I’m So Sick Of Hearing About Gay Cakes.

by Doug Giles 
Dear God… I am sick of hearing about gay cakes.
First off, I’d like to say that pretty much all cakes are gay.  Duh.  No offense, of course.
If you don’t believe me then Google “cakes”.  After that page loads select “images” and then look at what your search yielded up and tell me with a straight face those pics don’t look absolutely fabulous.
Tell me … what did you see?  I’ll tell you what you saw: fluffy yellow, brown or white cake filling donned with colored icing, decorated with rosettes or candy and/or some other kind of pleated, sugar-coated diabetes, belly fat and cellulite inducing crap. That’s what.

I have two things to say for that aforementioned visual: 1). Completely.  2). Boy George.
And don’t even get me started on cupcakes.  Cupcakes are verily gay.  Especially, mini-cupcakes.  I had some ladies leave some mini-cupcakes at my house after a baby shower the other day and I summarily took those quaint cakes and dumped ‘em in the garbage.  That ain’t paleo-diet stuff and I am a caveman so, ipso facto, in the trash they go.
Oh, and by the way, have you ever called someone a “cupcake”?  Was he acting effeminate? Yes? There, I rest my case.
I’m sure some of you are thinking, “What confectionaries, then, do I consume, if any?”  Well, since inquiring minds want to know, my go-to poison are brownies.  Why are brownies my dessert of choice?  Well, brownies look earthy, no frilly, fastidious lace needed and should I ever get glaucoma I can easily jam-pack it with some killer weed and it won’t seem weird.  And lastly, when I smile while I’m woofin’ down a brownie, I look like a 10^th century Viking savage which translates … not gay.

With my stance of the effeminacy of pretty much all cakes established, please, do tell, who the hell demands someone bake them a cake?  That. Is. So. Gay.
For God’s sake, man, go to a gay cakemaker or pick your haggard backside up and go to HEB and get some Betty Crocker cake mix, make your own damn cake and shut the heck up and help us focus on killing Islamic death-jockeys who sure as shiitake won’t bake you a frickin’ cake should they ever take the helm.
Honestly, obviously, and for the record, I find your fascistic demands for a private Christian business to bake you a gay cake as odious as I would if the Westboro Baptist Church berated a gay baker to build them a Sodom and Gomorrah cake commemorating its destruction.
In addition, gay dudes, why would you, the gay person, want to patronize someone who doesn’t dig your lifestyle?  Unless, you’re trying to stir up some faux political rage to distract us all from how Obama is screwing our nation or how Hillary’s email scandal makes Nixon look like an Amish schoolmarm?  Why would you want to give your hard earned drachmas to someone who isn’t down with your “life-style”?

I think its funny/pathetic how gays think they’re so rad by beating up on Christian bakeries.  What’s next? Christian florists?  Or some blue-haired Christian needlepoint granny who won’t crochet your groomsmen rainbow-colored loincloths?  Ooooh … Awww … you’re such a scary contrarian.  Are you going to force Christian filmmakers to film and produce gay porn?  When will you be satisfied, huh?
Look, gay-ragers, if you really want to stretch your wings why don’t you force a redneck custom-bike builder to build you a chopper with a pic of your checking Jethro’s oil on the gas tank?
Or … or … better yet, why don’t you try your bake-me-a-cake crap at a Muslim boulangerie or ask a halal deli owner to fry you up a mountain of BLTs for your wedding reception?
C’mon, rowdies … why don’t you focus your angst on Islam?  Because they truly hate you and they wish you dead.  But you’ll never do that because you know what would happen, so you continue to bully soft targets and then pretend like you’re somehow a 21^stcentury Nuevo Rosa Parks pushing for the front of the bus.

Lastly, if I was gay, and I’m not, but I do think Ellen is a hoot, I would live and let live, c’est la vie .  I wouldn’t force anyone to do squat for me.  I would prize the freedoms afforded in this grand experiment in self-governance and if someone doesn’t want to do business with me then I’d mosey on to someone who would, versus trying to trash our First Amendment and become the land of the free’s perpetual pain in the butt.