2000-12-05 - Halfway through my first cup of
Bleah. Every so often I�m reminded of what Neanderthal times I live in. Again, bleah.
For the last year I�ve sat on the board for the San Diego chapter of a certain professional organization. At its most recent national convention, said organization passed a resolution supporting employee benefits for members� same-sex partners. In response, at last night�s board meeting the woman who edits our newsletter resigned--very loudly--saying she couldn�t be part of any organization that promotes the Homosexual Agenda.
(As an aside, I�ve always thought that The Homosexual Agenda would make a great band name. Not as great as Trotsky Icepick or Bulimia Banquet, but those two have already been taken.)
This led to about a half-hour of hand-wringing, at the end of which we wound up with some goofy resolution to the effect of, "We don�t necessarily support or oppose what national says, but we don�t want to offend anyone�s deeply-held beliefs especially if that means we have to hunt for another newsletter editor--is that okay?" It passed, but the woman still walked. Whatever.
Actually, as U.S. cities go, San Diego is pretty inoffensive politically. It leans to the right, sure, but the conservatism here tends toward the Pete Wilson, live-and-let-live-unless-you�re-a-recent-immigrant variety. Everyone is either too stoned, too sun-baked, or too groggy from his or her most recent cosmetic surgery to bomb abortion clinics or elect Bob Dornan to Congress like they do up in Orange County--although there are plenty of cranks in suburbs like Lakeside or Santee, home of the one and only Institute for Creation Research, whose "museum" I�ve got to visit one of these days if only for the ironic value.
Basically, San Diego�s made exactly four genuine contributions to American culture: Rocket from the Crypt, Dr. Seuss, fish tacos and the RealDoll(tm). Okay, then, three genuine contributions. But that's plenty enough for me.
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