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Anita Bryant
3.25.40 Barnsdall, Oklahoma

Never again will I eat in a restaurant at which the rainbow flag is on display. I don’t care what people say about me—I’m just as gay as the rest of you and I say I won’t have it. The food always indifferent at high-ish prices—the service invariably bad—and then the virus du jour within 24 hours, never failing. Never again!
I feel so guilty about standing up my friend Jessica at her dance performance that I become determined to spend the evening busily at work upon my most ambitious work to date!
I didn’t even know about the gay pride parade that went down 7th Avenue a half-block away from me on Saturday night, while I was sitting here watching the boring Harry Potter movie with my sister. Suddenly I heard this burst of fearless and violent screaming—well then I knew. So I went out and ambulated a bit along the outskirts, letting myself get caught up in the wake of the Audre Lourde Sexual Exhibitionists of Color Nature Foundation or something.
I am so bad with names.
I soon outstrip them however and later find myself watching them pass by. At which a woman breaks to my curb from the ranks and hands me an invitation to a barbecue in Prospect Park on August 11th. I may go anyway even though she also handed me a little gel-filled plastic thing that turns out to be lubricating gel—pink and apparently fruit-flavored. Here I all but march with the woman and she’s suggesting I need to use lubricants. . .
What a bitch!

Consolation Site: They’re Coming!!!

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