I was washing the dishes and half listening to the radio when I heard a commercial for a home security system in which a man was saying that the worst part of traveling is worrying about the safety of his wife and children.
Suddenly it struck me: With all the calculating insertions of the LGBT world into every imagined sphere that might conceivably present campaigning grounds for force-feeding the notion of normalizing their lifestyle, there is one conspicuous absence: radio commercials of the domestic variety. (I cannot speak for television, as I don’t own one.) I have not yet heard a radio advertisement in which two married men, or two married women, are portrayed in a domestic setting.
That means nothing, you may retort: It merely indicates that corporations selling products are timid and not trendsetters, and for obvious reasons.
Maybe so. But I had another thought as I listened to the radio husband discussing the well-being of his family, and it was this: Notwithstanding all the political freak shows of gay agendas that seemed to have pulled up the pillars of traditional society by the root and cast away all our moorings, there is something in every heart that knows wholesomeness and sensibleness when it hears it. Tired and jaded and slightly nauseated at the end of another day of the cultural orgy with no moral rules, we all seem to know deep down what good is, what normal is, and what true is. And ad men know this.
It reminds me of what the high-ranking demon Screwtape counseled his trainee Wormwood concerning the extreme care that must be taken by tempters not to let humans ever see or experience anything real.The ginned-up social causes of LGBT and other polymorphous sexual lifestyle peddlers are no match for reality, and when viewed side by side, truth always shows up falsehood for the poppycock it is:
“… five minutes’ genuine toothache would reveal the romantic sorrows for the nonsense they were and unmask your whole stratagem.”
Merely try to think of recasting that chaste and virtuous home security vignette into a new mold using gay lovers as the protagonist, and the grotesqueness of the swap is outed, and your most shameful memory of your most sordid adolescent deed that you would rather die than have somebody know about is brought into the searing light.