My Favorite Take

This blog is going to go back to "business as usual." Tomorrow. I felt like I couldn't just jump right back into my normal thing without first saying something about why I'm choosing to do that.

In my copious doomscrolling of the last 36-or-so hours, I've come upon hundreds of takes about the results of the U.S. presidential election. One in particular has resonated with me above all others:

There were no winners. We all lost. It's just that some of us aren't going to understand that until later.

The more I think about this, the more impressed I become about just how much is packed into that punchy summation.

The thing that really resonated with me on first blush is the whole "forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing" tone of it. I have always felt that non-evangelicals and atheists understand and demonstrate Christian values more than the performative evangelical crowd. I believe that most voters did not cast their vote as a personal "fuck you" to me. (Though side note -- here in Colorado is evidence of around 921,000 losers who very much did.) A lot of voters, and absolutely a lot of non-voters, "knew not what they were doing."

There's clear proof of that in the results. Montana and Missouri passed ballot measures they think will protect abortion access, even as they elected a president almost certain to curtail it at a superseding federal level. North Carolina voters rather emphatically rejected a candidate for governor who clearly did not align with their values... while choosing for president a candidate who espoused all the same values of (and who explicitly endorsed) the reject. It seems to me that any split-ticket voters in these states "knew not what they were doing."

But back to the take:

There were no winners. We all lost. It's just that some of us aren't going to understand that until later.

As I pondered that even more, a new layer hit me -- one I'm really going to strive to embrace. Later. That word is carrying a lot of weight.

For one thing, nothing I say (no matter how long I might spend laboring on exactly how to say it) is going to change anyone's mind now. People are going to have to come to the realization of what has happened later. We've "fucked around." It's not time yet to "find out."

I believe that so much damage is about to be dealt to the United States that I question whether it can even be repaired within my lifetime. But... it's happening later. As in, literally, not today. For my own mental health (if nothing else), I think I must choose to squeeze every bit of joy out of the two-and-a-half months we still have before our newly-reelected, self-described "dictator on day one" takes office. There are going to be enough bad days to come without me giving potentially good days I have right now over to dread.

And so, to the best of my ability, I am choosing not to. Business as usual (for now, at least).

As for later, we'll all see.

For Your Own Sake, For the Future of the Supreme Court, Vote Democrat

Tomorrow is election day in the United States. If you are eligible to vote and haven't yet (or haven't made your plans to do so tomorrow), then let me use this infrequent post about politics to do so -- and to urge you to vote for Democrats.

I could offer reasons enough to have my blog become all politics, all the time. But let me focus on one reason in particular: the Supreme Court. Its six-member conservative super-majority spent last term making one terrible ruling after another, and is poised to do even worse this term (if you can imagine that). Voters need to make sure that for the foreseeable future, any new justice appointed (thorough vacancy, or should the need for court rebalancing become even more obvious) must be appointed by a Democratic president and Senate.

You are of course aware of the Supreme Court's ruling last term in Dobbs, a case which overruled Roe vs. Wade, removing the nationwide right to an abortion. That wholesale degradation of women's freedom would be bad enough all its own. And yet, that ruling was in fact so appalling, drawing so much focus, that it covered for several other rulings that, in any other term, would be the headline-making disaster on everyone's mind.

Right around the same time the Supreme Court was ruling that women should only have rights that would have been recognized two-and-a-half centuries ago (a time when they had almost none), they also released these rulings. They restricted how concealed firearms can be limited in public spaces. (Not their own court, of course.) They declared that the right of someone to pray publicly supersedes the rights of those who might feel coerced to participate because of power disparity. They ruled that the Environmental Protection Agency lacks the agency to protect the environment from power plant emissions (under the specious theory that it's a "major question" that a gridlocked Congress must weigh in on).

And those cases all just come from a period of a few weeks. Don't overlook "highlights" from earlier in last year's term. The court blessed a scheme to take away individual rights, so long as it's rooted in bounties collected by private citizens. It eroded laws separating church and state in a case requiring states to fund religious schools. It ruled that a state can violate your constitutional rights in a criminal proceeding, so long as the state assures that such violations don't affect the jury. (Also, they can search your property without cause if you're close enough to a border, and you can't sue anymore if they fail to detail your Miranda rights.) Plus, if a defendant with a bad lawyer should get another bad lawyer to argue that fact? That's your fault; you have no recourse.

If all that isn't enough to make you mad, here are the cases which the Supreme Court has already heard in just one month of its current term -- and the rulings they seem likely to make, based on attitudes during the oral arguments. They will likely rule that universities have no interest in ensuring that their enrollment looks like a cross-section of the country's population. They seem likely to allow even more gerrymandering of congressional districts, ruling that even openly racist drawing of district lines is legal so long as a half-hearted non-racist justification can be offered. Odds are they'll allow the wealthy to pollute the nation's water supply under the theory that it's just too hard to know what water is actually part of the nation's water supply.

Then there are the cases that still lay ahead this term. The Court will be hearing a case that could give a state's gerrymandered legislature final say over election administration -- over any election officials, the governor, or even judges. They will rule on an argument that laws prohibiting discrimination against LGBT+ people are unconstitutional because a person's right to discriminate supersedes the right of the discriminated to secure good and services. And they'll hear dozens of other cases -- any of which could massively affect your life and your rights -- cases that even an avid Court watcher like myself hasn't even really processed yet amid the ceaseless stream of sewage currently flowing from the Supreme Court building.

Something at the Court must change, and soon. Vote Democrat to ensure that when that change comes, it's for the better.

(Another) Morning in America

It's morning in America -- the morning after yet another horrific mass shooting at a school. It came, of course, before the families of the victims of the last horrific mass shooting could even lay their loved ones to rest. I won't pretend to have something great to say here, either profound or pithy. But I'd rather post a few thoughts on the matter, however scattered, than just go "business as usual" with another movie review or whatever today.

Last night, I attended a graduation ceremony for my niece, who is finishing 8th grade and starting high school next year. That ceremony was held at the high school where nearly all of her class will be moving onto. And that high school is Columbine.

Columbine High School was not the first mass school shooting in the U.S., though it is arguably the beginning of the epidemic as we live with it today. And we do just seem to live with it; there was at no point in over 90 minutes of ceremony any acknowledgement of where we were, or of the day on which we were there. Sure, everyone was there for a celebration, and part of me does understand not wanting to overshadow that. Maybe even most of me.

Yet also, that we all just want to soldier on and pretend nothing is so deeply and profoundly wrong? That we all just know that no one should say anything about gathering at "the birthplace of mass school shootings" on the very day of a mass school shooting? That feels like part of why nothing has changed in 23 years later.

But of course, the real reason nothing has changed in decades is that the U.S. Senate will not even take up a vote on simple measures that have not only majority support in our country, but near unanimous support. The Second Amendment is not a suicide pact, and most Americans want to see more extensive background checks, trigger locks, training requirements, age limitations, and more. Because of the filibuster, and because a significant number of senators receive contributions from the NRA and gun lobbyists, we can't even get the vote.

You don't even have to be a "single issue voter" at this point. If you care about meaningful, sensible gun control... or the retrograde restriction of women's rights... or continuing access to contraception... or equality in marriage... and so on, and so on... all those issues align one way. Stop voting Republicans into office.

Who We Are

After the events yesterday in Washington DC, it hardly seems appropriate for me to just have another "pop culture post of the day" here. And yet, my ongoing mental processing of what happened has yet to yield much that feels worth saying. So instead, I'll repeat (and embellish on) something I saw somewhere that resonated deeply with me.

Right now, I do not want to hear the phrase "this isn't who we are."

Joe Biden ran his campaign on the premise of bringing the country together. That "theory of the case" garnered the most votes, proving it was indeed the message more Americans wanted to hear. And inasmuch as this is the United States of America, unity is indeed what we need. But we also need to acknowledge reality.

President Obama always maintained an outstretched hand -- even when it was unceremoniously slapped away. That's almost certainly the way he needed to play it too; white privilege is still an unfair constraint even on a person of color who has risen to the highest office in the country. (How much worse would the backlash against him have been had he not been unfailingly level-headed?)

President Biden, on the other hand, needs to first try for unity. Then when he meets resistance (when, not if), he needs to use the power given him (thank you, Georgia; congratulations, Warnock and Ossoff!) to get the job done. And to have any hope of fixing the problem, it must be properly diagnosed.

It's okay to say "this is not who we should be" or "we cannot continue like this." But America: this is absolutely who we are. This happened here. And you can guarantee it will happen again if we pretend the political landscape right now isn't a drought-afflicted forest in which people are running around with matches. We cannot ignore these arsonists; we must disarm them.

The violence, the destruction, the deaths that resulted from yesterday's riots were enough to make a few Republicans change their tunes (and their votes) when they reconvened in the evening to complete the ceremonial certification of the election results. But too many of these members of Congress persisted in their theater of useless objections, which could really serve only one of three possible purposes:

1) They truly believed the election had been stolen from Trump. In which case, they are so divorced from facts and reality that they are hopelessly lost. You will never be able to pierce their media bubble and "reach across the aisle" to these people.

2) They have aspirations for higher political office in the future, and have calculated that this is the move they need to make for that to happen. In which case, they are appealing to the very mob that did this, and are thus explicitly working to ensure something like it will happen again.

3) They're playing for the approval of Donald Trump. In which case, they're seeking adoration from the unreciprocating narcissist who incited the mob to violence.

None of these three motives is acceptable. The flames these people are stoking must be completely starved of oxygen, or they will burn everything down. And yet, these people are very much "who we are" right now in America.

If we do not acknowledge that reality, it is who we will continue to be.

A Book of Momentous Import

When reading books, I like to change things up. Recently, I swung over into non-fiction to check out a biography by author Jonathan Alter, The Defining Moment: FDR's Hundred Days and the Triumph of Hope. It's there in the subtitle -- it's an account of Franklin Delano Roosevelt's presidency, centered on his famous "first 100 days."

In actuality, the chronicle of the first 100 days makes up the last third-to-half of the book. The lead-up to that is a background on both Roosevelt himself and on the state of the country at the time of his election. On virtually every page, images are conjured that make for sobering comparisons to today -- sometimes over how far things have come, but just as often how cyclical the wheel of history really is.

Most of the differences surround FDR's polio, which left him confined to a wheelchair and able to "walk" only as a carefully choreographed bit of assisted theatricality. Alter's book explains that contrary to what most people today think, FDR's condition was widely known when he was elected. But he worked hard to project strength in a way that made the people see past it. The press actually assisted in covering for him, collectively agreeing not to photograph him in moments that compromised the illusion and highlighted the truth. It's both an impossible-to-conceive contrast to today (where you know any moment of perceived weakness by a president would be trumpeted far and wide) and somehow familiar (in that the current president broadcasts his own mental and moral deficiencies far and wide every day, and it never undermines him with his supporters).

Alter does an excellent job on conveying the scope of the Great Depression, making the reader understand just how massive it was in a way I at least hadn't fully appreciated. Fully one-quarter of the U.S. population was unemployed, with some cities spiking near twice that rate. Many who were counted as technically employed were in part-time positions that could not pay the bills, or were working unproductive farms in danger of repossession by banks. Failing banks. Banks were going under at such a rate (and wiping out people's life savings as they fell) that 3/4 of the states had closed all banks entirely by the time Roosevelt took his oath of office. This book was a sobering illustration that for all the horrors of our time, there are other kinds of hardships that we today have never known.

In focusing on the initiatives of Roosevelt's first 100 days in office, you might expect the book to be a lionizing love fest for the 32nd president of the United States. On the contrary, Alter makes clear what a callous and political operator he could be. The book spends time on the period between FDR's election and inauguration (which at the time took place in March, not January, leaving a three-month gap after the election). The book explains how President Herbert Hoover tried many times to reach out to FDR for his support in enacting relief for the Depression, and being rebuffed. Hoover didn't want to be seen acting unilaterally in his "lame duck" period, and FDR didn't want to do anything that might actually work and be forced to share credit with Hoover. You could draw parallels to modern politics in several ways -- the pre-election posturing surrounding the 2008 financial crisis, the current president's propensity for self-aggrandizement, take your pick.

But even though Alter takes a "warts and all" approach to FDR, he still manages to deliver what feels like an incomplete book. That's the price of focusing on just the famous First 100 Days. It may be one of the most interesting periods of Roosevelt's presidency, but it amounts to less than 3% of his record time in office. The book's epilogue spends a little time on Social Security, a few paragraphs mention monumental pieces of history like the rise of Hitler and the attempt to pack the Supreme Court. World War II is barely mentioned. And even though the scope of this book means these are deliberate omissions (presumably to distinguish it from the many other biographies of Roosevelt), they feel wrong.

The Defining Moment is a good and informative read, but it comes off like a beautiful table with one of the legs removed. This book covers what may be the defining period of FDR's presidency, but it doesn't feel like the defining biography of the man. I give it a B-.

"Health Care"

Ordinarily, I try to steer clear of politics here on the blog. But the "Health Care" bill being voted on in the U.S. Senate this week is a travesty. It will cost tens of millions of Americans their access to care, thanks to increased rates and changes allowing insurers to deny (or charge premiums to) people with preexisting conditions.

This really shouldn't be politically controversial. If you're pro-cancer patient death, I don't care if I'm offending you with this post.

For the rest of you, don't take for granted the talk in the news that this bill is "dead on arrival," that enough senators have already pledged to vote against it. With lives literally on the line, it simply shouldn't be left to chance. Especially not if you live in a state like Colorado where it seems possible to pressure a senator into doing the right thing. (It seems for too many that their conscience -- or the empty hole where a conscience should be -- isn't getting the job done.)

Call your senator!

"How do I do that?" you may ask. Here's one guide. There are many others. It only takes a few minutes. For even a slim chance it might make a difference, it's worth that time.

Tomorrow, back to your regularly scheduled pop culture stuff.

Weiner: Dog

I'd heard great things about last year's documentary Weiner, a chronicle of disgraced Congressman Anthony Weiner's attempt to get back into politics by running for New York mayor... only to implode spectacularly in a second sex scandal. It wasn't released widely in theaters, and then by the time it was accessible to watch at home, it didn't exactly seem like fun entertainment. (To the degree that Weiner's sex scandal spilled over in the final weeks of Hillary Clinton's 2016 presidential campaign and drove one more nail into the coffin.) Still, I finally did make time for the movie recently... and basically wished I hadn't.

Weiner is a curious documentary in that it's certainly not the one the filmmakers set out to make. They were surely expecting to tell the tale of a soaring political renaissance. There's a point in the New York mayoral campaign where Weiner is on top of the polls and seems to have all the momentum. It's all coming together. Here's a man with great ambition, and the means to connect with people authentically!

But, as we all know before watching this film, that's not what this is. This is actually the story of a man with a spectacularly combustible personality -- a lack of impulse control and a profound need to fight. When that lack of control is seen to be tearing down political norms, and the need to fight is perceived as being in defense of the little guy, the public couldn't get enough of him. When that lack of control has him repeatedly embroiled in sex scandals and cheating on his wife, and when his need to fight is directed against anyone and everyone in a desperate bid for attention, the public couldn't get rid of him fast enough.

The movie is an all-access pass to Weiner. The problem is, he's not all that complex. And his personality type has become exhausting in a very short space of time. This man is just another raging id in politics. He's all about self-satisfaction, to the point of self-delusion. Near the end of the film, there's a segment where he's completely lost his cool on a TV interview, and he thinks he's come off looking good.

Now go back and read those last two paragraphs with Donald Trump in mind instead of Anthony Weiner. You see my issues with watching this movie. The only differences are the core political beliefs, and that we haven't reached the "public couldn't get rid of him fast enough" point for Trump. It's well past time we stopped pretending that this type of psyche is hard to understand. It's well past time we feed oxygen to the fire.

Weiner (the movie) may be there in the trenches to show us the warts and all of a political campaign. But there's really nothing revolutionary or even novel about Weiner (the man). I think I would have found the movie boring in any case; now, as a sad wing of the "Non-Presidential Library" for Hillary Clinton, it's even less appealing. I give thWe documentary a D+.

McLemore and Brian Drew Us

If you got hooked on season one of the podcast Serial (and wherever you land on whether the second was good or a disappointment), you'll probably want to consider the latest "multi-part story podcast" released by them and This American Life: S-Town. Though the podcast was released under that title, host Brian Reed gives the real title in each episode's introduction: Shittown. That's a reference to Shittown, Alabama -- a town rechristened such by the podcast's central figure, John B. McLemore.

The seven-episode podcast does something of a bait and switch. Episode 1 seeks to draw you in under false pretenses. McLemore contacts Reed imploring him to come to Alabama and investigate a murder he says the local police department has covered up. A story of intrigue and corruption, of murder and injustice, is what's promised as that first episode unfolds. That's not what S-Town turns out to be; not in the "true crime" sense, at least.

S-Town is, depending on how you look at it, an examination of life in a rural Southern town, or a deep dive into one enormously tortured psyche. People who have praised the podcast tend to see it more as the latter, but criticism can be leveled at it on both fronts. S-Town has now been available for about a month, so we're now well into the "backlash think pieces" period of its popularity. Many of those essentially slag S-Town as a vehicle for urban liberals to feel as though they've learned something about small towns. I don't know how much I buy into that interpretation, but my enthusiasm for the podcast is a bit muted all the same.

It is fairly entertaining overall, but my criticism of S-Town would be that it's ultimately not nearly as complex as it purports to be. First, there's that bait and switch in which it pretends to be a true crime podcast for two episodes. Then, as it peels the onion on John B. McLemore for the rest of the run, it draws out the process more than seems truly necessary -- because, in the end, he doesn't come across as all that complex a figure. By the final episode, McLemore's despair and disillusionment with his life in "Shittown" is revealed to have very specific reasons and causes. And at the risk of being reductive, seven hours weren't needed to get to the bottom of them.

S-Town does mostly work, though, as Brian Reed is able to draw the story out mostly in ways that don't feel like he's drawing it out (until you look back retroactively). There are a lot of other colorful characters in McLemore's orbit, and a lot of time is spent on them as well. There is a bit of the back-and-forth "he's the 'villain' here; no, she's the 'villain' here" that was the bread and butter of Serial. Still, I can't help but feel that another podcast -- like, say, Criminal -- would have found a way to tell this story much more succinctly and leave me just as satisfied. Maybe more so.

I'd grade S-Town a B-. Fans of Serial may want to check it out in any case. Otherwise, I'd probably recommend it only to those looking for a limited (not open-ended) podcast to binge on for a bit.

Anger-tainment

Ordinarily, I'd be opening up a new year with a list of my favorite movies from the year before. This time around, though, I only just watched one of the movies that made my list on December 30th. So first, I need to play catch up and share a few thoughts on that.

13th is a documentary from Ava DuVernay, the director of the Oscar-nominated Selma. It presents a case that the early American culture surrounding slavery continues to this day, transformed into modern practices of mass incarceration. The 13th Amendment, which abolished slavery in the United States, makes an exception for punishment of a crime. The documentary argues -- quite convincingly -- that this loophole informs a systemically racist depiction of African Americans as criminals.

13th adheres to well-established documentary conventions: talking head interviews, archival news footage, on-screen graphics. But it works to the movie's advantage that its form is familiar, as this leaves nothing between the audience and the case being made.

The documentary carefully illustrates how the policies of Nixon, Reagan, Bush Sr, and Clinton most magnified and/or exploited the problem of mass incarceration. Unfortunately, it also paints a bleak picture of what lies ahead with more current footage -- a grim parade of excessive police force. And a montage that juxtaposes a Donald Trump speech with images of Jim Crow era abuse is downright chilling.

There's really just one short section in the middle of the film that I found even slightly less than compelling. It's a sequence that vilifies ALEC, the American Legislative Exchange Council. While this material is as supported by the same "show your work" ethos as the rest of the film, it feels like something of a side trip -- after an initial focus on the for-profit prison system, it becomes more of an argument against the lobbying powers of unchecked capitalism. (Another valid argument, but lacking the tight focus of the rest of the film.)

The film feels particularly dispiriting to watch here in Colorado, given an issue that was on the ballot in the 2016 election. Colorado had an proposal to strike from the state constitution identical language to the U.S. Constitution's 13th amendment: an exception allowing slavery as punishment for a crime. Though hardly even a modest remedy for institutional racism, such an amendment at least felt like an acknowledgement of the problem. Colorado voters failed to pass it.

In short, 13th is not an easy watch. Nor does it offer much in the way of a call to action that would help one feel productive after being rightly enraged. But that makes it no less vital or convincing. I'd rate the documentary an A-, and I strongly recommend watching it. With Netflix having picked it up as one of their original films, all that many of my readers would need to do is make the time.

The Signs

Today was going to be the day where I started in on Orlando vacation stories. I was going to simply ignore the election results (demure and magnanimous, I'd imagined), and just carry on with business as usual.

Nope. I can't do that.

But I guess I really did enjoy that vacation, because I was caught up enough in having fun that I didn't really see the signs that probably pointed to the outcome of the election. Literally, the signs.

Trump/Pence campaign signs were everywhere in Orlando. Really, there were political signs of all kinds, all over the place -- congress, sheriff, and so, so much more. I thought I was prepared for that. Yes, Florida's a battleground state, but so is Colorado. (And Colorado always has a dozen initiatives on the ballot every presidential election too. Though it seems that's now going to change.) But the thing is, Florida is worth more than three times as many electoral votes as Colorado. So it really shouldn't have been a surprise to me that it had probably three times as many political signs.

Most populated cities in the country (and most tourist destinations) tend to vote Democrat. So I was surprised to see Trump everywhere. A Trump/Pence sign on virtually every street corner. A loud mouth in a "Make America Great Again" hat shouting out that slogan during the show at Medieval Times. I figured something like, "oh, I guess Orlando is like a Colorado Springs or something -- one of those cities that bucks the trend."

Even in the most partisan enclaves, there are contrarians. Denver is staunchly blue (and Colorado last night voted for Hillary Clinton), but still, every day, on every drive to work, I'd see Trump bumper stickers. But in Orlando, I saw not one single pro-Clinton shirt, sign, or sticker in the course of an entire week. (The people I was traveling with told me they spotted a lonely few signs tucked way back up in the windows of an apartment complex we drove past almost every day, but I myself never spotted them.)

Perhaps I should have read the signs. Perhaps all those signs should have been a tip at how profoundly animated Trump voters were. Perhaps that total lack of any visible Clinton support pointed to what was about to happen.


Not that 10 days more warning would have really prepared me to deal with how I'm feeling right now. But I guess the signs were there.

A Matter of Supreme Importance

I rarely get into politics here on the blog. But it seems like every time a U.S. presidential election comes around, my resolve finally erodes at some point and I allow myself one political post. Well, this is it. And here's the twist: I'm not here to advocate for my preferred candidate. Instead, I'm asking you to consider a particular factor in your voting.

Polls show that most Americans are unaware of what goes on at the Supreme Court. Most can't name even one of the Justices. The composition of the Court barely rates as a factor in voting. This boggles my mind.

The judiciary, of course, is supposed to be fair and impartial. But it's ridiculous to pretend the Supreme Court can be. The cases that make it all the way up through the legal process to the Supreme Court, by definition, can't be decided by clear, existing law. Cases land at the Supreme Court because this law says one thing and that law says another. They land there because a judge in Texas said one thing and a judge in California said the opposite. They land there because the actions of a Congress or a President have trampled over the rights of a minority, and the Supreme Court is the only place that can hold them accountable. A Supreme Court case is almost always going to require a values judgment, so it's important to think about the values of the Court's justices.

This election's impact on the Supreme Court is not hypothetical. There is a vacant seat. It matters who fills it, because about one out of every five cases the Court hears is decided by a 5-4 vote. In most of those cases, the current eight justices split along predictable ideological lines: Breyer, Ginsburg, Sotomayor, and Kagan routinely support liberal arguments, while Roberts, Alito, Thomas, and Kennedy routinely support conservative arguments. The person who takes that ninth seat is going to break ties in the most politically charged cases of all. That person will be either a conservative-leaning choice (nominated by Donald Trump) or a liberal-leaning choice (nominated by Hillary Clinton; or Obama's very-slightly-left-of-center selection of Merrick Garland).

Say what you will about voting third party on other issues... for deeply felt principle, as a simple show of frustration, or as a stand for the future. But on this issue, right now, in this election, a third party vote is a vote that completely ignores the Supreme Court. Neither Gary Johnson nor Jill Stein (nor anyone else) will be nominating the next Supreme Court justice. The election of either Clinton or Trump will decide the next direction of the Supreme Court. If you're not voting for one of them, then the Supreme Court isn't a priority for you. Of course, that's your prerogative. But consider this:

When the Supreme Court makes a decision, it's built to last. When it upheld segregation as legal, it took 58 years to reverse the decision. You're almost certainly aware of your Miranda rights, for which you can thank a 50-year-old Supreme Court decision that to this day regulates many ways in which the police can question a suspect. The right to abortion exists -- somewhat abridged, but still largely there after decades of legal challenges -- because of what 7 men decided in 1973. This is the power that a Supreme Court justice wields. And in my lifetime, the average length of time they wield it has risen to 26 years, more than 3 times as long as the term limit on the president who appointed them. The possibility of change at the Supreme Court comes around infrequently, only in the event of retirement or (as in this moment) death.

Now consider some of the major cases from recent years, cases that were decided by just a one justice margin. Imagine the alternative outcomes with just a single changed vote.

• Citizens United v. FEC: A conservative decision lifted restrictions on political spending by corporations, stating that such limitations violated free speech rights. The liberal dissent argued that corporations should not have the same free speech rights as individuals.

• Shelby County v. Holder: A conservative decision eliminated federal supervision of voting laws, declaring it a 40-year-old policy no longer appropriate in the present day. The liberal dissent argued that federal oversight should have continued in states with a history of racially biased policies.

• Obergefell v. Hodges: A conservative dissent would have left it up to public vote to determine whether same-sex marriage would be allowed. The liberal decision declared that the Constitution's guarantee of equal rights included the rights of gays and lesbians to marry.

• DC v. Heller and McDonald v. Chicago: Two conservative rulings declared that bans on classifications of firearms are forbidden by the Second Amendment. The liberal dissents argued that the right to bear arms had previously been defined in the context of militia activity, and that certain limitations on individual gun ownership aren't inherently forbidden by the Constitution.

• National Federation of Independent Business v. Sebelius: A conservative dissent would have voided the Affordable Care Act ("Obamacare"), arguing that the government can't force you to purchase something you don't want (in this case, health insurance). The liberal ruling construed the penalty for not having health insurance as a tax, not a forced purchase.

• Burwell v. Hobby Lobby: A conservative ruling allowed the First Amendment's guarantee of religious freedom to be invoked by a corporation, letting it opt out of laws by voicing a religious objection. The liberal dissent argued that this curtailed the religious freedoms of the individual, whose own religious wishes should not be subservient to those of an employer.

This is just a small taste of the highly charged 5-4 cases of recent years. And that's not even getting into the 5-4 issues likely to reach the court in the years to come: the extent to which freedom of religion can exempt people from laws, further conflicts involving election integrity vs. voter suppression, LGBT rights against discrimination, and more.

You may not always side with the conservative view or the liberal view in all these examples. But almost certainly, one or more of these issues is particularly important to you, and you have a very strong opinion on how the Supreme Court should rule. You should seriously consider voting with that in mind.

Take a moment to consider how some of these issues might tip at a Supreme Court with a new conservative Trump justice, or a new liberal Clinton justice. Consider how many more decisions such a justice might make over a decades-long career. Think about how those decisions might still control American lives 40, 50, 60 years from now. Your choice for president (and for the senator who will vote to confirm a Supreme Court nomination) is the only chance you'll get to influence this in any way.

Be sure you're happy with how you use (or choose not to use) that chance.

Next Up

Michael Moore's latest documentary, Where to Invade Next, is eye-opening and challenging. Unfortunately, Moore has become such a politically polarizing figure that the film is unlikely to get the attention it deserves. This documentary examines a variety of government programs in several foreign countries (mostly in Europe), looking at how tax money is allocated and what that money gets for citizens. It provokes some meaningful introspection, and could spur equally meaningful conversation.... if Moore weren't in some ways his own worst enemy.

Moore's framing device (as indicated by the title) is that he is going to "invade" each of these countries, taking back to America some single great idea. And while America's military industrial complex is another topic worthy of introspection and conversation, it's somewhat ancillary to the points being made here. "How would you pay for these programs?" is an important question, but I'm pretty sure it alienates a lot of the potential audience right out of the gate by, in the opening scene, positioning the military in one corner and everything the film is going to present in the other.

I mean, I'm generally a fan of Michael Moore, and certainly a fan of the ideas presented in this film -- but even I was put off at times by his grandstanding gimmicks this time around. At the end of each segment of the documentary, each examination of one country, he melodramatically plants a flag in the office/room/factory of one of the people he's been interviewing, claiming their ideas for America. At the start of the next segment, he's striding through the airport in the next country literally draped in the America flag. Ugh.

It's a shame, because setting aside the tricks, each segment of the film is fascinating. Things start off in rather uncontroversial territory, looking at mandated vacation policies in Italy, and school lunch programs in France. After slowly winning you over with these simple notions ("Couldn't we all use a nice vacation?" and "Grade school is already paid for by taxes; shouldn't kids get to eat -- and not crap -- while they're there?"), the movie wades in deeper. We go to Slovenia, one of many countries where education at the college level is free (and some students from America are taking advantage). We travel to Germany, where education includes hard looks at painful history never to be repeated.

Now the audience is ready to consider some ideas that might be way outside its comfort zone: Portugal's complete decriminalization of drugs, and Norway's rehabilitative (and comparatively luxurious) prison system. Or ideas that shouldn't be outside the comfort zone, but somehow are: the measures taken in countries like Tunisia and Iceland to ensure gender equality.

Overall, the film is a great look at "other ways things can be done." For some, it will be a validation of ideas for change, proof that they have actually worked elsewhere in the world. For others, it will be an actual look at the "free stuff" that political opponents seem to want. It feels like a good documentary for any audience, if you can sometimes look past the messenger. I give Where to Invade Next a B+.

Oh Myyyyyy!

Last week, I published my review of the new Star Trek Beyond. In it, I mentioned the new film's treatment of Sulu, and promised to come back to the subject in a future post. Many of you will have seen the movie by now, but I'll still warn everyone that even though I'm talking about only a specific aspect of the movie, you might get spoiled (by me, or by a potential commenter). Proceed accordingly.

So... as was widely reported in the run-up to the film, Star Trek Beyond reveals that Sulu is gay -- married to a man and raising a daughter (the latter fact already established in Generations, in the original, non-Kelvin timeline). Gay Sulu made waves because, as progressive as Star Trek is, as focused on integration and positive role-modeling, there has never in the franchise's 50 years been an LGBT main character in any of its incarnations. While this was understandable in 1966 (the original series' premiere), frustrating in 1987 (The Next Generation's premiere), and galling in 2001 (Enterprise's premiere), it's inexcusable in 2016.

Many of the people involved with Star Trek Beyond gave interviews in which this development was discussed -- most notably John Cho (Sulu), Simon Pegg (Scotty, and co-writer of the script), Zachary Quinto (Spock, and openly gay), and J.J. Abrams (producer, and all-around "shepherd" of the re-boot movies). The main takeaways from these interviews were that "it was about time" (and they're absolutely right about that), and that they're all proud of the nonchalant way in which their film handles this development: Sulu's gay; it's no big deal.

On that second point, I must disagree. I understand and even agree with the sentiment, that it shouldn't be a big deal that Sulu is gay. But I don't think the movie is nonchalant about this fact; I think it's cowardly. The relationship is depicted in a "blink and you'll miss it" way. Sulu has a photo of his daughter at his station, but not of his husband. When his family is reunited in the film for what we're told is the first time in nearly three years, we see him kiss his daughter, but not his husband (played by the movie's other co-writer, Doug Jung).

According to John Cho, a kiss was filmed. It didn't make the final cut of the movie. Obviously, the film was not running two to three seconds long, necessitating this cut. No, this happened because these movies are no longer just Star Trek films, they're summer action tentpoles meant for international audiences. Paramount can't risk being shut out of the market in Russia, China, or other countries that drive foreign box office (and an increasingly large percentage of any big movie's overall take). Yet rather than making two cuts of the movie for different markets, Star Trek Beyond "takes a stand" in the least challenging way possible: leaving bigots to just assume the man with Sulu could be his brother, or whoever. I can only hope that when Star Trek: Discovery starts up next year, it's more direct. Yes, Sulu and his husband do put their arms around each other -- and that itself is risky public behavior for a modern gay couple in many contexts. But would the movie really have omitted the kiss if Sulu's spouse had been a woman?

There's another significant aspect of the gay Sulu reveal: George Takei's reaction to it. The original Sulu actor (and openly gay man, and master of the internet) was asked what he thought of the development. While there was nuance to his opinion (which he later had to clarify), it boiled down to this: he was thrilled to have a gay character on Star Trek, but would have preferred that it be a new character rather than Sulu. The response from Beyond's creative forces: we talked about that possibility, but we felt it would be a token representation to make a new minor character who would essentially be defined by their sexual orientation and nothing else. Setting aside the fact that there were multiple new characters in this film with other roles in the plot that could have been gay or lesbian and defined by more than their orientation, I here again understand and even agree with the sentiment. But it feels to me like a token representation is exactly what they ended up with, because they weren't willing to do anything more than the barest, token acknowledgement that Sulu is gay.

Then there are the likely unintended implications of having Sulu be gay. Among George Takei's reservations on the reveal was the fact the character -- as he knew and played him, as he says Gene Roddenberry conceived him -- is straight. At the moment, I can't recall any original series episodes that gave Sulu a love interest, but we did see him get flirtatious with Uhura on a few occasions. ("The Naked Time," "Mirror, Mirror.") From what we've seen on screen (large and small), it's certainly possible that Sulu is bisexual, but that's not what the current powers-that-be were trumpeting; they were proud of gay Sulu.

So what does it say that Sulu is straight in one timeline and gay in another? In my view, unfortunately, nothing good. It can certainly be read as subtle endorsement of the myth that "sexuality is a choice"; Sulu is gay only in the altered "Kelvin timeline," so he must have chosen that. Or you could say that "original Sulu" was closeted, and that it took some big, scary events like the destruction of Vulcan to make him realize that life's short and decide to come out. But that assumption fixes one problem by introducing another; do we really want to say that being closeted is even a thing in the bright and hopeful future of Star Trek?

I do feel that everyone involved was trying to do a good thing here. But I also feel like they didn't really look at it from all the angles -- a feeling that's underscored for me when you consider that the movie then takes its newly minted gay man and makes him a "damsel in distress" for half the run time. (As I alluded to in my original review, Uhura and Sulu -- the minorities of this cast in race, gender, and now sexuality -- spend the bulk of the story as prisoners.)

To be clear, Star Trek Beyond was never going to be the "Sulu movie," and I wasn't asking for that. But I do think they needed to do better with "Star Trek's first gay main character" if they were going to be bragging about it in the media.

Even if Star Trek Beyond had unassailably nailed the nonchalant approach to a gay character that it was attempting here, there would still be light years to go. One day, I want to go see a big, crowd-pleasing blockbuster full of explosions and action in which a shoehorned-in subplot sees the main guy getting the guy in the end. I want that to not be a big deal. You know, just like any other tacked-on heterosexual romantic subplot in any other big, crowd-pleasing blockbuster.

Is that 10 years off, maybe? 25? Someday, I hope.

More Caucus Than You Can Handle

Since moving back to Colorado a decade ago, I've been registered as a Democrat. But I've never before decided to take part in the party caucus leading up to the presidential election. It wasn't that I felt extreme passion this year for a particular candidate. (Whoever the party candidate ends up being has my vote in November.) Rather, I was more interested in just seeing the process, to be able to say I'd done it.

I've heard that efforts are underway to convert Colorado to open primary voting for future elections. After tonight, all I can say is: sweet merciful crap, let that be true. Caucuses are a horror show. I feel like only the continued existence of the anachronistic and convoluted electoral college system keeps caucuses from being the most quaint and idiotic thing about U.S.elections.

Our caucus began with an unenthusiastic man reading the two and a half pages of rules (as required by law) in a stupefying drone. Before we even got to "the good stuff," half the room seemed ready to bolt for the door. Here were the people theoretically most invested in the political process, most of them suddenly questioning that decision.

There were five precincts meeting at our location, all in one big room. My precinct had obviously the lowest turnout. There was plenty of time to look around the room as our appointed "caucus chair" wrangled math and instructions she didn't really seem to understand, and I feel like none of the precincts I watched seemed like an ideal model of democracy in action.

We had my group, all essentially people with minds made up and no particular interest in trying to change anyone else's. We conducted our vote quietly, simply. Nobody seemed to want to say anything at all really. Lack of enthusiasm for the options? Certainty of entrenchment? Looking at the obvious demographics of old and young and seeing almost without fail how that translated into Bernie or Hillary voters?

Not that unbridled passion seemed a good way to go either. Multiple other precincts had moments where they cut through the dull wallah of the room with full throated shouting matches, angry questioning of people's ability to count, ear-piercing whistles for attention, and more. No one was going to catch flies with any of that vinegar.

What the hell is any of this supposed to be for? It seems cut from the same lame-brained cloth as the electoral college scheme. Perhaps I'd care about caucusing in a world where I'd ridden my horse a few miles in and this would be my only chance to hear arguments about certain candidates before sending a stranger off to some faraway city (twenty whole miles distant!) to cast a vote for a president whose words I'd never actually hear from his own mouth. (His, in ye olde days I'm talking about, of course.)

In a world where anything I want to know (true or false) about any candidate is just a Google search away, a world where my exposure to the election will last over a year and not just a few days, a world where I don't need some proxy for a candidate to tell me what that candidate stands for, caucuses seem like a complete farce. And what's a word for worse than a complete farce? Because that's what it is in Colorado, one of the few states that actually has mail-in voting for all other elections, yet which for some stupid reason still goes through this caucusing nonsense.

I suppose I am glad to have gone through the process, as I now know it's something I never want to do again. Despite having every intention of actually voting in the election in November, despite having voted in every general election (presidential, mid-term, or annual) in which I've ever been eligible. It goes to show you, make voting difficult and people won't want to do it. (Which is totally the real motivation behind the voting regulations being enacted in so many states.)

I still care very much about the outcome of elections in general, and this one in particular. But I did not need to know how this caucus sausage gets made.

Caucus sausage. Giggity.

My One Political Appeal Before Election Day

The presidential election in the United States is two weeks from today. The final debate was last night, and early voting has opened up many places already -- including here in Colorado. So I'm going to allow myself this one political post before Election Day, and then I promise nothing but two weeks of my usual pop culture commentary.

In this highly polarized political environment, the vast majority of you reading this have already decided who you're voting for. I'm not going to focus here on trying to change anyone who has made up their mind. Instead, I'm going to aim at the tiny sliver of people out there who are on the fence. Not so much the unicorn-like "undecided voter," but rather friends of mine who I've heard express their indifference to the entire election. "They're both terrible," I've heard more than one person tell me. "I may not even vote at all, because it makes no difference to me who wins."

If you truly believe that, then let me say to you: it makes a big difference to me.

It's been getting a lot better to be gay in America over the past decade. Indeed, if the polls can be believed, it appears that on election night, at least one state will become the first ever to approve marriage equality by a popular vote. But no matter what happens, the next five to ten years are going to be critical for gay rights.

By next summer, it's likely the Supreme Court will rule on the constitutionality of the Defense of Marriage Act. There's reason for optimism there, but it's likely to be decided by a thin 5-4 decision. And if that margin breaks the other way, then the gay and lesbian couples legally married in the U.S. will continue to have their marriages unrecognized by the federal government, until such time as our perpetually gridlocked Congress passes a repeal of DOMA.

The question of whether gays have a fundamental right to marry is likely to be decided by the Supreme Court as well. Most legal scholars seem to think they'll pass on the California Prop 8 case waiting on their docket at this very moment. But even if they pass on that case, there will be another. Maybe one of the two recently started in Nevada and Hawaii -- or maybe another after that. One way or another, this issue will be decided by the Supreme Court within the next presidential term.

Mitt Romney thinks that equal rights is an "assault" on marriage. He wants an amendment enshrining discrimination in our Constituition, saying that even people who do more to honor this country that I'll ever do will not have equal rights. And while Romney has tried to portray himself more as a centrist since winning the Republican party nomination, he has never deviated from full agreement with his party platform's bigoted stance on people like me.

Barack Obama, by sharp contrast, has given his full endorsement for marriage equality, saw to the repeal of "Don't Ask, Don't Tell," and has been pushing anti-discrimination protections for LGBT individuals even while legislators have been dragging their feet. His leadership on these issues has not only led the Democratic party to endorse marriage equality in its platform for the first time, but has spurred some progress on this issue in the world at large.

The President of the United States holds the power to appoint justices to the Supreme Court, and at least one will almost certainly by appointed before 2016. He also holds the power to veto legislation by Congress, increasing the threshold to pass a law to two-thirds of the representatives (which, in the current political climate, would be essentially impossible). In short, whoever is president come January 20, 2013 will have immense, direct control over my personal rights. It's reasonable to conclude that under a second Obama term, gay people will likely achieve equal rights in just a few years. It's equally reasonable to conclude that under a Romney presidency (even if it lasts only one term), that won't even happen in this decade.

I know that different voters have different priorities in making their decisions. I could go on about how I think Obama makes better sense not just on this issue, but on womens' rights, foreign policy, and even the economic policies that most pundits say will decide the election. But as I said, I'm not trying to change any settled minds here. I'm speaking to whatever percentage of you truly don't care, or really think it makes no difference.

If it's really all the same to you, then would you consider throwing some help my way? I hope I've expressed just how much it would mean to me.

Gay Rights in the U.S. -- Civil Unions

I thank you all for sticking with me through these mini-dissertations on gay rights over the last few weeks. I have just one more topic to cover before I'll release us all and return full time to trashing movies and such in my snarky reviews. That is the topic of civil unions.

There are several states that, while denying marriage to same-sex couples, have made available the option of a civil union. This arrangement is a halfway measure meant to appease those who object on religious grounds to permitting gays and lesbians to "marry," while granting the same rights and privileges as a marriage to such couples. I've been asked by more than one friend what I think about this kind of compromise.

The civil union suggestion comes from a noble place of trying to make two apparently intractable sides of an argument find common ground. Let everybody just have civil unions, you'll sometimes hear people argue, and leave marriages to the churches.

But I think that "separate but equal" by definition can't be equal. The very suggestion that there's something about marriage that should be reserved for any couple tacitly acknowledges that a civil union is not equivalent. Marriage and a spouse are concepts immediately understood by everyone in society. Civil unions are not universally understood, and the term "partner" is both imprecise and cumbersome ("oh, what kind of business are you two in together?") in a way that actually points out just how not-like-marriage it is every time somebody uses the word.

Most people reading this either are or have been married, or imagine one day they will get married. Do you remember when you "popped The Question" to your significant other, or when it was popped to you? Or, if you've never married, can you conjure an image of what you hope that moment will be like?

The Question in your memory or dream is certainly not: "will you civilly unite with me?"

Whether a person takes a religious or secular view on marriage, I think most people would agree the concept of marriage is one associated with love. By contrast, a civil union is a contract: a contract with a partner, and with the state. It's law, not love. And so the insinuation is that a same-sex couple can only have law, not love... or can only have a lesser love branded with a less socially recognized status. Many of the people who suggest the civil union compromise mean well, but the bottom line is that "everything but marriage" is exactly that -- everything but marriage, and therefore not the same thing.

Now, all that said, I recognize that society has had a long way to travel on the issue of gay rights, and is still traveling. For that reason, and that reason only, I think there is a place for civil unions. They're a fine intermediate step, a way of showing people on the fence that society will not in fact crumble if gay people are allowed to commit to each other in "near-marriage." And once they see that, it ought to lower subsequent resistance on the real thing quite a bit.

So the bottom line for me is, sure, let's have civil unions be a tool in the box to help in building equality. It may be particularly useful in states (like Colorado) that have voted to ban same-sex marriage in their constitutions, but that have not prohibited all legal recognition. Still, let's not treat civil unions as the end goal to be achieved.

And that concludes my look at the current state of LGBT rights in the U.S. I hope I've been able to share some information you didn't know before, and I hope even more that I didn't bore you silly doing it. (My intention was exactly the opposite.)

Thanks for reading.

Gay Rights in the U.S. -- The Supreme Court

My last two posts on gay rights have covered marriage bans (including California's Proposition 8), and the Defense of Marriage Act. Both issues, I noted, have cases currently pending at the U.S. Supreme Court, waiting until the court is back in session for word as to which cases (if any) will be heard.

Scotusblog is an excellent online resource for anyone who wants to follow the Supreme Court. An especially good article was published there in August illustrating just how hyper-partisan the Court has become, and pointing out just how important the appointment of even a single new judge could be to future rulings. If I still have your interest and haven't bored you to tears with all my legal talk in these recent posts, then I assume you would find this original article fascinating, and I'd encourage you to go read it.

But for my discussion here, the big takeaway from that article would be this. There are currently four "very conservative" justices on the Supreme Court: Scalia, Thomas, Roberts, and Alito. There are currently four "moderately liberal" justices: Ginsburg, Breyer, Sotomayor, and Kagan. That leaves one "moderately conservative judge" in what passes for the middle of the current court: Anthony Kennedy. In most of the 5-4 decisions since Sandra Day O'Connor retired, he has been the "swing vote."

When legal experts try to guess what would happen in a gay rights case brought before the Supreme Court, it's a given that Scalia, Thomas, and Alito will vote against. It's a given that Ginsburg, Breyer, Sotomayor, and Kagan will vote in favor. Chief Justice Roberts made a bit of a wild card of himself when he recently voted to uphold the Affordable Care Act, but is nevertheless a very likely vote against with his three very conservative peers.

So ultimately, when you ask questions like "do gays have a fundamental right to marry in the U.S.?" or "is the Defense of Marriage Act unconstitutional?", it may be that only one person's opinion actually matters: Anthony Kennedy. Historically, Kennedy's conservatism has tended toward libertarian. More importantly to the matter at hand, he has voted twice in favor of gay rights in two major prior cases.

First was a case decided in 1996, known as Romer v. Evans. It was born right here in my home state of Colorado, when Focus on the Family and other organizations persuaded voters to approve a measure making it illegal to pass state laws protecting gays from discrimination. When this went before the Supreme Court, the law was struck down as unconstitutional, because it served no demonstratable purpose other than to legislate animus. Justice Kennedy wrote the majority opinion paper for the 6-3 ruling. (Ginsburg and Breyer, on the court then as now, were with the 6; Scalia and Thomas, on the court then as now, were with the 3.)

Then came Lawrence v. Texas. This case from Texas originated when police, responding to a phony call, discovered two men engaging in consensual sex. Texas was among the states to still have an anti-sodomy law on its books, and so the men were prosecuted criminally for their private, consensual behavior. This went to the Supreme Court in 2003. Yes, 2003. As in: less than a decade ago, it was still illegal in many states to engage in certain kinds of consensual sex in the privacy of your own home. But another 6-3 ruling was delivered here, striking down all sodomy laws in the U.S. as unconstitutional. The majority opinion was again written by Justice Kennedy. (And again, Ginsburg and Breyer supported, while Scalia and Thomas dissented.)

So looking at these two cases, it is reasonable to think that Kennedy could side in support of gay rights. But the question is, where is the line that he would not be willing to cross?

Most legal experts seem to think it's a sure thing that Kennedy would vote to strike down DOMA as unconstitutional. Not only are the intrusions on people's rights and the anti-gay animus similar to the two gay rights cases he's already sided in favor of, but there's a "federalism" issue in play too, with the federal law impeding the rights of the states to enact marriage as they see fit. If the experts are right, then by June of 2013, true and complete marriage equality will be brought to the six states that have passed it locally, along with any states that enact it in the coming election.

But those same experts are not as bold in their predictions in the lawsuit regarding California's Prop 8. Where the DOMA cases are about extending full marriage equality to the states that already have chosen to have it, the Prop 8 case was challenged on the grounds that it's unconstitutional to deny gay people the right to marry, period (the conclusion that was reached by the first judge to hear the case).

The trouble is, the judicial branch in general tries to be measured in the use of its power. And ever since the Supreme Court decided the landmark case of Roe v Wade, it has been in general particularly cautious. Some have opined that a part of the reason that abortion has remained such a hot button issue for these nearly 40 years is that the court pushed a ruling too far in advance of society's general level of acceptance of the issue. They offer as contrast the (too perfectly named) case of Loving v Virginia, which in 1967 unanimously struck down laws prohibiting interracial marriage. At the time of that ruling, such laws -- which had once been in every single state -- had already been repealed in over two-thirds of them. The Supreme Court ruling was largely affirming public opinion, sweeping away the last vestiges of anti-miscegenation in the few states still clinging to it.

If there's any truth to any of that analysis, then regardless of the right or wrong of the Prop 8 case, same-sex marriage hasn't reached that point. The polls have just now in 2012 reached the point where a majority of Americans support it. 31 states have banned it in their constitutions, while none have stood against attempts to ban it. No state has voted to enact it. (Though, as I've written, this could happen this November; the stakes thus may be even higher.)

Anthony Kennedy is one of the older justices on the Supreme Court. Some imagine that he might be looking to make his mark one last time before retiring, by delivering gays their own Loving v Virginia ruling. But the more reasonable speculation is that he is too conservative a man to strike down state constitutional bans in more than half the country and throw open the floodgates on same-sex marriage.

Which puts the Prop 8 trial in an interesting place. When the Ninth Circuit Court of Appeals reviewed the ruling that declared gays have a fundamental right to marriage, they seemed to be aware of this likely caution by the Supreme Court, and fashioned a much narrower ruling. Setting aside that original, bold declaration, their ruling simply stated that it was unconstitutional for the right to marriage, having already been granted to gay Californians, to be taken away again without legitimate reason. In short, they refashioned the ruling to apply to the particular case of California only.

And now the prevailing wisdom among experts is that the Supreme Court may simply refuse this fall to hear the Prop 8 case at all. If they do, same-sex marriage will immediately be re-legalized in California. That's a solid victory that will immediately double the portion of the U.S. population that lives in a state that recognizes marriage equality. But the fight will have to go on in the other 40-or-so states.

Frankly, it's hard to know what to hope for in the Prop 8 case. The stakes are high if the Supreme Court does decide to hear it. They could simply affirm the "California only" ruling. Or we could get the grand prize, a recognition of a fundamental right to marry that would instantly affect the whole county. Or we could get the nightmare outcome, where the Supreme Court holds that bans on same-sex marriage are lawful, establishing a legal precedent that could bind progress for a generation.

But then again, is it best to wait? Aside from the obvious injustice of continuing to allow discrimination against American citizens, there's the possibility that the makeup of the Supreme Court could become even less friendly to the cause the next time a case finds its way there. And this goes back to that Scotusblog article I mentioned at the beginning of this post. This whole mental exercise has revolved around what one man, Anthony Kennedy, will do. What if he retires? (At age 76, I'd have done it a long time ago!) What if he dies? (None of my grandparents lived to be the age he's already reached.) Put in his place a Supreme Court justice appointed by either Barack Obama or Mitt Romney, and you get two very different pictures of gay rights in the United States for the foreseeable future.

In any case, the next year is going to be a real nail biter for those who support marriage equality. What will the voters do in November? What cases will the Supreme Court elect to hear in September or October? How will the actual hearing go?

And next summer, what will the rulings be?

Gay Rights in the U.S. -- D.O.M.A.

I've now written about states where same-sex marriage has been legalized and states where it has been banned. But I haven't written about the biggest marriage ban of all, the reason why even in the states where it's legal, it doesn't quite count: the Defense of Marriage Act.

In 1996, the United States Congress passed a bill called the Defense of Marriage Act. It passed by a wide margin, with very little debate and no real fact finding effort to determine its implications. The law had two main components:

First, DOMA dictated that no state would be required to recognize a same-sex marriage performed in another state. No state at the time had as yet legalized same-sex marriage; but the possibility at the time that Hawaii was soon going to do so (it didn't) prompted this provision to ensure that couples wouldn't flock to marry in Hawaii and then bring their legal marriages back to their home states. In actuality, this provision was unnecessary and served only to highlight the animus behind the entire concept of the bill. The legal truth is that no state is required to recognize any marriage performed by another state. (So if you're married and currently reside in a state other than the one you married in, be grateful that states have historically turned a blind eye to this issue.)

The other provision of DOMA was the truly insidious one. It stated that for any and all purposes at the Federal level, a marriage was to be defined exclusively as an institution for a man and a woman. This marked the first time in the entire history of the United States that the government passed a law enacting a Federal definition of marriage. Even in the heyday of laws against interracial marriages, no such law existed at the Federal level.

The consequences of this law would come into play eight years later, when Massachusetts became the first state to legalize same-sex marriages. Put simply, any same-sex couple married in Massachusetts is not married in the eyes of the United States. This brings about a truly tangled web of dual realities.

When the couple files their taxes, they must file as "married" with the state, and must each file "single" to the U.S.

If one spouse dies, the surviving spouse does have control over funeral arrangements, and is able to retain custody of any children the couple had without any legal battle. But the spouse must pay inheritance taxes on anything willed to survivor, taxes an opposite-sex couple would not have to pay. The survivor cannot file to collect Social Security benefits.

"Don't Ask, Don't Tell" has been repealed and gays can serve openly in the military. But if such a soldier is killed in action, the spouse can collect no benefits.

If a gay person marries a spouse from another country, that spouse doesn't receive U.S. citizenship, and can be deported by the government.

The list goes on and on. And on. In fact, a study determined that there are 1,138 federal laws that reference marriage, and none of these laws can be applied to a married same-sex couple. Furthermore, several state laws actually derive from federal law, creating the situation that even in a state that recognizes same-sex marriage, even when dealing with a state level law, the federal law of DOMA may restrict the state from applying its own law.

There are two possible ways for DOMA to be reversed. One would be if Congress passed another law to repeal it. Such a law has been proposed, called the Respect for Marriage Act (ROMA). But the law has only 33 pledged co-sponsors in the Senate right now, well short of the 51 for theoretical passage (and the 60 to overcome a likely filibuster). Things are even worse in the House, where Republicans currently hold a majority of the 435 members, and only one Republican in the entire body has pledged support for the bill, Ileana Ros-Lehtinen of Florida. Put simply, the legislative repeal of DOMA isn't going to happen any time soon.

The other avenue would be for DOMA to be declared unconstitutional by the Supreme Court -- and this race may be much closer to the finish line. Several cases from states with marriage equality have been slowly working their way up the ladder of the court system over the past few years, and now lay at the Supreme Court's door.

A consolidated pair of cases from Massachusetts (the First Circuit) has been ruled on by a Circuit Court, where a three-judge panel (including two judges nominated by Republican presidents) unanimously found DOMA unconstitutional. That case has been filed with the Supreme Court, who will decide upon returning from their recess this fall whether to hear the case.

Another case from the Ninth Circuit has been ruled on at the lowest level, with a judge again striking down DOMA as unconstitutional. The opposition filed an appeal with the higher appeals court, and the U.S. Department of Justice countered by filing a rare motion to skip that step and proceed directly to the Supreme Court, possibly consolidating the case with the two from Massachusetts.

Still another case, this from New York (the Second Circuit) has passed the first level of review, where again, the judge struck down DOMA as unconstitutional. This one carries extra "sizzle," if you will, as it involves a woman of 83 who was forced to pay over $300,000 in inheritance taxes on property left to her by her deceased wife. Her lawyers have followed the DOJ's lead and also petitioned to skip directly to the Supreme Court, citing their plantiff's advanced age and poor health; they say that she may not live to see justice if the process isn't accelerated.

But wait, there's more! In a fifth DOMA related case out of Connecticut, ruled on just recently at the end of July, another Republican nominated judge found DOMA to be unconstitutional, writing an extraordinary 104-page opinion skewering every argument raised in the defense of DOMA. (You can read it for yourself if you like, some very dense but invigorating reading.)

Legal scholars seem to agree that with all these cases pending, all these challenges from Circuits all over the United States, the Supreme Court will be forced to accept one or more of these cases in the coming session. They'll likely end up hearing arguments some time this winter, and issuing a ruling by next June. But there is some trepidation in approaching the Supreme Court on this right now, given the current makeup and disposition of the Court.

That leads to an entirely new aspect of the marriage saga, but since I've gone on at considerable length already in this post, let me stop for now. I'll take up the issue of the Supreme Court in my next post.

Gay Rights in the U.S. -- Marriage Bans

The last time I discussed LGBT rights, I talked about the states where marriage equality has been realized. This time out, I want to focus on the other side of the coin, states where same-sex marriages have been banned. Unfortunately, that side of the coin has come up a lot more often.

Massachusetts, the first state to legalize same-sex marriage, did so by judicial ruling. The courts ruled that according to the Massachusetts constitution, it was unconstitutional to restrict marriage to opposite-sex couples. This was a galvanizing moment for the opposition. It was too late to do anything about Massachusetts, but they'd be certain to close this loophole in other states. If the problem was that state constitutions didn't say anything against it, then that would have to change.

And so, in state after state, the equal rights of an historically disadvantaged minority were put up to a public vote. Some states had same-sex marriage bans in place before Massachusetts legalized it, but the number of states that put the issue on the ballot afterward was staggering.

As of today, 31 states have bans in their constitutions against same-sex marriage (including my state of Colorado, which passed the ban in 2006). No legislative action can change this, which was exactly the intent of the opposition. There are only two ways these bans can change: either the issue can be put back to a public vote in the future, where a majority would have to reverse the ban; or the ban itself would have to be ruled a violation of constitutional rights that was never legal to enact in the first place. Both are significant hurdles to surmount.

Many of those 31 states went even farther than simply banning marriage, and have either constitutional bans (or state statues) that restricts any recognized relationship for a same-sex couple -- no civil unions, no domestic partnerships. And in a sad example showing how far we haven't come, the latest example of this occurred just earlier this year in North Carolina, where voters passed a measure so draconian that many legal experts contend it also restricts opposite-sex civil unions that have been legally recognized in the past.

Marriage equality opponents regularly trumpet a big talking point here. The question of banning same-sex marriage has been put to 31 states, and all 31 states have chosen to ban it. Opponents point to this as proof of the justice of the bans. (The truth is that there is a slight asterisk on this statistic. The state of Arizona had a Proposition for a same-sex marriage ban in 2006 and actually rejected it, but another one was put on the ballot in 2008 and passed. The opposition won in the end.)

One state, Minnesota, has a same-sex marriage ban up for voter approval in the coming election. Just as Washington, Maryland, and Maine are all poised to approve equality by ballot this November, Minnesota could take that asterisk off of the talking point and turn it into a full-fledged counter-example. If the state fails to pass their ban, the "31-0" victory record touted by the opposition will no longer be perfect. This too would be a significant step for LGBT rights, not only for its symbolism, but for the fact that will be one less state where an enacted ban will later have to be overturned to pave the way for equality.

Of all the state bans on same-sex marriage, the most well known is California's Proposition 8, passed in 2008. (I've written about it before, in reviewing the documentary film, 8: The Mormon Proposition, and 8: The Play.) Proposition 8 came about in a rushed reaction to a judicial ruling early in 2008 that declared it unconstitutional in the state to deny marriage to same-sex couples. As marriages began to be performed all over California, opponents got Proposition 8 onto the ballot, and campaigned hard for it. Just months after equality had been granted, Proposition 8 passed in November, and the right was taken away again.

Proposition 8 has been going through a lengthy challenge process in court. In the first level of review, the judge struck it down as a violation of the U.S. Constitution, arguing that the Supreme Court had historically acknowledged a fundamental right to marry, and that denying this right to same-sex couples was a violation of the Equal Protections Clause. Opponents appealed that ruling to the next highest Appeals Court, where a supportive but narrowed ruling was issued. This court refused to acknowledge (or refute) the inherent right of same-sex couples to marry, but struck down the ban anyway on the grounds that it was not constitutional to pass a law specifically to take away rights that had already been granted.

This ruling in turn has now been appealed to the Supreme Court, which may decide by the end of this month whether or not to hear the case. There's a lot to say about the Supreme Court, enough that I plan to devote a subsequent post just to that topic. For today's post, I'll simply say that we're waiting to see what will happen next -- and until the Supreme Court either rules on the case, or decides not to hear it and lets the Appeals Court ruling stand, same-sex marriages remain banned in California.

As I've mentioned, public polling indicates that this year is the first time when a majority in the U.S. have stated they're in favor of marriage equality for gays and lesbians. But there has been in the past a visible gap between what people say in a poll and how they vote at the ballot box. The needle still has far to move. And then, even once it has, a long process will still remain to strike all these bigoted bans out of the constitutions of the majority of the states.

Gay Rights in the U.S. -- Marriage

In my continuing series on LGBT rights in the United States, I've covered several different issues. But now it's time I turn to the "big prize," the issue of equality in marriage. Being the most talked about issue in gay rights, there are a lot of aspects to cover. But I plan to keep posting things of a manageable size, and so this issue is going to take me a few posts to explore.

Today, let me start by providing the lay of the land as it stands now. There are six states in which same-sex marriage is legal: Massachusetts, Connecticut, Iowa, Vermont, New Hampshire, and New York. (It's also legal in the District of Columbia.) Massachusetts was the first to break down this barrier in 2004. Connecticut joined them four years later, and there has been at least one new state added every year through 2011.

In all six states, equality in marriage came through either an act of the state legislature, or by way of a court ruling stating that exclusion of same-sex couples from marriage was not legal under existing state law. There has never been a voter-approved measure granting same-sex couples the freedom to marry. (And it is only this year that general public polling has indicated that a majority among voters now supports equality.)

Same-sex marriages were also legal in California for a period of a few months during 2008, but that right was then rescinded by a ballot initiative in the November election. (And since this transitions into the subject of marriage bans, I'll cover California in more detail in my next post in this series.)

In the first half of 2012, the legislatures of two more states voted to enact marriage equality: Washington and Maryland. But both legislative bodies, mindful of the California situation, included in their measures a delay until after the coming election before the measures will take effect. If opponents of marriage equality could gather enough signatures in the summer, voters would determine whether to affirm or reject the states' actions. The signature requirements in both cases were met, and so both states will be putting equal rights to a public vote this November. The polling on both issues looks favorable at the moment, but we still have two months (and a lot of negative ads) to go before Election Day.

Maine is in a slightly different situation. The legislature approved same-sex marriages a few years ago, but opponents successfully petitioned to delay the law until signatures could be gathered for a referendum. They were successful, and voters subsequently rejected the equality measure.

Maine is now positioned to possibly reverse this decision this November. The state has a ballot initiative that, if approved, would be the first in the U.S. to bypass the legislature entirely and have voters directly grant marriage equality. And although a lot can change between now and election night, it is encouraging to note that so far, the polling on the measure is highly supportive.

This may be in large part due to the exact wording of the referendum: "Do you want to allow the State of Maine to issue marriage licenses to same-sex couples?" The simple wording avoids the loaded buzzword of "redefining" marriage. Less direct, but still included, is the point that it will be the state itself issuing these marriage licenses; no religious institution is required to take part. (Maryland's issue is much wordier, but expressly spells out this religious protection.)

November 6th is going to be a huge day for marriage equality. Three states are all voting whether to legalize it. If even one does, it would be the first time it happened at the ballot box, which would truly mark a turning point on the issue.

If you live in Washington, Maryland, or Maine (or can talk to someone who does), I encourage you to seize this important opportunity. Get registered to vote. You have a chance to vote for equality, solely and separately, without the issue being entangled with a particular political candidate and the issues he or she might support or oppose. Please take this chance to make history.