No doubt about it; the definitive act of male homosexuality involves someone getting poo-poo on his pee-pee.
I’m amazed how many people are willing to eat in a restaurant with a gay chef, who serves marvelous sauces. If they would consider the homosexual act has a preoccupation with feces or ignorance thereof, and the same pervert chef now is attracted to serve them a beef crepe, would they be as willing to attend a dinner party hosted by Dr. Hannibal Lector?