Back in the day, the only armed and dangerous gays were drag queens. Often harassed, they were known to carry protection. High hair hid a foot long hatpin quite nicely and that faux Louis Vuitton clutch bag made a handy holster for a Cream City brick.
Then, much to the squealing delight of gay Republicans, the U.S. Supreme Court made that famous Second Amendment decision in 2008. Now, they gushed, LGBTs could defend themselves with guns! Against whom, I wondered.
Conveniently, there’s a gun shop that refinishes any rifle or pistol to order. It’s in circus mecca Baraboo, appropriately enough. It offers a rainbow palette of fabulous colors including lavender and lots of pinks. There’s basic black, of course. Anything goes with that. Then there’s camouflage: woodland, marsh (perfect for Horicon) and urban, among others. Like hunters, gays wouldn’t be caught dead without matching accessories, especially if they’ve accidentally shot themselves. Although, in a state requiring flame orange hunting costumes, why would one camouflage one’s gun? Imagine that embarrassing moment searching for your autumn dappled rifle amongst the fallen leaves and picking up a big stick instead. Your target buck might expire from a gut-busting guffaw.
Coming from an old colonial Connecticut town, I get our national firearm fetish. New Englanders are raised with that homoerotic image of a brawny minuteman toting his musket. I even joined a Revolutionary War reenactment group, a British regiment, no less, when I was in minor seminary (that’s another story). My old red coat still hangs in my closet. Every year we re-fought the Battle of White Plains. I was too young to fire a real weapon so I carried a mock-up. At the exchange of volleys, it was my job to fall dead or wounded (depending on my artistic caprice of the moment). Great fun, aesthetic, but silly, as it was. Inspired, I later collected antique flintlock muskets and even went black powder hunting one wet Wisconsin November. Needless to say, I didn’t get off a shot. There’s something to the saying “keep your powder dry.”
Anyway, in the meantime, today’s gays are packing. One, I know, boasts about the BBG (big black Glock) he has in his trunk (safely, of course). I guess that’s supposed to induce pistol envy. Then I overheard a lesbian couple talking about getting their concealed carry licenses. Maybe for lesbians it’s a trigger thing.
Speaking of which, I saw an interesting profile picture on a gay online dating site. Most people post an unarmed selfie, or, if shy, a photo of their headless torso or other beckoning body part. This particular gay boy posed with his silver automatic pointed directly at the camera (held sideways, in de rigueur hood style), his finger wrapped tightly around the trigger. Ah, romance! Still, meeting an armed stranger sounds like unsafe sex to me. But never fear! Fortunately, Governor Scott “Small Caliber” Walker rescinded Wisconsin’s gun purchase waiting period, so you can now buy a smart revolver on your way to your date. Just keep the receipt in case things work out.
