Dispatches from the War on MarriageJuly 7, 2011
“Marriage is under siege like no other time in recent history.” Michele Bachmann
“(Gay marriage) threatens my marriage. It threatens all marriages.” Rick Santorum
“If a bill legalizing same sex marriage came to my desk, I would veto it.” Gov. Chris Christie
Hastings-on-Hudson, N.Y., Friday, 11:00 P.M. The call jolts my wife and me from sleep. Three rings–the agreed-upon signal–send us to the basement. We tune into the emergency frequency of our local DMR (Defense of Marriage Radio) affiliate. The State Senate has passed–and Governor Cuomo signed–a bill to legalize gay marriage. The siege of marriage has become a blitzkrieg.
11:15 P.M. The sound of gunfire signals that gays are taking control of the town. We grab the dog and bolt the basement door. The nightmare has come true. The occupation has begun. By the light of a single candle, we renew our heterosexual marriage vows.
Saturday, 9:00 A.M. Turns out it wasn’t gunfire we heard last night but our gay neighbors down the block popping champagne corks. According to DMR, gays have seized control of the key strategic points in the village: patisserie, wine shop, and gourmet food store.
10:06 A.M. Gay neighbors bang on our door, as they usually do on Saturday mornings, to see if we want anything from the local farmer’s market. We pretend not to be home.
3:48 P.M. My wife abruptly rouses me from my nap. The dog has overheard reports on DMR that the State Senate is now considering a bill to require pets to marry their owners. He snarls and snaps at us. We are forced to put him down. The occupation has claimed its first casualty: a canine.
9:57 P.M. DMR alert: Led by Michelle Bachmann, a Dunkirk-style flotilla is reportedly on its way to ferry stranded heterosexuals across the Hudson to New Jersey. Evacuees will be temporarily quartered in Xanadu, the unfinished billion-dollar mall in the Meadowlands. Food will be provided by Praise the Lord and Pass the Ammunition Caterers of Secaucus. We unbolt the door, and after tripping over the bag of fresh vegetables left at our door by our gay neighbors, flee to the river. We wait until midnight. No boats appear. We make our way home, dejectedly.
Sunday, 8:00 A.M. We sneak off to the church in a nearby village. We are surprised to find it opened. The priest who says Mass skillfully avoids any mention of gay marriage. “God is love,” he sermonizes, “and whoever abides in love abides in God, and God in him.” A weak-kneed, liberal-leaning, Vatican II type, he’s obviously completely intimidated by the occupation.
9:07 A.M. Our gay neighbors wave to us as they leave services in the church across the street. They are taking their two adopted HIV-positive children to the Gay Pride parade in Manhattan. They ask if we’d like to stop by at a barbeque they’re having later that evening. We hurriedly invent an excuse.
9:19 A.M. We stop at the patisserie on the way home. Same predominantly heterosexual crowd as usual. For the sake of their children, they carry on bravely, as if the foundations of Western Culture weren’t crumbling beneath their feet.
12:12 P.M. Our son and daughter call from the city. They won’t be home for Sunday dinner. Instead, they’ll be going to cheer on friends who are marching in the Gay Pride parade. Our own children are collaborators! It’s a bitter pill to swallow.
Monday, 7:12 A.M. Bulletin on DMR: Worst fears realized. The Pink Terror is in full swing. The Rainbow flag has replaced Old Glory over the village hall. The gay Gestapo–cross-dressing couples in pink helmets–are rounding up heterosexual commuters at the train station and forcing them into same-sex unions. The men are required to wear frocks from Alexander McQueen’s “Savage Beauty” exhibit at the Met. All women must dress like plumbers and sport lesbian hairstyles.
Tuesday, 9:45 P.M. A ray of hope! We listen to New Jersey Governor Chris Christie’s broadcast on DMR from atop the Trump Taj Mahal in Atlantic City: “We shall fight on the shore, we shall fight on the Turnpike, we shall fight in the Short Hills Mall and in the Pine Barrens, we shall never surrender (to same-sex marriage).”
Wednesday, 4:00 P.M. The news on DMR is grim. In the wake of New York’s legalization of gay marriage, ex-Senator Rick Santorum’s prediction is coming true: Heterosexuals nationwide are abandoning their spouses en masse. The last heterosexual couple in San Francisco officially split this afternoon. Philadelphia and Boston are close behind. Only New Jersey, it seems, is resisting the onslaught.
Friday, 8:00 P.M. A knock on the door. We freeze. Fear grips us by the throat as my wife opens it a crack. No one is there. But there’s a basket with chicken, homemade coleslaw, and a cold bottle of Chardonnay. A note from our gay neighbors says they haven’t seen us in a few days and hope everything is all right. “Enjoy the enclosed,” they write.
8:05 P.M. We aren’t fooled. God knows what kind of homoerotic ingredients have been mixed in. We put the food in the trash and pour the wine into the sink.
Saturday, 10:00 P.M. DMR signs off with an address by an Governor Christie from the command bunker beneath MAFIOSO (Marriage and Family for Straights Only) headquarters (formerly the Bada Bing Club): “Whatever comes, however long it lasts, we will brace ourselves to our duties, and so bear ourselves, that a thousand-years hence–when men have returned to their senses–your normal, tax-averse, non-Civil Service, God-fearing heterosexual will say of us, This was their finest hour.”
10:15 P.M. Inspired, we turn out the lights and stare into the darkness. A long, twilight struggle lies ahead.
10:16 P.M. A final thought before falling asleep: New Jersey as the last bastion of Judeo-Christian civilization. Truly, the Lord works in mysterious ways.