Marriage Not As Queer As It Used To Be

Canadian wedding counters reported today that in 2007 there has only been one same-sex marriage, down from 107 last year. Our neighbors to the North seem to have fallen short of the anticipated demand for hooking up same gendered couple in the bonds of holy matrimony. When I heard this today, I was really quite shocked. It made me think about what the reaction in the United States would be. Would it be the same? When marriage was temporarily legalized in San Francisco and New Paltz, NY, the demand was outrageous. Lines around the block. Sleeping on sidewalks. Ponies prancing two by two. Well, you get the point. But that was when we knew that it wasn't quite legal. It was still a rebellious, edgy act to go get married. What if it was legal?

The preservation of Queer culture has always been important to me. I want to know that I am different and better because of it. I don't aspire to say that it is okay to be different. I say that it is my God given right to be different and I embrace that difference with every fiber of my being. That difference makes me who I am. One of the differences is that I cannot marry my partner of 11 years the way that a hetero couple can. How would I feel if this difference no longer existed? Would I still care as much about getting married? You bet I would.

Marriage cannot be a tool for others to dole out based on their perception of legitimacy. Yet, that is exactly how it is done. As tempted as I am, I won't go into my entire position on why marriage should be legal between same-sex couple, suffice to say I believe it should be a right for everyone. For the record, I do draw the line at marriages between animals and people. For all of this back story, the question remains, why have gay marriages declined so much in Toronto? I propose the reason for the drop in marriages is because we have the right to get married in Canada - or not get married. We could have guessed that once the initial excitement of getting married wore off that there would be a decline in the number of marriage ceremonies. Maybe not such a dramatic decline, but one nonetheless. The beauty of this is that we don't have to get married, because its our right.

I had a birthday party this last weekend and I publicly thanked my "partner" of 11 years for all of his love and support. One of my friends from worked asked why I called him my partner instead of my husband. It was a good question and I didn't have a great answer. Perhaps it is all of the years of substituting "partner" since "husband" is a legal fantasy at this point in U.S. history. I'll continue working towards gaining the right to call my "partner" my "husband" so that one day I can choose not to.

English Air

Last night I went to a favorite restaurant bar owned by a couple of friends of mine. As the night slipped away and the shots kept coming, we were joined by a trio of English flight attendants. I can honestly say they were one of the most unique bunch of people I have ever met in my life! I do mean that in the most delightful way, but were they ever odd!

One was half Irish, half English - born in Ireland and raised in England. Another was born in Spain and later moved to England. The last I have no idea about, other than the fact that he was hot. As we covered everything from circumcisions to eyeglasses, it became readily apparent that there was a great deal in common. What struck me is that no one was really looking for commonalities, we just naturally found them. Perhaps that is because Queers naturally have quite a few things in common, at least when it comes to taste in men and accessories.

So the three flight attendants regaled us with stories of their sorted exploits. It was delicious. I realized that while these guys were considerably younger than I am, I momentarily wanted to go to flight attendant school and learn how to do that seat belt demonstration thing so that I too could go to exotic lands and meet exotic men.

But, alas, the night came to a close and I was off to the casa without signing up for flight attendant school. In the end, traveling around the world meeting new guys all of the time just isn't that much fun. Hold on, let me try again, meeting new guys all of the time just isn't that much. Isn't that much fun. I'm going to keep repeating this to myself, it may take a while to believe. Tray tables up, please.

The Fall of a City Attorney

In the City of Angels, there are awesome ascents and even more spectacular descents. Today, we witness the beginning of the end for the hypocrtic Los Angeles City Attorney, Rocky Delgadillo.

As Rocky was in court yesterday to argue for an even longer sentence for his nemesis Paris Hilton, Rocky was cornered by reporters and forced to shed light on the skeletons in his own closet. The public has heard the bones rattling for a while and yesterday Rocky was forced to open the door and let everyone see what all the noise was. And what an amazing glimpse it was.

Paris Hilton sits in the Lynwood jail for driving on a suspended license. This was a violation of her November 2006 probation. The probation stemmed from Paris' September 2006 DUI conviction.

On July 25, 2004, Rocky Delgadillo's wife, Michelle, had her license suspended for three years. The suspension was the result of an accident Michelle had where she failed to provide proof of insurance. Michelle failed to file a report of the accident with the DMV as required by law when the accident involves injury or damage in the amount of $750 or greater. The other driver filed the report with the DMV. That same month, Michelle crashed Rocky's city-issued SUV into a pole. Rocky had the vehicle repaired at tax-payer expense to the tune of $1,222. Rocky decided on Monday he should reimburse the city for this cost - three years after the fact. On Sept. 13, 2005, Michelle was ticketed for another traffic violation, but was not even cited for having a suspended license. Michelle, of course, did not have insurance this time either.

Rocky was quick to point out that Paris was driving drunk, making her crime much worse that Rocky's wife's crimes. Paris, however, did not hit anyone. Paris did not hit anyone without insurance. Paris did not crash her car and make tax-payers pay for it. No, Paris' crime was a victimless crime, which cannot be said of Michelle Delgadillo's escapades which left an accident victim unreimbursed and tax-payers victimized.

I only hope that Rocky can summon the courage and honor to be the professional he has thus far failed to be by submitting his resignation immediately.

Paris in the Summer

As Paris sits in her jail cell in Lynwood, I can't help but feel empathy for her. No, I didn't say that I feel sorry for her. I understand that what she did was wrong. Three years of law school taught me that much. It is clear that Paris doesn't want to go to jail and certainly doesn't want to stay there if she does, but it doesn't appear that she will be able to escape the public scrutiny if she doesn't do every last minute of her sentence. After the Sheriff Lee Baca debacle, the L.A. City Attorney Rocky Delgadillo is certain to make sure that Paris stays behind bars so that the Rockster can show how tough on crime he really is.

So why do I have empathy for Paris? Because she is a spoiled kid that never grew up. Paris, who need discipline and self-respect more than she needs another little dog or new car, can't seem to get the basic life skills from Mommy and Daddy. I won't start throwing stones because I'd hate for my glass house to start taking hits, but how can it not be evident to even the most casual observer that Paris is nothing more than an undereducated, overindulged child? Such a child needs love and discipline, neither of which she will get in the Lynwood jail.

I say to Rocky Delgadillo, if you really want to show how tough on crime you are, get Paris some help that will yield long-lasting results. What you have done here is give Paris fodder for future interviews, books, and maybe even videos. Nothing has been done to save Paris from herself.

Long Beach Pride

So I thought I would give a quick follow-up to Long Beach Pride. The weekend festivities were filled with everything that you hope Pride weekend is filled with - boys, booze, and boys. Gee, I hate to be cliche, but years of experience has told me these are the best ingredients for a good Pride. Oh sure, it is important that you have a parade that kicks ass, that the festival have incredible talent, and that there are plenty of rainbow junk vendors, but the real beauty of the festival lies in the quality of the beer and the quality of the boys!

I have read recently about the likely demise of gay pride events as homos become homogenized in society. Maybe someday there will need to be a scaling back of our oh-so-fabulous Queer spectaculars - wait - what am I saying? We shouldn't have a gay pride event because we are so mixed in with the heteros that we don't need to celebrate ourselves? If we were to follow this line of reasoning, every St. Patrick's Day parade, Martin Luther King, Jr. Day parade, and Mardi Gras parade should be cancelled. Indeed, I fully suspect that as long as there are Queers willing to line the parade spots and the parade routes and as long as there are good beer and better boys, we'll continue to celebrate our diversity in the same kick-ass manner we always have.