Not while Phyllis Schlafly is still alive

So Lance Patriarchy and I were down at the track, betting on the weekly homeless races (I’ve got the 3-6 exacta in the 5th race. Come on, Skittle Lee Shingles and Bumpy Nelson, in that particular order).

“I hear the Equal Rights Amendment is getting some play again,” I say to Lance as we watch the end of the 3rd race. It’s hometown favorite Jitters Danson by a length and a half.

“Heard that too,” says Lance Patriarchy.

“Nervous?” I ask.

“Not at all,” says Lance Patriarchy. “Because it will never go all the way through. It didn’t get ratified in the 70′s, it’s not getting ratified now.”

“Why’s that?” I say.

“Because it was I who brought it back to the forefront,” says Lance Patriarchy with a sinister grin. “And then I’m going to smack it back down again like I did before. Because I’m really bored and I need some excitement.”

“Your plan is sort of like the Emperor’s in Return of the Jedi,” I say. “That didn’t turn out too well for him or the Empire.”

“Big differences,” says Lance Patriarchy. “No Ewoks, no Jedi, and no Lando Calrissian to foil me.”

“And no George Lucas either,” I say. “Clever. But aside from the lack of LucasFilms intellectual property, how come you are so confident it will fail agan?”

“There’s still a big enough percentage of women in my employ to torpedo the ERA yet again,” says Lance Patriarchy. “And since equal rights amendments in states have been used to strike down gay-marriage bans, there will be an army of god heads and National Review readers willing to fight this too. “

“So gay marriage is just a casualty of the patriarchy – that being you – keeping women down,” I say.

“Can’t make a male-dominated omlette without breaking some eggs,” says Lance Patriarchy. “In this case, those eggs happen to be gay and are looking to enter a loving yet legally-binding commitment.”

“You’re kind of a dick, Lance Patriarchy,” I say.

“Yeah, well, what’cha gonna do?” says Lance Patriarchy as the 4th race begins. “I’m the only game in town and I ain’t going anywhere. And you know exactly why.”

“Because women wear sandals and can’t come to a consensus amongst themselves over who has dominion over their bodies,” I say. “Yes, we’ve been through this before.”

“Well, it bears repeating because apparently no one is listening,” says Lance Patriarchy. “I mean, shit, I’m practically giving the game away and I’m still winning. What the hell?”

And we watch as the homeless racers come running down the back stretch, chasing that little rabbit they use for the greyhounds. Except it’s got a giant can of beans taped to it. The crackhead known only as Fazzle wins the race, but breaks his leg as he crosses the finish line. They’re going to have to put him down, but that’s probably for the best.