This really is funny and somewhat profound. Of all the things people can "come out of the closet" about, personal strangeness would seem to be the one thing that everyone has in common. And it is something that really is liberating and therapeutic to acknowledge, but still rather taboo. Society doesn't have many taboos left, what with NAMBLA and MacKenzie Phillips and all. But Strangeness? Oh please! Barnie Frank can run a queer prostitution ring out of his apartment, and he'll get reelected, midgets can have 8 children and star in their own TV show, but let them put on their Dewar's profile that their favorite pastime is listening to the Drabblecast, and then see how long they last. Put it on your resume, and see if you get called for an interview (unless Tom is hiring).
But I'm not preaching the gospel of victimization here. I'm strange. I'm proud. And I'm in your face. I am promiscuously strange. The way I see it, hundreds of millions of unique sperm died in an attempt to be the one to penetrate that jelly-coated vitelline layer to become me. And in spite of the insistent withering forces of several elementary school teachers to make my parents feel guilty for what they had unleashed on the world, to deny my essential strangeness would be to dishonor the memories of those who gave their lives in that valiant struggle.
And so it is that I relish the opportunity to expose myself, and I encourage you all to do the same. I believe that our imagination resides in the strange uniqueness of our souls. Exercising that uniqueness is a creative act, giving birth to new universes of possibilities. The act of denial and conformity is akin to murder.
Moonowl, harken ye to my words. I offer you the Spirit of Solidarity. Together, we can take Gdansk. Together, we can Tear Down That Wall!
Twatfickers of the world, unite! You have nothing to lose but your change!
Never judge anyone until you have biopsied their brain.
"Be kind, for everyone is fighting a hard battle."
Known Some Call Is Air Am