Over the last couple of weeks, there’s been an unbelievable amount of talking and bitching and whining and fighting and debate over the topic of gay marriage. It goes without saying that I find this distressing – in fact, I can’t work out whether it’s more depressing than irritating, or vice versa. I have never been able to understand why anyone would care who anyone else sleeps with (unless of course you’re involved with the person in question), or why the gender of newlyweds should have any bearing on the validity of their marriage.
Even more appalling to me is the backing argument that’s constantly parrotted by the proponents of this new constitutional amendment banning gay marriage: we must preserve the sanctity of marriage. First off, has anyone seen the latest divorce statistics for this country? I’m one of them, for god’s sake, and so are roughly half my friends. Sanctity of marriage, my ass. But divorce isn’t even the best example of this. Let’s take a look at recent issues of TV Guide. There’s The Bachelor, The Bachelorette, Joe Millionaire, Mr. Personality, My Big, Fat, Obnoxious Fiancé, and of course the crowning glory of recent television shows that make you ashamed to be alive: The Littlest Groom. If there’s going to be a push in America to make marriage a more cherished and respected institution, I suggest we start by arresting all the producers who agreed to air these shows, and offering therapy and/or sterilization to their rabid fans. Because you know, this country is scary enough with Chimpy at the helm. When we can marry off total strangers for cash prizes on national television without anyone batting an eye, but couples who honestly love one another aren’t able to make the same lifetime committments just because they happen to have matching genitalia… well, it’s days like this when I pull out the UK passport and stare at it wistfully.
Amen.