It's bad enough, of course, that The Stranger is currently paying more homosexuals than my troubled friend Roy Cohn at his peak of moral depravity. It seems not an issue of this repulsive rag can go by without one of the mistakenly employed pansies blathering on about some homosexual insight of profound inconsequence. Worse, however—insult to injury by invert, one might say—is when the few straight men on staff join the tradition-bashing chorus line.

I offer, as a case in point, this week's feature, in which PAUL CONSTANT, an alleged heterosexual, tries to become more of a man. Let us pause for a brief, sympathetic moment to appreciate how easy it would be for a straight man to become confused about his masculine bona fides in an environment such as this, where Dan Savage spends every day pushing his predatory homosexual agenda while the rest of his homo accomplices contribute to a level of gay background radiation generally found only in certain theaters in New York and a few Republican haunts in D.C. that discretion and lasting—if strained—friendships require me to leave unnamed.

I can understand, then, how a young man such as Mr. Constant might become filled with unmanly self-doubt in such an environment, but I cannot understand how it was then decided that the solution to his problem was to hang out with homosexual doctors, the rare variety of transsexuals who don't advertise for sexual liaisons in the back of The Stranger, and a bunch of duct-tape-abusing drag kings. The things that Mr. Constant does in the name of self-rediscovery cannot be described in the family-friendly section of this family-hating newspaper, but suffice it to say that I came away from the article as filled with disgust as the article itself was full of self-satisfaction.

Also full of excrement: An art review by JEN GRAVES, who this week has the temerity to deem a fire fueled by an art dealer's feces worthy of serious consideration. Ms. Graves, playing in the sewer of the Seattle art world is beneath you. Climb out before it's too late.

In other homosexual news: Stranger news intern CHRIS KISSEL, a good-hearted and talented young man, is forced to investigate an SPD crackdown on the open display of pornography in a homosexual bar. Perhaps this is some kind of a hazing ritual among Stranger staffers: They send the youngest and most innocent of their number to cover the vile goings-on of the most scandalous homosexuals in town, and then force said young journalist to feign outrage at the persecution of the sodomites. I should like to warn Mr. Kissel to take up an internship at a better publication, like the Seattle Post-Intelligencer, for instance. Otherwise, in a few short years, he could wind up like Ms. Graves, reporting on people burning their own excrement, or worse, he could, like Mr. Constant, find himself staring into the depths of his own pants and wondering why he is coming up short.