Gay Republicans are a pathetic little bouquet of pansies. They seek the light inside a dark closet, the door barely open a crack. Black Republicans are an even sadder bunch of boneheads. Now I don’t claim to know the black experience–I only claim to know the pink and brown one. I do know, however, that if you’re gay, you can remain in the closet. But if you’re black, all the ivory soap in the world isn’t going to wash the color God gave you off your body. And if you’re black and gay, then honey child, it’s best you come out of the closet and let yourself shine. I’ll even teach you how to order drinks in Spanish.
So it’s with some sadness but mostly shock that Ron Christie should play for the other team, the GOP. I don’t know if he’s gay, but he sure does sound it. And yes, I’m relying on a stereotype. Relax, I know a lot of gay men who are butcher than a Chuck Norris movie. I’m just saying that where there’s smoke, there’s usually a flamer.
Who is Ron Christie you ask?
Ron Christie is the black, balding, lazy-eyed, lisping pundit, the Black Republican Attack Puppy. He’s the Scrappy Doo of GOP politics, the Chicken Hawk out to get himself a chicken. And can it, I don’t mean it in THAT way. I mean it in the, he’s just so adorable and small and plucky and out to do battle with nothing more than his crooked grin and a lazy-ass eye way. What can I say? I’m a sucker for the underdog, no matter how pathetic.