Recently, the world learned, even before the President had a chance to announce it (with appropriate apologies) to the UN General Assembly that, if you live in Walkerton, Indiana, are gay, and are planning to marry, you will probably not be able to have your festivities catered by the local pizzeria.
"Yaagh! Waa! Pizza Nazi. Pizza Nazi!" (Seinfeld for gentiles?)
I know. I know. Not to make fun. It's the principle, not the pizza. But what exactly is the principle involved here? That sexual preferences have to be respected because that's the way we superior folk in New York and California think while religious beliefs...well, it's just those local yokels clinging to 'their guns and their bibles.' Who cares what they think?
Well, maybe we should care. Today it's Evangelical Christians getting death threats for not wanting to cater a gay marriage. Tomorrow it'll be the Planned Parenthood Marching Band being forced to show up for a Repeal Roe rally or the Little Sisters of the Poor being compelled to provide contraception and abortion services to their employees (Oh, sorry, that's been done already. Thank you President Obamacare.).
And the day after that, who knows? What a way to run a railroad...or a country. How do you spell, "Live and let live?" We used to know. Maybe we were better spellers in the old days.
By the way, and just thinking, why would anyone even want to have their wedding catered by a group who considers them to be a couple of sinning miscreants? Most of us restaurant goers have had an occasional badly prepared meal but we rarely send it back. Partly it's because we don't think it's all that important and we don't want to make extra work for the waiter, but isn't it maybe also because we sometimes wonder what might happen to that dish when it goes behind the swinging doors into the kitchen and comes back out again? And, if all the waiters and the kitchen staff aren't too crazy about you to begin with, well...
*To all my gay patients and friends, known and otherwise, who are planning to marry and invite me to their weddings, please be kind enough to let me know if the caterer is there willingly. If not, I promise that I'll still show up but...I'm bringing my own soup.