Is Kale The Gayest Vegetable?

Ageless pop wonder Madonna recently drew ire from sheltered internet trolls for her supposedly pejorative use of the word “gay.”  While playing a word association game for Buzzfeed, Madonna was asked to give her initial impression of the vegetable kale.  Just as any intelligent person would, she correctly classified the vegetable as “gay.”  Predictably, the trolls were not amused, lighting up the blogosphere with their utter outrage that the Material Girl would dare use the word “gay” as an insult.

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Insult?  Hardly.  This was a perfectly reasonable categorization of kale.  Kale is the gayest vegetable of all time.  Given its ultra-fibrous nature, it’s just common sense that kale would be the preferred vegetable amongst stool-pushers.  Everyone knows that.  Besides, kale is the hippest of all the leafy greens.  If you’re rocking a “Diversity Is Our Strength” bumper sticker, odds are that you’ve haughtily displayed your appreciation for kale at some time or another.  Objectively speaking, kale is a grotesque, acrid vegetable that no reasonable person would ever want to consume.  Thus it would be categorized as an “acquired taste,” an esoteric pleasure whose only appeal is its venerated status amongst hipsters.  Ergo quintessentially gay.

Hipsters have loudly displayed their appreciation of kale for years and everything that hipsters do was first done by homosexuals.  (On a related note, panfried kale and poppers is an immensely underrated combination.)  Besides, kale is only served in the faggiest of arenas.  Case in point: Whole Foods.  Whole Foods is the preferred grocer for sissies everywhere.  It’s the one place where homos of all stripes can come together and bond over their mutual love of overpriced, flavorless health food.  No self-respecting gay would walk out of a Whole Foods without a bagful of quinoa and kale.  It’s like wearing white after Labor Day; it’s just not acceptable.

Furthermore kale is a centerpiece in yet another quintessentially gay practice: juicing.  In an obvious attempt to lure in hipsters, Jamba Juice has recently introduced a number of kale-themed juices and smoothies to its menu.  It is impossible for anyone to say, “I’d like a Kale Orange Power with a shot of wheatgrass juice” and retain their masculinity.  I don’t care what your husband, father or priest says.  If you’re rocking a jumbo sized Kale-ribbean Breeze smoothie from Jamba Juice, you’re more than just a little gay.

It was foolish for homos to doubt Madonna.  Kale is unquestionably gay.  Gay Pride season is right around the corner, so do what Madonna would do, rock a Blueberry-Kale Smoothie at your local pride festival and you’re destined to be the envy of every queer there.

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Praise Thy Lord, Eat Thy Candy.

I would like to take a moment this Easter to thank all the assorted queers, homos, misfits and pansies who read this blog.  If it wasn’t for you I wouldn’t have anyone to share my paranoid delusions with and I thank you for that from the bottom of my cold, adamantine heart.

The gay community comprises a wide cross-section of cultures, religions and spiritual beliefs, but no matter what your particular affiliation may be, this is sure to be a special day.  So whether you worship Madonna, Nicki Minaj, Beyoncé, Lady Gaga or the one true and unquestioned God, Khia, I wish you the happiest of all bunny days.

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God bless!

Put Some Weight On.

Listening to the radio is a painful exercise.  I avoid it whenever I can, but it seems that I constantly find myself in situations where I’m forced to endure it.  With every Wrecking Ball, every Blurred Line and every infestation of Bieber-fever, I find myself constantly regretting my increasingly irrational refusal to become a paranoid shut-in.

Given the absolute dearth of redemptive value in popular music, I am one of the many spurned souls who have turned to reality TV stars to reinvigorate the pop music game.  Ever since Real Housewife Kim Zolciak’s dance epic “Tardy for the Party” smashed the pop waves, reality television stars have been the true movers and shakers in pop music.  For further proof of this claim, I direct your attention to Miss Latrice Royale.

For those who don’t know, Latrice Royale is a reality TV ingénue, having made her debut on RuPaul’s Drag Race two years ago.  “Visually resplendent” is the only accurate way to describe her.  Latrice Royale is the glorious butt-baby of Divine and Jean Hill and a true fashion icon.  As a culture we are all the richer for her existence.

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Royale throws her feathered hat into the music game with her acclaimed single, “Weight.”  Latrice Royale is a tall drink of woman, so it is fitting that her debut single serves as an ode to the glorious chocolate mudslide that is her body.  Royale swats her detractors with such lyrics as, “Bitch, please, my name is Latrice.  I’m like diamonds and Versace and you’re government cheese.”  Indeed.  Such an A-game dance-rap jam is exceptional enough to begin with, but Royale gets extra points for looking like she rolled around in Skittles on the cover art.

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I had hoped that the inevitable video for the song would be something along the lines of a gay orgy in Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory.  Sadly, there is no gay candy sex in the video.  (Note: a Sugar Daddy in your pussy is a short path to a yeast infection.  Don’t ask me how I know this.)  Latrice compensates for the absence of taffy sex in the video by serving flawless drag.  She is accompanied by glamorous up-and-comer Epiphany Mattel who brings a genuinely legit guest verse around the 3-minute mark.

If we lived in a more just society this would be a hit song while Justin Bieber would have to wait in line for food stamps in Ontario.  Reality is cruel and oppressive but we can always dream of a better world.  Let this be our soundtrack.  Thank you, Latrice, for giving us the strength to live again.

Tom Daley Confides, “I’m All About the Pole Now.”

A mere 4 months after coming out as bisexual last December, Olympian diver Tom Daley has hopped from the B to G of the fairy rainbow, declaring that he is now a gay man.  Personally, I’m all for it.  Bi to gay in 4 months is damn impressive.  It took me about two years to go from bi to gay when I was a teenager, so I really have to admire Daley’s expediency and directness.

 

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Bisexual men are much less likely to share my enthusiasm.  Daley was by far the bi male community’s most glamorous and famous spokesperson and losing him has proven to be a harsh blow.  The consequences of this desertion are rather dire.  Tom Daley’s vacancy from the bi community is likely to turn the spotlight back to Andy Dick as the go-to representative for bisexual men.  No one deserves to be associated with Andy Dick and bisexual men have my sincerest condolences.

This bombshell begs a very relevant question: why is it that so many bi men hop from the B to the G?  We’ve all experienced it.  Every day fresh faced, apple cheeked youth spring fresh from the closet and enlist in team B only to sashay over to team G a short while later.  Doubling your pleasure is simple logic, so why is it that so many bisexual men go full-on fag?  Some wags are likely to contend that this phenomenon has something to do with internalized homophobia or some such nonsense.  Bull.  The answer is simple: dick.  Dick, dick, dick.  Let me explain.

Bi men are seemingly blessed people as they have a built-in appreciation for both the pole and the hole.  This is a fortunate occurrence… in theory.  If you’re a whore, and Tom Daley sure looks like one, splitting your time between the pole and the hole is an unenviable and burdensome task.  Take the panoply of gay dating (read: anonymous fucking) websites: Adam4Adam, Manhunt, Grinder, Craigslist.  The fact is there is simply far more available dick on the market than pussy.  Unless you’re paying, acquiring pussy begets a complicated system of dating and courting just for a turn at bat.  When it comes to hook-ups, interpersonal communication is a long, complicated and woefully antiquated process. It’s a terrible burden and one that gay men have long since done away with.  Who has the time and patience to barter and bargain with a sentient  human being just to get laid when cock can be had in every public restroom, locker room and changing booth in this great land?  This is a familiar conundrum for many bisexual men.  After a while it just gets harder and harder to pencil in pussy.  For these men bi desertion is nearly inevitable.

That’s just logistics.  There remain the less tangible but ultimately far more alluring aspects of cock.  When I find myself getting down with a cock, I mean really getting personal with a man’s appendage, I am transported to a magic land of salty wonders.  Whether I am inhaling the delicate aroma of a sweaty scrotum, massaging the head of a throbbing member, or simply savoring the sheer heft of an engorged schlong, I am in complete rapture.  This isn’t the sort of pleasure that can be prudently designated for moderate consumption.  It quickly becomes a way of life and I’m sure Mr. Daley knows the feeling.  Pussy is a fabulous thing, but for those who have tasted the sweet nectar of a man’s pre-cum, the acquisition of pussy is quickly subordinated to cock hunting.  That’s the thing with dick.  Once you’re in, you’re in, and you’re invariably chasing the cock dragon for the rest of your life.  Mr. Daley can attest to this.

Bisexuality isn’t the easiest gig, but there nonetheless remain a great many men who defy all odds and remain committed to Team B.  While it must be disappointing for bi men to discount Tom Daley from their ranks, they shouldn’t be too discouraged.  After all they still have Alan Cumming on their side and really, does it get much better than that?