Part Two: Solutions to the Problem


Impressionable students eager to develop a target for their pelvises may not even notice the tiny gay recruitment text in this classroom poster. But it's still not small enough for Measure Nine's taste.
It's clear that gays and redneck lobbyists can't live together. One group likes to have sex amongst themselves and the other group enjoys line dancing. It will never work. The best solution would be to separate them, using the classic drunken bigot idea of walling off a city and putting all the gays in it. We'll call it Penal System Homotropolis. Think of the disco paradise they could build for their people. Some might call it an unfair prison, and maybe they're right. Some might say it's wrong to take them away from their friends, family, and lifestyle to stick them in a giant maximum security compound, and maybe those people are right too. But maybe it's also wrong that they didn't consult the nazis on who it was okay to take on a date. Look at it from their point of view, gays. They didn't even get to vote on who your sexual partners are. How would you like it if you never got a say in which minorities they beat up?

Penal System Homotropolis would be a serious international undertaking, creating literally thousands of jobs. There might be a few problems, though. It would be nearly impossible to constantly guard millions of people especially inside a prison of that size and fabulousness, but the cool thing about maximum security prisons is that when someone escapes, lots of cars and shit blow up along the way. Anyone that could get out of Penal System Homotropolis would be some kind of Super-Gay. They'd be able to jump through windows, catch bullets in their teeth, and punch through a man's skull. If America adopts my system of a gay prison colony, they'd be creating two, perhaps three, incredible action fugitives. And the dolls depicting these gay hero-rogues would appeal to children of both sexes: snap-back kung fu chop for the boys and a removable scented bridal dress for the girls. Forget what I said earlier about me being an idiot. I'm history's greatest genius.

Left: The winner of the second grade "Escape from Homotropolis" movie poster design contest.
If Oregon still ignores my system and passes measure 9, what are teachers supposed to do when children ask them about AIDS? Say a student's uncle dies of AIDS (Auto Immune Disease Something) and they go to their teacher to request more information. Since a wrong move will cost them their job, and a school teacher's salary can only be replaced by a part-time Orange Julius janitor's paycheck, I've made a short list of procedures to help teachers deal with the situation AND keep their job.


Explain that sometimes God's children get confused like their uncle and they put their ding-dongs where they don't belong. This makes evil puppies climb in through their tummies and eat their insides until they die. Explain clearly that their uncle was too naughty to discuss in school and is somewhere boiling in a lake of razor blades and fire. Cover your ears and babble as loudly as you can if they keep bugging you about it.


It's illegal to mention gays or diseases they have, so tell them that their uncle died from a disease that homosexuals can't catch. Like pancreatic cancer or vaginally-communicable penis rash. Make up a name if you have to. They're in grade school because they're uneducated dumbasses-- those little idiots will believe anything you tell them.


Take the child off school grounds and get a random non-teacher-certified pedistrian off the street to explain things. If you want, you can just give the kid a note that reads, "Hello. I am a child with an eager mind and undeveloped desires. Please explain to me what homosexual love is." Tell them to show it to all the strangers they can on their way home.


Point behind them and tell the child to "LOOK OUT!" Then put them in a big sack when they turn around and throw them out a window.


Explain to them that their parents and other voters are fucking crazy nazis, and they're more worried about who some stranger is laying than how much of a moron their kids will grow up to be.

Continue to Part 3: Editorial Desires: "Intimate Secrets Ignite"

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