Bullies Gather for Message: “It Gets Better”
The keynote speaker at a national gathering of bullies soothed a downbeat yet vigorously hostile crowd with the message that “it gets better.” Barry Gilligan, an admitted bully from Canton, Ohio and president of the lobbying group American Bullies: Honor Over Rights (ABHOR), delivered the keynote address to an audience that reacted with tense reverence for the speakers and impatient bitch-slaps for some of the hotel’s banquet wait staff who were moments late with the entree.
Despite a month of near relentless negative publicity and several high profile ABHOR members “calling it quits,” bullies throughout the United States met in Elko, Nevada this week to reflect, regroup, and reassert their message. Bullies claim they have been unfairly blamed for the suicides of several gay teenagers, who had been harassed and humiliated in person and online “by people posing as bullies.” “I’m not saying our people did or didn’t do it. But listen—we’re Darwin in action; the weak either need to grow a pair or get out. This is New America.
“People say they’ll stand up to us,” Gilligan continued. “They say there’s blood on our hands and that people should wimp-out their kids to be more ‘accepting,’ whatever that means. And what do they do? Wear a new color of ribbon. Ooh--I'm scared!” The crowd, made up of timorous office workers, executives, schoolyard hooligans, a few second-string athletes, some well-known political figures, and a huge group of pimply, affection-deprived Internet thugs, roared and booed. Several threw drinks at each other while hotel security stood nervously at the perimeter.
“We will not stand by and watch impassively while snotty college-educated dorks and handsome, eloquent guys of a certain persuasion look at us like we’re nothing,” said Biff Kinnick, who is running for a state senate seat in Michigan. “Give me the Internet and some ‘connected’ donors and we’ll see who’s so smart,” Kinnick shouted over the crowd, which leaped up and down tossing chairs and centerpieces.
Many in the assembly held handmade signs declaring "Dateless But Not Powerless," “YOU THIK YOUR BETER THAN ME?” “Punch a Pusy,” and “VOT,” which was apparently a reference to next week’s mid-term elections. A spokesman for the group denied reports that several members were fashioning crude tools from stone and wood.
“You can’t lay the actions of the weak and underdeveloped on us,” Kinnick said. “If anything, we’re mettle testers. You need us to show yourself how much you can take. If anything, we’re providing a service. And what do we get? Whiny hand wringing and 20 minutes of crybaby talk on ‘Dateline.’”
A trio of teenage girls giggled as they worked out a threatening text message to a young cerebral palsy patient in Florida, while four young men in an adjacent video arcade set up just for the meeting played a hunting game called “A Boy Named Nancy.”
“You start out just ‘checking’ them against the locker or spitting in their lunch, then it gets really fun,” said Carl, who spoke on the condition of anonymity. “You can give ‘em punches and ‘swirlies,’ and at the next levels you start wrecking their whole life,” he said, wiping his nose on the sleeve of a t-shirt reading “WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING AT?” “We’re fighting for the heart of America.”
Asked what his long-term goals are, Carl grew briefly thoughtful. “I don’t know. Run for congress. Be a supervisor in a factory. That would be cool. But I’d maybe have to go back to high school. I think.”
Gilligan, 43, who lives in his mother’s garage and heads a war advocacy PAC called Bring America Back, urged the crowd, which by now was tossing food platters at the dais, not to let "a minority" of principled “liberal faggots” undermine democracy with same-sex marriage, fact-based logic, a return to sensible discourse, women’s right-to-choose and “other stupid legislation that is turning America into a dog park.”
“We’ve got leaders. We’ve got Rush, and Ann, and O’Reilly. We’re here to stay,” he said, growing misty-eyed. “I’ve seen our group go through hell lately, but believe me, it gets better. Just you wait.” When asked later about people voting their conscience, Gilligan grew agitated.
“Conscience is some pretty weak [stuff]. We’re at war here. We have to be brave, bold, and committed.” Before the event concluded, he and the other speakers exited through the kitchen to avoid an orderly crowd of protestors assembled outside the venue.
The hotel is pursuing legal action to collect on the NSF check left by the group.