Good Grief and Great Balls of Fire

Spewing some Truly Vicious Ugly Twisted Shit ™, while pretending to read a book I disagree with, while baking Christmas cookies for my family, while carving myself a Mayan Death Whistle, while complaining that some people like guns.

There’s probably something I should come clean about: I should have burned Sarah Palin’s book that I didn’t read but reviewed anyway. It’s not that I don’t believe in burning books I hate. I just couldn’t pass up the opportunity to fulfill the primary mission of my life – “spewing better shit, better hate, and better intolerance as I battle against ‘hate’ and ‘intolerance’ whenever I see it” ™.

There’s something else I should come clean about, too. I would have burned the damn book, Good Tidings and Great JoyProtecting the Heart of Christmas, if I’d been able to find it. But I threw a hissy fit, defenestrated the book, quickly carved myself a Mayan whistle so I could find my way back after the death ritual, and blinded myself with hydrogen peroxide in a neoliberal paroxysm of hate.

Whew! I feel better  now. Damn, I’m a fucking Mayan drama queen.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. Not only did I not read Sarah Palin’s book, I carted it around with me for weeks while not reading it. I took it to work, to bars in four states, to three different gyms, on six airline flights, and to a kink-world-famous dungeon in San Francisco where a few hundred of my closest friends and I fucked Palin’s book into submission.

See how tolerant I am?

I’m so tolerant that I started to argue with Palin before reading even one page of the book. But it’s her fault. She’s a troll. And trolls make me mad, especially when trolls buy guns for Christmas so they can hunt wild animals on the Alaskan tundra.

That’s right. Sarah Palin, who lives 4,400 miles from Newtown, Connecticut, bought a “powerful gun” for her husband, and … Jesus Fucking Christ … I’m comparing that to the elementary school shooting where 20 children were killed by a deranged man who hated his mother.

God aren’t my balls wonderful? They’re great hairless fucking blazing balls of fire. And you can’t touch them, Sarah! Only other men with hairless balls can touch them, fondle them, or teabag them.

Which reminds me how much I hate the fucking Teabaggers, but don’t blame me. They’re trolls. Trolls who make me mad…

Stop getting me off subject, you fucking teabaggers! I’m not like you! I’m tolerant!  So tolerant that I can call Sarah Palin a “shit-talking pimp who makes money playing to the carefully cultivated persecution complexes of conservative Christian rubes who wouldn’t know what religious persecution was if it sat on their faces and shit in their mouths” and still be invited on by Anderson Cooper to share a good cunnilingus joke on the evening news.

God, I’m a self-righteous, fatherfucking, persecuted gay drama queen. I feel like Christ himself, hanging on the cross, life bleeding out of me, after carrying a bushel of used condoms to Stonewall.

Christians don’t know from persecution. It’s not like they were persecuted for years, for centuries, for motherfucking millennia, mainly by people of other faiths. Christians weren’t burned at the stake, arrested, imprisoned, thrown to the lions, crucified, had their children sold into slavery, and on and on and on.

No. Gays – and possibly Jews, although I don’t personally know any Jews who have been persecuted, so their persecution might not measure up to my own – know persecution. And, by the way, persecution of gay people by people of faith continues: Gay sex was recriminalized in India last week after a coalition of Muslim and Christian organizations, among others, asked the Indian Supreme Court to overturn a lower court ruling that had legalized consensual gay sex.

People will go to prison, and I blame Sarah Palin. Her gay-persecuting Christian faith has such intercontinental mojo that it can influence the Indian Supreme Court, 6,030 miles away.

So happy fucking holidays to you, Sarah. I hope you choke on my balls of cinnamon-flavored fire.*

God, I’m an uber-tolerant gay person.

* Metaphorically, of course, since … well … didn’t you read the whole fucking blog post, you fucking Walmart-shopping, Indian-Supreme-Court-influencing, great-tit-loving Christian-teabagging motherfuckers?


About therealdansavage

I'm the Fake Real Dan Savage. Not to be confused with the Real Fake Dan Savage (who's the real real Dan Savage), the gay anti-bullying activist who likes to bully people who aren't gay or fake. View all posts by therealdansavage

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