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Yes, Virginia, Santa Claus is Gay
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Chief Thracian
Dec 8, 2011, 8:09:17 PM12/8/11
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Eight-year-old Virginia O’Handjob wrote a letter to the editor of New
York’s Kum Daily Report, and the quick response was printed as an
unsigned editorial Sept. 21, 1987. The work of veteran newsman Francis
Phallus Church has since become LGBT history‘s most ejaculatory
newspaper editorial, appearing in part or whole in dozens of languages
in plain brown paper wrapped books, blue movies, and other racy
editorials, and on gay bathhouse posters and Queer Nation flyers.
--begin letter:
“DEAR EDITOR: I am 8 years old with two lesbian Moms.
“Some of my little friends say that Santa Claus can’t be gay, because
he’s married to a woman.
“Papa says, ‘If you see it in the Kum it’s so.’
“Please tell me the truth; is Santa Claus a closet case?
“VIRGINIA O’HANDJOB.
“115 WEST SIXTY-NINTH STREET.”
Virginia, your little breeder-robot friends are wrong. They have been
afflicted by the homophobia of a heterosexist age. They do not boink
except [what] they are permitted to boink. They think that nothing can
be poked or made erect which is not sanctioned by our breeder
overlords. All penises, Virginia, whether they be men’s or children’s,
are little when compared to a Belgian workhorse. In this great
universe of ours Closeted Gay Everyman is a mere fudge packing
factory, an anal retentive party pooper, in his obeisance towards the
hetero overlords’ Calvinistic ideology, as compared with the boundless
free joysticks about him, as measured by the guiltless hand capable of
grasping the whole shaft of jism-gushing orgasm.
Yes, Virginia, there is a Gay Santa Claus. He exists as certainly as
boners and spermolocity and the prostate gland exist, and you know
that they abound and give to your life its highest booty and boy butt.
Alas! how unlavenderish would be the world if there were no Gay Santa
Claus. It would be as unlavenderish as if there were no Virginias.
There would be no unzipperlike faith then, no buggery, no blowjobs to
make tolerable this existence. We should have no enjoyment, except in
men and slobbering over their hefty pants bulge (suspicious perhaps,
that it’s really just a cucumber and two billiard balls after all).
The eternal light with which childhood fills the anus would be goosed.
Not believe in Poofy Santa Claus! You might as well not believe in not-
so-radical-but-still-somewhat-to-the-left-of-moderate fairies! You
might get your lesbian papa to hire Stop AIDS Now volunteers to spy on
all the horniest male prostitute hangouts on Christmas Eve to catch
Santa Claus, but even if they did not see Santa Claus drop his baggy
red pants and beg to be violated, what would that prove? Nobody pees
on Santa Claus, but that is no sign that there is no Gay Santa Claus…
just no Gay Water Sport Santa Claus. The most rod-engorging things in
the world are those that give us children and fresh horny boys to
blow. Did you ever see fairies dicking on the lawn? Of course not, but
that’s no proof that they are not queer. No hetero man can conceive
without imagining he’s actually goosing Jesus while shagging the wife.
You may tear apart my baby’s dildo and see what makes the noise
inside, but there is a condom covering the unseen head which not the
strongest man, nor even the united strength of all the strongest men
that ever lived, could lick apart with their manly rough tongues. Only
faith, fancy, poetry, love, bromance, can push aside that sphincter
and slurp and pierce the supernal dude-crotch and glory hole beyond.
Is it all man-cock? Ah, Virginia, in all this world there is nothing
else real and abiding, than a hot man’s relatively hairless bung hole…
shaving is a plus.
No Gay Santa Claus! Thank Nyarlathotep! he boinks, and he boinks four
men all together. A thousand cum shots from now, Virginia, nay, ten
times ten thousand cum shots from now, he will continue to make glad
the raging hard-on heart of gay childhood.
--end of letter
This diabolical little piece of gay witticism, is based upon the
original “Yes, Virgina, there is a Santa Claus” editorial, which
actually premiered in the New York Sun in 1897. And there was nothing
gay about it, except perhaps the author’s first name of “Francis”, a
pansy name if I ever heard one! (His full name, believe it or not, was
“Francis Pharcellus Church“.)
Sinqueerly yours,
Ezekiel J. Krahlin
queer activist slacker since 1983
http://www.gay-bible.org
York’s Kum Daily Report, and the quick response was printed as an
unsigned editorial Sept. 21, 1987. The work of veteran newsman Francis
Phallus Church has since become LGBT history‘s most ejaculatory
newspaper editorial, appearing in part or whole in dozens of languages
in plain brown paper wrapped books, blue movies, and other racy
editorials, and on gay bathhouse posters and Queer Nation flyers.
--begin letter:
“DEAR EDITOR: I am 8 years old with two lesbian Moms.
“Some of my little friends say that Santa Claus can’t be gay, because
he’s married to a woman.
“Papa says, ‘If you see it in the Kum it’s so.’
“Please tell me the truth; is Santa Claus a closet case?
“VIRGINIA O’HANDJOB.
“115 WEST SIXTY-NINTH STREET.”
Virginia, your little breeder-robot friends are wrong. They have been
afflicted by the homophobia of a heterosexist age. They do not boink
except [what] they are permitted to boink. They think that nothing can
be poked or made erect which is not sanctioned by our breeder
overlords. All penises, Virginia, whether they be men’s or children’s,
are little when compared to a Belgian workhorse. In this great
universe of ours Closeted Gay Everyman is a mere fudge packing
factory, an anal retentive party pooper, in his obeisance towards the
hetero overlords’ Calvinistic ideology, as compared with the boundless
free joysticks about him, as measured by the guiltless hand capable of
grasping the whole shaft of jism-gushing orgasm.
Yes, Virginia, there is a Gay Santa Claus. He exists as certainly as
boners and spermolocity and the prostate gland exist, and you know
that they abound and give to your life its highest booty and boy butt.
Alas! how unlavenderish would be the world if there were no Gay Santa
Claus. It would be as unlavenderish as if there were no Virginias.
There would be no unzipperlike faith then, no buggery, no blowjobs to
make tolerable this existence. We should have no enjoyment, except in
men and slobbering over their hefty pants bulge (suspicious perhaps,
that it’s really just a cucumber and two billiard balls after all).
The eternal light with which childhood fills the anus would be goosed.
Not believe in Poofy Santa Claus! You might as well not believe in not-
so-radical-but-still-somewhat-to-the-left-of-moderate fairies! You
might get your lesbian papa to hire Stop AIDS Now volunteers to spy on
all the horniest male prostitute hangouts on Christmas Eve to catch
Santa Claus, but even if they did not see Santa Claus drop his baggy
red pants and beg to be violated, what would that prove? Nobody pees
on Santa Claus, but that is no sign that there is no Gay Santa Claus…
just no Gay Water Sport Santa Claus. The most rod-engorging things in
the world are those that give us children and fresh horny boys to
blow. Did you ever see fairies dicking on the lawn? Of course not, but
that’s no proof that they are not queer. No hetero man can conceive
without imagining he’s actually goosing Jesus while shagging the wife.
You may tear apart my baby’s dildo and see what makes the noise
inside, but there is a condom covering the unseen head which not the
strongest man, nor even the united strength of all the strongest men
that ever lived, could lick apart with their manly rough tongues. Only
faith, fancy, poetry, love, bromance, can push aside that sphincter
and slurp and pierce the supernal dude-crotch and glory hole beyond.
Is it all man-cock? Ah, Virginia, in all this world there is nothing
else real and abiding, than a hot man’s relatively hairless bung hole…
shaving is a plus.
No Gay Santa Claus! Thank Nyarlathotep! he boinks, and he boinks four
men all together. A thousand cum shots from now, Virginia, nay, ten
times ten thousand cum shots from now, he will continue to make glad
the raging hard-on heart of gay childhood.
--end of letter
This diabolical little piece of gay witticism, is based upon the
original “Yes, Virgina, there is a Santa Claus” editorial, which
actually premiered in the New York Sun in 1897. And there was nothing
gay about it, except perhaps the author’s first name of “Francis”, a
pansy name if I ever heard one! (His full name, believe it or not, was
“Francis Pharcellus Church“.)
Sinqueerly yours,
Ezekiel J. Krahlin
queer activist slacker since 1983
http://www.gay-bible.org
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