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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