Faggot PR

Faggot PR

A quick primer for hets on how to treat us fags.

At the end of this column I’m going into rehab. So if I offend you faggots while you’re reading it, there’s no point in getting all pissy, because I’m playing the “get out of bad PR free” card right up front.
I’m planning on choosing the facility with the highest doctor-to-celebrity ratio. No B-listers. I’m thinking more Mel Gibson than Mark Foley. However, I’ll avoid the clinic treating Isaiah Washington because that would be—to use Sharon Stone’s word—absurd.
Sharon thinks it’s absurd for Isaiah to be getting counseling for calling his Grey’s Anatomy costar T.R. Knight Patrick Dempsey’s “little faggot.” “Please,” Sharon explained to the New York Post, “I call all my gay friends ‘big fags.’ ”
Obviously, Sharon doesn’t understand the distinction between how she treats her own personal fags and Isaiah’s method of domesticating faggots. It’s a common mistake among fag owners, which is why I’m devoting this space to clarifying, once and for all, the proper manner for heterosexuals to address their faggots. Perhaps you should post this advice on your refrigerator or in your office cubicle to help your heterosexual masters understand you a little better:

The Care and Handling of Today’s Faggot, Or Some of Your Best Friends Are Fags

You are a heterosexual. And most heterosexuals, like Sharon, have a difficult time telling their faggots apart. So you group them together in a herd—your “gay friends.” You should not be ashamed of this because you are normal and your faggots are not. It may help to think of them as the amuse bouches in your life. But if we examine more closely how Sharon salutes her fags, we’ll learn why Sharon became an Out 100 cover girl and Isaiah wound up groveling to his faggot in order to save his job. You see, Sharon refers to her faggots as “big fags,” while Isaiah calls his fag a “little faggot.”
In general, fags don’t mind being considered larger than life. They’re flamboyant by nature. But they bristle when addressed in the diminutive, as in “You little fag.” The exception to this rule is when addressing a faggot who is, in fact, overweight. Do not call even the most minimally paunchy fag a big fag. Ever. “Big ol’ faggot,” is, ironically, wholly acceptable to your faggot since fags have no sense of their own aging. The word old is incomprehensible to them. Some scholars have postured that it’s actually inaudible, at least in Abercrombie stores.
Also common in some areas of our great nation is the greeting “You dirty little faggot.” This is especially vexing for your fags. They are, after all, a very meticulous species and will begin to self-loathe if their hygiene is called into question. Same with “motherfucking faggot.” Given his unnaturally close relationship with his domineering mother, you can understand why this might be considered inappropriate.
Heterosexuals under the age of 21 may use the words faggot, gay, or queer in whatever manner they wish because everything on the planet is “so fucking gay” to them and every one of their friends, gay or normal, is a stupid-ass queer.
It should be noted that if your faggot happens to be a lesbian, you should probably not slur around them at all. Dykes cannot distinguish the subtle differences between slurs because they are too busy being stridently militant and avoiding the right man.
Always appropriate is the greeting “You goddamn fucking faggot.” Even your savviest fag cannot dispute that God does, in fact, damn fags and that all they ever do is fuck, occasionally breaking to cut your hair. If for some reason your fag takes exception to this moniker and appears on Ellen to denounce your good name, feel free to beat your faggot about the head and torso while yelling “Goddamn fucking faggot” because you’ve watched your fair share of pride parades, and all those fucking faggots seem to really get off on being spanked and whipped. In fact, you might as well invite your friends to join you in the violence because everyone knows faggots love orgies, and, after all, no one can upbraid you because you’re only beating up one faggot, and many of your other best friends are still gay, and you’re a little drunk, and you sort of vaguely remember a creepy priest, and you’re going into rehab anyway.
Let me be the first to apologize for this column. I can neither defend nor explain my behavior. Your complaints will be forwarded to me. I’ll read them between spa treatments.