“Common sense is not so common.” – Voltaire
Seems most arguments recently have been derailed by the term “slippery slope.” For instance, some argue that if same-sex marriage were supported, it would be a dangerous move down a slippery slope. These slidiots use this “logic” to suggest man might then decide to marry out of species. (Must admit I’ve had my eye on a sexy otter.) Worse yet, man may decide to marry inanimate objects such as a soufflé. Frightening, unless blueberry. I would marry bacon if I could. I love bacon.
“What will happen when everyone decides to marry the same sex? That would be the end of human species.”
Would it? Doubtful. Women would still have children. Impregnation would certainly be less enjoyable for most, but no less possible. Men would become less useful. Their numbers would be drastically reduced, and urinals will be converted into planters. The species would be just fine.
This is where we sure could use some divine intervention. God should part the clouds, and set us straight (or gay, or both).
“Hey, dickheads. Stop wasting time with this nonsense. It’s a fucking preference. If a man prefers a man, why does that affect you any more than a man who prefers his martini shaken? If a woman prefers a woman, what man could argue with her logic? Men are ghastly. I should know. Yet, we are pretty handy with weed whackers and plagues (my specialty). So, case settled. Whoever wants to get married, gets married, as long as both parties are entering the union voluntarily and with a blood alcohol saturation under .10 when they sign the license. This means more parties, more lovely legs of bridesmaids, and more ways to figure out who your true friends are (based on gift selection). Sure, there are drawbacks, but we can get past the candy-coated almonds, can’t we? Suck on them; don’t chew them or you’ll break a crown. Yes, I know you’re tired of hearing Bob Seger and KC. Few gay weddings will have those. Get hip with Tegan and Sara, while Uncle Joe marries his plumber, Francis. I have two words for you, friends: open bar. Right? I know! What’s better than an open bar? One with twin, topless, lesbian bartenders and Black Bushmills, perhaps. I’m tired of being called upon only when people are dying or fucking. I want to attend more weddings. So, Supreme Court, while you can’t hurry love, you certainly can facilitate it by doubling everyone’s marital options. Oh, and while you’re wasting time telling people who to love, your planet is melting. You might want to check on it or start building another ark. I suggest you avoid Carnival Cruise Lines for that unless you want a shitty trip. Carry on.”
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