Homo Clay Aiken Bangs a Baster, Now Official Breeder!
posted by May 30 at 14:02 PMon
I hate Clay Aiken because he makes me hate myself. That’s it in a nutshell. I look at that damn fool, all doughy and ginger and rather revolting, prancing around like a pixie on a hot plate, looking more and more like the maggot larvae love baby of Kojo and Roseanne and not having the faintest clue just how very irredeemably, grotesquely gay he’s being. Oh lord. Kill me now.
Indeed, when I scream at night, it’s because I dream that’s me. That I am Clay Aiken. A big clueless gay redheaded maggot creature. And often of a Saturday night, I just might be occasionally, dammit. I just might be. It’s my own secret hell.
So of course, I loathe Miss Aiken’s every action, his every gesture, his every breath. The, forgive me, “Clay-Mates” or what-the-hell-ever? His housewivish lesion of fans? (Yes, I said LESION.) Hell hath not enough hot razor blades to give those misguided freaks what they deserve for their crimes against humanity. Enough said.
Anyway. So of course it goes without saying that I can barely even form into words exactly what I think about the following happy Clay Aiken-flavored horseshit. Hold on to yourself. It gets real ugly, real fast.
Clay Aiken is going to be a father. You heard me.
Now, now, calm down! He didn’t have to go near a vagina or anything repulsive like that! (Eeeewww, gurl! Ga-ROSssssss!) To clarify, Clay Aiken is going to be a Turkey Baster Dad. As in, he, um, “inseminated” someone. Hang in there, we’re almost done.
According to an unfathomable report from something called “Dlisted.com” (never heard of them), Clay Aiken has, after tremendous effort and much gay porn, somehow managed to squeeze enough wan and tepid man-juice out of those sad little Aiken nuts of his to actually knock up a real live…well, um, a woman. A woman called Jaymze. (I am not making this up.) And “Jaymze” is, holy Jesus, fifty years old. Which is kind of old. And Clay Aiken’s sad little sperm somehow wrestled down one of her 10,000 year old eggs, and life happened, and now the entire mess is —-even as we speak! —-dividing and squirming and forming the creature that will someday grow to be The Turkey Baster Heir of Aiken.
And Jesus wept.
It’s history you’re witnessing here. That’s what it is. And I may never sleep again.
(Thanks to Slog tipper Dan Savage.)