Creep of the Week: Kevin Swanson
I was just reading about a middle-school student who shot and killed his math teacher in Nevada. And like all decent Americans I thought, “God damn Girl Scouts.”
Reports estimate that the government shutdown cost the United States $24 billion. When I heard this I tweeted, “Are you happy now, Girl Scouts? #MoGirlScouts-MoProblems.”
A man in Los Angeles spent his life savings getting plastic surgery to look just like Justin Bieber, yet does not look at all like Justin Bieber. He may have been successful if it hadn’t been for those meddling Girl Scouts.
Everything terrible is the fault of the Girl Scouts. Granted, you might not be aware of this sash-clad menace, but that’s because they’ve lulled you into submission with their $100 boxes of Thin Mints and Samoas. While you’re busy stuffing your face with cookies, they’re busy turning your daughters into godless lesbians.
But hey, don’t take my word for it. I’m just a lady with silly lady thoughts. Instead, here’s Kevin Swanson, a man who voices his man thoughts on right-wing radio.
“I don’t want to promote a wicked organization that, according to its own website, doesn’t promote godly womanhood,” Swanson says. “The vision of the Girl Scouts of America is antithetical to a biblical vision for womanhood.”
And what’s the biblical vision for womanhood? Shut your whore mouth and make your man a sandwich. Amen.
Now, I know what you’re thinking: But, but … does this mean no Girl Scout cookies?
Yep.
“I don’t want to support lesbianism, I don’t want to support Planned Parenthood and I don’t want to support abortion, and if that be the case, I’m not buying Girl Scout cookies,” says Swanson.
Fact: Every time you buy a box of Trefoils, a girl swears off boys forever and gets an abortion.
Look, I know this is going to be hard for a lot of you. Thankfully, Swanson offers a workaround.
“I suppose if you take a big, fat, black magic marker and you say, ‘Give me that box,’ and you start marking out all of the references to the Girl Scouts of America on all the boxes then maybe we’re not promoting that organization anymore and I’d be willing to buy it,” he says.
It’s the perfect plan. If you think about it, all you really need is to carry a Sharpie around to “correct” what you don’t like anywhere and everywhere and voilà! The world conforms to your worldview.
Drive an old gas-guzzler that spews black exhaust as you tool down the highway? Just write “Prius” on the bumper.
Feeling guilty about smoking? Just cross out the Marlboro logo on your pack and write “Kale Chips.”
Spend too much time watching TV and not enough time exercising? Grab that Sharpie and scrawl “Treadmill” across the cushions of your couch.
When every girl in America is just a Thin Mint away from becoming a raging bull dyke, arming ourselves with permanent markers is the only sensible thing.
In fact, as support for antigay conversion therapy dries up, I suspect that the Sharpie CureTM might be the best bet for “ex-gays,” too.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some cookie boxes to deface. For God.
D’Anne Witkowski has been gay for pay since 2003. She’s a freelance writer and poet (believe it!). When she’s not taking on the creeps of the world, she reviews rock ’n’ roll shows in Detroit with her twin sister.