The Supreme Court finally takes on gay marriage, and this makes for some excitement. But it’s not really all that. If I were gay, I imagine it would be a bigger deal. More of an event if I had any skin in the game, wink. But the case for legalization is air tight. As your one decent history teacher used to say, the arc of history bends toward justice. The outcome is a pretty sure thing. Without palpable tension in the third act, it’s not really much of a thriller.
If you’re one of the culture warriors, the whole thing’s different. There’s a sense of dread and reckoning all around. As every conservative is a Constitutional expert, flanked only by more brilliant legal minds to the right and left, they know the involvement of the Supreme Court is bad news. There the conceptual headwinds of ‘freedom’ and ‘equality’ run fast, and bigotry constructed as ‘traditional values’ won’t stand. Which is the long way ’round to say it’s all over. And the losers know it, poor things.
So this would be a good time to get in some parting shots.
In some sense, it doesn’t really matter how the Supreme Court rules on the gay marriage case it’s hearing today. The culture war is over on this front, and gay marriage has won.
Megan McArdle threw this punch early.
At this point, it’s just a matter of time. In some sense, the sexual revolution is over . . . and the forces of bourgeois repression have won.
You people just had to have your Marriage, didn’t you? Now you’re all dorks. Happy now?
You thought the fifties were conformist? Wait until all those fabulous “confirmed bachelors” and maiden schoolteachers are expected to ditch their cute little one-bedrooms and join the rest of America in whining about crab grass, HOA restrictions, and the outrageous fees that schools want to charge for overnight soccer trips.
Goodbye swingin’ nation. Is that Tailgunner Joe? You old dog (. . he’s the only one we bother to call ‘tailgunner’ any more.) Here I have a list of 57 Americans suspected of face-to-face relations in the shadows of America’s rest stops and bus stations. And how many of you pinkos will protest? Hmm? They say for the want of a nail, the shoe was lost. For the want of a pervert, the McArdle was lost, then left to her devices. And is it me, or is that Larry Craig one helluva dancer? Here’s Mark Steyn:
. . there are those who argue it’s a victory for the powerful undertow of bourgeois values over the surface ripples of sexual transgressiveness
*stentorian* . . In A World. Where boys kissed girls. And Wonder Bread didn’t hurt your heart. And hot arsenic meant fine tobacco — they did the unthinkable. They kissed boys. They were . . THE SURFRIPPLES OF SEXESSIVESSNESS. Oh. Really.
Gays will now be as drearily suburban as the rest of us. A couple of years back, I saw a picture in the paper of two chubby old queens tying the knot at City Hall in Vancouver, and the thought occurred that Western liberalism had finally succeeded in boring all the fun out of homosexuality.
Remember when the queens were reedy and attractive? Oh MAN Mark does. He thought about smooching one. But now with all their open-mouth chewing, and their legal whining, without the muscled butt-ripping and orgasmery, they’re not as handsome. God opens a window but he turns off a lamp, on the vanity. You’re no longer in Mark’s league fays.
Oh my what’s that thing called? Where your opponent beats you in the game and all you do is slag them? Not sour grapes, it’s something else. Let me know.