If my son came home from high school one day and told me tearfully, haltingly, that he was double gay, I would love him twice as much. I don’t give a shit about that. If he was a llama or something I guess don’t have a bin for that yet. It seems like if I have to put up with a notoriously ill-tempered packbeast, I should be able to get wool and milk at a minimum. At a minimum.
|—||Tycho - Penny Arcade|