Stars and Garters: The Hater's Guide to the Postseason

If, like myself, you find yourself confronted with an NFL postseason without a rooting interest and unmoved by Don Cheadle soliloquies, you must draw from the well of that most powerful of human emotions. Ok, well, lust probably won't do here. But the second most powerful, hate, will serve as a fine proxy. This is one in a series of posts filled with bile, spleen, vitriol and all-around nastiness toward all the teams involved with the sordid roundelay we know as the NFL Playoffs.


NFC 5th seed -- Dallas Cowboys (9-7)

This week, as the Cowboys prepare for their Wild Card contest at Qwest Field, a few peculiar letters showed up for Seattle's own nationally syndicated sex columnist, Dan Savage.

I'm a guy in my mid-20s who's come into some recent success in a high-profile job. Given the nature of the profession and where it's based, it's not the sort of environment where I can pursue the relationships I'd like. Because of the charade that other people in my field in this city have to put on, I've had to fake my way through some trumped-up trysts to play the part.

There's one guy in the organization that I think would be willing to indulge me, but I worry if it's the right move to approach him. My boss, a guy who's into ladies wear, is fond of referring to my already somewhat femmed name objet du desire, Terry, as "she". What am I to make of that? is the fact that these two guys exhibit vague femme qualities a sign that I'm still borderline on the gay designation?

-- Reaching Out to My Offense

Thanks for writing, ROMO, though I'm usualy inclined not to respond to the bevy of letters I get from self-hating homos too chickenshit to come out throughout the country, something about your letter piqued my interest.

And that something is just how chickenshit you happen to be. I'm sorry if you feel I may sympathize with you, but it seems like you have an ideal working situation for what you want. Your boss is clearly having gender identity issues - he wears a bra ferchrissakes - and he refers to the anus of your eye as "she"? Intolerant though your surroundings may be, he certainly strikes me as GGG, and someone who is willing to keep what you have going with Terry discrete, if not getting involved himself, and as long as your work doesn't suffer, he'll make sure that the fundies won't find out.

I've been putting myself in a compromising position by the owner of the company I work for to help "straighten out" this rising star in the organization, and I'm pretty sure I'm not the only one. I'm tired of taking it from behind with a football jersey on, while he calls me his speedy, petite receiver, whatever the fuck that means. I'm attractive and I have other suitors - one internet stalker comes to mind - but I have lingering doubts about whether this guy can't be saved and that there's something I'm doing wrong.

--Britches Entice Captain Caveman's AdmiralBECCA, let me explain to you from someone that knows: you're no more likely to "straighten out" this coworker of yours than you are to make your boss any less of a lecherous, overweening dickhead. At least your online stalker, as likely as he is to mash your guts as he is to remove them, won't give you anywhere as near a headache as this obvious, self-hating fag. DTMFA.

I don't have a problem accepting the fact that I'm completely, utterly in love with myself, rather my beef is with the society that says that I'm not supposed to be. I'm the best at what I do, unfortunately what that something is is not a solitary enterprise. I've spent untold hours on my driveway perfecting sit-up techniques that would allow me to fellate myself with extreme facility. However, taboos being what they are, this has caused me endless friction at work, forcing me to move from place to place, resulting in some stray emotional problems. What advice do you have to help me find a situation where people love me for loving myself for being loved?

-- Totally Onanistic

Good lord, you're one sick, twisted fuck, TO.