Amendment One.

The state votes today to choose slates of bankrupt politicians on both sides of the aisle to face one another in November, and also almost certainly to amend our constitution to drag us back to pre-Civil War days by codifying, with malice aforethought, the utterly stupid notion that marriage ought to be between one man and one woman. Or another way: the utterly stupid, backward, and hurtful notion that a bunch of rabid Christians-in-name-only would know better how all of us ought live our lives than we ourselves would. Or: fifteen or fifteen hundred asswipe white guys in suits terrified of what—difference? complexity? evolution? the need for thought and consideration? an ever-changing world? each other?—have had their own marriages so deeply and irrevocably scarred by reruns of Will & Grace on the goddamn Hallmark channel that they just can't take it any more, and instead of hiding from the world, or even praying about it, they do this. This. This thing. I am filled with rage, and with sorrow. This is my state. By democratic choice, we do this. All of us. We are all of us guilty of this thing, this vote, this law, this amendment. This is now the truth we hold to be self-evident.

In other news, the weather is beautiful, gray and cool and with enough up on the radar that one can hold out hope for lightning strikes and flash flood, hope for an Old Testament vengeance even as we know what's called for is a New Testament forgiveness. That it's those of us on this side of the vote who know that, and not the folks waving their bibles so hard, is a cruel irony, but there it is.

Or maybe we look to the skies and hope for miracles. Or for the bright light of a new day after this one. Or just for peace.