Forty-three years after I walked past the Stonewall Inn without noticing that anything was going on (I had a date) marriage equality comes to New York. I think I can speak for many of us when I state that this is something I never expected to see happen in my lifetime.

Another thing I never thought I’d see: The Times has something interesting to say.

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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RLMNZ6xY6YY

What do you do when life hands you a Republican senate and Shelly Silver?

If you’re gov Andy’s gal pal, Sandra Lee, you make yummy cocktails! And go heavy on the vodka as we wait for a vote to happen. Or not.

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NY State senate ‘Debates’ the Marriage Issue. We’re all so very proud. The decision could be handed down almost any time the Republicans get everything they want.

If it passes, Democrats win. If it fails, Democrats win. If it isn’t brought to a vote, Republicans win. Does anyone have any questions?

Albany’s arranged marriage: The same-sex union bill is getting dragged into legislative horsetrading [Daily News]

One so deplores the insistence on winning! As if it were bounceyball. Or tightpantsball. To take our minds off The Book of Mormon winning everything in sight (hello! no surprise) and Warhorse being Best Play (compared to what? How come The Normal Heart was Best Revival? Has it been produced on Broadway before? I think not. Of course it’s dreadful writing, Kramer can’t write for shit, but was effective agit-prop for its time and is just the kind of tripe the Tony voters love to vote for—but that’s not why we’re here. Let’s talk about important stuff. Stuff that concerns real Americans like you and… well, other people. What is this insistence the theatre is somehow gay? Where did that come from? Harvey Fierstein? Yes, it involves a certain amount of prancing about in tights or sailor suits but, I ask you, what’s gay about that? It could be a Republican fund raiser almost anywhere. Anyhow, that’s not why we’re here. We don’t have to talk about the Tonys. Which is just as well because no one here watched it. So if Cheyenne Jackson whipped out his whanger and dick-slapped Neil Patrick Harris (Pause) none of us would know. Because none of us watched it. And I think that’s a good thing. As Beijing goes Rogers & Hammerstein all the time America goes Huh?).

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While it’s no doubt true that there’s nothing quite like a nice throbbing nine-incher, as I’m sure we can all agree, all this talk of sticky unreasoning insatiable rampant hardness could make one think that’s all there is to manhood: of course, nothing could be further from the truth.

Naturally, as a young lad, one was thrilled to discover one’s john-willy could go up and down and rushed at once to show mummy. And yes, over the years one has come across chaps who’ve taught theirs to carry out some pretty amazing and useful tasks: flip pancakes and imitate Shirley Bassey are just two that spring to mind. But there comes a time when we need to let go and realize there is more to life than playing with one’s erector set.

Which brings me to sissies.

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Apart from four retirees in south-western Pennsylvania the American people know well enough about Santorum’s ‘Google problem’. But do they know that he also hates wrestling, even though the WWF was his most important client as attorney/lobbyist? To exempt the Federation from noxious state oversight Santorum claimed that since it was not a sport it should not be regulated as one and that steroid use never harmed anyone.

Now I’ve made no secret around here of my general detestation of Sport. Most particularly when balls are involved: whether bounced, dribbled, or smacked with any kind of bat thingy. I don’t care how tight your pants are, or even if they do go transparent in the rain, it’s not enough to make up for the horror of having to watch you run about on astroturf for two hours. But I think I can enjoy watching two (or more) nearly naked men, sweat glistening on their straining bodies, grope and maul each other in public as much as the next chap. Even with his impressive record in the senate—named one of the 25 most influential evangelicals and one of the 20 most corrupt—to label such a virile display as some kind ‘entertainment’ can only harm his chances.

We Americans like contests. And strength. And blood. Wrestling gives us all of this and more. Fair play. Struggle. Triumph in the face of odds that seemed overwhelming. A true reflection of life as we know it. To label such a noble Sport as a mere entertainment is to question our values as a nation. An apology must be forthcoming.

And more pictures of his adorable family.

Dear Senator Johnny,

So it’s come to this! I’m writing as someone who donated money to your campaign and was really hoping you were going to win the nomination so you could restore integrity to the White House. But no such luck.

I am not one of those haterz blaming you for what is obviously not your fault. Clearly that space alien is to blame for the pickle you now find yourself in. Your only crime was to be too handsome. By the way, speaking of space aliens, to judge by her teeth she looks like a ‘scraper’ to me, in those intimate moments when a man needs a safe and welcoming place—if you know what I mean.

But as we all know, life isn’t fair, which is why she gets to rub Tiger Balm into your shoulders after a particularly grueling workout and all I got was a restraining order. Not that I blame you for that for one moment. I know it was the work of that bossy bottom you had running your campaign who was like totally jealous and a bitch. Not that I’m at all surprised that working at your side, bringing you coffee in the morning as you wake up, your hair still rumpled and your sheets smelling of hay and sun-warmed apples, rubbing sleep from your eyes, your lips moist, your pajama bottoms, damp with sweat, only just managing to cling to your hips… I’m not at all surprised that such a close working relationship would inspire a fierce devotion bordering, one might almost say, on obsession. Not surprised at all.

Speaking of workouts, I’d like to explain the reason for this letter.

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