Quit your goddamn whining, already.
Last week's vote to amend Missouri's constitution to ban queer nuptials was a slam dunk, and even though more Demo- crats than Republicans showed up at the polls, more than 70 percent of your voting friends and neighbors have put an end, once and for all, to your pipe dream of getting married legally in the state.
For this meat patty, the message of last week's vote was loud and clear: Hey, America's Big City Homos! Come to KC to stay in our hotel rooms and rent our cars. We need your tax money so we can build a downtown arena for tractor pulls and arena football. But don't even think of settling down here with that so-called marriage license you picked up in some hippie liberal state that will soon be consumed in a lake of fire cast down by an angry God.
However, not everyone appreciated that message. Particularly the queers this pon- tificating porterhouse shares office space with at the Pitch. After last Tuesday, the same-sexers at the paper moped around like they'd been sucker-punched.
After a few days, the griping by its gay colleagues had singed this sirloin to distraction. It was clear that the office fags simply had not grasped the true magnitude of Tuesday's vote.
For once, Missouri had made national news.
On Wednesday, various national liberal media organizations reported Missouri's historic vote (with a subtle, "tut-tut, look at what the rednecks did" tone, naturally) and predicted that several other states would follow suit in November.
For a shining moment, at least, Missouri got credit for stemming the coming tide.
What coming tide? This meat patty is talking about the pink flood washing over the landscape -- nothing short of the queering of the entire friggin' planet -- which is way too far along to stop with a simple state constitutional amendment.
Want evidence? It wasn't hard to find some last week, just a couple of days after the election.
On Thursday night, the Strip felt obliged to attend a little street party that its employer puts on in Westport called the Pitch Music Showcase. You know the scene: Lots of local bands competing for awards. Lots of booze. Plenty of people of dubious gender walking around with hardware stapled to their faces.
Anyway, along about midnight, after audiences were good and liquored up, the queers pounced.
At the Beaumont, four alleged males took the stage wearing makeup and trashy lingerie. Sporting a neon-orange bouffant hairdo, Vibralux singer Mercury 2 exhorted the audience to cast their ballots in the Best Live Act category in favor of the cross-dressing quartet.
"If we win," Mercury 2 pleaded, "queers all over the world will be able to be married!"
At that, the crowd of young slackers, nary a one looking older than 30, threw their rock fists into the air.
"Queers are taking over the planet!" the he-she singer squealed as the band plunged into a song.
The most distressing thing about the scene was that, for the most part, the crowd that had so heartily endorsed Mercury 2's battle cry looked like a room full of breeders. (That's homo talk for heterosexuals.)
Just a few minutes later, this puzzled pound of prime staggered down a few doors to Tizers and happened to catch Sister Mary Rotten Crotch, a punk quartet fronted by a woman, Liz Nord, a breeder whose hair is nonetheless clipped very short.
This meat patty was stunned to see the reaction of the tightly packed crowd, which seemed immensely satisfied as Nord screamed into a microphone again and again, "I wanna see your pussy! Show it to me!"
Poll after poll reveals the damage caused by the current assault of American culture by the Queer Eye conspiracy. A CBS News/New York Times survey taken last summer, for example, showed that same-sex marriage is viewed completely differently by the young and old. Adults younger than 30 were strongly in favor of legalizing gay weddings; older folks (the ones who actually vote) were even more strongly in favor of banning them. An ABC News poll 2 months later found the same gulf between young and old.
In other words, efforts to keep gays from marrying are doomed. Eventually, those brainwashed youngsters are going to get old enough to get their asses to voting places.
Sooner or later, the U.S. Supreme Court will do the inevitable. Some queer couple will argue that their inability to marry violates their rights, and the justices will agree with them. That decision will overturn every state constitution and state law standing in the way of queer matrimony.
And within a few years, just like in the cases of interracial marriage, universal suffrage and the wearing of baseball caps indoors, gay marriages will become so common that folks will struggle to remember when they were frowned upon.
And that's when Missouri's moment will come again. Because then, fellow citizens, this state will be able to hold its head up and proclaim that it, at least, had kept its constitution pure, even as wickedness had spread out from Washington, D.C.
Missourians will be able to point to their anti-queer amendment with loving fondness, alongside those other righteous tenets that this state once enshrined in its constitution.
Who could forget, for example, this plank of the state's original guiding document:
"Every free white male citizen ... who shall have attained to the age of twenty-one years ... shall be deemed a qualified elector of all elective offices."
Or this nostalgic piece of cultural purity:
"It shall be [the general assembly's] duty, as soon as may be, to pass such laws as may be necessary. First, to prevent free Negroes and mulattoes from coming to, and settling in, this state, under any pretext whatsoever ... "
Whew. They knew how to write a constitution back then.
We can only hope that our current efforts, in the end, measure up in the same way.