Love & sex--not the party you'd think

It’s been a strange couple of days in legal and civic circles.

First, the Supreme Court declared some parts of the landmark Voting Rights Act of 1965 invalid. The VRA is what has kept alive the spirit of the Founding Fathers’ view of rule by the people for 48 years.

You know—the part about one (hu)man, one vote. Republicans all over the country will be holding meetings on how to make the most of this.

But then the court turned around and struck down key provisions of the cockamamie Defense of Marriage Act (DOMA). DOMA pretentiously defined “marriage” as “between one man and one woman”, and essentially superseded any state laws recognizing same-sex marriage by refusing federal rights accorded married couples.

You know—like tax filing status, pensions and health benefits.

SCOTUS declared that DOMA essentially violates the equal protection clause of the Constitution.

And then the court declined to rule on the constitutionality of California’s Proposition 8, the law passed in 2008 that banned same-sex marriages in the state. This dismissal leaves in place the lower court’s ruling that Prop 8 is unconstitutional and unenforceable. Unless the state government decides to take it up again at the appellate level, that means the law is gone, girl, gone.

Google got clever about recognizing these decisions; if you searched on either term here's what you got around the search box:

I predict that the wedding industry is about to get a big, fat shot in the arm.

But wait—there’s more.

Wednesday a kick-ass Texas state senator, probably channeling Molly Ivins and Ann Richards (amongst others) filibustered against the latest GOP attempt to turn time back six centuries. She was trying to run the clock out on SB5, a bill that would impose such restrictions on who can perform an abortion, when and how, that it would have shut down all but five of Texas’s 42 abortion clinics. Wednesday was the last day of the special session called by Gov. Rick Perry (R-15^th Century) to consider SB5; if the measure wasn’t passed by midnight, then it would be dead.

Under Texas lege rules, Wendy Davis, D-Fort Worth, was not allowed to sit or lean against anything, accept any assistance, take food or water, or speak about anything unrelated to the subject of the bill. Three violations of the rules and you’re out.

Actually, it turns out that the definition of what constitutes “assistance” or “related topics” is not absolute, but dependent on how desperate the Republicans in the chamber were feeling about Davis’s potential success. You would not believe what they cried over, but around 2200 they declared three strikes against her and were going to barrel on ahead with the vote.

But here’s where the power of the people took over.

Throughout the day, Twitter was getting fired up about Davis. I was part of that. #StandWithWendy trended—there were tweets from Jill Biden out. And people started showing up at the lege (although not, it seems, the mainstream media; what a bunch of clueless dorks). When the ‘Pubs tried to shut Davis down, the members of the gallery started chanting, “Let her speak!” and Twitter went freaking mental.

Well—there was a whole lot more hoo-hah, & then the ‘Pubs tried something that absolutely boggles the mind: they called for a vote—which passed—at 0002. Meaning two minutes after midnight on Thursday.

Meaning two minutes after the session had legally ended. It was clearly in all the screenshots that the twitterati took of the voting board.

Well—being the sore losers that they are, they then tried to doctor the time-stamp, to legitimize their vote. Meaning: they literally tried to turn the clock back.

So—if you thought things went cuckoo before, you don’t understand the term “a perfect storm”.

In the end, they grudgingly (but not apologetically, because these people have no bloody shame) conceded that mistakes were made, and the vote…doesn’t count.

Perry’s going to call another special session, of course. And I have every confidence that the ‘Pubs will do everything down to and including kneecapping people to get their way.

But, damn—for one brief, shining 13 hours, a gloriously brave woman stood up for thousands of us and drove back the night.

So—here’s to the Supreme Court, and here’s to Wendy Davis. You done good.