“Unto the woman he said, I will greatly multiply thy sorrow and thy conception; in sorrow thou shalt bring forth children; and thy desire shall be to thy husband, and he shall rule over thee.” Genesis 3:16
Happy families indeed.
Good old-fashioned family values …
A buck seventy five from Woolworths, two for three if you’ve got room enough in the freezer …
Greg Donnelly, Government Whip in the NSW parliament, has decided to rattle his chain over the issue of gay adoption in “The Punch”, coming out (so to speak) firmly against the concept by declaring …
“There can be no doubt about how the complementary nature of both motherhood and fatherhood benefits the wellbeing of children. Indeed, up until recent time, and I literally mean the last few years, this perspective about parenting has been taken as a given. Society has accepted the proposition that it is good for a child to be raised by a mother and father in a permanent, preferably married relationship.”
Garbage.
Donnelly’s assumption appears to be based firmly on the notion, the illusion, that one’s personality, one’s fitness to be a decent human being, a parent or guardian, rests solely on how one chooses to entertain one’s genitals.
For in Donnelly’s world, it seems it’s where you stick it or lick it that counts for everything.
Which says far more about Donnelly’s emotional infantilism and sexual immaturity than it does about gay men or women or their ability to provide a loving and nurturing environment in which to raise a child, something that is most definitely not the sole province of all those nice mums and dads in “permanent, preferably married relationship(s)”.
I suspect if you were to scratch a little deeper at Donnelly’s shallow psyche, you’d uncover just another garden variety bigoted bonehead given to pursing his lips and tut-tutting over shameless displays of G!A!Y! abandon at the Sydney Mardi Gras each year, just another stitched-up old fart consumed by all manner of conspiracy theories to do with the so-called “Gay Agenda”.
It’s eugenics, Greg, but not as we know it. This time, it’s all about the right way to root, and rooting out the fuckers who are getting their rooting all arse up.
And it is all about the sex to Donnelly and others of his kind, let’s make no bones about that.
For to labour under the illusion that gay men and women are incapable of committing to a relationship with a partner for any length of time, of committing to anything other than random acts of lubed-up, sweaty fisting in a public toilet in the dark, dead hours of the night is as ludicrous an assumption as is believing a heterosexual marriage magically bestows upon its participants some saintly status of domestic bliss and harmony, instantly gifting them the ability to be quality parents, which a quick scan of headlines from any newspaper from any city in any country of the world on any day will dismiss as a towering pile of sheer, steaming bullshit of the first order every time.
Ah, the perfection and heavenly bliss of all these blessed heterosexual unions, how it gleams in the pure and golden glow of those sunbeams from Jesus up on high. Love and fidelity and grey flannel suits and lace doilies and dinner on the table for the man of the house at 6pm sharp every night after a hard day’s work …
… And a little later on, the wife’s in bed with The Good Book, the kids are asleep, and dad’s catching up on a little work in the home office, his pants around his ankles as he pulls himself to a brand new heart attack over the latest selection of cumshots of barely legal teens taking it in all three holes …
Hell, I see no reason why gay couples shouldn’t be allowed to fuck up a child in the same way a husband and wife can and have always managed to do, and have been doing since time began.
Though given the constant, nit-picking, nagging scrutiny they’d be subjected to by the holier-than-thou, self-obsessed, self-righteous, pseudo-puritanical little ponces of Donnelly’s stripe, I suspect many same-sex couples would go to great pains to avoid the type of parenting that sees the children of so many straight marriages wind up in DOCS and shuffled from one foster parent to the next like draughts on a tattered paper chessboard.
One day, the likes of Donnelly will simply disappear by natural attrition, they’ll just pop their clogs and drop like the dinosaurs, and, generations from now, we will look back at their statements, mouths agape, minds in a boggle, and come to regard such people with the same type of astonishment we feel today toward the Salem witch-hunts.
That day cannot come too soon.
But I doubt I’ll be around to ever see it.