Well it's that time again Gay whatever month. This is when the stroller pushers that is the oblivious decedents of Queer Radicals go out to march about how much fun it is to a Straight-gay person.
That is an assimilated taxpaying "we're just like you" Zombie.
NO! We're NOT just like 'them' that was the whole Damned Point ya Dummies!!
Anyway for me well the 'day' don't mean much anymore. Yeah I know Revolutions never turn out the way you want. It's just I don't feel at home in this new gay world. It's not at all what we wanted.
Our Revolution started as a culture changing radical convulsion, and ended with cops, and politicians marching at the front of the Parade. Hell some have an Honor Guards of soldiers, and of course them ever present stroller pushers.
Even the Pentagon acknowledges Straight-gay pride month.
I suppose this is all progress..in a Bizzaro World sorta way.
Thing is though these characters would have the historical radicals if we showed up from 1970 in a time machine.
They'd have us arrested on the spot.
We'd be drop kicked into the klink as deranged maniac doper Dionysian beauty loving pie throwing poetry manifesto writing be-in happy utopian commie hippie thought criminals.
On the other grimy, and blood splatter hand...
Considering that some countries have the death penalty for being Queer..straight-gay or not. Also many others still persecute, and harass perverts with gleeful abandon.
Moscow hasbanned gay marches for ONE HUNDRED YEARS! That's 100 years. A whole century!
...is it something we said?
Considering that we got a pretty good deal here in the "Land of the Not so Free as we Used to Be".
It's just not the wild, and woolie scary shit us old-timers were fighting for. We didn't want to join society we wanted to blow it the hell up!
Blow it up bury it then dig it up the next day, and blow it to hell again just to make sure.
We weren't called Radicals for nuthin' bub!
Never mind I'm just an old commie hippie bewildered at the Brave New World that we 'accidentally' caused.
Oh well I guess I'll get my party frock out of the cleaners, and go watch the march of the happy Zombies. The go home to dream about the worlds that could have been.
Hey it's my blog, and I'll whine if I want to.
Oh, but dreams of a parade with a Ralph Chubb, and Rimbaud float. That with semi-nude Queer Scouts spreading rose pedals before it.
All this at the parallel universe, alternate history Radical March celebrating 45 years of gleeful deranged Radical Queerdom!
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