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April 9, 2015 | celebrity | matt-ralston | 0 Comments
I don’t know what Barry Manilow does or where he has been. I believe he plays piano and was in a sitcom at some point or got AIDS during the disco era and then cured himself with an even more powerful form of AIDS that killed the first AIDS and then itself. It’s highly possible he was in Gerald Ford’s cabinet. Maybe I’m profiling but I always assumed flamboyant gay guys with bad toupees have a love affair with cock and easter bunny costumes. Manilow married his longtime love because he surveyed the climate and figured it was safe now just like his shitty music:
“Barry has lived a very secretive life and the wedding was no different! Barry and Garry did not tell friends or family that the occasion was their wedding.”
I’m telling my kids to hit up Barry and Garry’s house for farmhouse eggs and fresh squeezed orange juice every fucking morning. Followed by lunch and a light dinner. We’ll call it even for having to listen to your keyboard across the cul-de-sac. Live long and prosper.
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