Gay
Relatives
OK.
I’ll come out of the closet. I admit it. Here goes:
I don’t have any gay relatives. I’ve looked
and listened everywhere. Family trees. Prying neighbors.
Deathbed confessions. But alas, it seems that my entire
family is chuck full of breeders. As a result, my presidential
aspirations crashed.
Not
so for Dick
Gephardt. Just when you thought his political career
was bunker-busted (at least among anti-deceptive-pre-emptive
war fanatics like myself) Gephardt pulled a rabbit out
of his presidential candidate hat. In a Democratic triangulatory
coup, his daughter Chrissy, we are told, turned out to
be a lesbian.
I didn’t learn about Gephardt’s liberal family agenda on
an envelope grabber to some political junk mail, although I’m sure
I will in the future. I read about it in Los Angeles Times, under
the headline, “Gephardt
raises the stakes for gay voters.”
“Gay
activists are ecstatic,” los Times said, “hailing
the event as evidence that homosexuality is now so widely
accepted by voters that candidates who ignore the homosexual
community do so at their own risk.”
With
an absence of gay relatives, my political future was
in jeopardy. I phoned my cousins and asked if any of
them would be willing to change sides. There were no
takers. I sulked for at least an hour and a half. That
bastard Gephardt had screwed me good. The Nathan Callahan
for President 2004 Exploratory Committee was about to
disband.
Then,
as if transported to a cross-dressing bugle-blowing cavalry
vignette, I was rescued by my friend, Kitty.
“I
was disturbed to read that gay activists are ‘ecstatic’ about
Richard Gephardt and his lesbian daughter, Chrissy, who
will join his campaign, “ Kitty said. “My
fear is that the gay political power structure will seize
upon this very irrelevant aspect and throw their full
weight behind the warmongering Mr. Gephardt at the expense
of other, more important issues. There is a growing movement
for the other candidates because they are more aligned
with a true liberal agenda rather than the failed, business-as-usual
strategy employed to force us to accept the lesser of
two evils.
“This
may be what we have to accept in 2004, but be assured
it will be a very reluctant rather than blanket endorsement.
And it won't be given without a fight.
“While
I acknowledge that her presence and activism is a great
advance for our community, I don't give one whit that
Ms. Gephardt is a lesbian, and neither should other gay
and lesbian voters.”
Thank
you, Kitty. I don’t give one whit either. Now tell
me, does it count that my grandmother liked Eleanor Roosevelt?
— Nathan
Callahan, June 10, 2003
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Bipolar
Planet
Are you oversleeping, undersleeping, binge eating, tying one on, gambling
like a Bill Bennett, hyperactive or just plain out of sorts? Get used
to it. You live on a bipolar
planet.
Summer
Solstice — June 21 — is the official start of
summer and the day the North pole inclines to its farthest
point sunward. This global tipping does more than force our
clocks into daylight savings. On solstice
day, the world suffers from a bipolarity that is not
only chronologic, but emotional. Everyone North of the equator
(that includes the United States, Mr. Bush) will be experiencing
the longest day and shortest night of the year. With the
greatest amount of sunlight at hand, our pineal glands will
be working serious overtime hours. As a result our serotonin
levels will rise.
Experienced
Prozac users know that when serotonin is up, so are emotional
joy factors. June 21 is the northern hemisphere's serotonin festival — nature's
way of giving us a Prozac/MDMA high.
But for
every yin there is a yang. Down under on the southern curves
of the earth, June 21 is the winter solstice — the
shortest day of the year. Less light equals less serotonin.
Less serotonin equals less mood elevation. The medical profession,
as if it didn't have enough subcatagories already, christened
this dim human condition — SAD (Seasonal
Affective Disorder).
So while
we're cresting, Southern Hemispherians will be bottoming
out. Globally and pineally speaking, the summer/winter solstice
is Worldwide Manic Depression Day — high in one hemisphere,
low in the other.
Avoid long-distance North South flights. Anchorage to Tierra del Fuego
is out. Business contracts involving anyone below the Tropic of Capricorn
should be avoided at all costs. Remember:
We will be giddy, they'll be cranky.
To experience
the ecstasy of this occasion, stay above the equator on the
21st. May you have an joyous abundance of solstice serotonin.
In six months you're in for an astronomical mood swing.
— Nathan Callahan, June 10, 2003
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