You just can't call it a bus

I'm having a hard time getting worked up over the California Supreme Court upholding Prop 8. I try to be sympathetic: there is a rejection here, a refusal to recognize the legitimacy of our love. But the whole "separate but equal" posturing just doesn't cut it with me.

The NY Times cites Loyola law professor Karl M. Manheim's argument that, by claiming the word "marriage" is only symbolic, the decision "is like telling black people that sitting in the back of the bus is not important as long as the front and the back of the bus arrive at the same time." No, it's like telling black people that they can sit anywhere on the large, motor vehicle public transport system; they just can't call it a bus.

May I remind my brothers and sisters in California that in Ohio we are not allowed on this metaphorical public transport at all. Not just buses, but anything that approximates "the design, qualities, significance or effect of" buses is barred to us. The long game must be to make sure that anyone can ride. And when that happens, people will tire of saying "large, motor vehicle public transportation system" and call it "bus" for simplicity.

I don't mean to minimize the blow to those for whom the "M" word means something beyond the sets of legal rights, but maybe those rights are more important than what we call them? Marriage schmarriage: let Mike make medical decisions for me and inherit my stuff.

Pride Surprise

Once again, we packed up the bubble machines and joined family and friends downtown in our annual bid to be the Best Gay Pride Audience. This year was extra special because my sister made a surprise visit from Maine.

It was great to see her, and I'd been missing her particularly badly lately. I even had a dream about her last week. I was part of Mission Impossible team, and we were pulling some caper in a political prison/mental hospital, and for some reason she was there. I abandoned the mission to spend some time with her (not sure if she was a patient or visiting a friend). My teammates understood.

Anyway, we greeted parade marchers at the entrance to downtown with cheers and bubbles. I think we are becoming essential to an enjoyable Gay Pride Celebration. This year, M&M secured individual packets of sunscreen to offer to parade marchers. M's genius marketing slogan: "Sunscreen! Rub it on your friends." Most of the go-go boys and topless lesbians already felt well-protected, but there were many people who accepted the offer for more.

I'd still love to have a Library Book Cart Drill Team in the parade, but how could I give up this much fun?