I have long considered former Pennsylvania Senator Rick Santorum (pictured at right with his broken-hearted family after his 2006 defeat) to be both a prophet and martyr in the cause of protecting heterosexual marriage from the frothing, snapping, insatiable gay lobby. For his bold forthrightness in comparing homosexual relations to “man-on-dog sex” he was excoriated, ridiculed, defeated overwhelmingly, and for his troubles had his last name re-defined by the gay-blogo-fascist elite so that whenever you Google it, the second entry you come across is “the frothy mix of lube and fecal matter that is sometimes the byproduct of anal sex.” (Google Santorum yourself if you don’t believe me.)
I get down on my knees each night and pray that such a cruel fate never befalls our heroic Irvine assemblyman Chuck DeVore for his bold, uncompromising warnings that allowing gay marriage to remain legal will lead inexorably to legalized incest, polygamy, necrophilia and bestiality – warnings he has tirelessly repeated on his own blog and letters, in numerous comments at the Liberal OC, and in person to my co-blogger and estranged college friend Vern Nelson. (Can you imagine what fun the sodomites would have with his name: “Mmm… DeVore me, you beast!” “I enjoy walks on the beach, light S&M, and I am not exactly a ‘top’ or ‘bottom’ but more of a ‘DeVore.” “Six of us stayed late, drank a little more, and eventually ended up in the DeVore Position.” The heart grows sick.)
Mr. DeVore’s contentions have proved controversial, with some elitist know-it-alls protesting that a child, animal, or dead body is not legally competent to enter into a contract such as marriage, but I prefer to put my trust in the judgment and expertise of Mr. DeVore, an army veteran, aide to President Reagan, and the author of a best-selling novel in Taiwan. And once that slippery slope is broached – adults marrying children, humans marrying animals – really, where will it stop? Where do we draw the line, when that levee is breached? On what ground do we have to stand, morally and legally, telling an animal it can not marry, let’s say, an object that it loves? My mind constantly returns to the nightmare scenario of A DOG MARRYING A FIRE HYDRANT.
I mean we all know how much dogs love fire hydrants. And it seems to me the legalistic hurdles this puts in the way of the brave firefighters who work so hard to defend our lives and property are, if not insurmountable, then unnecessarily burdensome. I have not been able to get a straight answer on this question from any of the groups of firefighters I have visited (although the looks on their faces when I pose the question suggests extreme consternation) but all the legal experts I know – BOTH of them – affirm that the ramifications would be, at best, imponderable. Picture an apartment building, possibly yours or mine, up in flames, and it being necessary to track down the canine spouse of the only convenient hydrant to obtain permission for “engagement.” Bear in mind how unpredictable “man’s best friend” is – at any given moment a dog could be at home or in any number of places – and the fire spreading as jurisdictional disputes are hammered out between fire department and humane society. For God’s sake, and for the sake of our infrastructure, VOTE YES ON 8! The fate of civilization is in your hands.
It must really bite living your life in fear.
Here’s one take.
There’s a guy, a classic under-achiever. He considers himself the voice of the “Center-Right”.
He’s married but, unable to deliver the goods to his wife, at least in the way she wants. They bang out a few kids but she stumbles on unsatisfied, knowing there is something wrong.
The cheesy cologne, the “dick bumper” mustache, the tough talk about manly things, even the joining the gym (of course, it’s the one open 24hrs. and with a steam room).
Her suspicions grow, he begins using a Moniker that sounds like Kuwati slang for “big tool”, He proclaims his manhood at every turn but uses her hand lotion liberally.
She knows what’s coming and it’s not something her friends at Starbucks (The other Catholic school Mom’s) on Main Street would understand. After all, most of thier husbands have real jobs, AND satisfy them, or so they say.
So Wife decides to do something, and she does, she stands up for something: MARRIAGE.
Coincidence…. maybe, fear.. likely.
That’s what I think. HOMOPHOBE wives married to insecure misguided men stand up and support prop 8.
FWIW the Starbucks part is true, the rest is bullshit.
Without question Phobius is my fav. OJB poster.
Lulz.
no_vaseline… I concur!
Bravo! Encore! Encore!
Whether you are for or against Prop 8, THAT was funny!
Nice parable, duplo. I wonder who that could be… hm… name sounds like Kuwaiti tool, wife works for Prop 8…
Thanks, Terry and no_vaseline. Whichever way Prop 8 goes tomorrow, Phobius probably won’t be needed here any more. Which is sad because he had three other pieces he wanted to write but ran out of time. (Like the composer Bartok said, dying tragically and prematurely of undiagnosed leukemia at the height of his creativity, “I only regret I am leaving with a full suitcase.”) So I’ll just describe the three other posts he had planned.
“Yes, Civil Rights SHOULD Be Decided By Majority Vote” was going to confront the idea, popular among opponents of Prop 8 as well as any fans of our constitutional system of government, that it is sometimes proper for judges to shoot down a measure approved by the majority of voters as unconstitutional. It was going to celebrate the wisdom and justice of the common, uneducated man, as completely sufficient to decide the rights of minorities. And it was going to do this by positing a scenario similar to the recent Kevin Costner film “Swing Vote” (although Phobius conceived it before the film came out.)
Phobius pays a visit to an unnamed midwestern state that is having a vote on same-sex marriage, which is so close that for some reason it all comes down to one lovable, salt-of-the-earth guy to decide if the hundreds of thousands of gays in the state will be allowed to wed or not. And Phobius spends an afternoon and evening getting to know this guy at his home, eating and drinking and talking about the guy’s mixed feelings – the anti-gay stuff he hears at his church and from his fishing buddies, vs. the couple of gays he knows at work who don’t seem so bad and the funny ones he sees on TV. He really doesn’t know how he will end up voting, he may end up flipping a coin. Toward the end of Phobius’ visit, as they chat on the patio over bourbon on the rocks watching the sun set, the guy totally throws Phobius for a loop by admitting that even though he doesn’t really hate gays so much, if it were up to him blacks would still be slaves.
Gettin’ tired… I’ll describe the two others tomorrow if you’re interested.
Thank God you’re on the wagon.