Exotic recently became privy--and I don't mean "privy" in the "toilet" sense, but rather the "had access to" sense, although maybe I should have just used "had accessed to" in the first place--to this faxed letter by a woman calling herself "Heather." A self-identified lesbian, Heather apparently felt so outraged by the humorlessness within her raw-oyster-slurping community that she sat down, scrawled a mostly legible, all-caps letter to us, and forwarded it to our office using the miracle of facsimile technology. If you read this, Heather, get in touch--we'd like to pay you. Converting you from your wicked lifestyle is probably out of the question, but at least we'd like to pay you.

Dear Jim, Frank, or whoever the hell wants to read this...

Thanks for the apology, but really, don't you just wanna say, "Fuck lesbians?" Wait--I'll just do it for you--FUCK LESBIANS!!! I can say this because I AM one, and by that I don't mean I get drunk and wake up the next morning in bed next to a woman saying, "What have I done?" I'm not a weekends-only, "my boyfriend's out of town" kind of lesbian. I've been doing this with fervor and conviction for twelve years now. I have been deep, deep on the inside (pun intended) and have emerged with the realization that we, the lesbians, in every way but one, really fucking suck! We scream and march and spit and kick so we'll be treated like everyone else and then proceed to stick out like a bulldyke doing a pole dance. We shove our politics so far up everyone's ass that you'd need an enema the size of a pick-up truck (complete with rainbow pride sticker) to get them back out. We piss and moan about the "oppressive" stereotypes that are forced on us, and then we run right out and shave our heads and buy a pair of Carharts or get a mullet and a flannel. We are incestuous as hell. We hang out in tight little circles and then trade off girlfriends like last month's issue of Ms., and if you haven't noticed, we speak in metaphors...a lot. I've been there...done all of this and more. I took the classes. I marched and screamed. I received my Sapphic Sisterhood membership card, and it's currently keeping the cocktail rings off my coffee table. I was the campus protester. I was drenched in feminist theory. And then I finally realized that my feminism was hindering what my pussy wanted. Guess which one got the boot? I love dick as long as I can throw it in a drawer at the end of the night. I feel an affinity to female-loving men; we want the same thing.

I don't see why we can't all just hang out and get along. I mean, really, the fact is that there are more women than men in this world. If you take all the lesbians out of the picture, you'd have to get rid of all the gay men, too...leaving a pretty even playing field. So see, we're not taking away your chances of getting laid; you're just a bunch of witless clods. But it's not your fault. You (like us) have only grown to embrace what's been delegated to you.

OK, so back to my original longwinded and unnecessary point--I am a lesbian, and we are ridiculous and hilarious, as are the rest of you. The sooner we come to accept this undeniable fact, the more openly amusing this world can be. I for one loved the "What's With all the Lesbians?" article. I carried it around, and in between fits of laughter, I read it to my oh-so-serious lesbian friends. Come on, now, really--if you can't laugh at yourself, then you deserve for the rest of the world to laugh at you.

Thanks for listening,

The Self-Loathing, Porn-Peddling Dyke from Down South