Gay fellow Americans, you are welcome to it.
THE EVER ERNEST Charles Krauthammer in Pandora and Polygamy moves faster than the speed of blather in advancing the notion that gay marriages in the chapel will let polygamy come out of the closet in a rocket. As that serial monogamist Scarlet O'Hara would say, "Well, fiddle-dee-di."
We've got a lot of problems with marriage in this country, but can't we take a step back and draw a deep breath, smell the winds of change and admit that Gay Marriage is a done deal? It's here. It's queer. So what?
Enough with all the whining and carping and running about with one's hair on fire screaming, "Oh! Gay Marriage. I got the fear!" If a couple of normally insane Americans want to get a bunch of friends or Elvis impersonators together, seek out a whompingly liberal priest, rabbi, minister, or Marryin' Sam to hitch them up... again, so what?
Speaking as a twice married, twice disappointed, compulsively heterosexual male, I have heard the arguments and seen the yearning and felt the love of gay and lesbian couples from sea to shining sea. All they want is to be allowed their right, at long last, to enter the Holy Realms of Sanctified Matrimony. And I say: "Bring.... It.... On! Get... Down!" It is the morning of a decade of fabulous parties in America, and not a moment too soon.
As someone with not a little experience inside the obsessions, the compulsions, the addictions, the rages and the long-term quiet desperation of marriage, let me say that I cannot wait to welcome my gay brothers and sisters to the Holy Realm of Sanctified Bliss. I believe with every drop of rain that falls that any two or three or four or more of gay, straight, quadrogendered, pawed or tentacled Americas that want to get into a marriage should not only be encouraged, but tossed headlong into the institution before they sober up and snap out of it.
Looked at in the right light, there's a lot in this Gay rush-to-nup for everyone in this country. Going in there's a major boost to the retail clothing and footwear industries. Our financially floundering churches ( It's not a real weddin' lessen it be a church weddin'. ) are going to get enough in donations to morph themselves into cathedrals. Cathedrals are going to have a five year waiting list. Forget about getting any caterers above the level of the Second Avenue Deli for the duration. They will be either baking enough caviar canapes to drain the Black Sea, or out shopping for Gulfstreams.
Salmon will become an endangered species, as will wedding singers. Wedding planners will charge more than Bill Gates' estate lawyers and they'll get it. You want any Spode china, 500-count Egyptian cotton sheets, or monogramed towels? Better snap them up now. Ditto the booking of weeks at any spa resort that offers in-room jacuzzis. Vacations to anywhere other than Bike Week at Daytona are right out too. And even there you'll probably have to sleep on the beach. Don't even mention the word "Disneyland" to your kids for a decade. (See, you just saved about $7,000 right there.)
Then there's the after effects. Have you been thinking about redoing your window treatments, and perhaps junking that Santa Fe look for something crypto-modern you saw in Dwell. Forget it. Every decent interior decorator in the hemisphere is going on a honeymoon, and not taking on new clients until his or her own window treatments are made new. Relax. With a few push-pins and those monogrammed towels, you should be able to weather the storm.
Speaking of storms, brace yourself and do not be fooled by the return of peace and quiet to these states. Once the initial tsunami of coast-to-coast gay marriage scours this fair land down to a series of moral nubs, a period of calm normality can only be enjoyed for, well, anywhere from 18 to 36 months before.... the Aftermath.
The Aftermath is when the millions of gay believers who have thrust themselves into the sylvan dream of wedded bliss.... wake up to find out that they are, Aieeeee!, married. And when they do, they will want what nearly every clear sighted heterosexual couple wants out of marriage these days, a divorce.
A good new-fashioned no-fault, but brimming with blame, divorce American style. Full of fights, slights, sullen silences, and a craving from the spouse for "my own space." This usually means either your space, or a space you will pay for one way or another. Because make no mistake about it. Whether it is a gay professionals' divorce, or a gay crackers' divorce, somebody's losing a beach house or a double-wide.
And to be a true American divorce it has to come complete with that must-have divorce fashion accessory, an expensive lawyer. This is not really the lawyer's fault. The lawyer has to be expensive since it is the only way he or she can continue to pay off their ex-spouse or spouses.
Alas, not only is marriage due to be a downer for hundreds of thousands of gays in the same way it is a downer for millions of straights, the non-stop depression generator of divorce is going to weave its old black magic without remorse or regard to sexual orientation or good intentions. And Krauthammer is "afraid" that all gay marriage will do is to open the door to polygamy?
Charles, Charles, Charles. Be not downcast. Do not despair. You are simply failing to see the entertainment value for tens of millions of your fellow divorced heterosexual Americans. Instead, picture their deep and abiding pleasure when they get to unfold a comfy lawn chair, pop a cold one and kick back to watch a stream of four-cornered gay divorces carom through the courts.
Charles, there may be a lot of fuming and fussing and fighting and hissy-fits down at the old Family courthouse, but out on the lawn we'll just be kicking it, betting on which one of sixteen snarling coon dogs comes out of the pack with all four legs still on.
Do you doubt that these little contretemps will make for big box office on all 40 screens in the vast multiplex of the American mind? I have three little words that make one big pitch: "Gay Divorce Court."
There's a reality show with more legs than ER. It that could launch a million office pools; probably some Vegas lines for the Brad Pitt vs. Tom Cruise de-fornication fiasco.
No, Charles, it is time you switched from boxers to Speedos for the gay decade ahead. Gay marriage is a done deal. It's time our gay brothers and sisters stopped having the ACLU pay for their legal battles, and started to pay for some of their own.
Gay Americans say that without marriage they are, like the slaves of yesteryear, only half-a-person. Let us remove all impediments to their assuming of whole-person-hood, so that at least half of them can learn that special feeling of being a whole person with half your previous net worth.
Gentlemen, start your vows.Posted by Vanderleun at March 19, 2006 2:36 AM | TrackBack