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An open letter to Chris Kluwe

April 25, 2013


Blogger’s note: When Minnesota Vikings punter Chris Kluwe wrote his now-famous open letter to a homophobic Maryland lawmaker, he pretty much had me (okay, and the rest of the world) at “lustful cockmonster.” When I met him last week at a local LGBT event, he sealed the deal, and not just because he willingly crouched down to minimize the 11-inch height gap between us in this photo. Kluwe isn’t exactly your standard-issue athlete—click here and here and here, for starters, if you need to study up on his “beautifully unique sparkle-pony” awesomeness—and he’s just the type I look for in a celebrity sports crush, except for one problem. Nope, not the fact that he’s married (she’s terrific too! hi Isabel!) or that I prefer girls……but the fact that he plays the wrong damned sport. I’m pretty upset about this, and I think he needs to understand that, so I’m going to do my best to explain this to him in language I think he can relate to.

Dear Chris Kluwe:

I find it inconceivable that you are my new favorite athlete. Sure, your raging intellect, charming personality, nads-out progressive activism, and Rafael-Nadal-with-less-Picassoface-and-more-conditioner looks are irresistible, but the fact that you’re a football player (wait, do the other guys on the team let the punters call themselves that, or do you have to have a separate term, like “civil union” for the gays?*) and I’m a baseball monogamist means we can never truly be together as oblivious idol and pathetic semi-stalkerish superfan.

It didn’t have to be this way. You played baseball for a while in high school, and I’m guessing you were pretty good at it, based on the fact that you seem to have been pretty good at every f**king thing you’ve ever done, including playing the violin, skipping grades whenever you felt like it in elementary school, and making gay men cry bitter tears of longing into their appletinis. You’re tall enough, you’re buff enough, and doggone it, you and Adam Wainwright at the top of the Cardinal rotation could have been the freaking Winklevosses of husky hurler adorability. You could have made $20 million a year instead of the federal minimum wage I assume punters get.** You could have rickrolled Bud Selig’s toupee instead of Roger Goodell’s combover. Don’t tell me you’re too blind to see how much fun that would have been.

And I’d have been your biggest fan. I’d have called you on my pink phone (obviously I would have called it “the Kluwe phone”) as a hope-filled child and sat up nights bidding on your used crap on eBay as a feckless thirtysomething. All those years I wasted venerating the greedily unique sparkle-phony who wears your number and currently serves as the Designated Hobbler for the Angels? They could have been yours.

Holy suppurating weasel bites, Chris, would it have killed you to pursue a career as a baseball player? Were you afraid that having to do actual work every fifth day instead of every seventh day wouldn’t afford you quite enough time to speed-read sci-fi novels and craft new portmanteaus to string together into cackling take-downs of the various homophobic smegma-brains in your world? Or—wait, I’ve got it—you figured you’d better make your living with your freakishly long, sinewy legs and save your arms for painting figurines and playing guitar, lest that second Tommy John surgery be the one thing to stand between Tripping Icarus and a spot in the Rock-and-Roll Hall of Fame (oh, sorry—a “Hall of Fame” is a place where the greatest practitioners of a given discipline are honored for their contributions***). Was that it, Chris?

I can assure you that becoming a St. Louis Cardinal rather than a dropkicker would have had zero negative effect on your life. You’d have gone to training camp in Jupiter, Florida, which only sounds like a remote ice-covered planet with no evidence of human life, instead of Mankato, Minnesota, which actually is one. You’d have been surrounded by an endless cavalcade of bellignorant Missouri politicians (like Todd “Legitimate Dildosmurf” Akin) desperately in need of your special brand of enlightenment. And you wouldn’t have turned into a lustful cockmonster, except to the extent that Mike Matheny has that effect on all of us.

In closing, I would like to say that I hope this letter in some small way causes you to reflect upon the devastation you so brazenly unleashed upon my world by choosing punting over bunting all those years ago. I’m told that you got a perfect score on your SAT-Verbal (seriously, now you’re just being an overachieving dick), so maybe a hyperlinked analogy will help you understand what could have been:

Me: You :: Julie : Rick Ankiel

As it stands, I’ll just have to keep following your exploits with glee and as much swooning as this lesbian’s ever going to do for anyone who isn’t Susan Sarandon. Keep on kicking balls, buddy….and thanks. We could use a whole lot more like you in the world.


* Nate Jackson told me to say that.
** That too.
*** Manning. Funny guy! For a douchebag.

Follow me on Twitter (@blogoftheirown)! Follow Chris Kluwe, too (@chriswarcraft). He’s funnier.

8 Comments leave one →
  1. CheapSeats permalink
    April 25, 2013 8:41 am

    You’ve got it bad.

  2. April 25, 2013 8:55 am

    Very nice!

  3. April 25, 2013 12:25 pm


  4. April 26, 2013 10:14 am

    You are a funny, funny woman.

  5. April 29, 2013 7:26 am

    Very fun post! Kluwe is, indeed, a true mensch, and quite a handsome one!

  6. Jen Chough permalink
    April 30, 2013 6:53 pm

    AND he plays World of Warcraft like a fiend. I dream of running into his toon on my server so I can click on him and type ” /swoon.” Gonna go search for a character named “LustfulCockmonster” right now. I am sure there’ll only be one of those. <.<

    • Jen Chough permalink
      April 30, 2013 7:02 pm

      Also, I need to somehow work-in “narcissistic fromunda stain” into my vernacular.


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