 On this week’s episode of Real Housewives of Salt Lake City, Lisa Barlow dropped the rumor that Bronwyn Newport’s husband Todd was seen by her friend making out with someone and that he was “farting the entire time.” When questioned about who her friend was, Barlow stated it was “someone that I believe and trust.” She added that, “I mean, I grew up in New York, I know a lot of people.”
Something about this exchange captivated our editors and led us on a path of truth-seeking we have seldom journeyed upon. We realized that we too know a lot of people we believe and trust, so we decided to share the stuff we’ve heard from them. Here’s what we gathered from those trusted sources: “Colonel Sanders bit my nipple off.”* “Squirrels are real.”** That was pretty much all we got. But then it hit us why this story fascinated us so much. It was simple—Todd’s fart power. If Lisa Barlow’s story is true it means that Todd was able to go through an entire make out session (which averages 11.9 minutes) while farting “the entire time.” That means almost twelve full minutes of nonstop farting. Considering a fart takes about two seconds to release (five if it is a long, bellowing rip) Todd could have farted almost 360 times, making him the greatest living farter on Earth (Banjo Mukaheedin will always be number one, but his farts were before recorded history and are the stuff of legends). Even if Todd only “made out” for a few minutes, his fart production would have been stunning. Lisa’s description of the event also reveals that people were actively watching and smelling the event, meaning it was so pronounced and farty that at least one witness felt compelled to come forward and tell the world. We assume the ventilation at the incident site was powerful enough to prevent deaths (see below). The implications for Todd as a fart master are significant. The obvious route for him would be to work for an intelligence agency where he would appear in a subway tunnel or elevator and target foreign adversaries with his farts. Most humans can absorb the odor of one or two farts, but few are immune to the foul deadliness of a veritable Gatlin Gun of tiny butt explosions. Todd could enter the scene, fart until his victims fell dead, and then leave as though nothing happened other than a middle-aged man entering a closed space and farting for several minutes until everyone died. As you read that last sentence, you probably asked yourself, “Wait a second. How’s Todd not dead? He’s in the middle of the fart storm.” And this brings us to the most intriguing part of Todd’s ability—he clearly can’t smell farts or at least isn’t affected by them. He can even make out and do them. Experts*** we spoke to told us that farts you produce yourself are somehow not as malodorous as someone else’s, forming what is known as the Smellt it Dealt it Paradox. Whatever the case, Lisa Barlow’s rumor remains officially unverified and is kind of like someone saying they saw Bigfoot—we want to believe them, but if it’s true, then the world has changed forever. *Could’ve been someone who kind of looked like Colonel Sanders. **Unverified. ***Some guy at a bar.  Amid the commercialization of Halloween, we often forget the true meaning of a holiday that brings millions of people together through the exchange of candy, the creativity of costumes, and the trust we put in our friends and neighbors to not poison our children.
“Big Halloween” has stolen the innocence of a day in October when children once made their own crappy costumes and roamed their local streets carrying pillowcases to hold a bounty of singly wrapped butter scotches, weirdly shaped Mounds bars, and tiny tootsie rolls. Today, fueled by pop up Spirit Halloween shops and “fun sized” candy bars, a cold, multi-national conglomerate of money-churning ghouls has subverted wholesome fun in favor of profit and conformity. One bright spot has been the slutty outfits worn by hot parents and single women who have one magic night to act like a hooker. Go back thirty or forty years, and this kind of action was hard to find. Harder still, were not penises. Because there was nothing to harden them as there is today. You get it. How do we fight against the all-consuming consumerism of Halloween as it creeps up upon us again today? How do we explain to a younger generation that there was a time when the joy of a brisk fall night and running around the neighborhood with your friends was the true reward and not the logistics of having the perfect outfit, the perfect display of skeletons moaning, and the perfect dish of candy, laid out perfectly for the perfect little children who have no respect for the work you put in as you hide in a nearby bush, dressed as one of the guys from Milli Vanilli (although they wouldn’t GET that) and you tell yourself only to jump out if one of those fuckers takes more than two pieces because that’s what the fucking sign says? How? How do we explain that in our day women didn’t even think of wearing slutty outfits and if they did it was because they ALREADY were hookers and they were kind of dressing for work? How do we tell them there were no pre-made sexy kitty cat or skanky nurse costumes available to anyone? If you were a skanky nurse, you were ACTUALLY a skanky nurse. If you were a sexy kitty you were an ACTUAL cat, and if people found you sexy, then they were into having sex with animals. It was sick back then. Here's a terrible idea. Let’s start handing out hot beef sandwiches to kids this Halloween. Or is it a great idea? We don’t even know anymore. In the end, your Halloween celebration is up to you. If you want it to be cold and driven by internet trends, then that’s your choice. But if you are attractive and want to dress up like an incredibly slutty version of yourself then do that too. Don’t hold back. In fact, use the internet and social media to display pictures of you dressed up as an incredibly slutty version of yourself. We’re done writing now. Goodbye. -The editorial staff.  It’s Halloween month in America and many are seeking the scariest movies to soothe our need to imagine humans being slaughtered, evil spirits popping up behind priests, and crypto beasts invading our homes. But for a growing amount of the population, a different kind of film is driving viewing preferences. Enter the erotic Halloween movie, which isn’t porn* but is very close, and whose plots mix the spooky with the kinky.
To save you from accidentally searching porn titles, the Intergalactic Business Report offers you a list of the best and hottest erotic Halloween movies, streaming right now: 1. Abigall’s Ghostly Panties. Abi Johanson has a dark secret. Her underwear is dead. Huh? Turns out her undies used to be worn by a Victorian lady who had a lot of sex with random mendicants she encountered on the streets of London. When Abi stayed at the Trenningham Arms on a post-college vacation to find herself, she woke up wearing them. At first, she screamed. But then she felt a certain cold comfort and began transforming into Ms. Minkle, the bawdy old whore to whom the foul garments belonged. When Abi meets and falls in love with dashing royal Samuel Boynefeld, he asks her to marry him and live at his lonely estate in the north of England. But Abi’s panties long for the London streets until they find out that Samuel too has a pair of possessed undies. Is it a match made in hell? Or just two attractive young people wearing nasty 19th century underwear? Streaming on Netflix. 2. Tie Me Up and Almost Kill Me. Fred Givens has a peculiar kink. He likes to be subdued and beaten. Good thing other people are into subduing and beating people because otherwise Fred’s sex life would be empty. One night, Fred’s Tinder date gets a little too rough and almost kills him, but doesn’t, leaving Fred to wonder if he can push the limits of his sexuality closer to death. SPOILER ALERT: Fred’s new sex partner is into it but is also reasonable enough to see the danger and exits the relationship, leaving Fred’s sex life empty (see above). But when Fred meets an actual serial killer, he believes he has found a partner who can finally satisfy him. SPOILER ALERT: turns out that’s a bad idea because the serial killer and Fred aren’t on the same page when it comes to what they want. So Fred just gets flat out murdered. On Amazon Prime. 3. The Sun and the Stench. This horror gem takes place in the fictional town of Assville, Ohio, which is almost permanently dark and cloudy. Assville is near a chemical plant that often blows a foul stench upon the citizens. Before the stench, there is sunlight, but only for a moment. While most people accept Assville for what it is, plucky teenagers Terrence and Fiona decide to solve the mystery of the odor. SPOILER ALERT: They’re all living inside someone’s butt, and the sunlight is when the butt passage opens up to fart. Streaming on Tubi. 4. Nasty Girllzzzzz. The biggest whores and the biggest whores all have an orgy to decide who is the biggest whore. And it takes place on Halloween (probably). Available only on VHS. 5. Pumpkin Fuckers Five. See our 2024 article. This movie still holds up, a year later. 6. Isn’t it Time We Stopped Having Sex with Our Masks On? A documentary about people who only have sex while wearing Halloween masks. Not very scary, except for the fact that these people wear Halloween masks when they fuck each other. So, kind of scary except no one dies. SPOILER ALERT: the group decides it is NOT time to stop having sex with their masks on, so stay tuned till there’s a follow up documentary or whatever, where they revisit that question. Streaming on IFC. *It’s porn.  I am writing this while a grizzly bear humps my leg and a gallery of jacked up, steroid freaks films it. I shouldn’t have let it come to this, but I had to do it for the sake of my job, my life, and my country. How did I get here? That’s a whole thing.
One week earlier: As I enter my workplace, something seems off. Erika, who’s usually upbeat and friendly, won’t talk to me. I brush past her desk and accidentally rub against her shoulder. “Sorry,” I say, but she has no reaction. Is she deep into her work? Or did I do or say something to piss her off? Next I go to my boss’s office. I peer inside but he’s not there. That’s odd. He’s usually not absent on a Monday morning. I ask his assistant if he’ll be back soon. She won’t answer me. Now I’m starting to get angry. “Why won’t anyone talk to me?” I scream. Everyone in the office looks away and pretends to be working on something but I can tell they hear me. Even so, I scream again. And again. And again. One day earlier: Outside my boss’s house, I am drinking a bottle of expensive wine—because I have class and also because I stole it from my neighbor who is a fancypants but that’s a whole other thing I can’t get into right now. As I finish the last drops and set the bottle down, I finally have the courage to approach the house and ask my boss for what I deserve. He answers the door. He looks surprised. I had a whole speech prepared but when I open my mouth, all that comes out is: “AAAAAARGGGH!” He shuts the door. I pound on it. He says he’s called the police. I try to explain, but again, all I can do is say: “AAAAAARGHHH!” Then I add: “Motherfucker!” and I run. One hour earlier: I look through Darrin’s fancypants wine collection and decide to take the bottle he said was most expensive. Stupid Darrin. He won’t miss it, right? Anyway, I take it and leave and walk to Erika’s. I sip my wine and get up the courage to approach her house. I walk up the cobblestone path that leads to her door. Then I knock. She answers. I have so much to say to her but then I speak and something goes wrong. I can only say: “UUUUUNNNNGGGH!” and then: “Master Blaster!” In my heart, I know what that means. But the translation is off. I must explain and tell her that “Master Blaster rules Bartertown.” She doesn’t get it. I’m not sure I do either. I do a dance, because that is the last thing I can do to express myself. One minute earlier. “UUUUUNNNNGGGH!” I say to Erika. “Master Blaster!” One second earlier. “Master Blaster.” Present time: I am writing this while a grizzly bear humps my leg and a gallery of jacked up, steroid freaks films it. I shouldn’t have let it come to this, but I had to do it for the sake of my job, my life, and my country. How did I get here? That’s a whole thing. Question: How the fuck does this even work? Cedric Bigglestone is a self-taught journalist who exposes things through exposés. He also writes other stuff, like this. Contact him at [email protected].  When “it was all just a dream” ended as an acceptable plot device, writers were left longing for a way to skip the burden of building a compelling story and interesting characters by replacing it with a jarring mindfuck that leaves everyone unsatisfied.
That’s when someone came up with the idea to start every narrative “in media res” and then flash a title card saying: “One month earlier” before making the rest of the script the story of how the fuck we got to the whacko scene in the beginning. This method of storytelling is so brilliant and accessible even the Real Housewives franchise starting using it. We hope to as well. But before we do, we just want to tell you, the writers, thank you. Even though the BEGINNING of your show is the only exciting part we will ever actually watch, we are now prepared to slog through the entire backstory leading up to the excitement. Thank you again. We can’t wait to find out why the character in the beginning scene is pissed off at that other character even though they were best friends a month ago. What? Huh? This is bonkers. Also, how did they get into a shootout? Some pretty fucked up stuff must happen in this story! We can’t wait to find out. One more thing. When we finally DO get to the beginning scene (at the end of the show/movie/episode) how the fuck are the characters going to get out of THAT mess? You’ve got us thinking at so many levels our shorts just fell off and yup, we have a hard-on. Some people may call it “hapless” or “inept” or even “fuck it, imma do this even though every other person does this every fucking time--there I did it" but we celebrate the consistent use of tropes till they grind our brains numb. Below we list a few of our other favorites (in case you’re not using them already): 1. The man whose wife cheats on him and he has to apologize to her because it’s really his fault because he “took his eyes off the prize” and deserved it. 2. The degenerate gambler who inexplicably starts winning every hand, dice roll, and roulette spin till he only needs one more bet to win it all—and then he loses. Oh no. 3. The degenerate gambler who owes money to some “really bad guys” and they want it back or some really bad things are gonna happen. Oh no to the no. 4. Black Rabbit. 5. The character who coughs and someone says, “Are you o.k.?” and she says, “Of course. I’m fine.” And then she dies. 6. The scene where 90-pound women go out drinking and do twelve tequila shots in a row and don’t die. 7. The hot chick who wears baseball jerseys and knows more about sports than any man. 8. Chad Michael Murray eating a cheeseburger. 9. Something really positive happens that’s going to solve everybody’s problems and then immediately afterwards everything goes to shit. 10. People having mature relationships where they trust, understand, and genuinely appreciate each other and say things like, “You deserve this” and “Whatever you decide, I’m behind you 100%.” 11. Characters who live in New York City who find it impossible to come up with a hundred grand even though that’s what they pay in rent every month. Ed Mountaineer reads Ryan Reynolds lips and you won’t believe what they say. By Ed Mountaineer.9/11/2025  At a recent Hollywood something thing, a lip reader noticed that Ryan Reynolds was a complete dick to Eugene Levy, but because Reynolds hides behind his perfect image, most people didn’t catch it. But the lipreader did. So…
Anyway, it’s well known that I am in a longstanding feud with Ryan Reynolds and that it’s something that could have been alleviated years ago but wasn’t because Mr. Perfect thought it was better to continue “not knowing who I am.” That’s not an actual quote, because Ryan Reynolds holds me in such contempt that he refuses to even be quoted about me. I put that in “quotes” because it’s the least I deserve—to have Ryan Reynolds say he doesn’t know who I am and have someone ask him about me in the first place. But I don’t even get that. What many people don’t know about me is that I have been reading lips for years. I didn’t “learn” to do it—it is just a natural ability I’ve always had. As a child, adults would turn down the volume during the Muppet Show and Sesame Street, and I could still follow every word Big Bird, Oscar, and the Swedish Chef said. To this day, I can simply walk down the street and “hear” everyone—as if they are shouting madness at me and I, like some sort of wonderful, benevolent god, listen to their pathetic prayers. Many of their prayers are grunts that are not language and fart noises, but I listen, nevertheless. I said I was benevolent. On to my lipreading. I feel like I need to prove my abilities, because anyone could just say, “Hey, I can read lips and thoughts and stuff,” and it could be a total lie. So I’m going to list a few things I “heard” through my lip reading in the past few weeks. I think you’ll find them very interesting and, in some cases, very shocking. O.K. Here we go: Ryan Reynolds, talking to a limo driver: “Hey, motherfucker! Learn to drive! I’m Ryan fucking Reynolds. You don’t drive Ryan Reynolds like that!” Ryan Reynolds, waving to fans as he went into a restaurant: “Are you seriously my motherfucking fans? Seriously? Ryan Reynolds wants better fans! Come on, man. Leave this Earth!” Ryan Reynolds, shopping somewhere: “Is this the fucking perfume section! Arrrrgh! I didn’t want to be here! This sucks! Get me out of the perfume section, motherfuckers! Arrrrrrrgh…!” Ryan Reynolds driving his expensive car into his big fancy house: “Is that Ed Mountaineer standing near my driveway? I will steal his soul if I get the chance! Bahahaha! I control your thoughts now, Ed!” Ryan Reynolds, as a talk show he’s on goes to break: “This show motherfucking sucks! You suck! I hate this fucking show! You suck! Did I already say that?” Ryan Reynolds, looking at his phone (not speaking, just thoughts): “I wonder if I should call Ed Mountaineer. He seems like a cool guy. Maybe I should give him a chance and do a trial best friend thing with him where we do it for six months and if it’s going really well then we do it permanently. Hmmmm.” Homeless guy I saw (doing that thing where he puts his index finger on his lips and moves it up and down like he’s under water): “Buhbuhbuhbuhbuhbuhbuh...Bububuhbuhbuhbuhbuhbuh…(breathes) Buhbuhbuhbuhbuhbuhbuh.” Ernie (of Ernie and Bert) at no volume: “Hey Ed, Ryan Reynolds is talking smack about you again. I know. Just wear your space helmet and he’ll go away. Just do it. God damn it, Ed! Put on the motherfucking helmet!” That’s it. In conclusion, I’m available if you need me for lipreading services. I charge a lot, but I can also read thoughts, so that makes it worth it. I’m done writing now. Goodbye. Ed Mountaineer is an opinion columnist for the Intergalactic Business Report. He was hired after we encountered him at a Taco Bell. He can be reached at [email protected]. If you would like to hire Ed, please see his résumé here.  A new Gallup poll shows that U.S. alcohol consumption is at an all-time low, with 54% of Americans identifying as drinkers. This is down from 71% in the 1970’s and is attributed to the current belief that beer, wine, and liquor have negative health effects.
As the number of booze consumers trends downward, drunk people are dangerously close to being a minority group in our country. What this means for the future is both terrifying and hopeful as, on one hand, teetotalers may work to reduce the right for citizens to be and get drunk, and on the other, drunks may finally receive the sympathy and special consideration we have advocated for since 2023. In that year, the Intergalactic Business Report named August “Drunk People Awareness Month,” declaring that drunk people were subject to unfair stereotypes and prejudices of which we sought to disabuse an ignorant populace. Today, a mere five percentage points away from minority status, we explore what drunk people may look forward to as the dip continues. 10 ways our culture will change when drunks get minority status: 1. Service animals will carry extra bottles and drag drunks out of dangerous areas such as roadways, bridges, and fountains. St. Bernards are the preferred beast of burden for their historical connection and service to drunks but other animals, such as racoons, beavers, and George “the animal” Steele will be considered. 2. Airlines will be required to offer “drunk” seating. 3. The term “alcohol free” will be replaced with “alcohol deficient,” and the term “contains alcohol” will become “alcohol enriched.” 4. Derogatory titles such as “town drunk,” and “wino” will be changed to “village intoxication consultant” and “Sommelier.” 5. “Brewer’s droop” will become “Alcohol induced penis at rest.” 6. Because playing sports for drunks is more difficult than it is for sobers, any score by fully satisfied (see below) people will end the game and participants must break into an over-the-top celebration for the new champion who showed all you motherfuckers. Showed you. You’re all a fucking joke. 7. “Shit-faced” and “wasted” will be “fully satisfied” and “useful to society.” 8. Drunks who are arrested may ride in the front seat and may touch the driver. 9. The “drunk tank” will be known as the “alcohol consumer center.” 10. When a drunk person asks you if you think you’re better than them, you will be required to reply, “Yes, I admit I do and I apologize. Because of your longstanding suffering as a drunk person, your perceptive powers have become so in tune with the universe that you are able to divine my thoughts. I bow to you and pledge to serve you for the rest of my woeful existence." The Valley’s Danny Darko is “Drunk Sisyphus.” A special Drunk People Awareness Month honor.8/19/2025  It's no myth. Danny Booko is sentenced to a life of servile apologies. As part of Drunk People Awareness Month, the Intergalactic Business Report honors the Valley’s Danny Booko by bestowing upon him the title of “Drunk Sisyphus.”
We’ll explain: Booko, whose alter ego Danny Darko comes out when he drinks, spent season two of Bravo’s “The Valley” defending his drunken behavior. Horrified friends sat, horrified, as Booko asked one of them to “get daddy a drink” and grazed another’s butt cheek. No, this wasn’t just something your grandfather does at every restaurant he eats in. This was a reality show person. On television. Drinking. And misbehaving. Let that sink in for a minute. In-control-of-their-drinking Valley couple Jason and Janet jumped to the defense of defiled on-again off-again lesbian Jasmine, who, following the incident, enrolled Danny in a high interest contrition account in which he’s required to apologize again and again but never pay off his debt completely, thus having to say sorry to her for the rest of his life, making Danny the first ever Drunk Sisyphus. Like the original Sisyphus, who had to roll a boulder up a hill each day only to do it again the next, Danny Booko must apologize to Jasmine each episode of “The Valley,” only to find out the next episode that his apology wasn’t totally accepted because it felt weird or insincere at which point he must do his best to offer his most sincere and non-weird condolences for his existence as someone who said and did something stupid but not deadly, dangerous, illegal, or lifechanging (except in the sense that he has to apologize to Jasmine for eternity) and must now pay an infinite price. Jasmine, who as a heterosexual tried to choke out terrified Bachelor Nick Viall as part of her sex fantasy, explained to Booko that he couldn’t understand the hardships that lesbians like her undergo because straight men don’t take lesbian relationships seriously. Especially lesbian relationships in which one of the lesbians was a straight woman trying to choke out the bachelor as part of her sex fantasy just a little while ago. Danny Darko’s misdeeds didn’t end at the butt-pinching incident of course. He also got drunk several other times at events where everyone was drinking. At one point, he did a shot of tequila in an area away from his wife. This led other drunks to believe he was “hiding” something from her. Later, the same day, Danny took a nap, which, if you’re drunk, is known as “passing out” or “blacking out.” Even without the Drunk Sisyphus honor, Danny Booko has achieved the venerated status of drunk guy in a room full of drunks who is called out for being slightly more drunk than all the other drunks, making his drunk achievements even more impressive. Thank you, Danny Booko. Needless to say, the Intergalactic Business Report issues a standing invitation to join us for drinks, call yourself daddy, and touch our butts. It’s what drunk people do and it’s what makes America great.  August is Drunk People Awareness Month and it’s during this time we celebrate the accomplishments of the inebriated and educate the public on the fact that people with drunkenness are contributors to society, mentors, neighbors, and heroes. They are teachers, doctors, mothers, fathers, babysitters, police officers, diplomats, and gas station attendants (New Jersey only). We could go on but that would mean focusing on a sentence that could meaningfully end this paragraph. Nope. Couldn’t do it.
As we plunder through this month with tales of drunken lore, memes that lionize over imbibers, and pedantic moralizing about how you need to change your view about this group or you’re Hitler, the Intergalactic Business Report invites you to cherish every bit of learning we deign to give you. We will start today with some commonly misplaced stereotypes about people who drink so much they do stuff and something something. Stereotype one: Drunks are lazy. Try drinking fifteen shots in two hours and chase those with half a dozen beers. Is that LAZY? Is that fucking lazy? If pressed on this, drunks are happy to show you what “lazy” really is. They ask the question: “Do you want to know what lazy is?” Followed by the answer: “You.” Followed by the finishing move of: “You’re a fucking joke.” Stereotype two: Drunk people slur their words. Whoor you to even shay dat? Whoor you? Stereotype three: Drunk people are unreliable. Most drunks we surveyed find this the most offensive misconception about them. They work HARD. They work so HARD. And you… You don’t even understand. You don’t GET it. They work HARD. And yeah… Yeah, sometimes they let loose. That’s right. Sometimes the DRINK a little too much. But so what? What’s your problem? You’re a fucking joke. Stereotype four: Drunks are incapable of operating heavy machinery and farm equipment. Farm drunks will beg to differ on this point. They will also happily blow through a cornfield with a machine that is supposed to detassel corn but is really just their Jeep. Also, that forklift. They can show you how to drink a fucking forklift. You wanna see? You wanna fucking see? Stereotype five: Actively drunk people cannot make important decisions. We’ve all heard the ostensibly “good” advice: “Let’s wait till tomorrow to make this life-changing decision because we’ve been drinking all night and our judgment is cloudy.” But imagine you’ve been drinking all night and there’s no way that thought would ever enter your head? Every day and every night drunk people around the world make monumentally serious decisions without the benefit of reasonable people asking reasonable questions that reasonably suggest that gratification be delayed a few hours instead of making rash decisions that could affect your entire existence. Nope. We’re gonna break into a zoo and see if I can fight an ostrich. Stereotype five: Drunk people are “unreasonable.” Unreasonable? Unreasonable? Drunk people are happy to show you what’s really “unreasonable.” Wanna know what that is? They’ll tell you what’s unreasonable. Unreasonable. What a fucking joke. Stereotype six: Drunk people will pee anywhere. Not anywhere. Like not on a statue. Or in their pants. Or… Nope. They will pee anywhere. Stereotype seven: Taco Bell is open late night but what does that even mean? Stereotype eight: Midnight is NOT late night. Sorry. One a.m. is NOT late night. Stereotype nine: There’s gotta be something open. Right? Stereotype ten: Why am a banned from Uber eats? What the fuck did I even do? Oh. Yeah. I remember. Stereotype eleven: If we go back to your place can you at least make me a sandwich or something? Where the fuck are you going? Stereotype twelve: Drunk people are unable to navigate their way home without assistance. True.  Harald Lenner sits in a cafeteria across from his best friend Chris. The pair are ending their second years at a well-known university the way many college students do—cramming for exams, hitting parties, and hooking up. But unlike the old school, hyper-masculine and hyper-hetero culture of the past, Harald and Chris fancy themselves what many students now call “micro gay.”
This new category of sexuality is becoming commonplace among youth who seek a way of defining themselves that is not in opposition of homosexuality, by teasing an interest that will most likely remain unrequited. If this sounds a little hard to reconcile, it is. Even for Harald and Chris, who promise they’ve never hooked up with each other, but have thought about it. “Being micro gay is kind of like being really into dinosaurs, even if you’re never going to see one in real life,” Chris explains. The term itself, micro gay, suggests that one is homosexual but only to a small degree, and although some students we spoke to had slightly differing definitions, the predominant view seems to be that micro gayness is a state of mind in which one is primarily heterosexual but can envision what it would be like to be gay—and in a positive way. When Chris and Harald say they’ve thought of being together romantically, they caution that this will most likely never become reality, mostly because they are drawn almost pathologically towards women. “Sometimes, they’re all I think about,” admits Harald, who is scrolling through Tinder as he speaks to us. When we ask if there are any men in his feed, he becomes a bit defensive and says, “I am into dudes, but in a theoretical way, and not on Tinder.” Unlike the classic macho man who’s secretly gay, micro gayness seeks to call out the most infinitesimal homosexual tendencies straight people may have and bring them to light, thus achieving a measure of social awareness and elevated morality. “No offense,” Chris starts, “But people from your generation probably hid it. You made gay jokes and would tease other guys about how you wanted to have sex with them and then there’d be a big laugh. Today, there’s no laughter. We say stuff like, ‘nice ass bro,’ but we mean it.” Still, Chris makes a point of saying he would probably never have sex with a man, while still allowing for an outside possibility of it happening. “If it happens, it happens,” he says. Harald agrees and adds, “Straight guys can be gay too.” When we ask, just to confirm, if either of them has ever had gay sex, they take a nuanced, if confusing, stance. “We’re micro gay,” Chris asserts. “Not gay gay.” “I’ll put it this way,” Harald says. “I could go to the Pride parade if I wanted, but if I did, I wouldn’t hook up with any of the dudes.” Harald and Chris have no plans to attend any Pride events this year but aren’t ruling it out in the future. An element of the micro gay community, they say, is not having a particularly strong interest in traditionally gay events, movements, or issues. In fact, students like Chris and Harald find those things a little “gay,” a term they say they are allowed to use pejoratively owing to their status as micro gay. Faculty member Dr. Charles DeMize says the uptrend in micro gay men is something whose time has come. “Until recently, it was only macro gays who were allowed to call themselves gay. What the culture tends to do is rethink hierarchies and sort them out in a way that makes sense for the times. Our times call for more people with fluid sexualities and, in this case, more homosexual thoughts.” Fraternity president Mike O’Donnell says that “Chicks have been that way forever. Just watch a porno. We’ve had girls at parties hooking up in front of me.” As for men hooking up with each other, Mike hasn’t noticed a lot of movement. “Dudes no,” he says. Then he thinks about it and adds, “Nope. I don’t think I’ve seen any of that.” When we ask him about micro gays, he tells us, “What the fuck is that?” While the movement clearly hasn’t caught on with everyone on college campuses, it is something to be aware of as the culture opens to new ideas and lifestyles. As for Harald and Chris, they tell us they will continue seeking acceptance for their status in the LGBTQplus acronym. What letter would they like to represent them? “Maybe a little ‘g’,” Harald suggests. “Yeah,” Chris agrees, “You could put it right next to the big ‘G.’” As the two high-five each other over their “little g” concept, it’s hard not to notice a little limpness in their wrists. But just a little. |
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