I guess I should’ve read subtext into all that fruit-smashing. Maybe it was a statement against organic farming? Seems sensible enough for a guy who manages to turn U HAVE UR HAT BACKWARDS and HURR HURR UR A FAGGIT into related concepts.
You have your hat backward,” Gallagher sneers at a twentysomething man in the front row. “Are you a homosexual? Because it seems you have a problem figuring out the front from the back.” Big laugh.
Then Gallagher gets going. And fuck. Bremerton is a military town and a conservative one: It’s more than just a slide into obscurity that delivered Gallagher to the Admiral rather than, say, the Moore in Seattle. You see, Gallagher is—how best to put this?—a paranoid, delusional, right-wing religious maniac. I HAD NO IDEA.
“Hey, President Obama,” he spits out the name like a mouthful of burning hair. “You ain’t black. I don’t care what you say—you’re a latte. You’re half whole-milk. It could be goat milk—you could be a terrorist!” I am too busy losing my mind to catch the next joke, which is about Ted Kennedy’s brain cancer. Aaaaand we’re off.
And here I was thinking sexuality is more a function of what gender(s) one finds oneself attracted to. Turns out that in Gallagher’s mind it’s totally hetero to fuck another man in the ass as long as you’re facing him while you do it. Just make sure there’s no doggystyle with your girlfriend, you decadent queer.