From Susie Bright's Journal: Hell Hath No Fury Like a Lesbian Cheerleader

I can't comment on this any better than ... hell, even nearly as well as Ms Bright:

In all the legends, all the mythology, no one has recorded their existence before. More elusive than the beast of Loch Ness, more prized than the Sphinx.

Finally, caught on camera, we see them— the Lesbian Cheerleaders. The angry sirens finally showed their faces, albeit in a pitiable meltdown. They did not go gently. The bruise the blond butch gave that straight woman who crossed her is a shiner for the ages. They fought the sheriff; they went down slammin'. Those TopCats sure are tough.

Do you have any idea how many "lesbian cheerleader porn sites" there are? I gave up flipping the Google pages. Not one of those women is a real cheerleader; none of them are out-of-the-closet lesbians making a serious declaration. There are no "Goddammit, I'm a real dyke and a genuine cheerleader" forums. No esoteric little support groups. Nada.

And yet.... from the field, we see it differently. Professional cheerleaders are serious athletes and dancers. Their reputation has withered to their sex appeal, but the physical demands they make upon themselves have never been more rigorous.

They're required to look like angels, but work out like Decathlon contenders. They are the incarnation of the All-American Girl, albeit in Vegas showgirl bikinis. They must inspire hysterical sexual fantasy, yet remain entirely chaste. It's a great place to work if you're adept at keeping secrets and abuse to yourself.

And now we have Reneé, and Angela, NFL pros, caught in the glare of their mug photos. They committed the unpardonable female sin of tying up the women's john in an overcrowded Tampa bar. The impatient ladies in line revolted: "Goddammit, we've got to tinkle and those dykes are GETTING IT ON in the stall."

The article continues ...


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