Ireland’s bold decision has Frank fuming unreasonably in his cave of hateful ignorance. He bitterly turns to his son from a third marriage, “worlds gone to the dogs, son, poofters have public toilets, and normal people have marriage, bloody simple”. The ever-present homophobic itch has frustrated Frank for most of his life, and the only way he sees fit to relieve it is by ruthlessly scratching away layers of compassion and logic. A brave new world is dawning, but Frank desperately holds on to the familiar darkness that plagues our society and gives a voice to the knuckle-dragging, homo-hating cunts.
Frank wasn’t always the staunch amalgamation of pure masculinity you see today. Growing up he was so deep in the closet that he was finding his own father’s gimp mask. He would endlessly draw dicks on his lever-arch files and enjoyed the homoerotic warmth of communal change-room showering. His boys school education equipped him for the tiny shorts world of construction, and he became a master of degrading passing women with his testosterone-laden banter. After all, only a faggot would be nice to a woman.
It’s Thursday night, and Frank heads over to catch up with his ex-wife’s kids. After a few too many cans of Export, Frank lets rip, “I’ll tell yas, i’ll be voting no on gay marriage, sanctity of marriage must be respected”. The atmosphere becomes tenser than the finger spitting, brokeback-esque vibes at Frank’s annual camping trips. His daughter’s husband speaks loud enough to be heard over the background noise of Channel 9’s hit, Married at First Sight. “You can’t really mean that can you Frank?” Challenging a bigot’s prejudice is the proverbial red flag that always leads to aggressive displays of dickheadedness, “mate, marriage is between a man and a woman, no one is saying they can’t keep bumming each other and spreading AIDS, just keep that circus where it belongs”.
An interesting stance to take from a twice-divorced man who is infamous around certain Perth circles for being a little bum-pokey during intercourse. Frank becomes irritated as he is far more comfortable discussing his views with like-minded champions of sanctity, “and I’ll tell you this mate, it’s Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve ha!” Frank makes a complete arsehole of himself as he scrapes the barrel of adversarial dignity. Throwing catchphrases out rather than intelligently defending his stance. Any other day of the week, he’d be happy to tell you how Christians are a bunch of rock spiders, but when invoking religion helps his hate, he is all for it. Confused as a dildo at a scissoring party.
He leaves the dinner party in a homophobic huff. He swings by Highgate for a quick rub & tug and then heads around to his current wife’s house to watch reality television. Angered by a News clip of Irish “pillow biters” celebrating he decides to jump on a News.com.au forum and give the fairies a taste of his own harsh truths. He finds an article about gay marriage and starts hammering his keyboard, “I’m against gay marriage as it’s going to fuck the place up. THINK about the bloody CHILDREN from these so-called “families”. They will grow up FUCKED cos of not having a NATURAL environment of man AND woman, no ifs no buts. NOt to mention the bloody risk of PEDOFILES adopting!!!!!”
Ah, the beauty of the rambling incoherency of the hate-monger, they never quite understand how much damage they do their own cause when they get behind their keyboards.
Documenting the Human Zoo is thirsty work, so if you enjoyed what you read how about buying Belle a beer, ay?