Few know the actual reasons for our relocation to California because Butterbean wanted to keep it low profile. He left his band and his gay lover of 3 years, Rupert McNoodle (a self-loathing gay republican, unapologetic racist and scheisse fetishist), in order to campaign against Proposition 8 at a grassroots level. No longer could he sleep idly by and let this injustice stand. We could get on board, or he would go it alone.
Thanks to the machinations of the Mormon church, the struggle for equality in the most progressive state in the U.S. has been endlessly frustrating. Preying on the small-mindedness of its constituency has always been the church's strength, and the funneling of tax exempt monies, bullying and fear-mongering have seemed to achieve the desired result. I tried to explain to the dog that I had lived in Salt Lake City for a number of years and still can't understand why a male culture that was so openly embracing of the gay lifestyle (deep-seated obsessions with thinness, grooming, and light-hearted musicals) would be so outwardly hostile to it. I mean, think about it. They take male youths at the peak of their sexuality, ship them off to foreign lands and proselytize about dirty, sweaty sins to nubile youths in banana hammocks. Butterbean thinks there is a little more to it. He has surmised that Mormons don't want the state involved in the definition of any marriage. Why, you ask? Because they are all pissed off about having polygamy outlawed. If they can't marry who they want, then Moroni-damn-it, noone can. It's an interesting theory, but I don't think another wife or 4 would make mor-men want a cock in the pooper any less.
Butterbean struggles on. He has met a nice chihuahua mix (named Coach) who shares the same passion in equal rights for all dogs; gay, straight, or polyamorous. They are in the preliminary stages of marketing their new product: The Harvey Milkbone. "Change their hearts and minds with commerce!" Coach has been known to shout, when he's not licking his own balls anyway.
