Well, slap my ass and call me Sally...

...if the bigots aren't crawling out of the nooks and crannies yet again, just in time for this year's RWA National conference The offending letter to the editor in the August RWR calling for the exclusion of gay/bi-sexual/multi-partner romance has been discussed here and here and here and here and likely about another dozen places. These fine folks have already said most everything there was to say on the subject worth saying, including and especially the part about how comparing sex between two or more consenting adults to pedophilia goes beyond mere ignorance into criminal stupidity. The kind that really should've died out a couple of decades ago amongst people who can pick up a newsmagazine or tune into a television broadcast. But I suppose when all your manly-man husband allows you to watch is pro-wrestling and FOX News...

Okay, that was probably a low blow. I take it back. (Ignore the way my fingers are sort of crossed behind my back. Symptom of rampant carpal tunnel syndrome. No, really.)

I was particularly amused by this bit:

"RWA should be the first to endorse that, rather than attempting to placate fringe groups trying to impose their standards upon the rest of us."

Here's a clue or six for you, Jan. The world, she is round. Epileptic seizures aren't caused by demonic possession. Your average solar eclipse doesn't herald the end of existence. And sexuality, as practiced by consenting adults in ALL its various forms, has been around forever. Because certain aspects of it don't tug YOUR little red wagon down the lane doesn't mean that they are inherently immoral. Nor does it mean that an entire organization need dance to the tune of your discomfort.

And then there was this:

"Only in recent years has a vocal (translate: shrill) minority tried to drive RWA's focus off that path, under the guise of 'broadening its horizons.' "

Love it. LOVE. IT. And so should anyone on our side of the argument, because when one of your own calls you "shrill," you know you're scoring points somewhere. It's one of the nastiest, most poisoned barbs one of those ladylike, Phyllis Schlafly-clones can think to throw at us from behind their ivory-walled fortresses.

Yeah, I'm shrill. I can work on modulating my tone of voice, but tomorrow you'll still be a frigid, frightened, misinformed waste of skin.

Pardon the excessive vitriol. Rank bigotry disguised as a moralist's rant tends to bring out my claws.

SelahMarch.com