Usually, when a business closes, newspapers don’t cheer. Last November, the Washington Post mourned the loss of the local gay newspaper: “The Washington Blade, the weekly newspaper that chronicled the coming-out of the capital’s gay community, was born amid the idealism of 1960s street protests. Monday, the paper died, victim of the unforgiving realities of the nation’s sagging newspaper industry.”
Weeks later, the Post mourned again, this time for Lambda Rising, the D.C. gay bookstore: “Lambda Rising also became a de facto community center, a place that was welcoming when mainstream establishments shunned the gay community, where gays and lesbians started up relationships, came out of the closet, or went shopping for jewelry, greeting cards, art and even condoms. In 1975, the shop sponsored the first Gay Pride Day, a block party that evolved into what is now known as Capital Pride, an annual citywide celebration that draws tens of thousands of revelers from across the region.”
But liberal Post columnist Petula Dvorak is making priest and mascara jokes at the expense of a closing pro-life pharmacy in suburban Chantilly, Virginia:
The Divine Mercy Care Pharmacy in Chantilly proudly and purposefully limited what it would stock on its shelves. But it turns out that no birth control pills, no condoms, no porn, no tobacco and even no makeup added up to one thing:
No customers.
The self-described “pro-life” pharmacy went out of business last month, less than two years after it opened to great fanfare, with a Catholic priest sprinkling holy water on the strip-mall store tucked between an Asian supermarket and a scuba shop.
No word on whether he returned for last rites. . . .
Still, it always seemed a bit out of place. In a shopping area where women in colorful saris pass by spiky-haired kids looking at animé books and people dropping hounds at doggie day camp, and where so many languages, nationalities, colors and sizes blend, a business that relied on restriction rather than openness did not quite fit. . . .
Shoppers in Northern Virginia apparently weren’t clamoring for a place to pick up cough medicine that also didn’t sell porn, cigs and mascara. Selections of these wicked products (especially mascara — have you seen the array recently? Glittery! Lengthening! Stiletto lashes! Such naughtiness!) are available in just about every supermarket and big-box store across the country.