Ellen & Portia Sitting On A Tree…

I count religion but a childish toy,
And hold there is no sin but ignorance.

The Jew Of Malta • Christopher Marlowe

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The world is changing.

On Brothers & Sisters, Kevin and Scotty got married and there were no protests, no advertiser boycotts, no declarations of impending apocalyptic doom. For the first time in broadcast history, two series regulars proclaimed their love for each other in a gay commitment ceremony in prime time, and no one blinked.

Two teenage boys fell in love with each other on As The World Turns, and there was a huge controversy, with fans complaining about the producers and CNN and other media outlets headlining stories about the romance. But the complaints and stories had nothing to do with the idea of two teenage boys falling in love; audiences were enraged that the soap opera seemingly refused to show the couple kissing. 211 days after the previous kiss, the show finally let Luke and Noah kiss each other passionately again, and the world was once more safe for lovers.

After only two weeks, Katy Perry’s “I Kissed A Girl” has become a Top 40 hit on Billboard’s Hot 100. “Ain’t no big deal,” she sings, “It’s innocent.” Thirteen years ago, when Jill Sobule released a song with the same title (and the same sentiment: kissing another girl is nice sometimes), it was met with major controversy and never made it past 67 on the charts, even though it was infectiously fun. Now the idea of two women kissing is “just human nature,” according to Katy’s song.

But the more things change, the more things stay the same.

As soon as the California State Supreme Court struck down an unconstitutional ban on same-sex marriages, religious leaders once again raised holy hell. Without any embarrassment, the dictators of morality screamed about “judicial activism” and vowed to fight this horrifying turn of events.

I have to wonder, though, exactly what is judicial activism?

Is it called activism when judges decide to commission huge statues for courthouses honoring the Ten Commandments, even though the Biblical story has almost nothing in common with modern law? Only two of the commandments - regarding murder and theft - are even illegal, three of the commandments revolve around the worship of the Judeo-Christian God (don’t worship anything other than God, don’t use God’s name in vain and don’t work on the Sabbath, God’s day of rest), and one of the commandments tells you to be nice to your parents.

Some Christians claim that the Ten Commandments are the basis for modern law, as ludicrous as that sounds. You have wonder, though, why religious dictators want to put the Ten Commandments in courtrooms across America but don’t insist that they are also displayed in churches.

Is it called activism when judges decide a helpless woman must be kept alive to prove some bizarre point about the sanctity of life? Terri Schiavo was a vegetable forced to endure an unimaginable existence because her parents wouldn’t let her die with dignity. For some reason that I still don’t understand, Christian leaders and opportunistic politicians decided that Terri deserved to continue suffering, so they successfully petitioned the courts to keep her alive while insinuating that her ex-husband was evil and probably was responsible for her condition in the first place.

Christians can be amazingly vindictive. They overwhelmingly support the death penalty, even though they believe murderers go to hell; it’s as if they want to make sure criminals suffer eternal damnation before they can ask forgiveness. On the other hand, when a woman who by all accounts was vibrant and beautiful before being in a coma FOR FIFTEEN YEARS should have been allowed to die, they fiercely fought against letting Terri ascend to heaven and find peace. With friends like that, who needs serial killers?

Is it called activism when judges decide Sharon Bottoms isn’t a fit mother for her son because she’s a lesbian?

Is it called activism when judges allow churches and religious organizations to mount enormous political campaigns without revoking their non-profit status (because God forbid Pat Robertson should have to pay taxes on his mansions)?

Is it called activism when judges have no problem with children being forced to pledge allegiance to God in public schools?

I was just wondering.

Silly me, I thought freedom of religion meant the right to be free of religion if one so desired. But not in America, where God decides who can get married and who can’t.

Which bring us to one of the most ridiculous arguments I’ve ever heard. Even McCain, the man who would be President, told Ellen (right before she jokingly asked him to give her away at her wedding to Portia) that marriage was a religious institution.

Since when?

You don’t have to believe in some fictional Santa Claus and his virginal son to get married. That has never been a requirement. Hell, if marriage was based on religion, then couples wouldn’t get all the benefits from the state and federal governments that they now enjoy, since that would be a contradiction of the separation between church and state.

I don’t want someone’s fictional god to dictate what is right or wrong for me. I’ve never looked for guidance from Charlie Brown or Sherlock Holmes. Why on earth would I need approval from Jesus the red-nosed reindeer? If I want to get married to someone, I should be allowed to.

Marriage isn’t a religious event, it’s a legal contract issued by the government. And if the government decides that I shouldn’t be allowed to marry someone because the majority of politicians think homosexuality should occur in bathrooms, not bedrooms, then there is something majorly wrong with our government. 

As for the argument that allowing gays to marry would destroy the very foundation of marriage, could somebody please fix the recordplayer because the LP is skipping. This is the same argument they used when black people wanted to marry each other. This is the same argument they used when women wanted to vote or own property or work. This is the same argument they used when interracial couples wanted to get married.

You want to know what destroys the very foundation of marriage? Allowing straight people to get married on a whim while denying people who honestly love each other the same privilege.

I can’t wait until Ellen and Portia get married, and I thank every god ever imagined that they are finally going to get that opportunity. It’s about damn time.

The world is changing.

And I will keep fighting for those changes, because there is so much that is good about this world, and I am so tired of seeing religious dictators actively seeking to shatter what is beautiful and natural and make it into something as dark and disturbing as their often ugly beliefs are.

Reboot

And that corny key chain she used to have, a metal disk that rotated on an axle, with LOVES ME on one side and LOVES ME NOT on the other. Boris Drumm had given her that, and when Jesse got his license she had sentimentally passed it on to him. She had dropped it into his palm after chauffeuring him home from his driver’s test, but unfortunately the car was still in gear and it had started rolling as she climbed out. “Oh, great going, Ma,” Jesse had said, reaching for the brake; and something about his lofty amusement had made her see him for the first time as a man. But now he carried his keys in a little leather case—snakeskin, she believed. She would like that key chain back again. She could actually feel it between her fingers—the lightweight, cheap metal and the raised lettering, the absent-minded spin she used to give it as she stood talking with Boris: Loves me, loves me not. And once again she saw Boris rising up before her car as she practiced braking. Why, all he’d been trying to say was: Here I am! Pay me some notice!
 
Breathing Lessons • Anne Tyler

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I can’t take it no more
I’m gonna knock on your door
Say why won’t you notice me?
 
Notice Me • P. Wilson, Nikki

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Andy Warhol once said, “In the future, everyone will be famous for fifteen minutes.” It was a quote that went from witty to prophetic to clichéd to annoying in a remarkably short time, and yet the carefully-crafted soundbite doesn’t ring any less true these many years later. People with personalities that would get them stabbed (or at least severely beaten) in an average bar suddenly find themselves the center of attention after starring in Real World or The Apprentice or Survivor. An ugly kid who’s been picked on his entire life for being fat and gay colors his hair orange, bitches about celebrities and draws crude cumstains on the faces of gorgeous actors, and suddenly he’s featured in national magazines and given his own music production deal. A walking venereal disease pimps her way into MySpace cyber-popularity and becomes the star of a dating show because she’s bisexual and pretty.

I could go on and on, and most people reading this would know every single person I’m talking about.

We answer anonymous questions on Yahoo and spend hours on Facebook, we film rants ranging from the hilarious to the psychotic for our YouTube fans, we post on Craigslist in the hope that sex might lead to something more meaningful, we buy cell phones and blackberries and a hundred other devices and then laugh when a comedian makes a joke about people who buy cell phones and blackberries and a hundred other devices so we can pretend that what we have doesn’t define us more than who we are.

Andy Warhol didn’t quite get it right, though. Yes, people want to be famous. But with the exception of Paris Hilton and other modern parasites, most people don’t want to be famous just to be famous. The truth is, people just want to be noticed. They want to be remembered. They want to matter.

Including me.

I started a blog almost two years ago and would post every one or two weeks when I felt like it. Eventually I realized that I needed to post on a daily basis if I wanted to gain an audience, and by the time the sixth season of American Idol was over - a show I discussed in great detail even though it was the worst season of the series - I was averaging more than a thousand hits a day.

And then I stopped posting. I wanted to redesign my blog - I actually contracted with a guy to design a blog to my specs, but that was a dismal failure, so I ended up having to design and code and do all that fun stuff myself based on an existing template. Then once I had everything ready, I started working a contract in Costa Mesa and found it more and more difficult to post with any kind of regularity.

But just like every other person in the world, there’s a lot I want to say, a lot I want to talk about, a lot I want to argue about. The main problem with a blog is that it’s often a one-sided conversation - even at my most popular, I only had 3-4 comments on any particular post. But at least it’s a chance to say what I’m thinking. At least it’s a chance to be noticed.

I don’t want to be famous. I just want to know that at least one other person in this world read something I wrote and remembered it. I want to matter.

So I am rebooting my blog for the second (and hopefully last) time. A lot of big things are happening to me. The one-month contract that grew into nine months in Southern California looks like it will finally be ending the end of July, so I’ll be looking for a new job soon. I’m moving back to the East Coast the end of September, so for the first time in over a decade I will be living in Virginia, a state that I’ve always considered my birthplace, even if my family didn’t move there until after I turned ten. I’m working on what I hope will be the definitive book on one-hit wonders, a subject that fascinates me to no end.

And I’m still an opinionated asshole who has a lot to say about this life. I’m not actually looking for fifteen minutes of fame, I just want to find some common ground with other people. But I’m not ashamed to admit that I want people to read what I have to say and have some reaction to it beyond boredom or indifference.

I want to be noticed. And I don’t think that’s a bad thing. :-)