If John McCain wants to add smoking desperation to the list of desperations (including the stinking, stunning and hopeless versions) passing for his campaign strategy, you won't hear me complaining.
The Palin veep pick is equal parts arrogance (Hillary voters will be drawn to her vagina) and pandering (neo-cons will be drawn to her contempt for the vagina).
So. It's politics. Fine.
And she's a light weight. Even better. Or is it?
Because they just might pull it off. And then we'd have someone doing a job she professes not to understand. Which she doesn't. Clearly. Just a while ago she was Mayor of Mooseville.
But in being coy about her chances, Gov. Palin actually told the guy at CNBC that she didn't know what a veep did all day. God. Save. Us. All.
On the eve of the Republican primary in Michigan, Mike Huckabee made a speech about how he'd like to see abortion and marriage rights handled. Mr. Huckabee would like to see the Constitution amended to match "God's standards."
Oh, yes. He did. You can see it right here:
In case it isn't obvious, Mr. Huckabee believes God's standards mean women don't deserve control over their reproductive health and gays are best viewed behind razor wire while wearing pink-felt triangles.
Mr. Huckabee, sadly, went on to place a distant third in Michigan.
This leads me to believe that God's standards are working just fine when it comes to Mike. It certainly seems to be His will that Huckabee will be this election's Howard Dean.
Since God won't say it to you directly, Mike, I sure will: It's my Constitution, too. Tend to your own marriage and keep yer fuckin' paws off my rights. Sheesh. You should be embarrassed to think you have any concept of the Word of God. I'm pretty certain He's embarrassed plenty by you.
You keep preachin', though, sugar. It's gonna be a lot easier for *any* Democrat in the fall to win against you than the others. It takes a special kind of guy to make a mormon look viable. So I wish you all the success in the world.
So Ann Coulter (bitch! ... sorry ... it's like Tourette's every time I hear her name) goes to the American Conservative Union Political Action Conference this week and calls John Edwards a faggot.
Seriously. You can see it right here:
Now the fact that Ann Coulter (cow!) spouts out the word "faggot" is hardly a shock. It's clear by her hair alone that she doesn't have a lot of gays in her life, and clear from every other word of hate, ignorance and intolerance that falls from the vile, shit-filled arroyo called her mouth that she's here to inflame more than anything.
I feel rather sad for Ann (neocon-whore!). After all, we have to put up with her dressed like that, and she feels compelled to dress like that. Just who's on the losing end of that self esteem vacuum, I ask you? So as loathsome as she may be ... and that's pretty loathsome ... I'm in sort of roll-my-eyes mode with her at this point.
What should really give one pause is that it's a room full of hundreds of people who are listening to Ann put her minstrel show through its paces. And when she suggests that it's gotten so bad ya can't even say the word "faggot" anymore, do they take issue with her? Does anyone boo? Hiss? Storm out?
Do any of the gay cater waiters wrestle her to the ground and give her an impromptu bob behind the podium?
No.
The room erupts in laughter. Knowing, telling laughter that says, "No longer being able to say 'nigger' is one thing. But taking away 'faggot' is just going too far. Not on my watch, Ann. Not on my watch."
This is the group that everyone with a prayer for the Republican presidential nomination must go to and grovel. Rudi. McCain. They both went. They both swore they were "just like them." And who in their right mind would want to be just like that?
Better yet, who in their right mind would want to vote for someone who says they're just like that?
Don't be upset with Ann. Though I hope she dies. I really do. A painful, ugly, humiliating and public death ringed by faggot camera men who are more into capturing her demise than preventing it.
Be upset with the room full of people who've elected her their clown. She's just doing the dance. They're the ones playing the tune.
On Thursday, the 1st District Court of Appeals upheld California's ban on gay marriage. This summer, high courts in New York and Washington states also refused to strike down laws prohibiting same-sex marriage.
Rusty and I have been together for the last 11 years. 11. Count 'em, you judicial fuckers. 4,015 days.
We own a house. And a dog. Well, it's more like the dog owns us. But we own the back yard he counts as his toilet. We've fought. We've laughed. We've fucked. Just like everyone else.
And for each of us, there was a time when we thought we were watching the other one die. Seriously. No hyperbole. There was one day in those 4,015 when it looked like I might bleed to death. And there was about a week in those 573 weeks when it looked like complications from Rusty's surgery were going to prevail.
Luck prevailed instead in both cases. But what if it hadn't?
Due to circumstances that aren't important to this rant, our house is in Rusty's name. Had he died, I promise you that the house we've laughed and fought and fucked in for the past decade would no longer be mine. His family would have rights to it that I'd be denied. They've never been in my home. Not that they wouldn't be welcome. But they've never wanted to be any part of the last 14,600 days of Rusty's life. And so they are not.
They don't send Christmas cards. They don't call on his birthday. They certainly don't invite us over for dinner. They don't drop by when they're passing through. They ... just don't.
But they'd own my home. And I'd be out. It would take just about as long as it's taken to type this.
Now of course you can say that we can protect ourselves from this by paying an attorney thousands of dollars to make certain I'm protected as well as I have to be. You're right. And we have ... but not everyone in our situation has that kind of cash or the wherewithal to know what to do.
But here's the question the high courts and every last pig-fucking mouth-breather who doesn't think Rusty and I deserve to be married should answer: Why should we have to do that?
Why is the right of survivorship something I have to pay for when other people wake up and have it for free? And don't get me started on taxes and the mountains of other things that all the money in the world to an attorney will never afford us.
Why should anyone in this country wake up and be three-fifths of what anyone else is? And why aren't we rioting in the streets?
I'll be funny tomorrow. Today, I simply can't afford it.
