Next time you are in SeaTac airport, C concourse, and you are in need of a jar, you can go out to the far end and take a look at this.
The jeweler involved in this outrage is clearly brim full of hate. Now that we have “achieved” marriage “equality,” just slam the door shut and pretend that we are done. But there is so much more left to do before we can rest. I can think of two other combos — viciously excluded here — right off the top of my head.
What about Him and Harem? Wouldn’t a supposed jeweler be interested in selling more rings, not fewer rings? Clearly, his manifest desire to limit his sales to two per wedding is not in his best interest, and must therefore be motivated by hatred. And he celebrates his hatred in an ad talking about weddings, which, when I was a young boy, used to be about love.
And related to the number two, the thinly disguised hatred and contempt for bisexuals just oozed out of that ad. Look at it again. The hegemony of twoness practically shouts at you. His and Hers. His and His. Hers and Hers. All done. This is why the revolution is never done, people. “We two, we happy two . . .”
Twoism is a virulent form of hatred, and is worse than all the -isms we have successfully combated up to this point. But as bad as it is, they were actually celebrating it in an ad in an airport. Seattle is supposed to be an enlightened city. Starbucks started there.
Think of the pain that an ad like this must cause the bisexuals walking through this concourse . . . although with the levels of hate on display here, I probably should have walked down to the entry of that concourse to see if there was a sign banning bisexuals from even walking up that way. But even they probably wouldn’t be so brazen, so think of the pain involved.
A bisexual man, let’s call him John, is walking along miserably. He has been connected to Bill and to Susan for three years now, and their alternative arrangement seems to have been accepted by the neighbors and most of their relatives. Their bed & breakfast has been featured in Home & Garden. On that level, things were fine. Things were finally going his way. Now he always could have married Susan, but he had refused because he wouldn’t dream of leaving Bill behind. And now he could marry Bill — but only if he joined the state of Washington in their hatred and seething contempt for Susan. He was deep in these thoughts of nobility, compassion, tenderness, outrage, hurt, love, more love, all covered over with self-congratulation and self-pity, when he looked up and saw The Sign. Two rings. Two. Just two. Two is the loneliest number. He imagined himself going down to the King County Courthouse, and imagined the sign at the counter where only some people could get their wedding licenses. “Twofers only. No Threebies.” And John sank slowly to his knees, right there in the middle of C Concourse, dying of a broken heart. As he went over, his cup of frozen yogurt fell with him — there is a shop right across — and three M&Ms, one red, two greens, rolled slowly, and very sadly, across the floor. At least they could be together.
Okay, so maybe it wouldn’t happen exactly that way. But the problem is exactly that problem. Wedding licenses in Washington now have a space for Person A and one for Person B. The state of Washington is therefore given over to hate — on their demented principles, it is hatred for Person C, and on biblical principles, it is hatred for God and His Word. The case for marriage “equality,” blinded by their hate, can’t count very high.
The bigotry of excluding bisexuals by law from the benefits of marriage is an argument that needs to be answered, and thus far in my experience, the best retort on it has been something along the lines of “you are totally wrong on this because shut up.”
The emperor is by this point totally nekkid. Discuss the ramifications among yourselves.