A bit of humor about what might happen if Gay TV becomes a reality:
Husband channel-surfs, spots a film playing and stops to watch. Wife walks into the family room. “What are you watching?” she asks.
“Oh, some movie,” he replies. “Hey, that guy has a cute butt.”
“What?!”
“Why did I say that?” Befuddled, the husband looks down at his hands curiously. “What in the world—my wrists are getting limp!”
“Are you OK, honey? Your voice is developing a strange lilting quality.”
“I don’t know,” he says, a frightened tremor creeping into his voice. “What’s happening to me? Now I have this sudden urge to move into a tastefully decorated apartment in Dupont Circle!”
“What are you watching, anyway?” She checks the remote and then picks up the TV guide. “Oh, no, you’re watching Gay TV! Turn it off, quick!” she shouts.
“You’re right! That has to be the answer!” Grabbing the remote, he begins frantically hitting buttons. “I’ll turn on ESPN. I need some testosterone-laden, bone-crunching sports action. That will put me on the straight and narrow.”
The channel finally changes, but it isn’t ESPN. “Honey, that’s the Home and Garden network!” she shouts. “It’s Christopher Lowell! Don’t look!”
“Oh my God, he’s starting to sound normal!” he cries. Now in a full-scale panic, he cringes in his Barcalounger. “Help me! I’ve fallen victim to the vast left-wing conspiracy to turn decent family men into prancing, mincing queens! I can feel my heterosexuality slipping away even as I speak! Quick, call Jerry Falwell and Pat Robertson. I need them to deprogram me before it’s too late!!”