If you want to find truly effective birth control, try going to Six Flags on a weekend. There, you will find hundreds of unruly children and venomous teenagers who will effortlessly and unwittingly persuade you to stretch a Trojan around your entire body if it means you won't be able to reproduce. Their parents, bitter with stress, have hardened eyes and little patience for their progeny's relentless gimme-gimme wailing. You get the feeling that if there were more than one tiny beer garden in the park, the parents would shove their kids onto Raging Bull, knock out the minimum-wage ride operators and let that coaster speed along until the kids were as dizzy as the parents were drunk.
In other news, Six Flags has an amazing "extreme circus" called Circo Magnifico! that is, by any rational observation, incredibly gay. Jesse and I were astounded both by its intense homoeroticism and by the apparent lack of gaydar in the audience. We watched male acrobats in sequinned off-the-shoulder shirts slowly spooning each other to the softcore sounds of Enigma. Sometimes they held hands tenderly. One would lean his head into the other's crotch and then fold his legs over his partner's shoulder. A ringleader kept making come-hither hand motions while the soundtrack whispered, "FOLLOW ME"—all part of the homosexual plot to recruit the youth of America, obviously. Finally, the show ended with one of those joyful dance numbers with a woman yell-singing triumphantly over an oonch-oonch-oonch sparkly beat. It's difficult to capture this odd scene, but I think Jesse's observation sums it up nicely: Dude, that guy totally has a boner.
In other news, Six Flags has an amazing "extreme circus" called Circo Magnifico! that is, by any rational observation, incredibly gay. Jesse and I were astounded both by its intense homoeroticism and by the apparent lack of gaydar in the audience. We watched male acrobats in sequinned off-the-shoulder shirts slowly spooning each other to the softcore sounds of Enigma. Sometimes they held hands tenderly. One would lean his head into the other's crotch and then fold his legs over his partner's shoulder. A ringleader kept making come-hither hand motions while the soundtrack whispered, "FOLLOW ME"—all part of the homosexual plot to recruit the youth of America, obviously. Finally, the show ended with one of those joyful dance numbers with a woman yell-singing triumphantly over an oonch-oonch-oonch sparkly beat. It's difficult to capture this odd scene, but I think Jesse's observation sums it up nicely: Dude, that guy totally has a boner.
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