It’s hot. It’s humid. There’s an 80 percent chance of weekend thunderstorms, and a 100 percent chance of uninhibited weekend revelry.
St. Pete Pride must be upon us.
Longtime CL readers might recognize this as the time and space in which I traditionally wax rhapsodic about how fun, exciting and inspiring is the ’Burg’s LGBT pride festival, before going on to entreat straight people everywhere to take part in this annual celebration of both unity and self.
Meh. Not this year, thanks.
This year, I’d like to address those straight white men whose predictably, unbelievably self-unaware reactions to events like St. Pete Pride all boil down to one essential rebuttal:
“If the [pick any group of people that makes straight white men uncomfortable due to the way straight white men have treated them] can have a pride festival, why can’t we?”
Well, you can!
Sure, giving straight white men an opportunity to express themselves in a way denied to them by all those years of oppression makes about as much sense as giving a shark an award for overcoming all the obstacles that stood between it and dinner, but whatever!
In fact, let’s get started. What ingredients do we need to create the most bitchin’ self-congratulatory shindig ever for the most enduringly empowered group of people on the planet?
Bibles? Check.
Business casual attire? Checkeroo.
Passive income and tax deductability so you can keep earning and burning the whole time? Check-a-doodle.
A playlist that includes a nice variety of tunes, from Alabama to Rage Against The Machine? You better believe that’s a check.
An appearance by Honorary Grand Marshal Charlton Heston? Sorry, he’s dead. Get with the times. Call Rush Limbaugh’s people. (A memorial Heston ice sculpture could be rad, though.)
Babes? Whoa, hold on there — are you sure you want women there, cramping your style, maybe even crowding your spotlight? This thing’s about you, after all; you might want to reconsider sharing this auspicious moment in your emergence from the shadows of human culture to which you’ve previously been banished. Chicks steal focus. Plus, as a genuinely oppressed group, somebody might want them to talk about what they think about stuff. How about a compromise? Invite a few women (and hell, maybe a few people of color), just to show your magnanimity and open-mindedness, but keep that ratio low, yo.
That’s about everything, right?
Congratulations — you just threw a Congress.
See? When you’re a straight white man of means, and you’re running things, every day is a fucking festival.
This article appears in Jun 25 – Jul 1, 2015.