American Football Is Gay

Sometimes, as a big football contest is approaching, people say things to me, like, "so Wes, who do you want to win the big game?" And I used to say things like, I don't give a crap.

Then they would spend the next fifteen minutes to an hour telling me how I am a failure as a human being because I don't have an interest in football. (Or any other spectator sport, except women's single figure skating and women's single nude gymnastics.)

Being that sort of person that I am, I got tired of always being the one on the receiving end of the criticism. So rather than say I don't give a crap about football, I now instead say Football Is Gay.

Now, the truth is, I don't think football is gay. But I do KNOW that every guy who insists I'm a failure as a human being for not liking football is a raging homophobe.

Sure enough, almost every time I say football is gay, even people who know me well enough to know better protest vehemently. They walk right into a Football Is Gay diatribe, by demanding to know how I could say such a thing. (If they weren't such big loser homophobes they would just say, "So?")

If you want to play along, here are some of the high points of the diatribe.

Tight Ends. Just anyone can't be a Tight End. It takes talent. It requires flexibility. You have to be able to block OR receive. Good practice: on your dates with your boyfriends, alternate as butch or fem.

Of course all football players live for the chance to handle a ball. Some of them, like these, practice for hours dancing around, handling balls. Note that these players have been practicing so long their balls are blue. Hey guys, the trick for preventing that is to let the balls drop gently before "rushing to the next play."

In the picture below we see the main reason women and gays love football. Men in tight pants freely displaying themselves squatting and bending over.

Football fans point to cheerleaders as proof that football is not gay. But these women are not allowed anywhere near the huddles. They are the fag hags of football. When a player does well do any of these women pat him on the butt? Hell, no! It'll be one of their gay team-mates every time! And the fag hags will cheer them both on!

Maybe this wavehead isn't gay. BUT HE'S PROUD TO BE A FUCKING WAVEHEAD?

Seriously, football isn't gay. But here's graphic proof of how homophobic it is. Look at this picture that shows how a typical center sees himself. A lone lion on the field ready to snap the ball to no one in particular and win the game all by his ferocious own self.

Compare that to the reality, and recognize that the denial can only be explained by a refusal to admit that the job entails a hand up your crotch every five minutes, and you're just one boy in a field of 22, all taking turns rolling around in the grass on top of each other.

Balls For NASA

Like many geniuses I get more brilliant ideas than anyone can use. This is one of those, which came to me last night as I was making my way from the bed to the bathroom at 4 AM, half asleep. I noticed that, as always, there was an enormous amount of Anitra leavings everywhere. Anitra leavings consist of books, half-spent shampoo containers, boxes, both empty and half full, loose papers, pamphlets, pointy things, half pairs of shoes, containers of garden crud, her glasses, which could be anywhere at anytime (they have a smeared out wave function), all unlaundered clothes, and probably a composting worm or two, trying with all his might to compost all the other stuff.

I thought, "Gee, if there were no gravity forcing all of Anitra's stuff to the floor, she'd be able to leave things hanging up in the air, too, and fill the whole room to the ceiling with flotsam! As I tried to picture that, it occurred to me that except for the pointy things, which we DO NOT want floating, it wouldn't be so bad. You could push against the stuff to move around.

Then I remembered all the problems NASA has with weightlessness in space capsules and the space station. Consider this image of a typical astronaut sitting in the space shuttle in orbit around the earth. There's no reason for her to protect against collision up there. The odds of hitting something are miniscule, what with flying through what's mostly a vacuum, and if you did collide with something, a seatbelt wouldn't help -- you'd be creamed. So why is she wearing one?


Because floating loose about in the shuttle is a pain, that's why!

Notice, too, that there are no books or papers lying about that aren't nailed down. That's because if there were, they wouldn't lie about for long. They'd be floating around and getting in the way, taking up our professional astronauts' valuable time so they can't do the important astronauting we put them up there for.

So I had a brainstorm. Let's give the astronauts balls!

They would be clear plastic hollow balls. They would be lightweight. There would not be enough of them in the cabin to prevent the astronauts from moving around, but there would be just enough that the astronaut could push against them as an aid in controlling their own motion. The problem with trying to swim in air, as NASA has long known, is that air just slips away. It doesn't offer enough resistance. Molasses, on the other hand, supply no oxygen, but would go up the nose unwelcome anyway.

Plastic balls larger than anyone's nostrils would not go up noses! Also, balls do not poke people's eyes out, so that's why I'm recommending balls rather than scissors, steak-knives, or icepicks.

Finally, by using translucent balls, our astronauts will still be able to find each other and perform their NASA mandated socializing duties.

Think how happy our astronaut will be when she's surrounded by brand new balls!