Imagine a dystopian community, albeit a puny one, here, where reasonably healthy heterosexual men waste nights pining to carry on just the wee-est business in the humanities. Straight men write poems, too, bastards. I'm really getting J.O.ed with the local gay no fraternizing policy Pittsburgh has, and has had, quietly, since Stonewall. Sure, bastards, all artists, writers and musicians are LBGT. Breeders claiming different are dim witted second class citizens. From an ancient Meditaranian folk maxim, " for children a woman, for pleasure a six foot eight basketball hunk." I know how you bastards are. Imagine one lousy fucking little thing: Straight men do good interior design, too, bastards.
I can mail order life size cardboard stand up figures of Liza Minelli and Jerry Lewis. I'll let you borrow my Judy Garland records. I Like New York In June, too, queers Stop persecuting heterosexual men.
I can mail order life size cardboard stand up figures of Liza Minelli and Jerry Lewis. I'll let you borrow my Judy Garland records. I Like New York In June, too, queers Stop persecuting heterosexual men.
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