It happened again. I was called a hater simply because I said marriage and a homosexual union are not the same thing. You’d have thought I declared war on all gays, saying they should be thrown into prison or enslaved.I stated my opinion – Marriage is between a man and a woman. Anything different…IS DIFFERENT.
Hey, let’s not get bogged down on that. I’m facing another struggle.
Most of you don’t know this . . . I have OLYMPIC ASPIRATIONS! Yes! I want to run the Hurdles. TADAH! I’ve been practicing.
I’m quite a sight to behold, in my red, white, and blue Spandex.
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I finally built up the courage to make a phone call to the American Olympic Committee. Here’s how the conversation went-
“I want to be in the Olympics.”
“What’s your event?” the man asked me.
“Hurdles.”
“How long have you been doing them?”
“I just started.”
There was a long pause. “And you think you’re good enough for the olympics?”
“Yes sir.” My voice was brimming with confidence.
We discussed times and distances. He seemed impressed.
“You have to understand,” I continued, “I do the hurdles differently. I don’t jump over them. I run around them.”
“Pardon?” Here’s where this man’s prejudice and hatred began showing.
“I trot around each hurdle before moving on to the next one.”
There was silence. So much so, that I began to wonder if the man had actually dropped dead. Finally, he spoke. “Bob, is that you? Are you guys down in the mail room pulling my leg again?”
My mouth fell open. How dare he think I was joking. “Sir, why would I be pulling your leg?”
The man cleared his throat. “Have you ever tried jumping over the hurdles?”
“Why in the world would I do that?”
“Because . . .that’s how you do it. . .”
The hair on the back of my neck stood on edge. I glanced down at my oversized stomach. “I’m a tad weight challenged. Hopping over those hurdles isn’t an option. Maybe with a step stool . . . Besides, who are you to tell me what to do?”
“Er…I’m the head of the Olympic Committee.”
“And that gives you the right to tell me how I should run the hurdles?”
He gave such a deep sigh, I swear I felt a breeze come though the phone. “Sir. I have to go now. Thank you for your interest.”
My neck throbbed. My face reddened. “You, my good man, are a hater!”
“Pardon?”
“You hate people of large sizes. You, sir, are a Fat-o-Phobe!”
“I assure you, I am not.”
“Well that’s better.” I took a breath and calmed myself. “So when are the olympic tryouts?”
Another sigh. “I hate to see you waste your time.”
“See,” I snapped. “You used the word, hate! Hater! Hater! Hater!”
“Goodbye, sir.”
“No, really. When are the tryouts? I’m quite good at what I do. I love hurdling….”
“Uh-huh . . . But what you do isn’t hurdling.”
“Then what is it?”
He hesitated. “You run around them. . . I don’t know what to call that.” His hate, fear, and bigotry poured out in his every word. Daring to doubt my calling, denying me my olympic moment.
He said thank you, and hung up the phone. Probably heading off with his Fat-O-Phobe friends to have a good laugh at my expense.
So now I call on you, my friends! Join my protest! Attend Track and Field events around the country, and run around the hurdles for fat people! Let that be your battle cry!
RUN AROUND FOR FAT PEOPLE!
Show America that we’re no different than they are. What we do is the same thing! We simply do it differently. Help stamp out hurdle bigotry! Down with the Fat-o-Phobes. Down with backward thinking haters!
“I want to be in the Olympics.”
“What’s your event?” the man asked me.
“Hurdles.”
“How long have you been doing them?”
“I just started.”
There was a long pause. “And you think you’re good enough for the olympics?”
“Yes sir.” My voice was brimming with confidence.
We discussed times and distances. He seemed impressed.
“You have to understand,” I continued, “I do the hurdles differently. I don’t jump over them. I run around them.”
“Pardon?” Here’s where this man’s prejudice and hatred began showing.
“I trot around each hurdle before moving on to the next one.”
There was silence. So much so, that I began to wonder if the man had actually dropped dead. Finally, he spoke. “Bob, is that you? Are you guys down in the mail room pulling my leg again?”
My mouth fell open. How dare he think I was joking. “Sir, why would I be pulling your leg?”
The man cleared his throat. “Have you ever tried jumping over the hurdles?”
“Why in the world would I do that?”
“Because . . .that’s how you do it. . .”
The hair on the back of my neck stood on edge. I glanced down at my oversized stomach. “I’m a tad weight challenged. Hopping over those hurdles isn’t an option. Maybe with a step stool . . . Besides, who are you to tell me what to do?”
“Er…I’m the head of the Olympic Committee.”
“And that gives you the right to tell me how I should run the hurdles?”
He gave such a deep sigh, I swear I felt a breeze come though the phone. “Sir. I have to go now. Thank you for your interest.”
My neck throbbed. My face reddened. “You, my good man, are a hater!”
“Pardon?”
“You hate people of large sizes. You, sir, are a Fat-o-Phobe!”
“I assure you, I am not.”
“Well that’s better.” I took a breath and calmed myself. “So when are the olympic tryouts?”
Another sigh. “I hate to see you waste your time.”
“See,” I snapped. “You used the word, hate! Hater! Hater! Hater!”
“Goodbye, sir.”
“No, really. When are the tryouts? I’m quite good at what I do. I love hurdling….”
“Uh-huh . . . But what you do isn’t hurdling.”
“Then what is it?”
He hesitated. “You run around them. . . I don’t know what to call that.” His hate, fear, and bigotry poured out in his every word. Daring to doubt my calling, denying me my olympic moment.
He said thank you, and hung up the phone. Probably heading off with his Fat-O-Phobe friends to have a good laugh at my expense.
So now I call on you, my friends! Join my protest! Attend Track and Field events around the country, and run around the hurdles for fat people! Let that be your battle cry!
RUN AROUND FOR FAT PEOPLE!
Show America that we’re no different than they are. What we do is the same thing! We simply do it differently. Help stamp out hurdle bigotry! Down with the Fat-o-Phobes. Down with backward thinking haters!
My message should be clear enough- To call someone a hater or a homophobe simply because they disagree with you on the issue of marriage is as moronic as calling someone a Fat-o-Phobe for not letting them “Run Around the Hurdles”.
If you can’t see this truth, or the fact that disagreement does not equal hate or fear, GET OVER IT!
Frankly, when it comes to marriage, what you say or what I say or what the federal government says doesn’t amount to a hill of beans. What’s important is-
What does God say? He’s the One Who created marriage.
This is a replay of a two year old post. Hey. Give me a break. It’s summer. Besides, the message needed to be heard again, by certain individuals. Have you had the experience of being called a hater? Leave a comment. Tell me about it.
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