VOICE OVER: Promiscuous Rage
I SPEAK TO a mixed group of gay and straight people:
The promiscuous homosexual is a sexual revolutionary. Each moment of his outlaw existence he confronts repressive laws, repressive "morality." Parks, alleys, subway tunnels, garages, streets—these are the battlefields.
To the sexhunt he brings a sense of choreography, ritual, and mystery—sex-cruising with an electrified instinct that sends and receives messages of orgy at any moment, any place.
Who are these outlaws?
Single men, married men; youngmen, older ones; black, white; your brothers, your fathers; students, teachers, bodybuilders, doctors, construction workers, coaches, writers, cowboys, truck drivers, motorcyclists, dancers, weight-lifters, actors, painters, athletes, politicians, businessmen, lawyers, cops.
What creates the sexual outlaw?
Rage.
None more easily prosecuted—even so-called liberals condone his persecution—his is the only minority against whose existence there are laws. Labeled a seducer of unwilling partners, he knows that "homosexual rape" is rape of homosexuals by heterosexuals. Branded a child molester, he knows heterosexual molestation far, far exceeds that of homosexual. And he knows that what police chiefs proclaim "rampant violent gay crime" is crime by straight gay-haters against homosexuals.
A man emerges staggering out of the brush in a park, his face smashed in blood. Yelling "Queer! Queer!" four thugs kicked and beat him with sticks. The cops are called. Not one shows up.
But tell them two men are fucking, and they 'ill storm the area in minutes.
Easy, often set-up homosexual arrests may be callously used to cover up statistically the staggering number of unsolved murders, robberies, rapes. An arrest—often arbitrary (you were there)—brings instant punishment, even when you're finally proved "not guilty": handcuffing, incarceration, insults, the outrageous fees of attorneys, bail, the slaughtering anxiety of court appearances, and your life waits. Widespread entrapment—creating the "crime" it insists it wants to curb—gives cops a destructive means of purging latent devils. Cops in vice trials clumsily lie, knowing that sex convictions will be brought in on the flimsiest evidence. Threatened by prison, homosexuals will bargain to plead guilty to uncommitted charges.
Buddy-locked in steamy squad-car intimacy, cops cruising gay areas turn up their speakers to screech: "Cocksuckers!"
Homosexuals in jails are threatened with castration and shock as "cures." Official routine beatings and roundups of gays by cops encourage murderous lunatics to prowl cruising areas with guns, broken bottles, rocks, police clubs.
Jack Paar on television and Liza Minnelli in a magazine joke about "fags."
Ancestral rage. Death by sword or other torture decreed for homosexuals by ecclesiastical courts. Burnings at the stake into the nineteenth century.
"I'd rather go out with a fag than a boring man any day," says Marisa Berenson in Newsweek.
Rage.
Handcuffs, incarceration, courts, bankruptcy—all because of the mere accusation of a gay act, actual or only solicited.
Life and prison sentences are still a reality for homosexuals. Men convicted in California of merely asking to make it with another adult male must register as "sex offenders" for the rest of their lives; they are through in many professions and in all requiring state licensing. "Lewd conduct" convictions, also requiring sex-offender registration, have been brought in on assertions that two men were kissing, dancing together, even holding hands.
Suicides.
"Sex offenders" may be brought in for questioning by the police at any time in connection with real sex crimes, no matter how remote in nature to the basis of the original arrest.
Indiscriminately wrecked lives. Lost jobs, broken families. Constant fear. Rage.
A priest tries to organize a "Homosexuals Anonymous." Thou may want to, but thou shalt not actually fuck or suck. It results immediately in a suicide attempt.
Two adult males are followed by cops to a completely secluded dark area. After minutes, the cops flash lights into the car, pull the men out, beat them. Convicted of sodomy, the two are sentenced to eight years in prison. The Supreme Court refuses them a hearing.
Cowardly punks crushed tightly in hot cars, hot knees touching hot knees in hateful intimacy, throw rocks, bottles, and refuse at cars in cruising areas. "Fags!" they scream, echoing the cops and looking forward to the night they will bring guns with them.
Rage at law as criminal, doctors as perpetrators of sick myths. Religion as killer. Rage at the selective use of Biblical scripture to condone hatred.
The only main minority never to receive even token acknowledgment on a major-party platform is the homosexual minority. Even the vague phrase "sexual preference" has been knocked out.
"You are polluted and filthy," reads a pamphlet clrculated at gay gatherings by "Jesus people." "You will not be gay in hell, but tormented far worse than in this life."
"Homosexual acts are inherently immoral, abnormal, perverted, disgraceful, degenerate, degrading, and criminal," screeches an "Information Paper" issued by a Los Angeles Deputy Chief of Police for wide police and "constituent" circulation.
The victim of a mugging becomes the criminal if he's gay. An easily claimed homosexual advance is an acceptable defense for murder: "1 beat the queer because he tried to make me, sir."
"KILL FAGS!"—words scratched on walls of Hollywood toilets.
In this context the sexual outlaw flourishes. The pressures produce him, create his defiance. Knowing that each second his freedom may be ripped away arbitrarily, he lives fully at the brink. Promiscuity is his righteous form of revolution.
No stricture—legal, medical, religious—will ever stop him. It will only harden his defiance. Neither sinful, criminal, nor sick—he knows that to try to force him not to be a homosexual is sinful, criminal, and sick—and as impossible as forcing a heterosexual not to be a heterosexual.
Why is the homosexual hated? Since he is not a child molester nor a seducer of the unwilling, how does he threaten the straight world?
He weakens the "moral fabric"? Did Michelangelo? Da Vinci? Socrates? Did Proust? Did Shakespeare with the sonnets? Did Tchaikovsky?
Do we threaten survival of the species? We provide a stopgap against a dangerously burgeoning population.
What is the real reason for the hatred?
I pause in my talk to this mixed group. Soon I'll go on to define what I believe is the real "gay threat." Now I look at the audience, and to the homosexuals here I want to say:
"You have an untested insurrectionary power that can bring down their straight world. Use it—take the war openly into the streets. As long as they continue to kill us, fuck and suck on every corner! Question their hypocritical, murderous, uptight world."
But I don't say that. Why?
Because promiscuity, like the priesthood, requires total commitment and sacrifice.
3:48 P.M. The Restroom by the Pier.
JIM STANDS PISSING at the urinal, aware of a man sitting in the open stall at the end of the row. A youngman is lingering before the metallic mirror. Finished, Jim turns, his trunks still open, allowing his cock to remain exposed before the man in the stall. The man licks his lips in signal. The youngman at the mirror advances.
Jim moves into the stall and puts his cock in the waiting mouth.
The other watches.
Jim pulls away, adjusting his clothes hurriedly as they hear footsteps entering the restroom.
The silent identification is given in a glance by the new presence, a goodlooking bodybuilder. Jim's hand drops lightly before his own groin; the man who just entered touches it. The youngman who stood at the mirror has moved into the stall with the other. Aware that they may be interrupted at any moment, Jim and the other move into a vacant stall. Open mouths kiss, hands touch trunk-straining groins. The two bodies thrust against each other, oblivious to all danger. Mouths devour tongues; hands pull down trunks, touch hard muscles. Jim feels the other's warm cum on his stomach, and his own cock stretches, bursts, pours out the withheld thick white liquid onto the other's smeared cock.
A hostile presence enters the restroom. He is totally unaware of the sex-charged currents.
The outlaws separate.
Outside, Jim feels a sad joy.
The sun and the beach are white now. Sea birds on the sand are clustered in rows facing the ocean.
Jim has spoken not a word to anyone today. Not one.
