(Dear Readers, The following post is meant to be a long winded joke about the Defense of Marriage Act that was recently repealed by the Supreme Court of the United State, or SCOTUS, which is both shorter and funnier. It does however, contain some very strong language, terrible use of cliche, a ton of misogyny, and if not read in the spirit with which it was written could very easily offend just about all of my friends and loved ones. If you decide not to continue reading, no one will know. If you read this and are offended, I'm terribly sorry. If you read this and are not just a little mortified, then wow, what can I say, I did my best.)
Everybody knows what a fervent Bill Clinton fan I can be when I feel like it, so suffice it to say how mortified I was when the Supreme Court overturned his land-mark Defense of Marriage Act (or Doh Ma!) earlier this week. What really grinds my gears is that the staunch defenders have yet to come up with a single reasonable argument against the court's decision.
It's almost as if there is absolutely no reason to stahp homosexuals from enjoying the same sacred unions enjoyed by Kim Kardashian on multiple occasions.
So as we close out the month of June, here are Five actual reasons why marriage SHOULD continue to be defined as being between a man and a woman:
1. Disruption of the Family Values
What is to happen after Thanksgiving dinner when the men sit down to watch football and the women wander off to that kitchen place to magically remove left over food from the plates and make desert appear? Where are the gays and lesbians to go? And what if they both like football and there's not enough room on the couch? What if both of them are Wiccan and there aren't enough dishes to be cleaned with magic?
Without clear gender roles, chaos could ensue and grandma could die.
2. Check Please.
Customer service is hard enough as it is without adding on the complication of deciding who to hand the bill to. In fact, homosexuals should have to dine in separate areas and the partner with the highest credit limit should have to wear a white carnation in their left lapel signifying that dinner will be on them tonight.
3. Jobs, Jobs, Jobs
You know who will lose their jobs? Catholic Priests. Weddings are big money, and all that effort going into learning latin will be thwarted because the groom's college roommate can now get a certification online. You know who will also lose their jobs? Caterers who don't have a vegan option. That's right. If all the choices are chicken and steak, you're gonna be out of business real quick. And please don't tell me that there is no correlation between homosexuality and vegetarianism, the whole organic food movement coincided with the pilot episode of "Will and Grace", and if there's not a conspiracy somewhere in there I'll eat my broccoli.
4. The Environment.
What's the first thing married couples do when they get home from their honeymoon? That's right, they throw out all their duplicated stuff. And we all know that homosexuals like the same things, so every time two gay men get married our landfills will become inundated with bear skin rugs and vinyl ABBA records and every time the lesbians get together the city dumps will be flush with power tools and healing crystals. Smoke tinted sunglasses have a half-life of twenty-seven billion years. Do you really want that on your conscience? Do you?
5. The Death of Satire
Funny is only funny if someone gets hurt. The best way for me to tell if I'm doing my job correctly is if I can imagine my wife reading my stuff and then having to make phone calls to apologize to people. So, if gay couples can get married, and I poke fun at homosexuality, then no one's gonna want to play on my Trivial Pursuit Team on Married Couple's Night, which is something we've haven't really discussed doing yet, cause it seems mean to exclude our unmarried gay couple friends from Married Couple's Night, just because they're gay and can't get married. But thanks to the overturning of DOMA the point is moot. If we ever want to host a Married Couple's Night, and I insist on making some off color jokes using homosexual stereotypes, we're just gonna have to go out and get more heterosexual married friends.
Past Pretense
Flipping through the pictures of our trip to the beach:
"Did they come out good?" She asks.
"Yeah, pretty good." I say "I think this is my favorite." I leaned over and showed her the picture from my phone. It was a picture of me gently running away from the tide and Calvin, with his back to the camera readying himself for the next wave. The background is perfectly trisected by the beach, the ocean and the deep blue sky. It's a GAP ad if ever I saw one.
"Of course that's your favorite." She says as she rolls her eyes, "Cause YOU look hot in it."
And she's right.
Cause I totally look hot in it.
And she's also right.
Cause that's why it's my favorite.
My usual self centered narcissism aside, how can one not like the picture the picture that makes them look good?
Who takes a shitty picture and then says "umm, yeah, totally, that one, that's my favorite."?
Nobody does that. And if they do its because it was a group photo and it was the only shot where the four year old wasn't making faces at the camera. But even then they'll tell the other person how pretty they looked before changing the subject. Never again will they stand idly by and allow their three chins and bat wing arms to be permanently etched anywhere. Then they'll remind themselves to be too busy to attend next year's Christmas party.
Cause diet and exercise are effing ridiculous.
Best never to hang out with anyone ever again.
Except me. You're always welcome at my house.
Just bring wine.
And a DVD.
Something funny with Vince Vaughn in it.
And while you're here we can sift through all the pictures we like of ourselves and set fire to the rest.
And we will do this for two reasons.
Reason number one: I just spent the weekend down in LA visiting my grand parents for their 90th birthdays.
My grandfather was an amateur photographer before it became the profession it is today, so he's more pioneer than amateur, but with all the other things my grandfather was a master at, he did it for the shear love of being a badass.
On a parallel note, my grandmother could have easily been a model for post WWII sophistication and sass. Think part "Rosie the Riveter"and Audrey Hepburn with a little Tennessee depression era "aww shucks" thrown in to make her easily one of the most delightful people I'll ever have the chance to share time with.
So it's no surprise that it took my cousin two days to sift, scan and copy all the photos she could find.
For these are fabulous people. Fabulous people who live wonderful lives. Fabulous people, living fabulous lives, with access to a camera.
Yet had they been in their twenties during the digital age, there would have been hundreds, nay thousands, possibly millions of photographs to sift through.
So, in my opinion, setting fire to 99% of every picture I've ever taken would not only NOT diminish my legacy, but will be a great service to my grandchildren when I turn 90.
Assuming I make it that far past the zombies and the global warming.
The second reason, which Beyonce and Senator Weiner know full well, a picture unless burned, will last forever
The pasty binge drinking awkward haircut depressing taste in clothing baby in the bath tub post swimming pool shrinkage double chin ex girlfriend photos are now one "Share" button away from being immortal.
Once you've gone ones and zeros, there's no going back.
Or something like that.
If we hit send, we become PRISM's Official bitch. There's no real way around it. What happens on the net stays on the net.
So yeah, I might post things, in hindsight, I don't want my great grandchildren sifting through, but its a share all society I'm an elder statesman of and I'm okay with photos of me with my kilt pulled up to my belly as long as its been passed through an Instagram filter first.
The reason 99% should feel the burn is because most of that crap is boring. If my binary bits are going to last forever, I don't care if they're offensive as long as they're fantastic.
So if I'm singling out photos for infinity, I'm gonna like the ones that make me look good, or cool, or disgusting, or obscene, or running down the beach hot.
Cause when I'm sitting on my SoCal veranda 53 three years from now I wanna feel proud of the life I've lead.
And I want these pictures to tell a story.
And I want that story to be a bit of a lie.
A slightly unnerving, fabulous lie.
"Did they come out good?" She asks.
"Yeah, pretty good." I say "I think this is my favorite." I leaned over and showed her the picture from my phone. It was a picture of me gently running away from the tide and Calvin, with his back to the camera readying himself for the next wave. The background is perfectly trisected by the beach, the ocean and the deep blue sky. It's a GAP ad if ever I saw one.
"Of course that's your favorite." She says as she rolls her eyes, "Cause YOU look hot in it."
And she's right.
Cause I totally look hot in it.
And she's also right.
Cause that's why it's my favorite.
My usual self centered narcissism aside, how can one not like the picture the picture that makes them look good?
Who takes a shitty picture and then says "umm, yeah, totally, that one, that's my favorite."?
Nobody does that. And if they do its because it was a group photo and it was the only shot where the four year old wasn't making faces at the camera. But even then they'll tell the other person how pretty they looked before changing the subject. Never again will they stand idly by and allow their three chins and bat wing arms to be permanently etched anywhere. Then they'll remind themselves to be too busy to attend next year's Christmas party.
Cause diet and exercise are effing ridiculous.
Best never to hang out with anyone ever again.
Except me. You're always welcome at my house.
Just bring wine.
And a DVD.
Something funny with Vince Vaughn in it.
And while you're here we can sift through all the pictures we like of ourselves and set fire to the rest.
And we will do this for two reasons.
Reason number one: I just spent the weekend down in LA visiting my grand parents for their 90th birthdays.
My grandfather was an amateur photographer before it became the profession it is today, so he's more pioneer than amateur, but with all the other things my grandfather was a master at, he did it for the shear love of being a badass.
On a parallel note, my grandmother could have easily been a model for post WWII sophistication and sass. Think part "Rosie the Riveter"and Audrey Hepburn with a little Tennessee depression era "aww shucks" thrown in to make her easily one of the most delightful people I'll ever have the chance to share time with.
So it's no surprise that it took my cousin two days to sift, scan and copy all the photos she could find.
For these are fabulous people. Fabulous people who live wonderful lives. Fabulous people, living fabulous lives, with access to a camera.
Yet had they been in their twenties during the digital age, there would have been hundreds, nay thousands, possibly millions of photographs to sift through.
So, in my opinion, setting fire to 99% of every picture I've ever taken would not only NOT diminish my legacy, but will be a great service to my grandchildren when I turn 90.
Assuming I make it that far past the zombies and the global warming.
The second reason, which Beyonce and Senator Weiner know full well, a picture unless burned, will last forever
The pasty binge drinking awkward haircut depressing taste in clothing baby in the bath tub post swimming pool shrinkage double chin ex girlfriend photos are now one "Share" button away from being immortal.
Once you've gone ones and zeros, there's no going back.
Or something like that.
If we hit send, we become PRISM's Official bitch. There's no real way around it. What happens on the net stays on the net.
So yeah, I might post things, in hindsight, I don't want my great grandchildren sifting through, but its a share all society I'm an elder statesman of and I'm okay with photos of me with my kilt pulled up to my belly as long as its been passed through an Instagram filter first.
The reason 99% should feel the burn is because most of that crap is boring. If my binary bits are going to last forever, I don't care if they're offensive as long as they're fantastic.
So if I'm singling out photos for infinity, I'm gonna like the ones that make me look good, or cool, or disgusting, or obscene, or running down the beach hot.
Cause when I'm sitting on my SoCal veranda 53 three years from now I wanna feel proud of the life I've lead.
And I want these pictures to tell a story.
And I want that story to be a bit of a lie.
A slightly unnerving, fabulous lie.
No Friday Five
No cloud in the sky
No worries
No cares
No place I'd rather be
And No one I'd rather be with.
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