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El Jefe

With an absence of irony, God bless the old boy. My gay godfather (about three years younger than Hayes, one of my folks' three best friends, and my father's rebellion against his own Southern Baptist upringing) rang my folks the other day to, among other things, talk DADT with my mother the civil-rights vet. (Apparently mom's relations, also Southern, could now get cited in the Tea Party prez's argument that the United Methodists should be run out of Christianity on a rail as naked socialists and irritants of said partiers' socially-conditioned unease about their deep personal desire to hate things and stone out-groupers.)

It was a big item Sunday morning at my (very different sort, the left wing of the New England flavor) Baptist church out here in the Willamette Valley, since the late '80s still the only American Baptist congregation in their administrative region to openly accept gay folks. Enthusiastic congregational prayers of thanksgiving. Our bisexual former board chair -- she's a senior math prof at the local college -- one of our oldest lesbian couples one of whom was a Navy nurse on both major oceans and the early days of Vietnam, and one of our oldest congregants period who was the first out man in the county in the late 1950s when that sort of thing could still get you dead even around these parts, were visibly moved. It was a good day for spitting in dogma's eye.

El Jefe

And, inked. Nice. Well, now we've had the Truman moment so could we fast-forward to LBJ please? (Of course that's what progressives have been saying this whole term, but still... ;)

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