This diary, short and sweet, is really dedicated to the six people who found no humor whatsoever, thank you, in the piece I wrote yesterday about how it's the "butt stuff" that male homophobes find so scary about "teh gey".
It is not an apology.
It's a suggestion.
Stop reading my stuff.
There were six people who dominated the comment section of my poorly attended diary yesterday. They spent a good part of a delightful Saturday to denounce me for a satirical diary I wrote. And if you don't know which one I'm talking about, the link to it is here. Although, please don't read it if you're going to be offended by it. If you read it and are offended by it, you have been warned.
In fact, if you read it and are offended by it after being warned, then it is YOUR fault you were offended. Not mine.
Anyhoo...
To the six of you who were horribly, horribly offended by your own ability to comprehend satire written by someone who is on your side, satire written by someone who abhors violence against women (or anybody, for that matter -- being a woman doesn't make violence against YOU any more violent than violence against ME), satire written by someone who is jubilant in the fact that we finally have a sitting President of the United States who agrees with the concept of full marriage equality. The six of you who apparently break into fits of weeping when someone writes a bit of satire about the mindset of the churlish man who is disgusted by the idea of men having anal play with other men but enjoys watching videos of women (as long as they're porn star "beautiful") going at each other because there's a chance that in his mind he might be invited to join in, the mindset of a man who thinks "the butt stuff" between two men is disgusting when he has no problem forcing the center of his universe into the unwilling anus of his wife or girlfriend, the six of you who reach for the fainting couch and grab for the smelling salts when rape wasn't even a topic of the diary (read it carefully... the character I was writing about got permission to "try" the act in question and eventually removed the center of his universe when he was told to), the six of you who think the fact that I wrote about a subject that makes you angry means that I must somehow be a villain.
No apologies.
The words of one reader more than make up for YOUR lack of understanding of what I was trying to convey. The words of ONE person who wrote in the comments...
Thank you, Bill. You made my day today, and with the day I had yesterday (which started out with the news that Donna Summer had died), this was some welcome comic relief. Plus, there was that whole "FINALLY!! A str8 guy who gets it!" moment I had around the fifth paragraph.
As for any naysayers who may or may not be named after a popular spice used on toast, rolls, and sticks to stir coffee -- you have my permission to tell them to grow from love.
That comment tells me that what I wrote WAS understood for what it was meant to be. And the professionally perpetually offended among you who see no humor in ANYTHING may outnumber folks like this other fellow and myself... but you will not crush our spirits.
You have been rape victims. I understand that. I am sorry for your suffering. People are going to write about rape. I, however, did not. I wrote about consensual situations in an adult relationship where a man oversteps the permission he was given and then can't understand why he had to comply with her demand to stop something she agreed to in the first place.
I wrote about stupidity. I wrote about brutish inability to empathize. I wrote about homophobes.
I will keep writing what I write. You are free to ignore it.
I would rather you did, actually.
When you see my name on something, just pass it by. Save us both the grief.
I'm writing for the people who understand that it's the comics, the satirists -- the Lenny Bruces, the George Carlins, the Wanda Sykes, the Janeane Garafolos -- brilliant minds of whom I am not worthy to even MENTION in a diary, let along compare myself to... the people who weren't or aren't afraid to GO THERE out of risk of OFFENDING the pearl clutchers... they are the ones who help bring about social change.
I am on your side. But I'd rather you not read my diaries any more if this is how sad and unhappy and angry they are going to make you, allowing the individual WORDS as you do to keep you from seeing the POINT!
All those TREES make it hard to see the FOREST, right?
Again, thank you for your kind attentions. And you might want to avoid my website of social commentary and satire, http://ex-examiner.com because I write stuff like this THERE, too! I would hate to be responsible for your missing the fainting couch and hitting your head on the radiator or something. And if you live alone (which it is utterly unfair of me to suggest that most of you do) there will be no one to find you and your cats will eventually wonder why they're not getting fed, and being cats, will begin to dine on your face and finally either the neighbors will notice the smell of decomp or you'll begin to leak into the apartment below you and somehow it will be all my fault. I couldn't live with that.