Love: A Battlefield

Deliver us from destruction, Pat.

With the celebration of legalization in New York subsiding and the lottery for gay marriage licenses to be issued on the 24^th planned and ready to go, people across the country and weighing in on the issue of same sex marriage.

Everyone is weighing in on someone else’s life.

Glitter bombs are being thrown at Republicans left, right and in Wisconsin. Verbal bombs are being dropped as pastors speak of gay marriage being a more imminent threat than nuclear proliferation, (I’m serious, look here) it is hard to believe that all of this is necessary.

I mean serious, we have been here, queer and asking you to get used to it for almost forty years and glitter bombs are still being thrown. (Newt and Crazy Eye’s Bachmann’s super queen husband’s clinic received most of the damage, however it looks like Pride may have experienced a thorough glitter carpet bombing, but they liked it.)

In lieu of this, I am calling for some reason. I am calling for reprieve and I am calling for a change. Popes, pastors, queers and straights, open your hearts and minds to what I am about to say.

Pat Benetar is no longer just an artist, she is a prophet. (....and iiiiiccccoooonnnnn)

Granted, since Perez v Sharp, a Supreme Court case originating in Texas which deemed the ban on interracial marriage unconstitutional, the “sacred” (shot-gun?) institution of marriage has been no stranger to litigation and judicial review. However, this gay thing is unprecedented.

Back in 1984, Benetar gave a voice to today’s current fight without even understanding the WWII quality it would take on (for some). You’re right, Pat. I have been searching my heart for a long time however, I do have some demands now. 

Granted, I think the "battlefield" is actually in reference to the relationship however history is rife with examples of people who glossed over the actual parameters of prophecy and focused in the parts that fit, so I feel no need to adhere to her specifics. My declaration, my rules.

And I mean, come on. Everyone else is talking about how love is like oxygen when mine placed me in a stranglehold of deprivation and derogation. People speak of the value of loving their neighbor while mine call me faggot, which isn't even right as I am a chick, so don’t bullshit me about love. I understand love.  I understand the bind it puts you in and the bullets you take for it.

Most bombs aren’t filled with glitter, straights, just the gay ones. Verbal attacks certainly are not showering me with glitter either.

So please, if you find the time please call the (gay) Pope (Cher) and let her know you have seen the light and heard the words of the light, the truth and the way.

Oh, and grab your love guns ‘cause the glitter is a-flyin.