I am sitting in the airport in Omaha, Nebraska. I have learned all I care to learn about beef manufacturing. I don’t think I can eat another steak for at least a week. I am anxious to get home to my family and continue my radical gay family agenda of carpool and packing lunches. I hope my flight schedule will be on time today and not like my schedule coming out here. Somebody just might get hurt if I have to spend another six hours doing the airport shuffle.
I spent the evening yesterday walking around the old market place in downtown Omaha. I did my best to direct my radical gay agenda on the patrons as they passed me by. I’m pretty sure my fairy dust landed on at least a few of those Huskers. I sat beside a heterosexual family at dinner at a cute little eclectic restaurant with sidewalk seating. I could not believe they used a high chair and bib for their child just like we used to do with our child. There has to be some kind of conspiracy that they were copying our gay ways. They even cut up the food for their child, just like we do. WOW! How could we be so similar? I’m sure they must have read about my agenda and were following me on Facebook or something. There is no way a “normal” family would have such radical actions. They EVEN acted like they loved their child. Interesting. I bet they went home and immediately drew up divorce papers because they sat so close to me.
As I impatiently sit in the land of corn and cattle, I consider ways to implode the Midwest with our radical gay agenda. Maybe as I fly over the vast, fertile land, I can transfer my thoughts to the Angus and Silver Queens. With so many Americans getting their groceries from this region, my agenda is sure to reach millions. I can feel a mass exodus of traditional marriages as summer bar-b-ques crank up. You might want to reconsider roasting those Silver Queen corn cobs and Angus ribeye steaks this summer. The food you consume just might be effected by our radical gay agenda. Oh, the despair…I can feel the fabric of America unravel and fray as I type.
I don’t think I will be home early enough tonight to get hugs and kisses from my daughter. I do plan to sneak into her room and watch her sleep for a moment. I will have to sneak a little kiss and smell her hair. All will be well with the world as soon as I see my angel. I live for her.