Always the bridesmaid (ACTing civilised)

Australia’s Capital has passed a bill allowing same-sex couples civil ceremonies as part of their recognized civil partnerships.

Big, fat, hairy deal.

Krudd’s already raising a brouhaha about it - the political version of masturbatory foreplay in the jerk-circle that is our State-Federal Government - preparing for another pack-buggery of human rights that shocks footy players with its blatant disregard for social mores.

And again I say, big, fat hairy deal.


The way I see it is, Krudd has his dick in his hand, waving it about over civil ceremonies because this is the stuff government wet dreams are made of. What we’ve been given here, is a toddler’s pool full of jelly. That’s what Civil Partnership are – they’re jelly. Jelly is brightly coloured, strangely sweet, but created from artificial ingredients that tend to leave you sticky and unsatisfied when you’re done.



The more Krudd Labor’s over this argument, the more we’ll get bogged down and – in his teen fantasy – forget all about the big pool where the big kids swim. Yes, boys and girls – remember that Epicurean arena? Where we will lay around a pool of freshly chlorinated water and eat grapes as our husbands and wives massage our feet? That’s the “Everyone Else” pool. And in case you’re so disturbed by the mental horror of political dick metaphors I’ve been using so far, what I’m talking about is Marriage.

While we’re high-fiving over the inflatable pool of jelly, and manning the perimeter with angry dykes and misleading Muscle Marys, the pollies are lining up to watch a little ol’ fashioned girl-on-girl jelly canoodling.



What do I care that homos can have a civil ceremony (separate to marriage) to go with a Civil Partnership Act (separate to marriage)? Don’t get me wrong – it’s a good first step in the right direction. But I’m not excited enough to get my gear off and jump in the sticky stuff just yet, and particularly not while Krudd and his cronies are still heckling from the sidelines.

Now that I’ve stretched that metaphor to the point of having to put it out of its misery, let me say this: I started this fight for equal rights. I’m pretty sure most of you did too. So now is not the time to let shiny things distract us from that goal.

Have a private squeal. Down a beer. Get into your togs – I’m sure most of us are already in them (I rock a boy-leg ‘kini). But don’t take off those ass-kicking boots until we’re diving into the big kids’ pool, okay?