Clay Cane reports an intimate talk with Gospel girls Mary Mary where they sweetly dissed the gays who love them. Below are my feelings on them lumping us in with 'prostitutes'.
Typical Christian holier-than-thou bullshit.
I always expected those very words to spew from their mouths, as if the church sends out a pamphlet to answer such questions. That's why I already don't support them, and now my sixth-sense is vindicated.
I'd like to see ONE person tell me why my lifestyle is wrong, without referencing the bible.
Just one. But they can't. They can't get past their own fantasies about how life should be. And, who cares, we're talking about people who believe that Noah was the only person on the planet with a boat. Yeah, bitch, I got your prostitute. Look down on me all you want, bat those hypocritical eyes and keep dreaming of your heaven full of homophobes.
I'll keep being real.
The deadline for my first column for FLAVALIFE Magazine was approaching fast. As is my habit, I got down-right personal. Here's a piece, read the full article coming in the Jan/Feb issue. (the cover left is a back issue) ~~
I broke up with my boyfriend on MySpace. Don’t laugh. It’s not funny.
Since its inception in July 2003, MySpace has infected the planet like a virus. I tried to be above it. I did. But everyone from Judge Mathis to Ms. Cleo has a page with all the bells and whistles and do-dads. I hate the bandwagon. It’s so common. And since I was a little knock-kneed boy running from bullies (who always seemed hell-bent on breaking my glasses) I’ve known I was hardly common.
Yeah. I was special, damnit. That’s why everyone wanted to kick my ass.
Warp to present—I set up a MySpace page (okay, so I am a little common). I set up a tasteful one with a slide-show to represent my life and passions in cyberspace. My boyfriend did also, except on his page I was nowhere to be seen. Okay, it seems like a little thing. But my absence on his MySpace was an insult to my page, where he’s heavily featured. My absence through the tons of pictures he displayed told me where I was on the list of his life’s passions. Sure, if I mentioned it, he’d put one up. But how cool is it to be an afterthought? Yeah. Little things mean a great deal.
So I flipped out. He’d been fuckin’ up anyway and this was the last straw. Since we weren’t speaking—our own little Cold War on 5th Street—I wrote a note and left it on his offending, not-giving-me-my-just-props page:
‘Your Page speaks volumes to me …
your absence spoke even more.
It’s over, boy. Fly.’
No one likes a public display of dirty draws, but in my defense, I can be a real asshole when motivated. A day later he deleted it without a word slicing the gloom between us.... ~~~
Full article coming in the Jan/Feb issue of FlavaLife ....
Since everyone's talking about rappers lately, gay ones in particular, I'll take the opportunity to post pictures of one of my favorites, Q-Boy.
Anyway, more candid pics info after the jump.