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That Big Dyke Is Stealing Our Women!!!

by Rev. F (writer), Intercourse, PA, April 30, 2007

Credit:

Has anyone been watching the BravoTV show "Workout"? http://www.bravotv.com/Work_Out/

Look, I am a HUGE fan of what I call "Quality Lesbianism". The definition of this term is simple: Hot broads making out on TV. Note: Meaty, mule-skinner types like Rosie need not apply.

Ho, ho...this show "Workout" is a giant sushi roll of Quality Lesbianism. Some of the scenery just melts a High Life Man like me.

Sweet Jezus, I need to move to LA. You just don't see that type of action in Intercourse, PA. Out here there's nothing but thick Quaker women and the Amish. (And don't get me started on the f*cking Amish!)

Lately, the Queen Bee of "Workout", Jackie, has been stealing our heterosexual women...and not just any hetero gals but the hot and succulent ones!

Jackie's only straight male personal trainer called her on it during last week's episode. Jackie accused Brotha Trainer of bringing too much "hostile male energy" to the scene...as she sucked face with the second hot, formerly-hetero broad of the night!

The Dyke Drama was thicker than the widest watchband and heavier than the toughest Lugz work boots.

Truth be told, Jackie could have stomped that Brotha Trainer worse than a pack of Hell's Angels. Brotha is lucky Jackie didn't pull his foreskin over his forehead. Word dat.

Hey Jackie, there are more than enough lezbo fish in the sea for you to reel in and munch on. Leave the hot hetero ones for the men on Our Team.

..........

It looks like this week's episode will be somber. One of Jackie's gay personal trainers has apparently died of an AIDS-related illness.

I remember my first encounter with an AIDS patient. It was early in my medical training days...about 1991. AIDS was starting to be understood but the stigma was enormous and The Fear was running wild.

I walked into a strict isolation room in a large hospital. I was wearing the obligatory "space suit" for contact with isolation patients...mask, gown, face-shield and gloves.

The room was dark and very cold. A handsome young man was holding hands with a skeleton. The skeleton was breathing what I came to know as the Death Gurgle...a rattling, labored wheeze of staggered breaths.

And there I was, 22 years old with my Eyes Wide Open. It felt like a giant spider had sunk it's fangs into my neck and sucked out my last drops of Innocence.

I left that room as a different person.

Sure, I had already been shot at, beat down and terrorized during my young life. But never before had I come face-to-face with True Suffering. I suddenly felt very old and feeble.

I'd never really believed in the "sunshine" version of God that had been hammered into my head since birth. But up to that point I had a kernel of faith in a Greater Consciousness, or something similar, that kept score and only allowed you to experience what you could handle.

All that sh*t went out the window after my encounter with the living skeleton. I had looked over The Edge and into The Abyss.

But when I die, I really hope I will be proven wrong. Why? Because I'd like to walk up to the All-Knowing, All-Feeling God of Religion...look Him in the eye...and kick him squarely in his Eternally Sadistic Balls.


About the Writer

Rev. F is a writer for BrooWaha. For more information, visit the writer's website.
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3 comments on That Big Dyke Is Stealing Our Women!!!

Log In To Vote   Score: 2
By V on April 30, 2007 at 11:05 am
Is there really a place called, 'Intercourse?'
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Log In To Vote   Score: 2
By Anonymous Party on April 30, 2007 at 11:13 am
Of course there is. It's the same location as Rev F's sex life. In his mind. Rev F, are you sure you're not related to (separated at birth from) Gary Peterson?
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By davemartin1965 on November 07, 2011 at 08:16 am

As a man living with HIV for over twenty-five years, and an AIDS diagnosis for twelve, I have to point out something. That "living skeleton" once had a name. A name now lost along with his life, his face, his hopes and dreams.

When my first lover showed up at my door in February 1987, looking like a "living skeleton," sobbing so hard that his body was convulsing and gasping for breath, I knew I'd never forget that moment. Even though at the time I believed I wouldn't live much longer. He had looked healthy just four months before.

I now tell people about Richard "Keith" Harris, because I don't want his name to be forgotten, or how much this "living skeleton" meant to me, how he changed me and my life, not for the worst, but for the better. Reminded me what it meant to put another person before oneself. And that yes, and athiest like myself can know compassion - not just for the familiar, but for strangers. And I have Keith to thank for that.

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