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2001-07-08 - 7:22 p.m.

Who the hell is Bob? Bob?

That was the question that kept running through my mind this morning as I was in the shower, lathering up...

KEN!!! No one, and I do mean no one, wants that particular mental image, thank you very much.

Yeah, neither did I. That's why I was wearing shorts and a t-shirt in the shower. Wouldn't want to go proving to anyone that "infantile" isn't just an adjective for my state of mind...

KEN!!! No one wants to think about that, either. The question that everyone (and by everyone we mean Bob and his or her cronies) wants to know is,

"Kenny, why are you so gay?"

Well, that's a very simple question. I, unlike most gay people, choose to be gay. I chose to become gay so that I could get out of the Navy....oh, wait, that was Wej. 100%, grade-A, U.S. Navy certified homsexual. And, as he's so proud of reminding me, because he is in fact gay, he can use words like F****T. See, even I get censored when I try to type it, just like in South Park.

Umm....I'm not really gay. I just wish I was queer so I could get chicks...no, wait, that's the Bloodhound Gang. (Although, like Jimmy Pop Ali, I too am too ugly to be gay.)

In fact, I'm not gay. In any sense of the word, Bob (if that is your real name, which I highly doubt, because I only know one guy named Bob, and he would never call me Kenny because he doesn't fancy the taste of his own scrotum.)

Ouch, that last paragraph was both mean and far too graphic. Please be advised that the words you just read were rated PG-13. If you are under the age of 13 and reading this without a parent or guardian, shame on you. Go and tell your parents how negligent they are to let the Internet raise you without their supervision, and that they suck as parents for doing so.

As I was saying, I am neither homosexual, nor particularly happy and joyful right now. In fact, I am quite the opposite of gay in both definitions. Which brings me to another point. "So gay?" What the hell kind of question is that. One is either gay, or one isn't. One is either happy and joyful enough to be considered gay, or one is not. There are no degrees of gayness. There is pleased, thrilled, ecstatic, gay, orgasmic, and nirvana. You fall into one of these categories if you are happy. But there are no divisions within. One is not more orgasmic than someone else anymore, is one? Or more nirvanic? (Nirvanic. Wow. I bet I could get Buddhists to hit me if I said that to them.) No, I didn't think so. Anyway, I'm not gay, I'm hovering around thrilled most of the time, with brief skyrockets all the way to orgasmic once in a while (stop talking about that, Ken). But I usually don't come to a rest within the gay range.

I am also very heterosexual, as my pathetic and laughable attempts at a love life will attest to. (yeah, I know, I've gotten lucky lately, but trust me, she'll come to her senses one day.) It's not that I don't try hard, but let's be realistic here. It's not like the Titanic didn't try hard not to sink.

Anyway, this whole dialogue was running through my head while I was wetting myself down under the warm water of the shower head, so I figured I'd share it with you. Now, "Bob", the question should be, why are you asking such dumb questions? And don't you think it's time you told me who you were? You obviously know me, and as you addressed me as, ahem, "Kenny," you either know me from high school, or you met me in college and feel that I will put up with such crap again. And I probably will. I'm just curious, is all.

So come on, Bob. What's your deal? What about you, Bob? Yes, what about Bob?

Ken

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