You have a problem with gays, Joe.
Not especially.
Yes, you do. How many gays do you know?
How many do you know?
Lots.
Like who?
Karen Berman, my Aunt Theresa, cousin Tommy who lives in Rochester, Eddie Meyers from the office, Stanley - the guy who's putting in our kitchen cabinets.
Aunt Theresa's gay? That beautiful, sensuous, voluptuous woman is a lesbian? Since when?
Probably since she was born.
All right. Well, hey, I admit it, okay? I'm prejudiced. I don't like homosexuals. There. You got me.
All right.
I mean, the way these guys do that - thing, don't they get confused? "Oh, I don't know. Is that yours? Is that mine?" You know, I don't want to be in bed with anybody who's stronger than me or who has more hair on their chest than I do. Now, you can call me old-fashioned, you can call me conservative. Just call me a man. Besides, I think you have to be a man to understand how really disgusting that whole idea is anyway.
