It's no secret, I've got some "gay" in me. How much? Depends on when you ask, and if I'm looking at this when you ask. How did this "gay" get into me? Juice boxes, yo! And Kettle chips. Now I don't partake in juice boxes and Kettle chips all that much—but apparently I've ingested enough of them to cause me to enjoy many Broadway showtunes, especially those pre-Sondheim. OH, FORGET IT!! Conspiracy theorist Alex Jones can explain it better than I can.
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