Homo Blintzes Killed My Breakfast!

(11 pm. – promoted by ek hornbeck)


I’m starving.

I sat down to eat this morning, toasted a slice of organic, sprouted, whole-grain Ezekiel bread, frosted it with the fat-free

“I can’t believe its not,” then raised it to my mouth.

But I never took a bite… on account of the Gay Blintzes.

How am I supposed to eat my heterosexual meal with the mental image of the blintzes canoodling each other? I’m twelve inches from cheesy, buttery, yogurty, mushroomy sexuality and I’m expected to be excited by the “breeder bread”?

And I’m not stupid… the Gay Eggs are not “minding their own business” like the liberal left would have you believe.

They have an AGENDA, which is, of course, to CONVERT me.


The Eggs Benedict call like sirens, beckoning me to exchange my nutritional restraint of “whites, no salt” with the sinful, orgiastic, hedonism of Hollandaise.

Look, I’ll admit, in college I “experimented” (and that’s ALL it was); getting up early so that none of my friends would see me downing a dozen “deviled”, their creamy, salty, whipped-up-and-stuffed-back yuminess dissolving in my mouth–

Oh, God! See! This is just how it starts!

Next thing you know I’ll be posting half-naked photos of Zac Efron, whomever he is!

zac efron Pictures, Images and Photos

See! See!


How am I supposed to get my next-of-kin to live a life of “hard boiled” or at worst “over well”, when somewhere in the world there’s a Bacon and Swiss Strata trying to lure them into a pair of ill-fitting jeans and ugly, if comfortable, loafers?!?

See, like me, the crazy moralists, inspired by Newt Gingrich, understand how imperative it is that we pass a 28th Amendment, the Defense of Breakfast Act, which is the last levee against the culinary hurricane threatening to drown American cuisine in European style filth and chaos.

I mean, those heathens do things with eggs that have been specifically outlawed in the Old Testament, the New Testament and L. Ron Hubbard’s Dianetics.

Why the hell do you think we went and started our own country?

Thomas Jefferson knew the terrorists win if white bread and bran were ever supplanted by goat cheese and asparagus frittatas dressed in assless chaps and nipple clips.

And don’t think it ends with eggs, my friends.

No, no. This is just the start.

How do I know this?

Well… the transgendered star fruit is making it impossible for me to fuck my watermelon.


But seriously folks… in three weeks the entire progressive spectrum with all its divergent subsets is going to get to celebrate like chocolate addicts let loose in Willy Wonka’s factory, but it’ll be a shitty end if, in California, the night concludes with, “Oh, by the way, gay people who have the GALL to love and want to be committed to other gay people… no soup for you!”

Here’s where you learn all about it.

Here’s where you GIVE.

Here’s where you help kill it dead for good.



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  1. …back in April, before the star fruit and I got into therapy. I’m happy to report, it no longer has any issues with the watermelon.

  2. This has me all “frothed” up!  

    It was important to include the “star fruit,” too!!!!!  I mean, afterall . . . . !

    • OPOL on October 16, 2008 at 12:27 am
    • Robyn on October 16, 2008 at 1:14 am

    …about young people coming out and causing their parents to turn gay.  I’m here to tell you it happens.

  3. my 14 y/o cant stand zach effron.  im so fricking proud of her…it also seems  safe to say, 2 months into marching band season, that she didnt inherit her mother’s affinity for drummers, either. πŸ˜‰

    ill have to ask her if she has blintzes when she spends the weekends with her dad and his partner…

    • Robyn on October 16, 2008 at 5:37 am

    Thank you.

  4. Sweet, sticky, sticky syrup.  Mustn’t touch.

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