Tom Tuna and His Rusty Trombone



If god intervenes in sporting events, how does he/she/it determine who wins?

“St. Michael, please hold all of my incoming prayers. The game’s about to start, and I have yet to pick a winner.  Okay, let’s see. Heads, it’s the Cowboys. Tails, I’m going with the Redskins.  If it lands on its edge, I’ll collapse sections 112-121.”

Who’s to say the Supreme Being doesn’t enjoy nachos, and cheap American Beer while watching Sweaty, Fat Men roll around on artificial grass?

I mean, why not?

Speaking of Liberace.

American Football is Queer.

Even more so than Ice Dancing.

At least in Ice Dancing, you have a female partner.

Football?

Nope.

You’re nose to nose, ass to face, dick to neck with a bunch of Other Dudes in Tight Pants as they attempt to Cram their Ball into Your End Zone.

(The Cheerleaders ain’t foolin’ anyone, Son).

Men who never played, but love to watch, are even Creepier.

Vicarious Dutch Ruddering.

I was flipping through the channels the other day, and stumbled upon the movie 300.

Woof.

Talk about Homo-erotic.

Ugh.

I know what you’re thinking.

And, no, I don’t hate or even dislike Gay People.

In fact, I really couldn’t care less.

I’ve just always found it odd that so much of what’s considered “Manly” is, in all actuality, thinly veiled Gay.

Take 300 for example.

Digitally Enhanced, Spray On Tan, Oiled Up Men huddled together in extremely close quarters Stabbing each other with Spears (Piquerism).

Come on.

What the Fuck?

As Perry Farrell said, and Ted Bundy demonstrated-

Sex is Violent.

And what about that Moof, George W. Bush (aka Chimpy Mc Stagger)?

Dude was always Posturing. Forever portraying himself as a “Real Man” in his silly Action Figure Outfits, and What Not.

Mother Fucker can’t even Speak English.

Ah, but you see. That’s not what “Matters.”

Elitist Fags worry about Education. Men worry about whether or not other Men know about the Size of Other Men’s Wangs.

Guy can’t read or write, but he does have a Huge Johnson. Of course, I’m pretty sure it’s a Sock, but in the end, Appearance is All That Matters.

Fucking ‘A, right. Giv’em the codes to the Missiles.

Shave my head. Sleep with Men!! Where do I sign?!!

The Point?

Christ, you people, and your need to have everything come to some Nice, Neat, Clean Fucking Conclusion.

Fine.

By influencing the outcomes of Sporting Events, and Wars between Sweaty, Image Obsessed Men, god is, at the very least, tacitly approving of Homosexuality.

Be it Repressed or Not.

Therefore, all this Melodrama about Homosexuality being “Abomination” cuz White, Republican, Redneck Jesus says so, is nothing more than the Rantings of Men who secretly dream of being on the Business End of a Rusty Trombone.









Advertisements

~ by fairlane on March 26, 2010.

One Response to “Tom Tuna and His Rusty Trombone”

  1. I’ve always hated football but you express my reasons better than I could. Nevertheless, I love it when jocks pick up barbells using ropes attached to their genitals but wonder if those johnsons have a practical application?

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

 
%d bloggers like this: