If Ann Coulter should ever call me fag,
She'll be denounced, although she won't have lied,
A bigot's claims are easy to ignore,
Thus vainly thinking she's a witless hag,
The merits of her argument untried.
Who's also made a faggot of Al Gore,
John Edwards she has called a faggot too,
"I'm not a fag but even if I were..."
From victim to accomplice she has turned
In four small words, poor Johnny boy is through,
A straight man he must avidly aver
to be, lest by the South unfairly spurned.
"I'm not a fag", her victim proud denies
Misplaced rebuke containing deeper truth
Revealed is Liberal hypocrisy
"Good thing that I am not" he thus implies,
Her drive and wit perverted and uncouth,
Yet drives me to accuse society
Hell bent on saving us weak thin-skinned gays
From seeming slander when some bigot call
Us fag, when faggot's what we truly are
I'm proud of it and in so many ways
O'ercome oppression, learned to stand up tall
From so far down and risen up so far
Soft bigotry and shame but not from Ann
Comes slander camouflaged as friendship from
Our straight friends, closeted, afraid to say
That gay is fine until their son's a man
And brings his boyfriend home to parents dumb,
For this great freedom parents paved the way
Has wickedly repaid them with a curse.
Ann Coulter's feckless stabs do not compare
With those that truly wound us where we lie,
With foes like Coulter it would be much worse
To turn on friends whose real opinion dare
Not speak its name, whilst hard-earned ego die.
— Dan Weston, 7 March 2007
The structure of this ode is inspired by the brilliant Sonnet 138 of William Shakespeare.
It is also an earnest plea to both our well-meaning limousine liberal friends and our own leaders in the gay-rights movement to spend less time protecting our feelings and more time defending our rights. It is the right to marry, not kind words from bigots, that I seek. Eyes on the prize!
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