Let's be frank: the gay community couldn't be more powerful. We hold high-ranking roles in society. We donate to politicians. We have all sorts of allies, and friends in extremely high places. We're a vitally important voting bloc, and we're an audience that no entertainer can afford to lose.

Organized into an immovable force, we're ready to turn on a dime when somebody crosses us. Don't believe me? Just look at the cold-hearted consequences a celeb will suffer when they turn on us.

First offense: You're okay. Maybe you were having a bad day.

Second offense: You're alright. If we complain about every bigot in the world we'll just look like pitiful victims.

Third offense: You're in hot water! One reasonably popular blogger will say you really aren't cool.

Fourth offense: You're in trouble! Next time you walk through West Hollywood, angry glares will be exchanged.

Fifth offense: Okay, now we're piqued. Gawker will probably get involved, and somebody will write a letter to Out.

Sixth offense: Absolutely intolerable. Now you have to apologize, and then Cheyenne Jackson will announce that everything is great.

Seventh offense: Unforgivable! This time you'll have to feign sincerity when you apologize, then give Richard Simmons a ride to the grocery store.

Eighth offense: That's it! That's the straw that broke the camel's back. Now you have to appear in a public service message directly contradicting everything you've said over the last fourteen years. Hug Cynthia Nixon while dabbing at the tears streaming down your face, then buy her a fudgsicle from the Big Gay Ice Cream Truck.

Got that? Sure, it's harsh, but I think it's more than fair. Celebs have to learn the cold, heard truth: fuck with us more than twelve or fifteen times and three percent of the population will turn on you.