I Get Bitter

How far back did Cher turn time?

Neanderthal NY Republican Gubernatorial wannabe Carl Paladino, looking like that other homophobic-spewer Pope John Paul, knuckle-drags out tired old anti-gay tropes – brain-washing, pride parade indecencies, I wouldn’t want my nieces, etc.  Paladino sounds like the crazy porn-loving Uncle at the holiday table who has a few belts and starts his “I’ll tell you what I think. . .” as everybody rolls their eyes and starts to clear the table.

Uncle Carl’s remarks are of course stand-alone despicable, but even more so in the context of the heinous gay-bashing in the Bronx by the Latin King Goonies.  The vileness of his ham-handed remarks to Orthodox Jews and his subsequent morning talk show re-affirmation of those remarks is amplified in the context of the recent cluster of gay suicides.

Every day well-financed puppets of right wing extremism pop up like hydra-headed wac-a-moles.  The team just keeps coming at you.  And now the Buffalo Bullies have super-fine, foxy feminista cheerleaders The Grizzly Gals!


While I like to think that it gets better and that these are the dying gasps of a flailing campaign or the last foul breaths of the rigor mortis that is homophobia, I don’t have the luxury of “I’m just sayin. . “  Nor should a mumble-core Cuomo or an unenthusiastic electorate.

My dear galpal reminds me the only antidote to this bitter bile is action.  So I’m brewing a big witch’s vat of Bitter Begone!  It’s lo-cal. Come out. Speak out. Vote. Dammit.