Fags are everywhere. They kiss and lick each other’s asses on network television. They populate politics. They can get married. And leaders of the NFL and NBA claim fudge-packers have a fair shot at the pro sports dream in America.
Why, an admitted cocksucker has even balled with the best in the NBA, and another hunky homo is getting all kinds of credit for being the little fag that almost could be good enough for the NFL (but, naturally, good enough for a reality dance show).
But the butt-fuck stops here, or so the last bastions of conservative America hope.
Yeah, like any butt hole is going to give up getting fucked after it’s been taken for a ride on that autobahn of ecstasy.
Gay people are more acceptable than black people, for goodness sake! In a country where gay lives matter more than black lives, the homo haters are still gonna hate?
Apparently, no dying species gives up without a fight.
Case and point: the Bible-thumping, current Indiana governor, a white-haired devil named Pence.
Just when the world should be focused on Hoosier hysteria and the NCAA Final Four at Lucas Oil Stadium next week, the world will be focused on the hateful, fucked-up “right to refuse service to gay people on the grounds of religion” act just made law by the antichrist.
That’s right Gov. Pence is the antichrist. If there’s anything about the Bible that appears reasonable, it’s the idea that someone who preaches “love everybody” is Christ-like, and someone who teaches otherwise is antichrist-like.
Gov. Antichrist is getting all kinds of shit right now and deservedly so.
The NCAA and just about every faction of the sports world is calling for a boycott of my beloved home state of Indiana. On one hand, Indiana is like family. I don’t want to see anybody diss it or not stimulate its economy, especially with big-time events.
On the other hand, if this is what it takes to get my conservative-ass state off its conservative ass and get with the future, which is now, so be it.
My red state remains redneck and that’s why I don’t live there.
Matter fact, that’s why I don’t live in any red state or un-evolved state of mind.
Still, I love Indianapolis. I love my hometown. It’s as much a part of me as anything. It was my entire world for the first 18 years of my life!
I love what the city has made of itself in my lifetime, a place where young people and those who support them come to the find themselves through sport.
The state defines itself through sports. Indiana basketball. The Indianapolis 500.
Sports integrated the state, thanks in large part to schools in places like Shelbyville, Gary, Fort Wayne, and the once all–black Indianapolis Crispus Attucks, whose 1950s basketball teams became the first high school in the city to win the state tournament.
In the 1970s, Mayor Bill Hudnut boldly envisioned a new identity for the town previously known mostly for the 500, its sleepy nickname (Naptown) and the circular highway loop around the city that cross-country motorists traveled on the way to elsewhere.
Indianapolis: the amateur sports capital of the world.
Hudnut made it happen, the dream came true.
Downtown Indianapolis is a thriving place with amateur sporting events aplenty, professional sporting events aplenty, conventions, Super Bowls, NCAA Final Fours, the Big Ten basketball and football championships, the annual NFL combine, figure skating championships, swimming championships, track and field championships and the list goes on.
All that live action, bustling on any given weekend in the city, has one thing in common: sports, the single most thing that has integrated life in America. More than anything else since the original settlers integrated America, first by arriving themselves, then by forcing others to move here and become slaves.
Sports has exposed more black people to white people and more white people to black people and more brown people and red people and so on more, than anything else.
Sports happens right at home, in your backyard, down the street, at school, at the arena known as the barn, where 10,000 fans fill the joint and all of them are happy in equal measure when their team wins the big one, all of them jumping for joy, high-fiving, clapping, shouting, screaming, regardless of color, regardless of the colors of the team.
Sports brings us together as humans and allows us to see our common denominators, the joy of competing, the joy of routing your rival, the thrill of victory, the agony of defeat, the common dream that is “wait till next season.”
When it comes to sports, the colors that matter most are the colors of the team that you and others are rooting for, regardless of the color of your skin. That’s what makes sports so majestic in this country, in fact, in the world.
Those were the lessons I learned, among many, while while sitting in the stands at the Fairgrounds Coliseum, then Market Square Arena, then Conseco Fieldhouse. Those were the lessons I learned at the original Victory Field/Bush Stadium. Those were the lessons I learned playing sports, being a college cheerleader.
How much is Indiana still a part of me? The Pacers and the Hoosiers are still my favorite teams, above all others, even the schools I attended (except for when I was actually attending those schools).
Case and point: me cheering my heart out for UCLA to win the 1985 in IT championship over Bobby Knight, Steve Alford and the Indiana Hoosiers because my uniform said UCLA.
But I digress.
What now, Gov. antichrist? Is it just the wedding industry that has a right to deny me service? Or is it everybody? I mean, can I go to Marsh Supermarket? Can I get into the Pacers game?
How much fucking freedom do these people get at the expense of mine? And where is the slippery slope going, I wonder?
Are you, the dying species, going to dig in even deeper and try to chip away at gay rights, abortion, voting rights? Why stop there?
In the case of two out of three of those issues, you’re using the weapon of mass delusion, a.k.a. religion. In the other case, you’re citing voter fraud. Newsflash: both of those excuses are only in your narrow and/or selfish mines.
You may choose to live in the 16th century or earlier, but myself and the rest of your opponents choose not to bow down to your #Hoosierhomophobia.
If you believe we’re going to go backwards, not forwards, in the long run, and that your petty and temporary actions are going to have any consequence in the long run, add that to your delusional ideas.
I am going to continue to be back home again in Indiana when I need to. You and your petty little ideas and rulings are not going to keep me from enjoying the place where I grew up, the place that I love.
I know Indiana, and you, Gov. Antichrist, are not the future of Indiana.
You sir, are the past. Can you see the rest of the world going by as you stand there in the corn field of your empty mind?
Can you imagine an Indiana that that welcomes, marries, cheers for, and does business with homosexuals?
Fortunately, you don’t have to. We’re going to imagine it for you.
What am I going to imagine? The Gay Games, Indy — some day on some future playground, probably occupied by some recent decedents of the Pence family.
Now that will be a fucking dream come true.
Randy Boyd author 