Carson is queer, and you can't prove me wrong.

Not a single straight guy has simultaneously had pearly white teeth, a hair floof, tan shorts, played golf, been a saxophone, been in marching band, or been a dentist.

It is time to write a treaty, get Carson to sign it after not reading the fine print, and out him to my extremely miniscule friend group.

As the days pass, he will silently hope his parents don't discover the treaty. In last ditch efforts to preserve his heterosexuality, Carson will travel with the band to Washington D.C. for our every-other-year-bandtrip and get his nipples pierced by a gun named Furdinand on a brisk Thursday afternoon at 3.00 sharp.

On this day, will he finally realize that this is one of millions of alternative realities, but he's gay in all of them.

So, like most, he will return home and ask his parents to send him to boot camp, and if that doesn't work, a pray away the gay camp.

This is how we help him discover the truth about himself...

He's a...

Internalized homophobe...

Just remember guys, it's okay to be gay in Carson's eyes, just as long as you're not Carson.