"...When The Chafing Dish Calls The Chicken Pot Black..."

Haven't stepped in a good steamy pile for awhile....

To wit....

My own theology makes me a subscriber, in large measure, to the school of live and let live, located on the corner of mind my own business and do unto others, in the little house made of glass where I usually refrain from stone casting.

As a result, I simply don't believe that homosexuals are going to be cast down with the sodomites and burn in eternal damnation.

Personally, I'm inclined to think that their predispostion to worshipping Liza Minelli and/or Michael Buble' is punishment enough, but that's another blog for another day.

And, without intending to invoke the tired, cliche, insincere "some of my best friends are" clause, the truth is that some of my best friends are gay.

Loving, caring, beautiful people who honor me with their friendship and that I am proud to know and proud to call friend.

Now, enough of the lovin', let's get down to brass tacks.

Or copper. Brass is so tacky and just doesn't have the same sheen, don't you think?

If the owner of Chick Fil A wants to be opposed to gay marriage, its his right and privilege as a human being to do so.

And if gays want to opt for taking a pass on the poultry in response to that opposition, then ditto.

But all this raging, angry bitch slapping bitching from the gay community is, at the rock bottom core of it, nothing more than the very same intolerance that they are angrily bitch slapping bitching about.

And, not for nothin', but here's something the more militant would, in my humble o, be well served to consider.

One of the reasons that the more unenlightened heterosexuals oppose you is because they are afraid of you.

And one of the reasons they are afraid of you is because you too often go way beyond the pale when it comes to standing up for your rights.

To the point of trying to cram it down their throats.

So to speak.

Unasked, I respectfully offer, to all gays reading this piece, the following solution to the whole batter fried broohaha.

Be who you are. Be proud of who you are. Live and let live.

And if you feel like you can't, in good conscience, patronize a retail establishment that doesn't hold with your particular values....

...then don't buy the damn chicken.

But, seriously, girls, quit yer bitchin'.

It's really not one of your more attractive qualities.

And don't tar me with the brush that equates eating Chick Fil A with being unsupportive of the gay community.

Let alone feather me.

Because it doesn't come close to setting you apart.

It makes you exactly like one of them.