Brandon Kelley



Boy, am I beat. And it's not like I have some crazy life where I'm working three jobs and going to night school. No, I just have one job and a small apartment. I don't even have a pet to look after. Even so, it seems that no matter what I do, there's always more. If they put another eight hours in the day, I might be able to catch up on the laundry list of chores I have, or even just my laundry, if I were lucky. But you know who really gets it done? Homosexuals.


I know what you're saying: Brandon, you're just perpetuating the stereotype that homosexuals are superhuman. That is totally not true. All I'm saying is, with their boundless energy and talents, they make us straight guys look bad.

Just look at the way they dress. They must get up bright and early just to figure out how to match their homosexual outfits. They do this, plus take the time to have a nice, hot morning bath. And they eat, too. Homosexuals know that breakfast is the most important meal of the day. By 8 a.m., they are out the door, fully rested and raring to go.


For me, just shopping for a new pair of shoes is exhausting. I try on maybe one or two new pairs, and I'm ready to call it a day. But a homosexual can sit for hours in Barney's tirelessly trying on dozens of pairs, and when he finds the one he wants, why, he's ready to wear those shoes out to a homosexual club and dance all night. What vim!

And that's another thing: Even after partying all night, homosexuals must have to work a lot in order to earn enough money for their active lifestyles. After all, meals at the trendiest restaurants in town don't grow on trees. So they go to their jobs as designers and lawyers and architects and work hard to afford all these things. Their busy minds are always whirring, whirring, whirring.


They're no slouches at home, either—they always have to be fixing something. Homosexuals are the first ones to go into a bad neighborhood, buy a beautiful old building, restore it to its former grandeur, and then wait until a coffee shop opens on the block. Or they open one themselves! Do you understand? They don't even have a coffee shop when they move into the neighborhood. I can't get anything done without a cup of good coffee.

And do you know what they do after restoring a building? To the gym! They pump iron and play racquetball like they were tying their shoes. It's nothing to them. Or they go jogging in an urban riverside park and take their dogs with them. And as they do these things, they effortlessly carry on the most sparkling conversations filled with witty bon mots and juicy innuendo. That physical activity frees up their minds and gives them ideas for their next play or painting. Imagine being able to run six miles a day and make indelible contributions to the arts and letters of our country. Phew! I get tired just thinking about it!


And don't remind me about those gallery openings. After a hard day of work, I was barely able to drag my ass down to the last one. I told myself, I'm not doing this again anytime soon! But it would never occur to homosexuals to think those things. The moment I walked in, there they were, dressed impeccably and criticizing the choice of wine. They'd even prepared these fantastic hors d'oeuvres trays. Ever heard of jicama? Well, if you're homosexual, you have. It's a very tasty vegetable and, though exotic, an ideal choice for a light appetizer. Naturally!

So I ask, where do they get all their energy? Is it from all that meth? I've heard it's an epidemic in the homosexual community, and it may explain how they can charge through their day. But that doesn't seem like the whole explanation. Perhaps it's the centuries of persecution that's kept them on their toes. Or maybe homosexual sex is simply more invigorating and satisfying. Or could it be that their quest to be perfect is a way to compensate for their families' shame? It's a mystery to me! But whatever it is, it sure seems to be working.