I returned a night ago from New York City, where I was happily reconnecting with my best friend, and I have to say: the entirety of Manhattan is gay. How gay? Very gay.
Unless I have misunderstood the rainbow flags, logos, scripts, and tchotchkes as some invocation of traditional images of the Holy Trinity, then New York is in the throes of something called "pride" month. Pride in what? I have no idea, but it is every bit as ubiquitous as the plastic Santa Claus statues and reindeer during December.
In fact, it has all the external trademarks of religion. Aside from the Catholic churches and an Orthodox parish, I did not see one Christian edifice that did not mark the occasion with flags and a trite aphorism about how loving God is, while neglecting just how "judgmental" He also is.
This "pride" slogan and its accompanying month of very loud advertising has all the trademarks of superficial religion in that not only the devout 2% of the populace observe its tenets, but the non-practitioners also wish to be seen in union with it. I saw [naturally] married couples with rainbow engraved hearts as lapel pins, toddlers and elementary students in "proud" t-shirts, and even children's clothing stores broadcasting a sale to people who cannot conceive in any God given manner. Even the money lenders wished to virtue-signal. Did you know HSBC was gay? I didn't know a bank could have a sexual identity, but my misconceptions have been clarified.
These once-a-year devotees of the gay agenda may claim to be in favor of "marriage equality", but fifteen years ago they laughed at the idea and ten years ago they voted against it at the ballot box. No, they are not interested in the doctrine of this lifestyle, they are interested in what it means for them. In an atomistic city, where millions of people are unwillingly compressed into a tight space with less and less sense of community, "pride" is the final teaching of permissiveness to be one's self in a vacuum, devoid of consequences or social standards. "You do you and I'll do me," they say.
Fittingly, the one place I expected to see rainbow flags and acceptance slogans hardly sported any: Brooklyn. The hipster demographic—replete with plaid shirts, waxed facial hair, suspenders on jeans, "craft" beer, and fair trade coffee—has gentrified Brooklyn and is now turning it into a family neighborhood. The twenty-somethings are now thirty-something and often with a stroller. A stroller with no proud and loud flags.