Dear Science Likers

Dear Science Likers,

You can't throw a rock these days without hitting someone who says they like Science. Ever since penicillin and the moon landing, Science has suddenly become everybody's favorite bandwagon. Like anyone who becomes astronomically successful, Science has suddenly found himself surrounded by smiling faces. Distant relatives and hitherto unknown acquaintances have been crawling out of the woodwork to snuggle up next to the champ. And I can't blame them. Who wouldn't want to be friends with the guy who doles out sweet, new smartphones and can swap out your ailing kidneys?

Still, it's hard not to be a little disgusted. Some of Science's loudest fans slink back into the arms of Superstition every evening after a long day of singing rationality's praises. And where the hell were all of Science's "friends" back in '33 when Galilei was taking a beating defending Copernicanism? At the Quirinale, sucking Urban VIII's dick; that's where they were.

In full disclosure, I have to admit that I have my own personal reasons for being jealous and resentful towards Science's fair-weather Johnny-come-latelies. It's because I really am one of Science's friends, and I've been here through thick and thin.

I don't know if this is the appropriate venue for something like this, but the truth is, Science and I are a little more than friends. I don't just like Science; I like-like him. In fact, I love him. I know I've told a lot of you that Science and I have just been rooming together to save money on rent, but that's not technically the truth. It may come as a shock to some of you, but the truth is...

Science and I are totally gay for each other. Just... as gay as it gets. Pride-parade-marching, rainbow-flag-waving, Bette-Midler-loving gay, and we can't keep our relationship and our sexual orientation a secret any longer. I hope you can accept our love, and accept Science and I for the big flaming homos we are.

So I guess I would like to conclude my coming out of the closet by saying, back off, Bitches. Science is my man. 

Sure, we're very different people. I can barely scratch out a number in scientific notation, and Science isn't much of a writer. But that's why it works. We complete each other.

I know what some of you are probably thinking. "But, Sebastian; how does it work... the intimate times? Isn't Science less of a gay lover and more of a... genderless method of acquiring knowledge about the material universe?"

Oh, trust me, it works. I don't want to delve too deeply into the lurid, sexy details, but let's just say that sometimes I bob on his beaker while he induces morphological elongation to my stem cell with his paracrine signaling.

Sincerely,
Sebastian Braff

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