Let's dispense with the stereotypes. I am not a nut. I am not a foaming-at-the-mouth right-winger. Nor am I a closet homosexual compensating for the guilt I experience because of dirty, dirty sexual feelings.
I am simply pro-parent and pro-family. I am for the children, and as such, I undertook a daunting task that took me to the seamy underbelly of America's sexual culture.
It was shocking. Horrifying, even. But my eyes and ears did not deceive me. What my minister at Landover Baptist Church told me was true.
Homosexuals have an agenda, and I am here to expose it.
What spurred me to infiltrate the homosexual camp and find out what fiendish plot they were cooking up?
It was The Christopher Lowell Show on the Discovery Channel.
I know I should have watched my son Joseph more carefully. But I only turned my back for a few minutes to write a letter to my congressman encouraging him to ban this Internet thing I keep hearing about on "The 700 Club." Homosexuals are using it to lure innocent children into a life of perversion!
God has blessed us with many technological and medical advances over the years, such as fertility drugs that allow infertile Christian couples to keep our ranks populated.
A heathen might argue that if God wanted infertile couples to have children, he would have given them the necessary plumbing to aid procreation. That's just crazy Pagan talk.
So, while I praise God for recent advances, this Internet thing has me worried. I haven't been so worried since I learned that Tinkie Winkie bats for the other team. That revelation prompted me to regulate television viewing in my home, and now little Joseph only watches the God-approved Veggie Tales.
(Although Larry the Cucumber is rather phallic. I'm starting a letter-writing campaign tomorrow to change his character to Larry the Squash.)
In order to finish my letter, I left Joseph in front of the television watching the wholesome Veggie Tales. I thought it would be safe. I've told Joseph not to change the channel, and he knows to mind his father.
After I finished addressing, stuffing and licking the envelope, Joseph walked into the dining room and exclaimed, "Daddy, the wall trimming doesn't match the curtains!"
The wall trimming doesn't match the curtains. I was speechless. My little man, who enjoyed re-enacting The Crusades with his GI Joe action figures, berated me for my interior decorating.
What did I do wrong? I pondered. Didn't I refrain from unconditional love? Didn't I make him eat steak every night? Didn't his mother take him to all of those Promise Keepers meetings? Didn't we buy him Austin 3:16 t-shirts?
As this was racing through my mind, I heard a lispy voice emanating from the living room, and it was then that I realized I can only do much to protect my son from the homosexuals. They were now taking over the airways and beaming their interior decorating tips to America's sons.
What could I do? How could I stop them? Well, as former Christian Coalition leader Ralph Reed once said, "Keep your friends close, but your enemies even closer." I had to, for my son, for all of our sons and daughters, find out what the homosexuals were planning.
I told my best friend Jason what I planned to do. He shook his head and asked why I was obsessed with homosexuals. He didn't understand. Most Americans don't. They're oblivious to the threat.
To them, Ellen is just a harmless, marginally funny comedienne and Rupert Everett is a strikingly handsome actor.
But no more. I'm bringing the threat to light. You're going down, Ellen and Rupert.
Not knowing any homosexuals, I ventured to the local feminist bookstore. Lesbians go there. I've seen them, canoodling and pretending that eternal damnation doesn't await them.
An odd-looking woman named Ani DiFranco was scheduled to appear at the bookstore on a Wednesday night, and a poetry "slam" was to follow. This was my chance.
I threw on a flannel shirt and a pair of old jeans. I wasn't sure I'd blend in, but the lesbians accepted me with open arms. (Luckily I had remembered to shave that morning.) I concocted a life story, and they ate it up. I was in.
They told me that the next meeting was at the secret room in the Pottery Barn downtown. The password was "mimosa" for the men and "beer" for the women.
I didn't dare tell my wife what I was planning. She's forever condemning my "meddlesome" plans. "Mrs. Kravitz" she calls me. Well, I'd show her, once I had my hands on The Homosexual Agenda.
I sneaked out of the house the night of the meeting, telling my wife that I was going out with the other husbands whose wives were attending Mary Perganol's baby shower.
Mary's bed-ridden because she's pregnant with nonuplets, and the ladies at Landover Baptist, including my dear wife, wanted to cheer her up. Carrying nine of God's blessings at one time can bring down even the most dedicated Christian woman.
Finding the Pottery Barn wasn't difficult. There was a parade of rainbow flag-covered cars lining the street. I walked around to the back and knocked on the door.
"Whasss the pathword?" said a disembodied voice. I stammered for a second, nearly blowing my cover with a "Mim-", and finally blurted out, "Beer!"
I heard the door being unlocked. I was in. I was definitely in.
Seated in a circle were the town's homosexuals, many of whom were prominent citizens. This went further than I had suspected. Even the mayor Judy Bennett was there! But I had pegged her as part of the plot. Real women stay at home with their children.
I won't bore you with the details of the meeting, other than to say Councilman Bruce Thompson's Salmon Benedict was delish. All that matters is that I secured a copy of the official Homosexual Agenda directly from the Head Homosexual, Christopher Lowell himself!
The agenda starts out innocently enough: breakfast, jog in the park, manicure and hair appointment, watch "Martha Stewart Living," brunch.
It's the 2 O'clock hour that strikes fear in my heart:
1) Assume complete control of federal, state and local governments. Refurbish Oval Office. Move headquarters to Christopher Street.
2) Break down children's natural resistance to homosexuality through the musical video "That's Homosexuality!"
3) Petition for recognition of homosexual marriages, thus destroying all healthy heterosexual unions, particularly those in the Bible Belt.
4) Erect re-education camps to convert heterosexuals.
5) Establish breeding gulags to feed our desire for a continuous stream of prepubescent love slaves.
6) Force all churches to embrace Unitarian-Universalism.
7) Turn the Internet into a bastion of homo/lesbo love.
Get beauty rest to prevent wrinkles and gray hair caused by the stress of plotting for world domination.
With this proof of an impending homosexual takeover, I stormed over to my friend Jason's house and threw The Homosexual Agenda at his head. He glanced at the paper, giggled and mouthed, "It's a joke."
A joke! Well, I was indignant. As I looked at my unbelieving friend, I shook my head and said, "Jason, wait until I tell you what the queers are doing to the soil."
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