Monday, February 21, 2005

At least I could have been at a birth...

What excuse to I have for missing last night's The Simpsons, in which Patty came out of the closet and got married to her girlfriend by Homer? Only that I was cutting my dear spouse's hair.

The 8-9 p.m. Sunday night block is pretty much the only time each week that I make an effort to watch television. The one-two punch of Simpsons and Arrested Development can not be beat.
But it had been 3 weeks since dear spouse first pleaded with me to cut his hear. And by last week I had begun referring to it as a pompadour. So.

I have been in a lather for weeks over the PBS decision not to air the "Sugartime" episode of Postcards from Buster because it included a lesbian-parented family. My blood pressure has risen just now from thinking about this censorship.

If an antidote to my rage at the homophobic agenda exists, it doesn't necessarily come from prominent proponents of anti-gay policies having to confront their own children's coming out. Instead, it is probably best delivered by the writers of The Simpsons. I'm half-way through Planet Simpson, a deconstruction of the Simpsons through American pop- and consumer-culture lenses, and getting more respect for the show with each page.

To miss their take on same sex marriage -- and their broadcasting of it during prime time -- is a loss I can hardly bear.


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