BYE-BYE BACHMANNs
By: Randy Gillis
To help commemorate the departure of Michele Bachmann from the political arena (hopefully), I thought I would dig up one from the vaults. Way back when word got out that Michele's hubby Marcus was in the 'cure the gay' business, and after seeing an eye-opening YouTube video of him, I decided to write him a letter, offering him what I thought was some sage advice. And considering he will now be primary bread earner, I think most of it is still good, especially if he intends to work outside the Cabaret circuit. So, for old time's sake:
AN
OPEN LETTER TO DR. MARCUS BACHMANN
Dear Dr. Bachmann,
Having just been introduced to you through the
miracles of the Internet, I feel compelled to send this letter of warning. Given all the good work you do with
homosexuals by delivering them to righteousness through your reparative therapy
program (and with no small contribution from the power of Jesus Christ), you
should know that you are in danger. In
any demonic possession situation, it is never the possessed that are at spiritual
risk, it’s the exorcist.
I fear that dedicating so much of your time to those
tormented souls has resulted in some “contamination,” if you will. To be blunt, you’re showing some signs. The moment I heard your voice my gaydar
(which was turned off and secured on the top shelf of my closet) turned itself
on, hopped into my office, jumped on top of my head and screamed like a girl. When we watched your charming dance on stage
with your lovely wife Michelle, my gaydar reached for the letter opener and
killed itself.
As we all know by now, prolonged exposure to
homosexuality will result in ever increasing homofication of God-fearing
heterosexuals. Perhaps those closest to
you are unable to see what’s happening (or they’re all laughing behind your back). But from where I sit, it’s as plain as the
tranny hooker on Eddie Murphy’s face.
I think your priorities should be as follows:
1. Voice and
diction training. When it comes to
gayness, the proof is in the S’s. And
you, my friend have enough incccccccidiousssssss S’sssss to warrant ssssssimply
too much sssssusssssssspiccccccion. I
don’t mean that to be cruel, but you need to know.
2. Invest in
a movement class. You have far too much
flounce in your bounce. And hands are
always a problem. If you can’t butch
them up, just keep them in your pocket.
In fact, as a general rule, the less movement you make the better. One limp wrist could undermine your credibility
as a butch heterosexual conversion therapist.
And you had far more than a limp wrist happening on that stage. You had…..JAZZ HANDS. And we all saw it.
3. Watch your
grooming. Yes, heterosexual men can be
well-groomed, but there’s well-groomed and then there’s gay-groomed and I think
you may have tippy-toed over the line.
4. No more
picking out your wife’s clothes. Though
you do a suspiciously good job, the implications are clear. You could delegate that task to one of your
patients, maybe as a work-study project to help some of the less fortunate gays
offset the (totally worth it) high cost of normalcy. You might as well take advantage before the
gay is gone.
Considering the sheer scale of the damage you’re
facing, you may need to resort to more extreme measures. You should seriously consider having an
extra-marital affair (with a woman), and a sex tape to go with it. And no fancy editing. We’ll need to see face, penis (yours and no
one else’s) and vagina all in the same frame.
And no trying to Photoshop your face on to Ron Jeremy’s body.
As a last resort, you can always enroll yourself in
your own reparative therapy program. The
world loves an ex-gay. They display the
strength of will, self-sacrifice and endurance that made America what it is
today.
Now that this situation has been brought to your
attention I’m sure you will take the steps necessary to ensure you house of
heterosexual cards will stand on solid ground.
Sincerely,
Your Longtime Companion (in Christ, silly)
Randy, the Barbarian Queen
