Pride Goeth Before a Parade
September 2, 2003
Recently, the media has been all a-twitter over gay-related matters. What with the move to legalize gay marriages, the Supreme Court's giving sodomy its version of the Good Housekeeping Seal of Approval, and a virtual gaggle of Gay Pride Parades, you could easily get the impression that America has gone gaga over gayhood.
Unlike most people who claim they don't care what consenting adults do in the privacy of their bedroom, I really mean it. When you get right down to it, nearly everything that other people do, from playing golf to guzzling beer, strikes me as irrational. But I have to acknowledge that it's really none of my business. I don't even care if people use drugs. Where do I get off telling others not to shoot heroin or snort cocaine if that's what the geeks enjoy? My only concern is with anti-social behavior that injures other people. So, I'd turn a blind eye to all the empty whisky bottles in my neighbor's trash barrel so long as he didn't beat his kids or run down a pedestrian as a result of his drinking. However, if he crossed that line, I'd throw the book at him. And he wouldn't get to cop a plea on the grounds that he was a victim, himself -- a victim of bad old John Barleycorn. I hold everyone responsible for his own actions. I blame the shooter, not the gun. It seems pretty clear that God believes in self-will. And so do I.
My only problem with gay men is that their life style very often leads to AIDS, and that single disease is draining off far too much research funding from diseases that aren't the direct result of promiscuous sexual behavior. Until medical science comes up with cures for, say, leukemia, Parkinson's and Alzheimers, I'll resent every nickel that's deflected to finding a cure for AIDS. To hear the well-orchestrated wails from the gay community, you'd think the government was short-changing research in that area because of homophobia. The fact is, the gays, thanks to their political clout and their disproportionately huge numbers in high-profile Hollywood,have strong-armed hundreds of millions of dollars for their own cause. Every time you spotted one of those ubiquitous red ribbons or saw Elizabeth Taylor at some gala fund-raiser, you should have been thinking of some little kid dying of cancer instead of Ed Harris in "The Hours."
Frankly, I'd like to know how grown men, who are famous for regarding themselves as sensitive and compassionate -- the same men who insist on having unprotected anal intercourse, and wind up afflicted with AIDS -- feel they're entitled to research funds that might otherwise go to save suffering children? Understand, I truly have no problem with homosexuals being homosexual. I wouldn't go so far as to say that some of my best friends are gay, but, having worked in show business for thirty-five years, I've known a lot of them and I've liked a lot of them. In fact, I've never figured out why so many heterosexual men seem to despise gays. All I can say is that when I was younger and actively engaged in the pursuit of women, I appreciated every bright, successful, good-looking man, who wasn't a competitor.
I know that some people hypothesize that inside every macho gay-basher is an interior decorator screaming to get out and do something about those drapes in the living room. Maybe, but I doubt it. By that reasoning, every anti-Semite is really dying to study Torah and start observing the Sabbath a day early. What does confound me about gays is their constant need to parade. What's that all about? I realize that, for some of them, there is a deep-seated desire to play dress-up. More power to them. But from whence springs this insatiable need to create gridlock?
And what the hell is Gay Pride all about? Coming out of the closet is one thing, but coming all the way out into the middle of the street and disrupting city traffic is just plain rude.
Finally, why on earth should anybody be so darn proud to be gay? I'm not saying they should be ashamed of who they are. But from everything I've read and heard, people are simply born that way. It's all in the chromosomes, they insist. Fine. I accept that they're born gay just as others are born heterosexual. But if that's the case, what cause have they to be proud of it? If it's not an acquired talent, a learned skill, not even a minoraccomplishment, then it's tantamount to being proud to have red hair or green eyes or, you should pardon the expression, a straight nose. However, that's not pride, it's vanity. When you get right down to it, Bach, Shakespeare and Pasteur, to name just a few high-achievers, never felt the need to march in some silly parade in downtown San Francisco. So, how is it that every other day, or so it seems, a thousand guys whose only claim to fame is based on the particular orifice into which they prefer to insert their male organ can't resist the urge to merge on Market Street?
©2003 Burt Prelutsky
