Celibatuey! And thank you, Lord

What you don't want to do is become a spewer, but some do.

Supposing the Lord arrived at your door one day with a questionnaire, hoping to ask just a few simple questions.

You'd hear the bell ring, you'd answer the door, and the Lord would be standing there, looking as friendly as all get-out.

"Hi, I'm the Lord. I have just a few simple questions, do you have a minute?"

"Why, of course, as much time as you need," you'd say.

The Lord would nod politely, then get down to business.

THE LORD: One: Choose between A) a life of celibacy and B) a life in which you can indulge in sexual acts.

YOU: Oh, definitely B, thanks.

THE LORD: Fine. Number two: If you chose the second option, then choose again between sexual acts A) with a member of your own species, or sexual acts B) with a member of another species.

YOU, SMILING INDULGENTLY: A for me, no question about it. Thank you, Lord.

THE LORD: A it is. Three: If you chose the first option, then choose again between sexual acts A) with a member of your own sex, or B) with a member of the opposite sex.

YOU, WITH NO HESITATION: I'll go with B in this case, Lord, if that's ok.

None of that would be a problem, right? Not unless there was a problem. And supposing there was a problem?

THE LORD, SMILING SOMEWHAT APOLOGETICALLY: Sorry, pal, but the B bus is full today, so I'll just put you on the A bus, if you prefer. Either that (this is a Lord who believes in giving you choices, so you can exercise free will and really screw things up, so to speak), or I'll let you go back to question One, and chose the A option — a life of celibacy.

YOU, INCREDULOUSLY: Let me get this straight, no pun intended. Either I get to have sexual acts with a member of my own sex, or I get to be celibate?"

THE LORD: Exactly. Well done. That's what I have available today. What do you say?

I have wrestled with this question, torturously, for at least three minutes, both as a columnist and as a heterosexual male human being.

Keep in mind, the hidden option here, the one agenda you don't want to buy into, especially with the Lord standing on your doorstep looking over your soul, is spewing.

So how would you honestly answer?

Since I believe that touching is similar in value and necessity to breathing — with it you live, and without it you die — I'd have to say…. I'm reluctant to say… I don't want to imagine the consequences of saying, but since I have a good imagination I will be forced to imagine them after I say…

ME: Celibatuey!

THE LORD: Excuse me? ME: I said, Celibatuey! And thank you, Lord!

That, I think, would be my initial response. Then I'd have to break into song, maybe a call-and-response marching song, like this:

One, two, three, HEY/Gay Gay Gay-Gay GAY,

Here we go, (Here we go), All the way, (All the way), Every day, (Every day), Every night, (Every night), All the way, (All the way), Out-a-sight, (Out-a-sight),

Always Gay, (Always Gay).

Nonsensical as all that sounds, I don't think it falls too far from the truth for a number of people. They arrive in our world only to discover themselves presented with roughly the same opportunities. The straight bus is full, so it's the gay bus or nothing.

Based upon my own extensive research in the field, where I hold a Doctor of Celibatuey degree in Intuition, Opinion and Wild Conjecture from the University of Life Experience, I've concluded that on some level many of us are potentially gay.

What if it was gay or nothing? Hard to imagine, isn't it? But there it is.

The fact is, I try to be gay every day, at least in the old sense of the word, which is still the primary sense: "Happily excited: merry. Keenly alive and exuberant: having or inducing high spirits." (Merriam-Webster's definition.)

But whether I am gay or not, and whether you are gay or not, and whether Neapolitan Ruth Dorfman is gay or not, and whether anybody else is gay or not, is really nobody else's business.

Ms. Dorfman, an active member of a group called, Parents, Families and Friends of Lesbians and Gays, suggested in the

Naples Daily News a few weeks ago that we should all love one another. (Imagine saying such an outrageous thing. She must be some kind of flaming liberal. Probably a Jew, too, for God's sake, or maybe one of those lovey-dovey Christians.)

Not long thereafter somebody visited her house one night and painted swastikas and wrote mean words on her garage doors, and they forgot to sign their names. Just a simple oversight, I'm sure.

In the same time frame, far to the north, I found myself tooling along in east Lee County, through Alva. There I stopped at a Handy Mart on State Road 80, and filled up my car at pump No. 6. As usual, the price had jumped by 10 cents a gallon in just 24 hours. What money I had left in my debit account began to flow almost directly into the coffers of the Saudi Arabian oil magnates, some 9,000 or 10,000 miles away.

Scratched into the pump to add insult to injury was a Klu Klux Klan symbol, along with several venomous comments. Disappointingly, the workmanship was poor and some of it was hard to read. I really expect a lot more of Klaners, who are obviously gay, as well as gay haters, black haters, and Jew haters.

But they did me an educational favor. Not only does their artistry stink, I realized, but they hate themselves so much — or perhaps they hate their choices so much — that they picked the hidden agenda. They became spewers.

And who wants to touch a spewer?

Nobody. Not gays, not straights, not lefts and not rights. Maybe God will touch them with a big old bolt from the blue, like this: Celibatuey on Youey, Spewey!?