Dear Heartbroken:

As if you didn't have enough to be ashamed of living in New Jersey! Honesty, dear, I have to question your credentials as a Christian mother. As a Baptist, I think nothing of leaving loaded rifles, handguns and miscellaneous incendiary devises out on granite and inlaid surfaces throughout our exquisite Christian home (should the nefarious Red Chinese invade my charmingly landscaped neighborhood unannounced). Indeed, cook has been known to break a few nuts with the blunt end of a German semi-automatic each Christmas. But to leave Pottery Barn catalogs unguarded, where they are likely to be flipped through by impressionable young boys, shows an appalling disregard for the safety of your children, dear. Allowing your son to be made easy prey to well-lit pictures of reasonably priced lamps, place-settings and fragrant candles is tantamount to leaving a trail of breadcrumbs from his bedroom to your nearest gay bathhouse, dear!

Surely, you could not have more expeditiously enticed your son to be a homo had you left an Abercrombie & Fitch catalog on his pillow splayed out to a page of buffed twins, ripe in the suggestion of turgidity and opportunity, engaging in a smoldering incestuous stare as they discard $14 plaid boxer shorts. That type of coy familial foreplay may pass without remark in Minnesota – but not in the Bowers' mansion!

So Close to Jesus, one spritz of quality perfume gets us both,