So, I'm sitting here enjoying the Rachel Maddow Show and helping Tweenie to review her Algebra (yep, having to relearn slope-intercept and quadratic equations...wasn't it bad enough the first time around???), and the phone rings. I answer it.
"Good evening. I'm calling to find out how you'll be voting on Proposition 8. Are you familiar with Proposition 8?"
"Yeah, I am. Very familiar. But why don't you tell me about it?" (said the spider to the fly...)
On he goes into his scary little spiel, insecure homophobe that he is, to tell me the horrors of allowing the California law that allows gay and lesbian citizens to marry will ruin not only my marriage, but rend the very fabric of society itself. When he finishes, I say nothing.
"Hello? M'am?" He asks, wondering if I have hung up or, maybe, unexplainedly, been taken by the rapture.
"Are you kidding me? Are you friggin' kidding me, Buster???"
"Uh, m'am, if you could just-"
"-First of all, quit calling me M'am. You're way older than I am. And secondly, let me tell you what I think of your Proposition and you tell me whether I'll vote for it. I think it's the most abhorrent, immoral thing in the world to legislate hatred into our State Constitution, because that's what it'll do. It'll codify hatred, persecution and bigotry into California law. And that goes against everything this country stands for, is immoral and ignorant and just plain WRONG. And explain to me how my friends getting married is going to threaten my eighteen year marriage??? Huh? Huh? HUH?"
"I'm just supposed to record your vote, not listen to why-"
"-Then don't ask if you don't want to know, ya putz."
A dial tone. He hung up. Ball-less wonder. Uh, maybe too many polysyllabic words?
...Was it something I said?
A little patch of denial
1 day ago