All of my underwear has a gay crotch.
How could they tell? (It’s those hands… those tiny hands…)
This artwork has “Mid-1960s to early-’70s” written all over it. But what in the world was the point? More important: What was the graphic designer thinking?
Okay… will someone please explain this one? The boy isn’t shining shoes. He has a foot fetish? At his age?
Who knew that Burr Tillstrom enjoyed gay cruising? And with Kukla and Ollie? (Was Fran their beard? Or were the puppets Burr’s?)
Even supposing one could actually drink like that on one’s back, why are they playing footsie?
It’s also upside-down.
Wait… Dad and son just got married?
Most of us can tell it with the lights on as well.
Isn’t that sweet? Daddy and his Boy have matching togs.
“Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell, Don’t Pursue… Don’t Bite”?
Does Bill Cosby know?
Kid showers with daddy at his age, and has the nerve to call someone else “sissy”?
“Johnny! Eat your vegetables!”
A Gay Top to go with your Gay Crotch.
A really good boy gives his friend a hand. Or turns his back. If you know what I mean. And I think you know what I mean.
But… but… isn’t the one on the right a dyke?
Let’s face this, while we’re at it: If you’re using Edward Everett Horton to sell your ciggies, they really are fags.
Although some Homos prefer theirs un-cut.
Exactly who, or what, was Ingersoll’s target audience here?
“Daddy really loves it when his train goes into your tunnel, son.”
Mom is clearly a very modern woman.
Guy with rod in his hand, thinking: “Just who does he think he’s kidding with that Sonny Corleone routine?”
See? See? The Gay Agenda is evil!
Later, at home, Bob’s wife had a sneaking suspicion her hubby had been tasting more than just Bill’s beer…
Was that “Cisco,” or “Crisco”? (Does anyone remember how every episode of the television Cisco Kid ended with the Kid and his sidekick exchanging the cryptic exchange “Oh, Poncho!” “Oh, Cisco!”… followed, one presumes, by a discrete fade-out.)
“I say… Rawlings Senior seems awfully intrigued by the size of my club…”
Sometimes a torpedo is just a torpedo.
Thank you. I always do.
And then write dumb disco songs about it, which straight people don’t get.
Text copyright 2013 by Scott Ross