Sunday afternoon. Hot. Two kids napping, mom at the store. Twins on the radio. Feeling a bit like a bachelor, but in that event I'd be at the gay pride parade. I became a devotee one day years ago when I happened to be downtown for another reason and stumbled into it. This was back in the day when it was more of an eye-full. The spoof on heterosexual wholesomeness was entertaining, but the parade has pretty much cast off that element, and is now safe for left-of-center politicians to march in. Probably dykes on bikes still start if off, but there is less leather, less skin, more sun screen, and hundreds of sympathetic heteros lining the route--or, like Governor Mark Dayton, marching themselves. Instead of satirizing the mainstream, the parade has joined it. Homosexuals want to marry each other, and serve openly in the military, and inherit their partner's stuff without laying elaborate plans with practitioners of "gay law." The usual suspects think the end of the world is nigh. The sun rises, the sun sets, and the rivers run into the sea. Go Twins.
