Today of all days I thought it appropriate to announce to the world my sexual desires. I am what people used to be called a “deviant”. But they’re not saying it anymore. They’d better not.
Announcing your sexual desires is recognized in our society, as it should be, as an act of supreme bravery, an act which is rewarded in any number of ways, particularly in fame. And I want to be famous for my sexual desires.
This granting of social emolument only works, of course, if the desires broadcast are thought deviant by bigots. And this is as it should be, because bigots are bigoted and bigoted people deserve to see what they hate praised.
Anyway, I self identify as a yak. I can’t help thinking I am yak. I remember wearing fuzzy coats when I was a boy and feeling how right they were for me. I didn’t realize I was a yak, though, until at age six on a fateful trip to the zoo when I lost nurse’s hand.
Oh, sure, I flirted with the idea that I was a colobus, especially as my hair began streaking grey. Once I even formed the notion that I might be a kakapo, a flightless bird native to New Zealand. But since I have never been to New Zealand I realized that my notion was false. I was confused because the kakapo, like myself, has a big nose and can’t fly. I blame society for these mix-ups.
Some of you will object that I am not a yak because I am not “genetically” a yak. This goes to show how much you know. You don’t have to be genetically a thing if you believe you are the thing. If you doubt this, just ask Bruce Jenner who taught us all If You Believe, You Are (this is the title of my next book). No more proof than belief is needed.
This slogan must be so, as is easily demonstrated. Scientists can show (through simple scientific tests) that folks like Bruce Jenner are genetically men, yet his belief that he is a woman turned him into a woman. He is, therefore, a woman—-because he believes he is one.
It helps to have others believe, too. This, I and Bruce have discovered, reinforces our own belief, which—I whisper this confidentially, dear reader—sometimes flags. Nobody can be ardent all the time!, especially while embedded in a hostile society.
Yet when I have these doubts, I seek an ally, somebody who agrees that I am a yak because I say I am a yak. I ask this person, “Am I really a yak?” and they say to me, “Yes, you are a yak.” So I am a yak. We live in a democracy.
Here’s the surprise. Although I am a yak, I am not sexually attracted to yaks (though I have experimented with yak milk). Sexual attraction, as academics teach us, need not be identical to identity. Some academics say it’s even a form of discrimination to be exclusionary and stay within the boundaries set by bigots. Bigots say, “If he thinks he’s a yak, let him breed with yaks.” But this is bigoted because it’s the kind of thing bigots say.
It isn’t unusual, then, that I am not attracted to others like myself; other yaks, I mean. My announcement is that I am attracted to human females, especially blondes of Dutch extraction. I am a yak, and I know it, but still I have these desires. I was born with them. I don’t even want them, yet there they are. And because they are, because they exist, they are therefore true and good desires.
That they are good and true is proved by noticing that I say I was born with these desires, or that I formed them at some point in time earlier than last week. Since I have had these desires since I was a young (mostly hairless) yak, you know they are true and good.
Yaks, you might not know, can only pee in herds. Lone yaks aren’t capable of the act. Scientists say this is a sort of inverse “shy bladder” syndrome. The point is this. In order for me to pee, I must be in a herd. But since I am not sexually attracted to yaks, I therefore need to be granted perpetual access to the Dallas Cowboys Cheerleader1 shower room.
I expect my readers, and especially the NFL, to be fully supportive and to threaten to boycott the Cowboys if they do not accede to this request.
1I’d also accept the Rockettes facilities.