Most of you are homos
Most of you are homosexuals. You sip iced coffee while holding the top of the cup with your pinkies extended as opposed to firmly grasping the circumference of the beverage container. You walk like dinosaurs in your Daisy Dukes with your porn-stached faces fixed to penis-shaped heads gripped tightly by rhinestone-studded leather cowboy hats. You claim to be straight, but every time you belch, you have to wipe the seed off of your lips. You have sucked enough cocks to fill an aircraft carrier and your idea of a horror movie involves a killer vagina eating your "room mate." You have never had a straight thought in your life, your head is a veritable potpourri of celebrity gossip, Downton Abbey-inspired home decor magazine gibberish, which quarterback has the hottest butt, and Lady Gaga lyrics. You are a cock-crazy, ass-homing, dinosaur-handed disaster freak strutting down blazing hot southwestern streets filled with likewise-minded Sunbelt Sodomites looking to fill their ravenous appetites with leather-daddy man meat from the Swish Saloon.