My name is Ernest P. Pigwiller, and dangit, I am sick and tired of Chick-Fil-A getting all the attention for hating the gays. Hell, we’ve hated the gays all our lives. You don’t see anyone sticking a camera in our faces or staging demonstrations at our restaurants.
God, what I wouldn’t give for a little slice of that bigoted controversy. The big chicken boys are getting richer and I’m sitting here without a pot to piss in. It just ain’t fair, I tell you!
Hell, we don’t stop at the gays, neither. Around here we hate the blacks, hispanics, jews, accountants, lawyers, anyone who’s ever touched an iPhone, catholics, muslims, asians, and non-smokers. To hell with ’em all, I say!
Once I saw two men hug each other in the parking lot of my store. I ran outside and threatened to dump hot grease on the two of them as punishment for gayin’ it up on my premises.
The older one was hollerin’ about how the younger one was his son just returned from the war, but that don’t make no nevermind to me. I got five sons and I haven’t hugged a one of ’em ever in their lives. Only time I’ve ever touched them boys is with the back of my hand, or with a hickory switch.
But do the news cameras come around here, asking me what I think about allowing two grown adults enjoy their lives in the manner which they choose, rather than the manner I have arbitrarily decided is right for them as a result of my understanding of a book written thousands of years ago and retranslated more times than anyone can count? Hell naw!
It’s horse shit, I tell you. Pure and simple.