Gold Diggers Holla!

Fellow faggot gold diggers, our time has come; gay marriage is legally valid in all the land.  At first I couldn’t believe it.  It wasn’t until Nick Jonas congratulated us for it that I knew that it was really true.

I subscribe to the Blanche Devereaux school of equality, so I couldn’t care less about the social benefits of this newly minted civil right.  However collecting some form of alimony, along with 50 percent of a sugar daddy’s other remaining financial assets, is basically my retirement plan, so it was with much relief that I learned about the Supreme Court’s decision.  I’m not terribly supportive, faithful, or giving, however I can polish a knob with masterful precision.  If you’re an elderly rich gay man with a heart condition, be advised that I’m accepting applications for a future husband.

There are many other unresolved issues facing the LGBT community that are far more pressing than gay weddings, but I will continue celebrating if only to watch the far right completely eat it.   I have watched with near-orgasmic glee as the Michelle Bachmanns and Antonin Scalias of the world have spectacularly lost their shit over this decision.  What’s more, Supreme Asshat Overlord Scott Walker has also come gloriously undone over the gay marriage win.  With delusional zeal, Walker has voiced support of a constitutional amendment to allow state governments to outlaw homo nuptials.  Silly little man.  The general public is far too busy congratulating themselves on their progressive tolerance of gay weddings to ever back such an idea.  It is my hope that this gesture will make Scott Walker’s harebrained idiocy unpalatable to the voting public, so we will never have to worry about Darth Walker as Commander-in-chief.  What a glorious fringe benefit to my future alimony checks.

Are gays really cut out for marriage and are we bringing about the death knell for society as we know it?  I hope so. As someone who has expressed an appreciation for gay divorce, this will be nothing but good for me.  If anything, I hope that gay divorce will come in wave after fabulous wave.  Gays do nearly everything better than straights, so why not divorce, too?  I realize that there are gay marriage naysayers who have said that gay weddings will lead to polygamy, legally sanctified bestiality and the general destruction of civilized society.  If so, I’m still all for it.  Any culture that would uphold a piece of shit like Eat Pray Love as fine art is clearly not a culture worth saving, so I’m all for the looming apocalypse.  When the day comes that the gay wedding apocalypse brings everything crashing down, I will have a warm little spot in my heart that knows that I’ve made a difference.


Splitsville Now Has A Castro District.

Gay divorce: it’s not just for Melissa Etheridge anymore.  Such is the case for the most recent refugees to Splitsville, Johnny Weir and Victor Voronov.  The present tidal wave of gay matrimony brings with it the inevitability of gay divorce, and thus endless fodder for black-hearted gossipmongers such as myself.  Celebrity divorce is a perennial bullseye for the blogosphere, but like everything else in this world, it is made infinitely more magical when it involves Johnny Weir.

At first it would seem that Voronov took my advice and got the hell away from Johnny before incurring irreversible scarring, but further time spent sifting through their train wreck reveals a man that may actually be the drama queen equivalent of Johnny Weir.  If you can possibly fathom that.  It took no time at all for Voronov to threaten with scandal should his former lover refuse him alimony and he made good on that threat.  Among Voronov’s laundry list of now court-documented complaints is that Johnny cheated on him, caroused with porn stars, forced him out of the closet and totally acted like an absolute cunt-ass-bitch.  (Alright, I added the last one myself, but you know damn well that was included in the first draft.)

I would like to focus on this alleged “outing” for a minute.  What dumb motherfucker enters into a public relationship, much less marries, the Earth’s premiere Pretty-Pretty-Princess and later declares a forcible outing?  Just being in the same room as Johnny Weir can make a Kinsey 4 into a full blown 6.  Johnny Weir is gayer than Richard Simmons’ asshole.  Are we to seriously buy that Victor Voronov was merely a bicurious introvert before accidentally falling into a relationship with the world’s Supreme Ice Princess?  I call bullshit and I’m sure the court will, too.

Weir countered with his own set of allegations, namely that Voronov was a Stanley Kowalski-esque brute who drunkenly hounded him with the constant specter of abuse.  As if it couldn’t possibly get any better, Voronov has since petitioned the court to demand the return of over 50 designer handbags, 2 Birkins and an entire closet full of designer fur.  It’s like God just took a page out of my wet dreams and made it into reality.  Dan Savage was right; it does get better.  I had long feared that the gay community’s all-consuming obsession with marriage equality was little more than a tedious call to assimilation, but gay divorce has proven me wrong.  If this is any indication, gay divorces will exceed their straight counterparts in both flamboyance and malice, and it leaves me in ecstasy.

As a final tantalizing tidbit, Johnny and Victor did not have a prenup.  The filth and the fury has only just begun.