The Secret Life of Eugene Volokh’s Readers

In the comments to this post we learn that:

Being gay is like having an abortion, in a way.

Gays are desperate to “expand their numbers,” just like the ACLU.

Gay porn is propaganda for homosexuality! (Seriously.)

“You’re a drug addict.”

Mainstream gay culture is bitchy.

It’s like a giant wankfest over there, which I’m sure is turning quite a few of the commenters on.

You know what somebody desperately needs to tell all these guys concerned that somebody out there somewhere is going to make them gay?

YOU’RE NOT THAT HOT, OKAY?

Honestly. Most of the fundamentalist homophobes and their dishonest allies on the right are people I wouldn’t touch with the tip of an umbrella I shoplifted off the Salvation Army. I’m sorry that your usual tactic of standing outside the Circle K and yelling “What’s up baby! What’s up sluts!” isn’t pulling down the chicks these days, but that doesn’t mean there’s a secret conspiracy to turn you gay.

In fact, it’s not about you at all, you miserable pudknocker. It’s not about your deep-seated bisexual curiosity or the fact that deep down, you like to think about Clash of the Titans while pretending whatever unfortunate girl is under you is Harry Hamlin. It’s not about whether the barista at your local Starbucks might have been checking you out when you ordered your frilly triple chocolate caramel mousse machiato, or whether the fact that you blast the Moulin Rouge soundtrack got you a look from the DKNY model lookalike at the intersection. It’s not about you in your comfortable middle-class life where you have nothing to worry about except who your neighbors are fucking and in which positions and whether it’s possible to rig up a thing out your window to shine the webcam directly into their bedrooms and I’m sorry, where were we again?

God, the selfishness of these people. The narcissism. What possible difference does it make to you what anybody else may be thinking about your ass as you walk by? And what do you see in the mirror that makes you think anybody’s checking you out in the first place? And why should your own personal anxiety and obsession with your own firm buttcheeks be used as a basis to deny loving families the rights they deserve as fellow Americans and as human beings?

Schmuck.

A.