I Get Bitter
How far back did Cher turn time?
Neanderthal NY Republican Gubernatorial wannabe Carl Paladino, looking like that other homophobic-spewer Pope John Paul, knuckle-drags out tired old anti-gay tropes – brain-washing, pride parade indecencies, I wouldn’t want my nieces, etc. Paladino sounds like the crazy porn-loving Uncle at the holiday table who has a few belts and starts his “I’ll tell you what I think. . .” as everybody rolls their eyes and starts to clear the table.
Uncle Carl’s remarks are of course stand-alone despicable, but even more so in the context of the heinous gay-bashing in the Bronx by the Latin King Goonies. The vileness of his ham-handed remarks to Orthodox Jews and his subsequent morning talk show re-affirmation of those remarks is amplified in the context of the recent cluster of gay suicides.
Every day well-financed puppets of right wing extremism pop up like hydra-headed wac-a-moles. The team just keeps coming at you. And now the Buffalo Bullies have super-fine, foxy feminista cheerleaders The Grizzly Gals!
WTF??
While I like to think that it gets better and that these are the dying gasps of a flailing campaign or the last foul breaths of the rigor mortis that is homophobia, I don’t have the luxury of “I’m just sayin. . “ Nor should a mumble-core Cuomo or an unenthusiastic electorate.
My dear galpal reminds me the only antidote to this bitter bile is action. So I’m brewing a big witch’s vat of Bitter Begone! It’s lo-cal. Come out. Speak out. Vote. Dammit.