A black patch covered the hole where his right eye used to be. He was an old codger who was missing all of his teeth. The family consisted of Grandma Batner who did nothing much more than rock in her chair on the front porch. They lived a completely isolated existence. “The Batners were a family that occupied that small shanty that we passed on the trail. Bulldozers and the like were ready to begin demolishing the forest to make way for it. “Back in the late 1930s, the area you are now sitting in was supposed to be converted into an airbase. I am going to write what he said as best as I can remember it. He told us that he was now going to tell the tale of the Batners. As we began to eat, the Ranger that had served as our guide gathered everyone’s attention. This was followed by one of the things I was most looking forward to, making s’mores around the campfire. We cooked hot dogs for dinner at the campsite. When the wind through the trees began to resemble a whisper, I quickened my step as night began to overtake the woods in an impenetrably black shroud. There was something unmistakably creepy about these woods. I surveyed my surroundings and soaked in the eerie silence that accompanied it. With a cold wind blowing through the October air, I began to look at the branches of the barren and gnarled trees as they swayed. I fell a little bit behind my father and the rest of the troop. This name meant nothing to me, but I was genuinely intrigued that a family had lived in such a tiny shanty. This was followed by a lot of oohhs and aahhs. He told us to remember this hovel because it was the home of the Batners. A derelict chair rocked ominously on the tiny front porch as the wind played with it. It must have been abandoned for at least the better part of a century, maybe even more. The Ranger who was guiding our troop came across a rundown shack. Even though I was disappointed when my father would not let me keep it as a pet and made me release it back into the woods, I was still very proud of this accomplishment. I remember I caught my first wild animal, a frog. This was followed by an extended nature hike. We set up our tent and our sleeping bags. A smile beamed across my 9 year old face the entire way there. I convinced my father to join me and spent the next three weeks up all night with anticipation coursing through me. I had never been camping before and had always wanted to go. To say I was excited would be a gross understatement.
It seemed like I had joined at a very opportune time since the big overnight camping trip to Bong Recreation Area (feel free to make jokes, God knows we did) in Kenosha, WI was only three weeks away. I quickly made friends with everyone there. I liked attending meetings for the Cadets. I agreed, and he registered me the next day. This is an organization that is like the Boy Scouts but with a more explicitly Christian bend to it. My dad in turn suggested I join the Cadets. My father was a pastor, and when I developed an interest in doing outdoorsy type stuff, I asked if I could join the Boy Scouts. I attended Christian school and went to church three days a week, sometimes even more. However, I feel by writing this incident down I can put that night behind me and finally put this harrowing encounter to bed. This event is the source of such fear and dread that thinking about it even twenty years later is sending shivers up and down my spine. On August 10th, 2018, Gay Star News published a history of the slogan.Lately, my mind has been wandering back to my first camping experience. Two days later, Twitter isislovecruft tweeted, "just saw two teenage girls hop the bart turnstile and run up the stairs and start making out and i couldn’t resist the urge to shout BE GAY DO CRIMES and they raised their fists and shouted back STONEWALL WAS A RIOT so i am informing you that the kids are in fact alright." The tweet received more than 69,000 likes and 12,000 retweets in one year (shown below, right). The tweet received more than 13,000 likes and 6,400 retweets in about one year (shown below, center). Several months later, on June 2nd, Twitter user tweeted an adaptation of a Thomas Nast political cartoon, replacing the sign a skeleton is holding with the phrase. They captioned the image "two kinds of leftists." The tweet received more than 1,900 likes and 630 retweets in a year and a half (shown below, left). On January 13th, 2018, Twitter user tweeted the image along with a piece of stencil graffiti quoting Mark Fisher. Three days later, the Tumblr account queergraffiti featured the photograph, which received more than 58,000 notes in three years.