Queer eye for the
hate guy

Homophobes are my favorite part of the pride parade in West Hollywood. And that's saying quite a bit, because that parade is a fun time.

I live on the route and watch annually, even if none of my cool post-everything friends will come over to join me. Thanks to their seen-it-all ennui, they miss out on the 90-year-old guy wearing only a thong, drunk at 11 a.m. They miss the busted-up dominatrices. They miss the people in the covered wagon representing ye olden fags of yore. They miss the Gay Bus Riders Union, whatever that is. They miss the Tylenol PM float (message: Too Much Gay = Headache) and the chance to shout insults at Paris Hilton (she was grand marshal in 2005, pre-prison). But most of all they miss the awesome homophobes.

These homophobes are professional gay-haters, crisscrossing the United States, looking to pick a slap-fight. They set up shop behind a barricade. They hold giant signs. Their leader is a stocky, goateed man who, if he ever came out as queer himself, would make lots of bear buddies overnight. He bullhorn-preaches while cops hover nearby, shooting the shit and drinking coffee. "ATTENTION, ALL HOMOS AND HOMO-ETTES!" he sermonizes. "WHY CAN'T YOU PEOPLE BE NORMAL?"

I love the word "homo-ette," and

I think the question he poses is valid, at least for the grandpa in the thong. But he's not actually interested in an answer, just performance. So I stand close by, enjoying the tirades about my diseased mind. He harangues a balloon-covered stilts-walker with "God's gonna pop your balloon, Girly Man!" He barks at clusters of lesbians and when one shouts back he calls her "sir." That one never gets old. Passersby flip him off or pause to make out with same-sex friends. But I just want my picture snapped with the best sign: "God Abhors You." Though, as bases for acronyms go, it's not as catchy as "Got AIDS Yet?" or "Adios, Infected Dick Sucker" (my two personal favorites). He does get points for avoiding the Phelps-centric, acronym-unfriendly "God Hates Fags"--that's kind of been done to death.

I even had pointers if he'd wanted to hear them. Like about T-shirts. He and his crew wore boring ones, and I think that's just laziness, especially when you can still buy classic "Silly f****t, dix are for chix" tees online. But some people are too unimaginative to really step up their presentation game.

Next year I plan to pose as one of them, get some interview questions in, and have my picture taken again, no barricade to separate us. Because seriously, their act is way more fun than the penguin habitat at the zoo. Plus, a "silly f****t shirt" is only, like, 12 bucks. Totally worth it. So come back again in '08, guys. I'll be ready.