Morford does it again. I can’t stop laughing.
Hordes of quivering GOP lawmakers and vast throngs of proudly homophobic right-wing Christian Americans fell into an adorable tizzy the other day as the entire really, really big country of Canada announced it will change its law to allow full-on homosexual marriage anywhere in the whole country including Vancouver and Toronto and even “that weird province with all the gay French people.”
Hysteria and open weeping and panicky looks accompanied the uncontrollable overeating of many stale Ding-Dongs, as millions of sexually confused Bush-ites and members of self-righteous Bible-icious anti-everything groups like the American Family Association, along with entire towns such as Colorado Springs, were absolutely certain the world was coming to an end, like, immediately. I mean, Canada’s right next door!
Moreover, they fear, Canada’s decision means the God-given sanctity of tepid hetero missionary-position marriage is utterly doomed and our innocent children are sure to become fans of modern dance and maybe even old Barbra Streisand movies, and all of this will undoubtedly result in the introduction of a pair of wacky gay Canadian neighbors on “Everybody Loves Raymond.”
“I don’t really know what this means, what it represents, what it entails, what gay people stand for, where they come from or what they do or why they do it or how they become that way in the first place or even if they’re allowed to vote or fly in airplanes,” announced a very trembly George W. Bush at a hastily arranged press conference in the Super Mega Hetero Gun Room of the White House.
“But I do know we won’t stand for it, and if these gul-dang furriner evildoers think they can get away with these kinds of tender unions and hand holdings and loving smiles and beautiful intimate commitments, well, they haven’t seen America’s righteous firepower!” he shouted, pounding his cute little fist on the podium. “We shall prevail!” Then he fainted.
Karl Rove, Bush’s master strategist and known devourer of live puppies and breeder of the administration’s swarms of evil flying monkeys, briefly waddled into the sunlight to quickly introduce the bitchin’ catchphrase “Wussies of Mass Destruction” into the GOP lexical armament.
Rove also pointed out, just before the tiny demon leeches sucked away what remained of his shriveled soul, how Canada’s wicked WMD decision probably meant there were similar latent gay terrorist revolutions ready to burst all over Antarctica and Poland and probably Latvia like some sticky-smooth lubricating substance, and they must be stopped before the world is “converted” and we all end up getting regular pedicures and drinking white wine and belting out the words to “Cabaret” as we cruise around in our purple Miatas.
“As far as I’m told, Canada actually borders our fine upstanding nation,” Bush managed to continue, after being hoisted upright, as a paler-than-usual Dick Cheney whispered desperately into Bush’s ear while Lynne frantically tried to dissuade their secret lesbian daughter from splitting for Saskatchewan with her lover on the next flight out.
“This means we as a country are actually touching a bunch of gay married people right this very minute! Look at this map! It’s like an adjacency thing! Like some sort of weird tidal wave of gay Canadian people in love, just waiting up north to ride big pink buses down here and open chains of well-appointed little erotic chocolate boutiques and buy up all the Cher Farewell Tour tickets. This will not do!”
Already, America’s perspective has been affected. In a shocking new poll, fully 41 percent of Americans now believe the terrorists responsible for the 9/11 tragedy were, in fact, gay married Canadians.
Similarly, 23 percent are now convinced Saddam Hussein was either “somewhat” or “almost totally” Canadian. Or gay. Or a member of Loverboy.
AG John Ashcroft, no stranger to uptight asexual homophobic hyper-Christian puling and all too familiar with looking exactly like he just swallowed a pleasure-ribbed condom filled with boiling road tar, was seen running around the Hall of Justice smacking a heavy King James Bible against his skull and dousing himself with buckets of holy anointing oil, just before running smack into the bronze left nipple of the swathed statue of Lady Justice and knocking himself cold.
Bills were proposed. Sanctions were recommended. Emergency precautions were instilled. Bush vowed to cut Canada out of the will. Dick Cheney demanded a restriction on imports of Canada Dry and Canadian maple syrup and an outright ban on the sale of all Aldo Nova greatest-hits compilation records, countrywide.
Donny Rumsfeld, feeling that a nice brutal unprovoked “regime change” in Canada was, of course, long overdue, immediately called for an insanely violent air assault to be quickly followed by an exhaustive deadly ground invasion on Canadian lumberjacks, one that positively reeks of bogus misinformation and lies and pain and hate and a wildly expensive military probe into the whole hockey thing.
“A really, really long metal fence is what I endorse,” oozed House majority leader and noted closet Village People megafan Tom DeLay, between tongue baths from his personal herd of mildly narcotized French poodles. And Dennis Hastert.
“You know, a big strong fence studded all over with those really sharp barb-wire stickler thingies? Like the kind they use on those leather dog collars? The thick black ones with the snaps that feel all tight around your ankles? And you can’t help but squirm and moan and get all giddy?” he continued before falling into a fit of uncontrolled swooning.
In the state of Texas except for Austin which everyone knows is surprisingly cool despite how it’s in, you know, Texas, where you still cannot legally buy a dildo or engage in homosexual sex but they pretty much hand you a nice big phallic shotgun as a welcome gift when you visit, the legislature immediately passed a law requiring each and every male to smack any other male they see really hard on the back and buy him a pitcher of bad beer in a manly gesture of football-lovin’ patriotic homoerotically repressed solidarity.
Reaction was heated. Viewpoints clashed. Families bickered. Birds flew. Countries sighed. The U.N. napped. Belgians shrugged. Macy’s had a big sale. Love exhaled.
The air was thick with tension. Conservatives were stupefied. The religious right, so accustomed to viewing big scary cities like San Francisco and Amsterdam as debauched hedonistic Sodom-a-raffic pleasure palaces to be avoided like a good book or a genuine orgasm or an original thought, suddenly took one look at a map of the world and noticed the size of Canada and went, holy crap.
Pat Robertson quietly dreamed of marrying Jerry Falwell. Everyone openly dreamed of pimp-slapping Franklin Graham. Wal-Marts in Canada were forced to carry issues of Bust and Honcho. Strangely, sales of Jackhammer Jesus dildos increased a hundredfold. Mostly in Texas.
Meanwhile, the rest of the largely benevolent and open-hearted and divinely attuned polyamorous universe just laughed and nodded very, very approvingly at Canada and said, well Jesus with a riding crop and a rainbow flag, it’s about goddamn time, you know?
