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Friends at crossroads over comical picture

Posted by julescosby on May 25, 2010

After stumbling across a hilarious picture, friends of local ham Greg Garon have a decision to make.  The exact origins of the picture are unknown, but the consensus among the friends is that it is still gut-bustingly priceless and that it has to be edited somehow to make it more enjoyable.

However, the friends, who met in university and have bonded over the years through beers, women, and various hybrid-golf games, were left collectively scratching their heads after Maurie Dungeon came across the picture on his hard drive in the process of looking for his resume.

In the picture, Garon, a film buff who doesn’t believe in ‘inside voices’, wears glasses, a gaping jaw and a glazed-over look.  It is his not his typical ‘life of the party’ shot, but the intrinsic value of the image is readily apparent.

The decision-making process spans two cities.  Through Facebook, e-mail and Skype, longtime associate Ike Bornes has been able to join the discussion.  “It’s a great picture”, said Bornes, who took a break from the rigours of a Graduate degree in Philosophy to comment.  “Just look at it!”

While the friends cannot agree on how to use it, there is a solid consensus that something must be done.  One friend suggested putting it somewhere on the evolutionary chain, but that idea was shot down because the picture is not shot in profile.  The fact that The Simpsons had already marketed a similar product it wasn’t lost on the group, but did not seem to be a concern.

Other iconic images such as the moon landing, President Bush, or even Marilyn Monroe standing above the windy subway grate were considered as inspiration, but ultimately rejected in turn.

An agreement in principle was reached to do a composite of many different images using the same face.  But then the compatriots were back to square one in that they had to decide on which images to use.

“It’s not as if we don’t know how to do it,” said friend Jim ‘JJ’ Jeonard.  “We’ve all got at least basic photo editing software on our computers.”

Indeed, the amusing demeanour of Garon, who could not be reached for comment, has lent itself to parodied pictures in the past.  Adds Dungeon, “I’ve never seen the guy take a normal picture.  I don’t know how he’s ever going to get a passport.”

At press time, the group was feverishly scanning through the online Onion archives, hoping to find some additional inspiration.

A side-splitter to be sure. But what now?


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Posted by julescosby on April 12, 2010

I saw Lou the other day.  First time in a few years.

Lou was once one of the Fitness Consultants at the hyper-absurd mirror-palooza they call a gym where I go.  When I started there a few years back, they forced me to take this ‘consulting’ session, despite the fact that I had been working out regularly for several years.  Lou wasn’t a particularly tall man, but he was solid as a rock.  Maybe it’s a good thing that they didn’t have exercise as we know it in post-Revolutionary France.  History might have turned out very differently if Napoleon had the option of building his wee body.

Let’s just say that Lou and I didn’t exactly hit it off.  He was a stereotypical high pressure salesman; I was a stereotypical smart ass.

  • To break the ice, he told me a little bit about himself.  He had recently gone back to school – he was probably around 30 – to take psychology.  He wanted to understand human nature.
  • To break the ice, I told him that I was a vegetarian, and that my only interest in going to the gym was fighting entropy.  I told him I felt that the construct of ‘human nature’ was tenuous at best, destructive at worst.

He didn’t pay much attention to my attempt to get a philosophical discussion going.  He wanted to focus on the vegetarianism, which to him was anathema to fitness.

Lou: “See bro, your body is like a truck.”

JC: “Woah, woah, woah, a truck? Slow down professor!”

Lou: “You have to put the gas into the truck in order to make the truck go.”

And in a moment of pure smartassery, JC: “What about ethanol? You know, because I’m a vegetarian.”

Lou: [pause] “Your body’s a lot like a wall, bro.”

There were a few other analogies he offered to the body over the course of the discussion.  I think ultimately his point was that you have to put in good ingredients into your body to get the results you want.  Except no, that can’t be right, because he didn’t care about the results I wanted, he cared about the results he wanted.

As part of the consulting session, Lou had to take a look at what I had been eating for the past few days.  I was living with my ex-girlfriend, a vegan, at the time.  That didn’t make me vegan, but it definitely had an impact on my dietary choices.  He tried to tell me that soy is bad for me, based on a study (which he could not produce for me).  The hardest part for me was trying to convince him that there is no soy in a chickpea.

But what frustrated me the most, aside from the fact that I had to be there to begin with, was the fact that this guy was a living, breathing confabulation of bodybuilding with health/fitness.  It’s a completely fallacious comparison because they are not one and the same.  Eating a giant chicken breast every day for lunch does not make you healthy.  It might make you buff, but what about the hormones they pump into the chicken to give them ridiculously large breasts? You think those hormones just disappear in the production process, Lou?

Anyway Lou, just to let you know: I’m still not eating meat; I’m still not bulking up; I still don’t listen to salespeople who simultaneously tell me not to believe everything I hear, and then try to bypass my skepticism with some fallacious nonsense.  You’re probably a few years into that psych degree by now.  Hope you’ve figured out human nature, although between you and me, you had a pretty solid grasp on it before.

All the best, bro.  Hope that truck is running fine.

Nasty, brutish and short.

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Qui veut la fin veut l’Absurde

Posted by julescosby on April 11, 2010

Before we get too far, first you have to watch this video.

I saw this on television as we were leaving a Yorkville bar the other night. And I couldn’t look away. A later internet search showed me that I wasn’t initially hallucinating; that it’s already been watched by several thousand people, and commented on by just about as many.

When I was young I remember my father, after a hysterical hurricane of laughter, wondering how comedians ‘came up with this stuff’. I said it then and I’ll say it again: Dad, it’s all out there. They just have to pay attention to the absurdity that dances around us each and every day.

I have often said that the Absurd is made up of a precise mingling of chance, will, and entropy. Now we can add to this mix the Shake Weight.

One could almost imagine the first meeting between the manufacturer and the advertiser: “You want us to sell…what?” Personally, I find it hard to believe that even die-hard, cuthroat capitalists would fail to see the humour at play. However, maybe they genuinely missed the boat on this one, like when the former Canadian PC party merged with the Western reformers to create the Canadian Reform Alliance Party (CRAP).

Whatever their intentions, the producers of the commercial may have a point: in the age of Michelle Obama, if a woman wants to be fashionably trendy, she’d better damned well have arms to show. And let’s face it folks, the ends often do justify the means, even if the means consist of holding a throbbing phallic device up in front of your face for 20 minutes a day.

So does this product represent social satire, showing us the bizarre lengths that we go to remain fit in a world that seems hell-bent on making us all fat? Or is this just another drop in the sea of Absurdity, unaware of both its immanent singularity and the sea as totality?

I’m still reeling from an irony-induced hangover from living on Queen West, and so my perspective on the matter is still a little biased. I’ll leave it up to you to judge. As for me, summer’s almost here, and I’ve got to get toned. So if anybody needs me I’ll be in the bathroom with my brand new Shake Weight.

Knock first, please.

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The Tetrosexual

Posted by julescosby on April 8, 2010

What a piece of work is a man, how noble in reason, how
infinite in faculties, in form and moving how express and
admirable, in action how like an angel, in apprehension how like
a god!


Since the days of Fred Flintstone, men have always wondered what exactly it means to be a man.  But despite what some would have us believe, from the Neolithic through to the Renaissance of Shakespeare, there has never been a strict or eternal definition of manliness.  It is as malleable as Michael Jackson’s face, or the policy of the Liberal Party of Canada.

More recently, the turn of the current millennium brought us new concepts of man.  First came the Metrosexual, a prime example of life imitating art.  Or at least life imitating campy television shows featuring homosexual men giving makeovers to slobs.  Next, fast forward a few years to the age of Mad Men, and the Don Drapers of the world became known as the Retrosexuals.

But now, because the times simply cannot change fast enough, a new category of man is emerging from both the fabulous kitsch and the booze-soaked, women-bashing styles of yesterday.  This new man has been dubbed the Tetrosexual.

A Tetrosexual

The Tetrosexual is noted for his ability to choose the video game Tetris over anything else that life has to offer.  Work? No thanks.  Vacation? I’m fine here, thanks.  Sex? Puh-LEASE.

Aesthetically, the Tetrosexual might appear in bold magentas or cyans, or simple reds and blues.  In some post-Soviet countries, different shades of gray are the norm.  And while the Metrosexual may indulge his love for Lady Gaga, and the Retrosexual has an affinity for the crooners of his granddaddy’s day, the Tetrosexual listens primarily to a canned MIDI soundtrack of pseudo-Russian songs.

The ubiquity of Tetris made the cause of this phenomenon easy to overlook.  But a group of young men made this heavily addictive game, a relic of the Soviet Union, into a lifestyle choice.  Once manly virtues like strength or courage have been replaced by the ability to take on one of seven predetermined shapes.  And whereas once the yoga fad made men desire flexibility, physical fitness is now understood as the ability to rotate at strictly 90 degree angles.

Some have observed that the Tetrosexual is not merely a cultural phenomenon, but one which crosses over into the political sphere as well.  Tyler Shipley, political scientist at York University in Toronto argues that the recent American Health Care debate was not won through fear or intimidation, nor by the oft-decried but equally-as-oft-required backroom deals by technocratic oligarchs.  Rather, he argues, “the American health care debate was won by the widespread recognition that in life there are constants and there are uncertainties.  Pieces will always fall, and they will always fall faster.”

“You never know which piece will fall next,” he added.

U.S. President Barack Obama shakes hands with a Tetronimo, a growing demographic of the American population.

In an age such as ours, Andy Warhol’s famous fifteen minutes has been condensed into a meagre fifteen seconds.  As such, it is difficult to see how long this latest trend will last.  Some have tried to compare the Tetrosexual to the emergence roughly a decade ago of the Petrosexual, a young uneducated worker who moved to Alberta to make big money on the oil field, only to spend it all on cocaine and hookers.  However, once the boom ended, the coke vanished and the boys moved home, the concept of Petrosexual was deemed as empty as American oil wells.

We know that boys will always be boys, but what about our men? Unlike boys, they will feel the need to define themselves, to negate the fact that they are as Hamlet and others have noted, dust.  Now they may do this four blocks at a time.

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Jules Cosby out of the Closet!

Posted by julescosby on March 20, 2010

Dear friends and family:

It is with a heavy heart that I bring this message to you.

Some of us have spoken to the content that follows in person.  This is for the rest of you, who have been wondering about the nature of my identity for some time now.  I must say, I too have wondered.  A closet is a terribly cold, dark place and its claustrophobic nature obfuscates thought, especially reflexive thought.  I will stand in such a place no longer.

I, Julius Hanlan Cosby, am a liberal.

I have spent many years at a school with a strong Marxist bent.  In moments of solidarity some of you were shocked to learn I was no Marxist.  Now that I’ve said what I truly am, you should know firstly that it took me nearly four years of being a vegetarian in order for me to be comfortable with that term.  I suppose I was always scared of what the great philosopher Wayne Campbell once said: “if you label me, you negate me.”  But as it came to pass with vegetarian, I no longer fear this label of ‘liberal’.  If it represents negation, then negate away!

At a psychological level, there are competing logics in my head.  I do not believe in history as progress; I think that social contract theory is an empty shell of itself; and the idea of painting people as solely rational utility maximizers dehumanizes.  The primacy of the individual in a collectivity is absurd.  But poor philosophical and historicist grounds of standard run-of-the-John-Stuart-Mill liberalism aren’t enough to push me into a different camp.

What is popular is not always best – one word friends, Nickelback – and that is why I’m not strictly a democrat.  Aristotle had it right millennia ago when he argued that the best political system is a mixed one.  I want a conservative judiciary, but I want universities that train progressive lawyers with social consciences.  I want a powerful House of Commons, but I want the sober second look of an Upper House (I suppose I would ideally prefer a more horizontal as opposed to vertical approach to viewing it).  I want a powerful state: not so that it can peek into the bedroom of my neighbour or tell me what to put into my body, but as an instrument of good.

Does this make me an elitist? Well I believe in strongly in the power of unions, democratic unions.  The union ought to be one of the most powerful expressions of democracy in our society.  Often, it is as centralized and bureaucratic – and therefore loathed – as the corporations they oppose.  As much as feasible, workers should control their destiny.

Am I committed to social justice? Yes.  Should this be an indictment of me as a Bourgeois apologist? I think not.  When I hear some Marxists representing an ethos of the ‘old boys club’ it makes me sick.  This is no way indicts all Marxists.  But if you can’t respect the rights of someone other than rich white straight men, for the sole reason that other rich white straight men historically came up with these rights, you are in a eddy of logic that escapes me.  If the Revolution succeeded, but as a result turned back liberal ideas of equality, then would it be worth it? I have asked myself that question over and over again, and I still can’t find a calculus that would have me answer in the affirmative.

There are many of you who will poke holes in the positions I have sketched out here.  As always I sincerely welcome the debate.  I am still a skeptic, by very nature conservative, but I also want to be intellectually honest.

And ultimately, I don’t want things to change between us.  If we meet in the locker room of the Historical Materialism conference, I don’t want things to be awkward.  It’s me guys: the same old Jules I’ve always been!

And so as I warily take these difficult steps out of a closet I can no longer bear, I leave with one final refrain:

Love me, love me, love me:

I’m a liberal.


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Onion Ring gets more fans than Stephen Harper

Posted by julescosby on February 8, 2010

OTTAWA – Touching off a third constitutional crisis in a matter of years, an onion ring has just become the de facto leader of the Dominion of Canada.

The onion ring, whose online celebrity quickly reached meteoric heights, has officially garnered more Facebook fans than Stephen Harper, leader of the Conservative Party and 22nd Prime Minister of Canada.

Despite a last-ditch effort made by Harper to ally with other federal parties and Facebook groups, he still couldn’t defeat the onion ring, which is a battered ring of sliced onion, similar to a leek.

Though neither the position of the Prime Minister nor the online social networking site Facebook are explicitly recognized by the Constitution Acts [1867], [1982], the transfer of power was completed once the onion ring stepped off its specially-built Boeing 747/Pressure Cooker Hybrid at the MacDonald-Cartier International Airport in Ottawa.

Once the onion ring was installed as leader, it immediately began sweeping changes of the landscape of the federal government.  Medicare was replaced by a national dipping sauce program.  Parliament buildings were refitted with millions of litres of cooking oil, a move which attracted great praise from the canola and soybean dependent farmers’ lobby.

In its first national address, the Onion Ring declared that Canada was now to be called Ringania, a move which, while popular in Alberta and Quebec, has irritated some Ontarians.

Although some constitutional experts are quick to call these recent developments “unprecedented”, historical parallels have also been drawn.  At the provincial level, a battered piece of cod once fought successfully to become the Premier of Newfoundland, though it was devoured by Danny Williams before it could assume office.

Similarly, at the federal level,19th century Prime Minister Alexander MacKenzie’s government was defeated by an alliance between Sir John A. MacDonald’s Conservatives and a plate of potatoes ”served in the French manner”.  However, this is the first time that a deep-fried vegetable has vied for power with no inside help.

Though at press time Harper could not be reached for comment, former opposition leader Michael Ignatieff was initially quoted as saying “the installation of the draconian onion ring is a blight on the sovereignty of Canadians”.  However, once it was leaked that Ignatieff had attracted interest by the onion’s handlers for a position in the new government, he amended his position.

“I, for one, welcome the onion ring and look forward to many years of his benevolent rule: the true expression of the general will of all Canadians,” before adding in an aloof, professorial manner: “God save the ring.”

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Area man not trying to copy The Great Gatsby

Posted by julescosby on January 18, 2010

NEW YORK – Local millionaire, John Greenwood, insists that he is not recreating the fictional life of Jay Gatsby, the titular character of the F. Scott Fitzgerald novel in turn adapted to several film and television versions.

Standing on the dock of his Long Island, NY mansion, he adamantly maintains his unawareness of the proximity of Violet Robertson, a young heiress he courted in his youth, a positioning very similar to that of The Great Gatsby.

“We sort of lost contact after I went off to war,” he recalls, seemingly disinterested in the apparent correlation of events between the story and his own life, “I went to fight for her freedom, and the first thing she did was marry this racist putz with a fucktonne of money.”

Momentarily acknowledging the consistency between the copresence of a green light, both in the novel as a beacon to Gatsby’s lost love, and on his dock, he also insists that it was already installed when he purchased the estate.

“I’ve been meaning to take it down.  A white LED light would be much more efficient anyway.”

While the source of his fortune is unknown, it is widely rumoured to be from illicit activities, just as Gatsby’s fortune was.  Questions relating to business are consistently redirected to his associate Schlomo Wolfowitz, who Greenwood insists is in no way blatant mimicry of the seedy Meyer Wolfsheim characterization of Jews in the novel.

“Do you know how many Jews are in business? Would you rather I had picked a Mennonite?”

When asked about his intentions in constantly throwing massive parties reminiscent of 1920s decadence, Greenwood, who shares a monogram with the Gatsby character, contends it was not so that the former love of his life would one day arrive as a guest and, seeing him now as her equal, marry him.

“I really like women and cocaine,” he explains.  I don’t have parties so one bitch I used to date shows up.  Actually I’ve got a dozen or so waiting for me in the Jacuzzi as we speak.”

Also causing some speculation of aping is the recent arrival of Greenwood ‘s new neighbour, a bond salesman from the Midwest and the second cousin once removed of Violet.  But he insists this too is coincidental, despite the fact that even from a distance the neighbour can be heard narrating events as they occur and reflecting on them later.

“Don’t get me wrong”, assures Greenwood, who was once forced to read the Great Gatsby in his high school English class.  “I like books.  I just think there’s better literature out there.”

“I’m really just a regular, ordinary guy trying to live the American Dream,” a gold-hatted Greenwood muses, as he prepares for his daily high-bounce aerobics routine.

John Greenwood stands beside his collection of Gatsby-era automobiles

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Tyler Shipley to represent everyone, everything

Posted by julescosby on January 10, 2010

TORONTO – Tyler Shipley, former spokesperson for CUPE Local 3903, has now been named representative for every conceivable interest on the planet.

Although his motivations for accepting such a hefty responsibility remain unclear, Tyler Shipley, known as the Paris Hilton of CUPE, will now speak on behalf of anyone and everyone.

Recently, at a clash between pro-Israeli and pro-Palestinian demonstrators, Tyler Shipley took the microphone to claim that all Palestinians were terrorists, and that Israel would not negotiate until major concessions were undertaken.

Later, Palestinian spokesperson Tyler Shipley asked poignantly, “what does it mean to be a terrorist?”

“The state of Israel is the terrorist!” Tyler Shipley announced.

Tyler Shipley squares off against Tyler Shipley during the 2008 American Vice-Presidential Debate

Across town, another group of animal rights protesters stood firm, chanting and holding placards in front of the chemical company Shadycorp, known for its “Painted Ladies” product line.  Tyler Shipley, holding his ubiquitous megaphone, announced that “this reprehensible company tests its products on poor, defenseless animals!”

Eventually, a representative emerged from the corporate headquarters to address the protesters.  That representative, Tyler Shipley, assured the crowd that no products were tested on animals, before pointing to the crowd the company’s excellent track record with matters of animal rights, and offering free samples of the perfume line “Homogeneous” to the protesters.

The next day during recess at a local public school, an altercation occurred that that left one child’s G.I. Joe action figure limbless and decapitated.

Tyler Shipley, the representative of Timmy, accused classmate Jimmy of wrecking the toy, which wore beige camouflage and was called “Duke”.


Tyler Shipley, speaking on behalf of Jimmy, claimed that the G.I. Joe showed signs of structural weakness before leaving the hands of Timmy.  He also claimed that Timmy had “internalized the logic of the employer”, although it remains unclear what the statement specifically meant in that context.

When asked to comment on his new role as representative of everyone and everything, Tyler Shipley redirected the question to his representative Tyler Shipley, who in turn redirected it to his representative Tyler Shipley, who in turn redirected it to his representative Ty…

This regression continued until the entire universe, from the smallest atom to the largest galaxy, was destroyed in a paradox.

Later, spokesperson for God, Tyler Shipley, commented that a replacement universe is already in the initial stages of development.  He gave his assurances that the new universe will be remarkably similar to the first one, with the exception that ice cream would not make you fat, the Jets would be back in Winnipeg, and Tyler Shipley would always have a date on Friday night.

And on the 8th day, God created Tyler Shipley

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Your friendly neighbourhood douchebag

Posted by julescosby on January 7, 2010

Hey man, remember me? I’m the guy who parks ridiculously close to you on the street.

Yeah, I’m doing ok.  Just hanging out, you know? Adding another 10-20 minutes to your daily commute.  Honestly, what would you do with those 20 minutes? My mother always told me that idle hands were the Devil’s playthings!

See, I just saw someone park on the next street over.  He left the car in front of him 2 whole feet of space! I know! Never know what can happen in those gaps, eh?

So people think that this is just a hobby I’ve picked up over the years, but the truth is I have a long family history of parking too close.  Thanks to the internet, I’ve traced my lineage back to Parkus Assholus, a Roman patrician who once blocked the Roman chariots, giving Caesar the chance to cross the Rubicon.  I’m also related to El Douche, the Spanish sailor that anchored his ship so close to the rest of the Armada that it made the British fleet able to defeat them.  Once my family settled in North America, my great-great grandfather tied his horse to the hind legs of Billy the Kid’s horse, preventing him from escaping the town’s deputies.

In my immediate family, I have my older brother.  He parks incredibly close to your car as well, only he does it in the wintertime, when you’re already facing the twofold threat of snow and zero-traction.   I’m not quite bold enough for that, yet.  It must have something to do with birth order, but then, I just barely passed my psychology class in second year, so I have no idea.

And then right behind me is my little sister, but she’s not old enough to park on the street yet.  But we still let her park immediately beside you in a giant empty parking lot.  She’s got a long way to go, but she’s a good kid, and her heart is in the right spot.

Now, I know that in life it’s not always easy to do the right thing.  But sometimes it’s nice when people leave me little signs telling me how much they appreciate what I do.  Sometimes, people take the windshield wipers on my Hummer and point them straight up toward the sky, as if to say ‘thank heavens for you, guy who parks too close”.  Other times it’s a little less subtle: simple little notes on my windshield saying “Thank You”.  Although to be perfectly honest, I’m not sure when the word ‘thank’ began to be spelled F-U-C-K.  I’m sure it has something to do with text messaging.  That stuff is ruining the language.

Anyway, I just wanted to check in to see if you’re okay.  Say, I’ve been eyeing your car for a while now, and that little scratch of paint you’ve got on the back bumper, well gee, that’s my colour! Small world eh?

Well, it was great talking to you, but I’ve got to jet.  I think I spot an even smaller space I can squeeze into up the street.  Happy motoring!

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Quid pro-Homo: A holiday message to the Christian Right

Posted by julescosby on December 19, 2009

We all know that the holidays run like clockwork: first, around the end of November, the stores sweep aside (READ: send to the dump) their Halloween decorations to make way for the ubiquitous reds and greens.  Next, radio stations one-by-one switch to an all-Christmas music format, both widening and intensifying with each chocolate consumed from your advent calendar.

School ends, parties are planned, plane tickets are booked.  And somewhere in the middle of all this, a bunch of right wing zealots begin the usual harping that the secular progressives are trying to take Christmas away from them.

We live in a pluralistic society, where we are each free to chose the meaning of just about anything.  With all of the various meaning we impart to the holiday season, just about the only thing we can all agree on is that it is fundamentally about exchange.

So, in this spirit of swap I want to offer the Christian right a trade: Christmas for gay-marriage.

Ultimately, what we are talking about here in both cases is a right to eternally close the meaning of a word.  Many gay marriage activists are not happy with the ‘civil union’ compromise, the status of equal-but-still-different.  Personally, I don’t believe that saying ‘happy holidays’ negates the celebration of the birth of your lord, any more than ‘civil union’ negates the love between two people.  But this isn’t good enough for either side.  They both want the word, not the thing itself.

To Christians: marriage really shouldn’t be that valuable to you.  First of all, you didn’t invent it; it’s been around for a long time.  And even it has always been fundamentally about exchange: the property of one man being transferred to another man.  And this isn’t just in the barbarous or pagan cultures where chattel and arranged marriages prevail, even in your story God gave Eve to Adam as a wife, thus setting the universal standard for the eternal bond between a man and a women as proprietary in nature.  (Incidentally, Ontario just announced changes to be made to make divorces more streamlined and easier to get).  So what could it possibly be worth to you? It certainly should not be as valuable as the day to celebrate the birth of your Lord and Saviour.

To everyone else: let them have it.  Some would say this is appeasement, but just give them what they want.   Trust me.

Full disclosure: I speak for neither party in this dispute.  I have no horse in the race, nor cock in the fight (sorry, couldn’t resist), but in the end (dammit, did it again!), we will all be better off.  So, Christian Right, we know you find it to be an affront when others don’t say Merry Christmas.  We know you also don’t want gays to marry.  But you can’t have everything.  That’s in the Bible, right?

So, I put before you, in exchange for Christmas, which you can call it forever and ever and no one will bother you until the End Times (which will not comes as a result of this trade), you give gays not just the right to marry, with the same civil rights afforded to you by the state, but you let them have the word too.  As a consequence, you can never bitch about it again.  You’ll stop finding obscure passages from the Old Testament to say why gay marriage is the blasphemy to end all blasphemies.  You let people love each other like the son of your god, the image of the Holy Father, or one third of your Trinity, once preached.

And you let gays find out the hard way (last one, I promise) why free love was so much better than the stultifying chains of marriage.

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