A ban against same sex marriage was overturned Thursday by a California court in — where else — San Francisco. Personally I think the same sex marriage ban is problematic. I think legislators would have better luck with a ban against “no sex” marriage. If you get married you have to have sex. It’s the law.

As to the same sex situation, I don’t think the legislators or the court has gone far enough.

Same sex Boys

Same sex Girls

A fairly rational argument against same sex marriage can be found on the slippery slope, i.e., if we change marriage to mean the joining of two men or two women, why not a woman and a horse, or a man and a donkey?

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Let Them Eat Biofuel

Who Should Go There?

Observers of recent food riots have wondering who’ll be the environmental Marie Antoinette when the hyper-emotional, carbon footprint panic bites the asses of the global warmer community and a hungry public stands there with bloated bellies, scratching their mosquito-enclircled heads and wondering, “What the f**k?”

When the hungry people of the world become, uh, fed up, with the high cost of food, when they can’t buy enough food even if they have money to buy it and when they’re starving because there’s not enough food to be had, whose head should they chop off?

My pick — Al Gore, with Laurie David standing in the cutter’s deck.

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March 20, 2008. From Senator Obama: “Look, I got two daughters — 9 years old and 6 years old. I am going to teach them first about values and morals, but if they make a mistake, I don’t want them punished with a baby. I don’t’ want them punished …. With an STD.”

That’s punished with a baby, conception as a mistake.

The blogs and talk radio were all over the remark, of course, but it’s an indication of how protective the national media is of their chosen candidate that this disturbing comment went mostly unnoticed by them. After the initial outrage, nothing in the past two weeks. If words matter, as Obama has famously said, then “punished with a baby” should matter.

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Where Man Is King

In Wellington, New Zealand, a deranged, runaway SUV, unhappy with life, distraught and humiliated by criticism of its appetite and size, and unable to afford therapy because of the high price of gasoline, went berserk and crashed itself into a man’s most hallowed space — his toilet.

While he was on it!

This is a violation too far, this unwarranted attack on a man’s sacred place, the Mecca of his personal life, where he reads the sports pages and contemplates the lousy day awaiting him while experiencing the blessed relief of elimination. Nowhere else in the world does such a place exist. Only in the man’s toilet, on his throne.

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The question is basic chicken or the egg. Does contemporary leftism make one a wimp or are natural born wimps naturally attracted to contemporary leftism?

Bertram “Jimmy” James

I got to wondering about this when reading about the death a few weeks ago in Great Britain of RAF Squadron Leader Bertram James, who had been shot down by the Luftwaffe in June 1940 and subsequently captured by the Germans. During his five year imprisonment, James (called “Jimmy”) tried to escape thirteen times from a number of different stalags.

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Giuseppe Di Stefano.

The world is emptier and diminished with the death last week of the great tenor, Giuseppe Di Stefano. A patch of beauty has been taken from us. The circumstances of his passing are too tragic to contemplate — a beating by some thugs in Kenya years ago that put this wonderful man and tenor into a coma that eventually resulted in death.

That the final years of a man who brought so much pleasure was so unnecessarily painful is disturbing. We expect everyone to die sooner or later, but to die like this adds an urgency to our grief, as if we can’t grieve enough.

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No, not the lovable little ardvaark on PBS, nor the redemptive alcoholic played by Dudley Moore in the film of the same name. I’m talking about my Arthur, a thirty-seven year old writer who lives somewhere in Los Angeles and who seems to have become attached to me. It might be love, I don’t know.

This is personal.

We all have Arthurs in our lives. You’ll find them at school, at work, in organizations you belong to, maybe even in your neighborhood. I met my Arthur at a privately run writer’s website.

The site is interesting and valuable except for the political forums which, as a gathering spot for Hollywood writers, is overwhelmingly liberal. Many of the conservative voices have left and the political forum is mostly a liberal circle jerk. It’s smart people sitting around patting one another on the back. Okay, fair enough.

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There’s been a big flap in Ohio because an Ohio radio talk show guy named Bill Cunningham emceed a John McCain rally and several times referred to Senator Obama using his full name, Barack Hussein Obama.

The Democrat base and their far left, loony, socialist-leaning, uber liberal, redistribute-the-wealth friends got their shorts in a twist. Somehow, using Barack Hussein Obama’s middle name gave them a huge wedgie and they didn’t like it.

Why not? It’s his name. On his birth certificate. Why shouldn’t anyone be allowed to use it?

I’m being naive. Of course we know why — because it’s the same name as the brutal dictator we overthrew in Iraq and it’s a Muslim name. In case anyone hasn’t heard, a small but significant percentage of the Muslim population wants to destroy us. The Obama supporters are rightly defensive about the middle name “Hussein.” In today’s poltical climate, I’d be defensive about it, too.

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Rutgers Brian Leonard in a drill

I’m trying to step off the emotional cloud of my Giants’ indescribably glorious Super Bowl win and get back to reality. Euphoria is a great place to live, but life is an insistent creature that wants to move on and has a way of kicking you in the jujubes if you don’t. Wearing a cup won’t help, so I’ll start making the transition.

Which brings me to the upcoming NFL combine in Indianapolis. Okay, okay, it’s still football, but it’s not the Giants.

Pat Kirwan’s blog at NFL.Com has some interesting observations on the value of the combines, which is not a gathering of John Deere equipment; it’s where top college football prospects perform rigorous physical tests for NFL coaches and scouts to demonstrate their strength, speed, agility and flexibility in the hopes that they’ll be drafted as high as possible.

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