THEY ALSO TAKE UP ALL THE GOOD SEATS AT THE PIANO BAR.

At National Review Quin Hillyer has a fairly classic "Why Do All These Homosexuals Keep Sucking My Cock" essay. There's plenty of laughs in it, including Hillyer's suggestion that gay people want only to be left alone "but the activists and media chorus won’t let them," and a climactic lament over the degraded culture as represented by Beyonce and Shirley Jones.  But here's the best part: Hillyer's denunciation of "figure-skating announcer Johnny Weir":

His antics are appalling. The problem is not that he’s homosexual; it’s that he advertises his sexuality to the extent that it makes him (his choice of makeup, jewelry, and extravagant dresses or furs) more of a story than the athletes he is supposed to cover.

Can't Hillyer enjoy his ice dancing without some flamboyant homosexual getting in the way? Next Olympics let's get Terry Bradshaw.

UPDATE: Quin dumbles down!

I think if I were a figure skater, I would want the focus to be on my athleticism.

Yeah, that's what keeps ice dancers up at night -- the thought that audiences will somehow get the impression that their punishing routines don't require athleticism, but are merely the icebound version of mincing, because the booth announcer doesn't resemble Dave Madden.

And if you’ve got somebody– I mean, who cares if he’s homosexual? The question is, by dressing as a woman and bringing that image of femininity to the sport, does that feed the image of it as somehow less than a fete of athleticism?

"Fête of athleticism" is how I'll think of ice dancing from now on. I wonder if he'd have the same problem with Martina Navratilova?