has a penis and the other has a vagina, and so long as they can pool enough money to pay a second-rate Elvis impersonator.
Secondly, marriage is unique. A wedding between two straight people who may or may not love each other is an amazing and rare ceremony, performed by merely millions of people across the entire globe, every minute of every day. It’s sort of like the ceremonial equivalent of Halley’s Comet, if Halley’s Comet were a million comets that never ever stopped flying past Earth pumping Nelly songs out of stretch Hummers.
Thirdly, as raised so eloquently by modern day hetero-Nostradamus Barry Cohen, it is a question of maintaining the cornerstone of our entire civilisation. If a man is allowed to marry another man, or a woman another woman, where will it all end? Men marrying dogs? Dogs marrying chairs? Chairs marrying tables and cushions to form a disgusting six piece dining suite of incestual depravity, that straight people may one day sit on and become unknowingly impregnated with gay furniture babies? As Mr Cohen quite rightly states, to even entertain the thought goes quite beyond the pale.
Finally, and this may be the nail in the gay marriage coffin, God pretty much said it’s not okay. I hate to break it to you, but a lot of the books religious people read don’t give you guys a very good write up. I think there’s some stuff about living in sin, and being an abomination in the eyes of the Lord, and if we’re going to try and give you marriage, you could at least meet us halfway and try to not be gay.
Come to think of it, I don’t think I’ve seen one press release even hinting that you’ve started working on a cure. Seriously. We’ve extended the olive branch pretty far what with buying all those KD Lang albums and letting you have that big street parade every year, don’t you think it’s time you gave a little back?
And look, we’re totally willing to help. Straight people are great at responding to quirky charity campaigns like Movember, and I reckon we’d be pretty happy to chip in to help you conquer this terrible affliction. Maybe, and I’m just spitballin’, you could hold one called “Not-be-gay-vember”, where for the whole month everyone just walks around not being gay. Sit with it for a few days. Talk it over at your next gay board meeting. If you like it, it’s yours. Gratis.
So look, I know it’s a lot to take in, but I just felt it needed to be said honestly, respectfully, and compassionately.
And most importantly, the sooner you get it into your heads that marriage isn’t about a deep and joyful expression of love and commitment by two people who want to spend the rest of their lives caring for each other, and more about making sure insecure straight people not think their world will collapse if everyone suddenly cuts the crap and just is who they are, the happier I’m sure all of us will be.
Tomorrow Barry O’Farrell assumes the mantle of the Premier of NSW. That’s not a prediction from a well-informed insider, by the way. It’s a stone-cold fact, hewn from the knowledge that there hasn’t been a conclusion this foregone since Ricky Martin turned out to be a little light in the loafers.
Which leads us to the question - what could Fatty possibly do to balls up this one horse race? With one day left on the campaign trail shot clock, what catastrophic cock-ups could the man cook up to fall short of the biggest sure thing since hipster douchebags queuing up for Apple products? You know it, I know it, and you can be sure as shit old Barry knows it.
So with that, Barry, we dare ya. We double dare you to take The Punch Policy Pepsi Challenge, and pepper a few of these zingers into the ears of your electorates. We honestly doubt it’ll make one iota of difference…
1. “Dear citizens, I’ve just converted to Scientology. We’re turning St Mary’s Cathedral into a celebrity centre. Entry on gold bullion donation only. ALL HAIL CTHULU.”
2. “My cabinet and I have decided to secede from the Commonwealth. We’ll need everybody’s help to push NSW 12 nautical miles out to sea and into international waters.”
3. “Hey kids, who wants to see my FOURTH NIPPLE?”
4. “Tomorrow I introduce legislation to change the state of NSW to Barrytown, and as is my divine right, I will mate with all suitable females of breeding age to help populate our newly-formed Baztopia”.
5. “Look, I’ve held my tongue for long enough and I just need to get this off my chest. Vegemite is for spastics.”
6. “Yes I am aware about the traffic congestion in Sydney and believe me, the O’Farrell government will be fully committed to SHUT UP SHUT UP YOU’RE NOT REAL GET OUT OF MY HEAD PARSLEY PARSLEY doing the right thing by the good people of this state.”
7. “OK Computer is over-rated. There, I said it.”
8. “I’ll be outsourcing a lot of public service jobs. For example, we’ll be setting up call centres in India to clear the backlog of elective surgery in NSW hospitals. Say, what do you guys know about Skype operations?”
9. “Look what I’m dealing with, man. I’m dealing with fools and trolls. I will not believe that if I do something then I have to follow a certain path. Because it was written for normal people. People who aren’t special. People who don’t have tiger blood and adonis DNA. I’m on a drug, and it’s called Barry O’Farrell.”
10. “Gee that Ben Elton show was good. Mark my words – that’s coming back”.
Old Pete, you’re really old
And today you, are even older
Remember, you don’t have Alzheimer’s yet
But one day you might, begin to forget
Old Pete, used to be young
And yesterday he, was even younger
He also, used to have lustrous hair
But now right up there, it’s getting scarcer
And anytime he wants a kip, Old Pete, he slips
Into a deep sleep apon the sofa
And even though he’s lost some weight, when Pete’s sedate
And drooling he looks a lot like Homer
Homer J Simpson… SIMPSONNNNN…
Hey Pete, how old are you?
And does there even, exist a number?
Back in your, day was the earth really flat?
And where you were born, was it called Pangea?
So making sure we’re on the page, Old Pete, has aged
The nursing home, is just a stone’s throw
He might not be over the hill, but even still
He’d fetch a good price, on Antiques Roadshow
on Antiques Roadshow, ROADSHOWWWW…
But Pete, you need to know
Though you are old as, we all love you still
You’re the best guy, that there could ever be
Just make sure that we, all get in your will
Your will, your will, your will, your will yeah!
Na, na na, na na na na, na na na na, Old Pete
Happy 64th Our Dad!