TWENTY TWENTY HINDSIGHT

1. Despite common knowledge,  Lisa Frank did not actually invent the unicorn.

2. She did, however, violate the Children’s Online Privacy Act for letting kiddies ride her unicorn to her backyard rainbow without parental permission. Or for using her website to garner lil girls’ personal info (e.g name, address, phone number, favorite color) minus guardian consent.

3. For the above violation Lisa F. was fined 30 large by the FTC (aka Fuck The Centaur).

4. She also predicted the origins of the planet:

5. The unicorn is actually the direct descendant of the billy-goat.  The earliest genus had a little goatee thing like your old neighbor Guido, as well as a lion’s tail and cloven hooves, whatever the fuck those are.

6. The unicorn’s horn neutralizes poison, so you best order some of that shit off Ebay before your next Jagerbomb.

7. Not only is the unicorn’s horn a panacea for those really, really bad hangovers where you wake up with a half-eaten take-out box of Time Out mac ‘n cheese on your bathroom floor, it’s also good for herpes and yeast infections, at least according to my friend Spencer P.

8. The unicorn is closely related to the narwhal, which has a phallic bone-thing jutting from it’s head like one of those dudes with devil horns implanted in his skull.

9. The narwhal is, like my stuffed polar bear Cozy, especially vulnerable to global warming, being all cold-water-friendly and shit.

10. This could be problematic if you’re actually concerned about global warming, but I personally am attracted to the healthy glow of that big tanning bed in the sky.

11. AKA my car’s running right now.

12. Another rare species of magical being? Precocious adolescent boys whose love and sex lives become the apple of our collective speculation and whose hobbies generally include song and dance (see Hansen Bros, Michael Jackson pre-vitiligo/rhinoplasty/cleft chin, Nick Jonas).

13. Speaking of Nick Jonas, I spent several daylight hours on Valentine’s Saturday writing a love letter to the virgin heart-throb (available here), before realizing that Nick and I will never consummate my undying and slightly creepy cougar love for him. See, Nick Jonas is gay.

14. Upon the above realization, I traveled from coffee shop (burnt coffee; cacophonous music; service that reminds me of my own as a very disgruntled barista before I left the food-service industry to pursue higher eduction; free wi-fi) to the bar up the street to drink away my love’s faggotry with my dear friend S. Windsor (Yes, of the Pensacola Windsors) to the tune of Senor Cuervo.

15. It was five o’clock in the afternoon.

16. By last call I had made out with a girl in the bathroom of a bar shortly after being introduced to her boyfriend; watched two besties alternately make-out with each other and slap each other to the shock of dining Valentine’s couples; cried; told a kind woman that the reason I couldn’t get my bike unlocked was not because I was drunk but because I am legally blind (lie) and sometimes the combination spontaneously changes (true); invented the charred chard pizza; and texted three different people with the news that I was having a heart-attack but would like to get brunch the next morning anyway. All this for Nick Jonas.

17. At this point I feel it necessary to re-affirm my gayness, just in case you’re under the impression that I’m a reformed vagatarian.

18. I am still gay, but it turns out that I’m actually a gay MAN. See, I’ve done some qualitative research (Google) on the mating habits of the homo Homo sapien and it turns out that I am no longer Lohan. No, dykes are NESTERS. They say things like “Happy Valentines Day! Let’s get another cat!” and enjoy sharing popcorn on the couch while rooting for whichever woman on Survivor has the biggest biceps.

19. Fags, on the other hand, are perfectly willing to knock you up and lose your number in the same night. THESE ARE MY PEOPLE. Unlike most scissor sisters, I have an actual documented allergy to other peoples’ DNA on my pillow case. It’s true. I’ve started to keep hairnets on my bedside table because I was doing so much laundry that Teeter literally cut off my quarter supply.

20. Speaking of fags, lets get back to unicorns.

21. It’s a well-known fact that unicorn hunts must use virgins to entrap the horny (HA!) bastards.

22. In light of the above, if you really want that rainbow-colored unicorn for your next birthday, best keep your pants on.

23. Remember that one Harry Potter book where he hitches a ride on a centaur’s back? Well, that centaur’s name was Ronan, which happens to be my middle name, which happens to mean that I’m part magical beast.

24. According to Marco Polo, of shallow-end fame, unicorns spend their time by preference wallowing in mud and slime. They are very ugly brutes to look at. They are not at all such as we describe them when we relate that they let themselves be captured by virgins, but clean contrary to our notions. Looks like someone’s been sipping on the Haterade.

25. Unicorns are mentioned in eight passages of the Bible. That enough evidence for you?