Hard to believe it’s been less than a year since the Supreme Court ruined our nation by legalizing same-sex marriage.
Those of us who knew what the gay agenda was all about saw the Apocalypse coming. The prophets, Rick Santorum and Pat Robertson, said God would destroy America. Our great elder, James Dobson, even predicted civil war.
Everybody laughed and nobody listened. Well, it’s still not safe for me, Linda Mae and our 11 kids to leave our bunker.
The end of America as we know it began last June, right after the ruling. Millions of traditional marriages collapsed. Sales of “Happy Anniversary” cards plunged. The family ceased to exist. Free to violate natural law, millions of libertine deviants took to the streets and turned our great nation into the United States of Sodom and Gomorrah.
People married whoever and whatever they wanted! Same-sex families were everywhere. Everybody had two mommies or two daddies and then, before you knew it, three daddies and six mommies! My buddy Billy Bob got himself a harem of 12 women. Our neighbor Leroy married his 4 x 4 pickup truck.
At dawn, on June 28th, the Melissa Etheridge 42nd Lesbian Militia, under the command of Meredith Baxter, attacked the Westover Baptist Church. Folks took sides and the fighting spread across the country.
With millions of straight men terrified of homosexuals, the Gay Confederacy, under the command of Neil Patrick Harris, had the advantage. The instrument of surrender was signed on Fire Island. Dobson and Santorum took to the hills with the few remaining partisans.
I myself wasn’t afraid of gays marrying each other. I was afraid I’d be persecuted for my beliefs. And I was right.
By August thousands of Christian pro-family teachers had been fired, pro-family ministries had lost their tax exempt status and every faith-based adoption agency in America had been shuttered.
By September the gay agenda was being taught in every school in America. At recess they had to use fire hoses to keep the new “recruits” off each other.
Under the new gay regime I made the mistake of using the phrase “light in the loafers” to describe the dispatcher at work. I was arrested, tried for hate speech and sentenced to six weeks at a government-run “Re-education Camp” where we were forced to watch gay propaganda like “Brokeback Mountain” and all eight seasons of “Will & Grace.”
Soon as I got out, we headed down to our bunker and we ain’t been up top since. Third day down there my oldest boy said he had something to tell us. That he couldn’t live “in the closet” any longer.
I said I resented him calling our spacious bomb shelter “a closet” and that all that doesn’t matter anymore because, “My marriage to your mother has been destroyed by the gay agenda. Western civilization is through!”
By November the Statue of Liberty had been replaced with a giant statue of Dorothy, holding Toto, and singing “Somewhere over the Rainbow.”
That same month they tore down the Washington Monument and built one in honor of some guy named Harvey Milk. My buddy Leroy says the new national anthem is “Y.M.C.A.” by the Village People. That’s the one change I don’t mind.
Now, the radio says President George Takei has declared Valentine’s Day a day of national reconciliation. “Praise the lord,” I told Linda Mae. “Surely tomorrow it will be safe to come out.” She squinted at me. “Of the bunker.”
