Cal Thomas Say That Gays Will Redecorate the Military:
When Cal Thomas is not miserably jacking off on his Michele Bachmann action figure, which he finds strangely less fulfilling than masturbating on his Sarah Palin rag doll, he's penning columns where the searing repression of his libido bursts forward in an effulgent spray of nonsense, lies, and unspoken desire. In his latest, "Don't ask, don't tell, and don't legitimize," Thomas, whose picture, really, and, c'mon, looks like a gayer Paul Lynde with a bad dye job, flails about in a strange attempt to justify legal discrimination against gays in the military.
Thomas writes, "That many heterosexuals find homosexual behavior immoral and not conducive to unit cohesion is of no concern to the social wrecking crew," which refers to, well, anyone who thinks that discrimination against gays and lesbians is wrong; we're social engineers, mad political scientists, and our goal? To make the military more fabulous. As Thomas says, "What gay activists apparently don't care about is the effect reshaping the military in their image would have on our ability to fight and defend the country." Just how will gays and lesbians "reshape" the military? Does he think Carson Kressley will be on 24-hour call?
After appearing to offer a seemingly rational discussion for a few paragraphs, where Thomas essentially says, "Let's leave it up to the majority which minorities should have rights," he can't hold back the open loathing: "The gays in the military and gay marriage issues are part of a broader attempt by liberals to restructure society. Social activists despise biblical morality (which heterosexuals could use a little more of, too), traditional values that have been proven to work when tried, and numerous other cultural mores. This is not an opinion." Which would be true, except that it is an opinion because, you know, "biblical morality" is more than just who you fuck and how and also "morality" is never made up of facts.
Thomas concludes with an odd position. Obama's election should not "be seen as an invitation to give blanket approval to homosexuality, considered by some to be against the best interests of the people who practice it, as well as the nations that accept it." Now, the Rude Pundit's not the global anthropologist that Thomas apparently is, but in the category of "nations that accept homosexuality" on the basis of military service or marriage/civil unions would be, you know, a good chunk of Europe and South America, as well as Canada, Israel, Japan, Australia, and lots of other hell holes that are being dragged under by the degradation of the scourge of the gay. "Nations that don't accept homosexuality" would be mostly like Uganda, Saudi Arabia, the Dominican Republic, North Korea, Myanmar, Iran, and Azerbaijan, places that Thomas apparently believes it would be in the "best interests" of the United States to imitate.
The Thomas column is just one of those nonsensical rants that have no basis in anything we might call "reality," and the fact that so many people in this country actually believe such bullshit just calls attention once more to what a juvenile fucking place this America still is. For these kinds of leaps of logic are what you see in children attempting to explain why clouds are what happens because giant sky dragons sneeze, no, really, it's sky dragons and you can't see them.
Every once in a while, one of these children meets a grown-up, as in the beautiful moment that happened in a California courtroom this week. In a hearing on the challenge to that state's Proposition 8 (which outlawed gay marriage), Judge Vaughan Walker asked the attorney for the Prop 8 people a simple question. Charles Cooper stated that marriage exists for people to have babies. Vaughan queried, "What is the harm to the procreation purpose you outlined of allowing same-sex couples to get married?" And, in one of the great hominah-hominah moments in the history of jurisprudence, Cooper responded, "My answer is, I don't know. I don't know," and then, from inside his coffin, he heard a hammer hitting a nail.
Back at his office, slapping his Michele Bachmann action figure because "You know you want me to," Cal Thomas contemplates the shape of the plastic head on the plastic body. He gets up, locks his door, closes the shades, and takes out the hand cream. Not for himself, no, for Michele. He douses the doll in it, drops his pants, and slowly at first, but soon more vigorously, works the doll into his sphincter. He gasps, thrusting, realizing what he's been denying himself, calling, "No, Michele, no," pledging to keep doing her bidding if she visits his asshole regularly.