How, one asks, wiping a drip of spittle from lips slackened in disbelief, do American voters simultaneously elect a black dude president and ban gay marriage in a single swipe of the always-reliable electronic voting machine? Well, I am the world’s foremost authority, so I’ve got a couple of theories.
The Dawning of a New Post-Patriarchal Tomorrow
The New Obam-A-Merica is young, happy, hopey, changey. We’ll ban gay marriage, OK? but only to pave the way for the inevitable ban on straight marriage, whereupon we liberate millions from the stifling, dimensionless, heteronormative purgatory of the nuclear family, and from movies where beautiful brides claw each other’s eyes out under whimsical comedic circumstances.
Not buying that one? Well, how about
Bizarre as it may seem, many Americans mistake for truth certain fanciful narratives the central figure of which is an invisible, immortal male superdude who lives in a cloud palace and who is as obsessed with human reproductive material as he is with smiting infidels. Quite a large chunk of the populus are so besotted by this fantasy, they think the invisible superdude is actually real. They chit-chat with him, bargain with him, build fancy castles for him, use special gang signs with him, seek to appease his wrath, cajole him into intervening on their personal behalf, sacrifice the lives of the less fortunate in exchange for such filthy lucre as he sees fit to confer upon them, announce to the world that they believe in him so their peers won’t mistake them for amoral atheists, and reinterpret his myths in whatever manner will most benefit their own status in this super-fubar set-up.
As a result of the surprisingly widespread belief that this or any other fictional character ought to be given carte blanche in matters of social policy, quite a few inconsistencies plague the American socio-political scene. One such inconsistency is the dissonance between “liberty and justice for all” — a quaint story Americans tell themselves about themselves — and liberty and justice the godbag way — which puts into practice the immortal cloud-abiding superdude’s ideology that certain folks are more equal than others.
The fundamental irrationality of professional political godbagism makes things danged awkward for people like women, who in reality are human beings, but who are confined by the godly narrative to the humiliating role of meatsocks. It’s also awkward for queer women, who are not enough like traditional meatsocks, and for queer men, who are too much like traditional meatsocks. We don’t get to chillax and be ourselfs. Somebody is always threating to rape us or kick our ass or suddenly come down with Gay Panic Disorder.
The mass delusion known as homophobia is a sub-species of misogyny.
A black dude can get elected president, but a woman? When swine defy gravity. Racism flourishes, all righty, but it’s covert, on the DL, the embarrassing private luxury of elderly honkys and parochial-minded nincompoops, an imp of the perverse the public indulgence of which is becoming increasingly difficult both to justify and to legislate. It seems safe to say that if the majority of Americans wished to cling to racism as a defining aspect of their cult, last week’s election would have had rather a different outcome.
Misogyny, on the other hand, is bullet-proof. It’s not merely tolerated, it’s openly celebrated in the American street, the American courtroom, the American bedroom, the American internet. Except for a puny consortium of bruised and contused blamers calling blindly to the Vaginatariat through mists of dime store cologne, even the victims of this oppression embrace it. Thus is it possible for American voters to view straight male Barack Obama as a human being, but to view the queers seeking some of that liberty and justice as a bunch of deviant meatsock mutations to throw under the bus.
As mentioned earlier, heterosexual marriage is the primary unit of patriarchy. It’s how dudely power is transferred from generation to generation, and must not fall into enemy hands. Homos, apparently, are not equal enough to perform the sacred ritual of the white-veiled pussy presentation.
1. Excepting, of course, the hysteria over “illegal aliens” — the screamingly deprecatory name given to that group of people who do America’s shit work for shit pay — which hysteria has climaxed with citizen militias — many of them, I am sad to say, Texans — patrolling the borders with flame-throwers and nukular bombs to keep our country free of suspicious swarthy types.