Just when creepy Perez Hilton thought it was safe to go back into the bathhouse, up rises Carrie Prejean like Botticellis' Venus from the waves and kicks his diaper. This beautiful girl with the fiery spirit, who was dragged through the mud over the last three weeks by the usual liberal pitch bitches, male and female, was standing tall* today as she won the endorsement of her "owner," so to speak, Donald Trump. Trump keeps reiterating the idea that other notable people, such as Barack Obama, share Prejean's point of view on traditional marriage. Prejean herself, however, emphasizes the real issue here: not whether her opinion is "right" but that it is her honest opinion and she has every right to express it without being vilified as somehow un-American. If the pageant has a homosexual test oath in place it should make it open and official, rather than the secret credo that a devious self-styled queen like Hilton (real name:Mario Armando Lavandeira) can use to trap and humiliate the naive recusants who stand before him in the modern American equivalent of a star chamber trial.
Lots of tripe being penned about these pageants, mostly on the negative, by the mainstream hacks, mostly from the spindle side, and almost all of it worthless. A beautiful young woman is really a flag to her tribe, her race, her world, of the progenitive power. The lovely girl holds the promise not just of sexual allure, but through that allure the greater promise of children and family and motherhood. And through all these the continuity of life and nation. A beauty pageant, traditionally on display at the fairs and arenas of the community, was a celebration of sexual allure integrated into the overall cycle of life. Hence Prejean merely expressed what is at base the original if unacknowledged inspiration of the pageant itself when she rejected homosexual "marriage." As it is, the liberal's quarrel with Ms Prejean would be better directed at Shakespeare, himself of somewhat fluid sexuality, who famously wrote in his eleventh sonnet: "If all were minded so, the times should cease, and three score year would make the world away." A gay prospect, indeed!
Only with the advent of feminism and its freakish brood of abortion and homosexualism and careerism, did these pageants come to be seen as something suspect and insulting to women, putting the contestants perpetually on the defensive. But as we saw three weeks ago, the most grievous insult of all was for beauty to submit to the cold and sterile gaze that regards her charms not with the ardour of a potential suitor, lover, or husband, but rather as a competitor who sees only an enemy to be discredited and destroyed. This insult is built right into the process when a cockroach like Lavandeira is allowed to sit on the panel. In the end, thankfully, it was he who was put on the defensive. Against the ineluctable right of life itself, gay rights are as so much winter chaff before the gales of spring: blown, baby!
Is it not strange how our hierophants of taste among the gelded press priests are always affecting a high regard for the primitive and the earthen and yet are always trying to set enmity between fruit and flower, always the quickest to sneer whenever the elemental connexions of sex, birth and marriage are invoked by traditionalists? Strange? Why, it's downright queer!
If the pageant had any real integrity, never mind sexiness, its emblem would be a Botticelli painting and its theme music would be either Beethoven's Seventh Symphony or Stravinsky's Rite of Spring. Alas, this year the sacrifice of the maiden almost went to the powers of darkness instead of life.
*Not quite as tall as seen above, however: I had to stretch her to get the pic to stay in place! Also: apologies for the red star: I couldn't censor, i.e., brush out, try as I might, the censor at TMZ, which I take it is short for The Moralist's Zone.