Hot Mohler-on-man action
Al Mohler is gay. That's the topic of speculation around the Oh, For God's Sake water cooler this morning, after the CJ's lead story about Mohler's fascination with prenatal genetics.
Our thinking goes like this: Back when Garrison Keillor was an unattractive young, heavy-lidded, hoop-skirt-chasing, teen curmudgeon growing up in Lake Schtupmenot, "gay" meant "happy." There were no pesky Hmong. Taffy was pulled. The enemy of gay rights was closetedness. Out of sight, out of domestic-partner benefits. Perhaps as a palate-cleanser, Keillor also appears in today's CJ, in one of those op-ed columns that lures you in like a creepy stranger with a delicious RC Cola and moon pie bucket-seat-Impala snack but ultimately leaves you fleeing in a panic for some emergency Mark Morford.
So, we're thinking the best way to stop homophobia and advance gay rights is to talk non-stop about homosexuality. Gay gay gay gay gay gay gay. Gay. And when you talk all day long about homosexuality and people start ignoring you, come up with ever-more-outlandish proclamations until you land on the CJ's front page, above the fold, even though Dumbya's goons tortured the 9/11 mastermind into confessing on the same day.
Is that Mohler a total homo, or what? He's here. He's queer. He might not know it yet, but we'll get used to it.
So, ol' Al flew under the OFGS Doppler Gaydar 9000. We used to think he was, like all fundies, just an attention-starved, coal-hearted, hateful lunatic. But now we know: gay. Live and learn. Props to the CJ, too, for helping to advance Mohler's pro-gay agenda with the high-profile coverage, knowing that the more we talk about our gay friends, the more likely we are to accept them as people and welcome them into our community of out-of-shape, fashion-challenged sports fans who have no appreciation for antiques.
Now, let's just hope nobody tries to scare Mohler straight.