Implausibles

In the 2003 CI episode Suite Sorrow, Hal Linden plays an in the closet socialite who manipulates his daughter into matricide, to then unwittingly trigger his own death in a foiled entrapment that Vincent D'Onofrio's Goren misjudges. I do not know about the sandwiched convolutions from which we have to infer the multiple points in fifty minutes of narrative. This is a continuing problem with the limitations of the format for Dick Wolf's now foundering formula. I believe there may have been a death by injection trial on which it might be based, but I cannot remember enough data for search to lead the way, and I could be wrong anyway because this high powered real life balding husband fell under suspicion when I read Time Magazine regularly, but despite the artifice of the teleplay, inclusive of having Erbe's Detective Eames vindicate what we must feel about such family dysfunction in the last concluding seconds of the episode, such stories reflect back upon the ubiquitous nature of domestic violence in the United States. I happen to be bold enough to feel that this undercuts the progressive argument about homosexuality and marriage. Heterosexual marriages fail often enough as it is, especially when celebrity is involved, or, as in the case of my mother and father, you mix a significant mental illness with an Italian temper. My step-mother, who in no way functions as such, has fared little better. My dad may not have an arrest record to match that of the typical serial wife beater, but he is one none the less, a fact I usually obliterate in my conflicted feelings for him. Progressives are absolutely correct to say that no fault divorce laws weakened the once historic economic power of marriage, but the continuing tent expansion will make it all but meaningless, in the end.

Frank, my ex, made a bad bargain thinking I could have been a good wife for him. He tried to strangle the first. This is Latino trash pillow talk for you, but had I gone through with the wedding, settling for him, as some women interest columnists suggest, I could conceivably have a jacket with an attempted murder charge, and that is both a facetious and accurate statement, one and the same. Having seen the gay lifestyle up close, swimming against the tide as I may be, things are going to get much messier for family law adjudicators, I don't give a flying fuck how pedestrian a media bouncer like Andrew Sullivan with his HIV status and his faith, and his articles that analyze and out the troubled Prince Benedict 16, wants to be. To push identity to these kind of extremes is bad for the human animal. I have been through too much trying to help the disadvantaged, I have seen too much; we're dooming ourselves.