I feel better after posting that blog about boobs. It was cathartic. That was the point, I guess. As Chris wisely observed in his comment, I should probably just let it go and embrace my fetish. Hell, I don’t even like calling it a fetish because it’s so integrated in our genetic makeup, right? I’ll keep telling myself that.
I’m against gay marriage.
Let me be specific. I’m against the government having any role whatsoever in the definition of marriage. The government should not acknowledge marriage, whether it be between opposite sexes or same sexes.
Call it a Domestic Partnership. All of the laws and benefits that the current definition of marriage entails should be rolled into the domestic partnership law. I mean all of them, from custody rights to inheritances. Eliminate any kind of reference to the sexes of the participants. Eliminate any need for a ceremony, blood test, etc. Make it a contract that you sign, or something. You know, lawyery stuff.
Then, marriage can be the domain of the religions. If the Catholic church doesn’t want to recognize same-sex marriages, they don’t have to.
Thus, no gay marriage, but same sex couples can enjoy all of the benefits of any other opposite sex couple.
After all, it’s purely a semantic argument – Conservative Christians claim that they don’t mind if homosexual couples have the same benefits as opposite sex couples, they just don’t want it to be called marriage. They say marriage is a religious term, which it sort of is.
But that’s the great thing about the rules within groups. A Catholic man can’t say he’s married to another Catholic man. Their rules don’t allow it. But a non-catholic man can say he’s married to another non-catholic man because he’s not in the group that disallows it.
To paraphrase Penn Jillette: only a Phi Beta Kappa recipient can wear the Phi Beta Kappa key. That is exactly why I, a non-Phi Beta Kappa, can wear a Phi Beta Kappa key – because I’m not in the group, I don’t have to follow its rules.
Does anybody else find it intensely humorous that the brand name of the contaminated spinach shipments is Natural Selection?
I love World War 2. I can’t claim the same level of knowledge that somebody like Dan has, but that doesn’t lessen my interest in it.
I feel a bit weird saying that I like a war. It seems that we shouldn’t enjoy wars, because they’re so awful. Real people die and suffer and kill in them, people I know (in some cases). They’re awful, nasty things that should never happen.
But sometimes they do happen, and for the right reasons.
See, I can’t say I’m thrilled about the current situation in Iraq, but I’m sure glad that there’s one less dictator in the world. I’m not happy that Americans are dying in a fight against a wide variety and substantive sample of the Middle East’s ethnic, religious and political groups, but I’m glad we’re taking more of them with us.
Is that wrong, for me to find pleasure in the elimination of people who are trying to kill our soldiers? I don’t think it is. Call me an idealist, but I don’t think we’re the bad guys.
I have friends and family in the military. These are people who are very dear to me. They all, universally, are happy that they have the opportunity to serve the United States. I won’t fault them for that. What kind of citizen would that make me?
I will always respect my friend Doug’s opinion of warfare and the politics thereof. See, he’s an active, participating member in the armed forces, and grew up surrounded by the apparatus of the US Air Force. He’s studied more of it than I ever will (and I do a lot of reading). His astute observations in a recent blog of mine constitute my personal opinion of the Iraq war, because he said so. Not only do his observations make sense to me, but I consider him kind of an expert on the subject. Just as I would go to my father, a lawyer, for legal advice, I go to Doug for advice on modern warfare opinions.
Anyway, World War 2. We fought a handful of bad guys in that one. I’ve been playing a lot of games themed to that era, from Company of Heroes to Medal of Honor. I’m not really very good at any of them, but I’m not bad, either.
When I was a kid, we went to an air show that had a lot of army surplus junk for sale. We got two kinds of grenades, and some bullets, and stuff like that. The grenades obviously didn’t have any explosive stuff in them – they were drilled from the bottom and the fuses were removed. The bullets were similarly emptied. But they still had that distinctive smell of gunpowder, and the cold, utilitarian feel of tools.
They weren’t toys, and they didn’t seem like toys. I don’t know if we ever played with them as such. I just remember holding the pineapple in my hand, wondering what it would have been like to throw that at somebody in order to kill them.
Anyway, war sucks, but if I had to choose one, I’d choose the second world one.
If every seat is considered First Class, doesn’t that mean that nobody is in First Class?