Over the past fifty years, it has become increasingly easy to get married (drive-thru chapel, anyone?) and subsequently, to get divorced (drive-thru divorce court opening 2010). And this wheel of progress – in a world where simple, fast and easy are the corner stones of progress – this wheel, in its very turning, traps beneath it and crushes, the integrity of marriage itself. The institution has become denigrated simply by how accessible it has become. As it becomes more denigrated, it is taken less seriously, more people jump into marriage (some several times) and find themselves in divorce court eight weeks later (I’m looking at you Chris Kattan). This further detracts from marriage’s respectability and the cycle continues. That is the reason why our divorce rate is so high. It is also the true reason all these folks are opposing equal marriage rights for same-sex couples. Oh they claim it’s because “homosexuality is a sin” and “marriage is between a man and a woman,” but they’re just trying to sound cool. Really, it all boils down to that old Woody Allen saying (what’s new right?): “I wouldn’t want to be part of any club that would have me as a member.”

Exclusivity, folks. It’s what makes cool stuff cool and lame stuff not cool. Think about it. Events, groups, clothing styles – they are all cool if only a few select people are invited to participate. The second they become open to all, they lose all appeal. It’s like tying your shoes, reading, going to school and voting. All voted into the top ten in People Magazine’s 100 Lamest Crap (October 3, 2008). Who wants to do something that everybody can do?

Now imagine that you got yourself into an exclusive club – an Elks, Lodge or Mason-type thing, for instance. You’re feeling pretty good about yourself – why shouldn’t you? You are special. Then, after a week of meetings, secret ancient scroll decoding classes and all-male blood-lettings, the group leaders announce they’re making the club open to the public: “walk-ins welcome!” You would be pissed too. Suddenly you’re thinking, “I gotta get a new cool thing! And it took me so long to fill out the application!” This is what the “defenders” of marriage are feeling. Their cool club is on the verge of losing all its cool.

Like how Facebook used to be for college-kids only, then the high schoolers came, then the office-staffers, then your grandma is sending you cartoon polar bears and you wonder if the time has finally come to delete your page (Nana, save your dollar!). Yet, these radical fidelty-fighters aren’t going to give up on marriage anytime soon. A stance that will ultimately be their undoing. Cause we all know, the only way to keep the cool you got from exclusivity is to bail the first time things get lax. They could chuck their blood diamonds into the sea or pawn them for beer money and they’d probably get a statue made for them out of emaciated American Apparel models. But they won’t. Lame.

Wasilla, AK — I should start by thanking Nonsensical News for giving me this column. A housewife and mother of five, such as myself, can get a little bored once all the sweeping is done, doncha know. It’s so nice to sit down with my glass of wine and do a little typing at the old typewriter. So. Back to my topic. I guess the newspaper wanted a woman’s opinion about old Franny and Freddy. Well, I may be a simple lady with small town values but I will tell you this: I believe small towns provide the backbone of America and the U.S. of A.’s economy. Franny and Freddy. These are not American names. They sound a little European to me. And I never trust Europe with all their loose women and Communist health care.

So, why are we even talking about something that isn’t American? Last time I checked, this was America and we didn’t waste no airwaves on Pinko Commie Frenchies. Nonetheless, here we are, in this sorry state. So. The federal government, the very same one that wants to abort our babies, marry gays, protect illegals and give ‘em health care and free schooling, and tax us til we’re blue in the face, is bailing out corporations or something. Now, why are we giving our hard earned money to European corporations when we have hard working American-born folks like you and me that can barely afford their mortgages?

My cousin Sue has been working the same gosh darn job at the flag pole factory for seventeen gosh darn years. She goes to work every day, rain or shine, to screw those little decorative eagles on the tops of flag poles. Now if that isn’t American pride, I don’t know what is. She does alright, she puts clothes on her kids and food in stomachs, but I tell you, she was at the Wal-Mart yesterday and they denied her check card.

So I’m thinking about poor (literally now) Sue as I get my SUV and little Tucker had – God bless him- changed the radio station in my car from Top 40 (I love that Brittany Spears music, but Lord child, does she need to pray. I just blame the parents, I do.) So instead of my bouncy Brittany I am listening to the news and doncha know, all they can talk about is this Franny and Freddy. Well, I don’t know who these people are or why our liberal run government seems to think they deserve of gosh darn money but I can tell you that there are good, decent, heterosexual people who need that money a whole lot more. I mean, Lord, I do alright. I am a not hurting like poor little broken Sue but I do have student loans. That University of Florida is not cheap. And I’m gosh darn proud of those two years, but Lord knows I’m still paying for them.

So I am urging each and every one of you readers to write a letter to your elected official and tell them you will not stand for our hard earned tax dollars to be spent on homo-sin-uality and European “values.” Give that money to the people that deserve it. Cause they have student loans to pay. And socks to buy, if you’re Sue.

[Edith Falin has since been fired from Nonsense News]

Yes, there is truly no excitement in the three-walled cell of a cubicle, and tedious data entry or writing or coding or whatever it is you pretend to do while actually on gchat, is the shackle you wear.

Daily highlights are few and far between with “lunch break” topping the charts, followed by “getting mail,” “taking needlessly long bathroom breaks,” “talking to your one half-intelligent co-worker.” The rest is just checking celebrity blogs and plotting how I’d kill myself if I didn’t have a cat.

Last night I had a dream that I came in to work with a fish I just caught and gutted it right there on my desk, then I realized I had fallen asleep watching Office Space.  So yeah, what else can I say about how insanely boring my life is without falling asleep at the computer. When I was young, I thought I would have an interesting life. I would be an astronaut, or an artist, or a waiter. Now here I am, twenty-eight years old, wasting what’s left of my youth by writing this article while I am supposed to be inputting last month’s numbers. Even if I had a spouse, or kids, or a hobby – which I don’t – I’d still spend eight hours of every day pretending to be busy so I can eat food and buy drugs. So what good is my life? I guess all I can hope for now is to be a cautionary tale for our impressionable youth.

Listen up kids:
Now, I know there are a lot of movies and music videos out there that make working in an office look real cool (The Firm anyone?) but I just want children to know, working in a office is not cool. It’s not cool at all. The only way it would be cool is if the definition of cool changed to become “soul-crushing, mindless, utter and total boredom, apathetic despair with no sense of hope for anything better, uninteresting and dead.”

Moral of the story: When considering what career path you are going to tread, do not listen to the lies of yesteryear: “You should be so lucky to dig ditches.” Seriously, manual labor gets a bad rap. Think about it: you could be outside, in the sun, breathing fresh air, building something, or destroying something, or rebuilding something. Whatever, you would see some sort of progress, know your life was worth something, believe that maybe good will win over evil. Or come find me in a few years, under the flourescent lights, in the AC, and I’ll offer you a job, and pretend to type something, while actually on gchat.

Yes, these women (although aren’t they really better than women, these models, they should have their own word, something that really conveys how they are the idea, the ideal, the absolutely gotta attain, unattainable image of what women want or should want to be) are not your mothers and sisters and lovers. They are better. And they sparkle from head to toe with promises of happily-ever-after and registry lists longer than the Dead Sea Scrolls. And the cherry on top of this shimmering cake is an even more light-catching piece of necessary bridal attire: a tiara.

A bridal tiara is an all powerful thing. It is more than fancy headgear; it is a statement. A statement that screams to the world in a shrill voice, hoarse from accosting Macy’s shopgirls: I am a Princess. Don’t start with me. Women seem to be clamoring for them these days. One can hardly walk through a hotel lobby or high-traffic cathedral in June without getting severe cornea damage from the glare shining off of the myriad bridal tiaras. Why has this piece of gleaming head-jewelry become so popular and who are these women that seem to be buying them?

Let’s first point out that the bridal tiara is not an impulse buy in the wedding store check-out line. It is not gum or a tabloid, casually thrown into the cart because “What the hell? It’s only a dollar thirty nine.” A typical tiara can range from $100 to $150 dollars on the low end to ridiculous on the high end and there are a gazillon styles to choose from. Whether you want a crystal and porcelain flower fairy look or a Renaissance Queen Crown with a Disney twist, you will find a plethora of headpieces to choose from. Much thought and effort must be put into finding the perfect tiara to highlight the perfect hair, dress, veil, shoes, make-up, flowers, music, candles, centerpieces, lighting, band, dance floor, chicken, bridesmaid dresses, ring, what am I forgetting… oh yeah, groom!

So now it is apparent that there is no lack of bridal tiara choices and we are vaguely aware that there was once a time when a bride did not wear a tiara at all and that perhaps someone, somewhere is possibly, maybe, still getting married without one. So why the rise of bridal tiaras? Is it just a marketing ploy by an already bloated industry greedily trying to squeeze just one more penny (or one thousand) out of a girl who already makes 75 cents to her soon-to-be-husband’s dollar? Is it a thinly veiled attempt to tap into that part of a women that yearns to believe she is special and one of a kind and worth celebrating, while she is bombarded by a media that tells her she is only as good as her overly thin, white, young, straight, flawless body? Is it just another thing to be purchased, consumed and disposed of after one use? Is it an empty promise? As empty as your vows? You know more than half of marriages end in divorce these days.

No! Of course not. You are different. You are in love. And you. You are a princess. Today and always, because the photographer is taking pictures and that tiara, and the head that it’s on, is going to be your computer desktop til the day you die. You can’t wait to get your hands on the perfect tiara. You’ve been dreaming about this day since you were on Homecoming Court and Mr. Stevens handed you your plastic consolation prize while Sandy Jenkins walked off with a crown that would make Charlemagne blush. So come on down, Sunday at 2pm for the Bridal Tiara Expo at the Globo-Corp. Convention Center. All Tiaras, All Styles, For Whatever Your Budget. Everything Must Go!