Monday, February 24, 2014

Gay Marriage and My Caddyshack Secret

Let us be warmed. The New York Times is reporting so much on gay marriage, gay oppression, hateful laws against gay people, gay sportsmen and the unalienable rights of gay men and women to love how they need to love, that you’d think it was just a liberal rag. ;)

I say, bring out your liberal rag if that rag is doing the right thing. Which it is, of course. Clearly, the paper has an agenda, and that agenda at its furthest reaches have almost nothing (but everything) to do with each other:  To give me a greater tax break, and to stop African governments from torturing, imprisoning and killing its gay citizens.

I do hope in a few hundred years, a gay woman in Nigeria can marry her girlfriend without reprisal. Or much much sooner.

And now these:

And for a bonus:

Long live Harold Ramis. In addition to seeing Animal House about 900 times (I was a kid looking forward to college), my greatest memory of Mr. Ramis’ work, unhappily, was of Caddyshack, which I saw at one of the last drive-ins to exist with some best friends from high school. We were in a large customized van. There was a whole lot going on. I barely drank anything when I was younger, so I do believe the culprit was food. My stomach went south and there was a certain disgusting mess that accumulated in my drawers. I felt it coming on and I thought I was in charge. But I was wrong. I waddled over to the drive-in bathroom, hoping nothing would reach past my socks and into broad moonlight to expose me. I made it. Naturally, the horrendous toilet was without toilet paper so I had to think quickly. My underwear became my mopping device. After I got pretty clean, I threw them out. I slinked back to the van and watched the rest of the movie in jeans and shirt, only. Everyone in the van continued to drink and carouse. People seemed to notice that I was gone a long time but no one asked me why so no one knew what had happened to me. Until now, of course. 

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