GAY marriage is a consummation devoutly to be missed, but it’s a dead cert. If you doubt it, try to remember the last time America turned down a vocal minority. In the Sixties we were the Girl Who Can’t Say No, but she was a font of virtue compared to what we are now. Overcome by the miasmic gases of diversity and inclusion wafting from the Nineties swamp, we have turned into the Punch drunk Kid, a twitching lummox with cauliflower ears who mumbles “Sure, Jake, sure” to everybody.
The preliminary stage of brainwashing is already underway. “Husband” and “wife” are yielding to “spouse,” a vague usage that benefits no one but gays. Gov. Roy Romer recently vetoed Colorado’s proposed anti-gay marriage law, calling it “mean-spirited,” a word that functions in America like the bell in Pavlov’s laboratory. And now Bill Clinton has announced, through his gay-liaison office, that he is “personally opposed” to homosexual marriage. This phraseology, a staple of the abortion debate, is a reminder not to let our premises stand in the way of our conclusions.





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