RPC-69-J

Gay Entropy

11

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Registered Phenomena Code: 69-J

Object Class: Omega-FABULOUS

Hazard Types: Ideological Hazard, Immeasurable Hazard, Ontological Hazard, Yaoi Hazard, YAAAAAS Hazard

Containment Protocols: As a cosmological phenomenon, RPC-69-J is currently uncontainable. Any personnel finding themselves afflicted by RPC-69-J are recommended to avoid contact with planetariums, telescopes, the night sky, and any and all video documentation involving Carl Sagan.

Containment Note: May God have mercy on our souls.

Description: RPC-69-J refers to the tendency of all reality in all possible universes towards increasing levels of gay over time. Currently, RPC-69-J is believed to entail an increase in the Mean Cosmological Gayness Constant of approximately 200 μLiberace/year/m3, distributed evenly over the entirety of every observable universe to which the Authority has access to, even those in which no life exists which is biologically capable of being gay. RPC-69-J can most easily be observed on a physical level by the steadily increasing tendency of subatomic up and down quarks, following repeat contacts with both strange and charm quarks, to become bottoms. Top quarks remain unaffected.

As RPC-69-J has only been recently discovered1, research is ongoing.

Addendum: Excerpt from an Address to the Research Department on the Implications of RPC-69-J by GD-01:

Since the dawn of humanity we have looked to the stars for answers, hoping that the billions and billions of points of light in the sky meant some greater truth for us all. Now, new discoveries in the field of conceptual energy detection, and the quantification of the Liberace as a unit of measurement by the Research Department's own Doctors Jeff Gaylord and Richard Hole, have led us to a terrible new understanding. For the first time in our history we must become accustomed to the sudden revelation that the stars look uncomfortably good in bike shorts, and seek answers elsewhere.

Scientific proof of gay entropy has become more and more overwhelming- witness the "slay queen" message recently received from the Voyager probe, out beyond the bounds of the solar system. In the cold darkness between the stars- in that endless, dusty nothing, lit only by the pale, frigid light of a solar system long left behind, perhaps the only warmth is the touch of another man, burly yet sensual. Can a cosmological concept be said to be a top or bottom? And if, as the many-worlds theorists posit, our reality is merely one in an endless layering of potential worlds, are not all realities then simultaneously tops and bottoms in the endless cosmic orgy that is existence? And what of the larger and more exotic stellar bodies?

We have come to new understandings of what exactly it is that pulsars do in gym locker rooms when no one is around. We have gazed into the heart of naked singularities- throbbing and pulsing with life- and found them to be total leather daddies. Indeed, far from being the total butt-sluts they were once supposed to be, we now know that black holes are, in fact, pretty shy about the whole thing, but pretty crazy in the sack.

The signs were always there, we merely failed to notice them- witness that oft-forgotten 16th-century incident attributed to noted Danish astronomer Tycho Brahe, recorded to have recoiled from his telescope in blushing horror, shouting "But boys cannot love other boys! That is forbidden love!" Even now we are torn, racked by indecision- even those of us who cannot help but feel a little uncomfortable around the trouser area just looking through a pair of binoculars at the night sky. We are torn by endless debates, internal and external- over a simple question with no clear answer- whereas the universe is indeed saturated with the gay, is it butch or not?

And my God, the scale of it! We speak not of big gay, or even of mega gay- words like big and mega are lost against the cosmic immensity that gay entropy entails. Hypergay, too, pales in comparison with an entire universe saturated in ever-increasing manlust. We move beyond the teragay, the yottagay, into parsec upon parsec, endless quintillions of light-years of yottagay- gay so vast that even to comprehend the scale it represents adequately would drive a man to wear jeans a size too small.

Gentlemen, imagine every star fucking every other star up the butt. That is the end of the universe.

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