And now, on a lighter note ...

Forget the effect on children, direct or indirect. Who cares about reinforcing the contraceptive mentality. To heck with the death of religious freedom. Here is the ultimate argument. If this is gay "marriage," all sane people should be against it.

The headline at the Daily Mirror says it all: "Gay couple banned from having giant models of The Simpsons as guests of honour at wedding." (Though you'd think the Sun wooda-dunn better, "I Do-hhhh" or something wittier.)

I guess it is appropriate though -- imaginary fictional witnesses for an imaginary fictional wedding.

I don't mean that as completely sarcastically as it might sound (obviously, breeders have been known to be tacky too). But it's pretty clear after years of practice (I am generalizing, I realize) that homosexuals don't want a marriage, they want a wedding; that they have no sense of solemnity and don't see monogamy as important. Heck, if a wedding is all about you and your fabulousness, why not have cartoon-character dummies as guests of honor?

And this couple seems ... well, how to put it delicately ... Psychological Case Study One supporting the "homosexuality as arrested development" theory.

Glyn and Roy will get over the snub to their cartoon heroes by not going on honeymoon ... and watching DVDs of the Simpsons instead.

I love "The Simpsons" as much as the next guy but ... does one laugh or cry? Shouldn't the honeymoon be about ... y'know ... lots of gettin nekkid and makin' out and sex'n'stuff. (I looked this up a few years ago ... I think it's supposed to involve that but I could be getting this part wrong.) You almost feel sorry for the Cardiff city council spokesflak stating the so-obvious-it's-passe in these Very Interesting Times:

A Cardiff city council spokeswoman said: “Guidance from the Registrar General states that the Registrar should always insist upon the seemly behaviour of the parties and their witnesses.
“All ceremonies – marriages and civil partnerships – should therefore be solemn and dignified.
“It is Cardiff Council’s view that this request was outside that definition and could not be permitted.”

New links

Some people have said for years I dwell too much on Topic H, and, while that's the premise of the site, I can't deny that it makes me seem more of a gloomy killjoy than I am. I don't think I'm being immodest when I say that people who know me in the flesh know that I can be as funny and witty as ... ahem ... Oscar Wilde. And obviously I have secular interests -- I'm a huge fan of both sports and politics and beer (only "chicks" are left out -- durnit). And like most guys with my issues, I was a pop-culture junkie as a boy. As a result of all this, "blending in" among straight guys has never been hard for me.

So, partly to present a more-balanced view of who I am and maybe come across as a more attractive human being, and partly to make regular blogging psychologically easier -- I've decided to let myself write about other topics.

I've removed some dead or radically changed sites from my link list at the right. And I've also added a new category -- "homocons," a couple of whom I've come to enjoy reading and interacting some with on Twitter. It should go without saying that these are sites of people who practice the lifestyle and/or identify as gay (which is why they're in a different category than Catholic and Same-Sex-Attraction sites. They're not pornographic but the morality of the homosexual act and derivative conclusions are assumed and/or argued for. The over-scrupulous should consider that your warning).

Easter rebirths

I began a recent Easter Saturday in the depths. I was in a Washington DC hotel room late in the morning, wrestling a 240-pound bodybuilder -- voluntarily and knowing that beforehand of course. The results were predictable, and not undesired.

About a half-hour after it was over, I was sitting in the hotel's bar, sipping a soda, picking half-heartedly at the savory party-mix bowl the bartender had put out. I was sore all over, though not really hurt; and my face had some markings, though nothing major or permanent. And like St. Augustine under the fig tree, I was weeping bitterly (though silently, because I was in a public place).

I texted a buddy, to whom I've never come "out," that I was in a lot of pain, not specifying the kind. And telling him that I was "dead to the sin that has torn at me all my life" (as explicit as I wanted to be with him), and asked him point blank "tell me why I should go to the Easter Vigil."

He responded: "read St. Augustine's Confessions, book 8, chapter 12." I was pretty sure what passage that was -- I've read the whole of the book at least three times, including once as late-night bedside reading. But I was able, thanks to the miracle of smart phones and Internet access, to look it up and yeah ... it was St. Augustine recounting his conversion, weeping under the fig tree.

Here is St. Augustine, the whole chapter after the jump (this post does get back to me, but I want St. Augustine's whole chapter in front of everybody)