Those of you who read this site regularly know that I have not been quiet concerning my reservations about the term “queer”, especially when people within the LGBT community proudly apply it to themselves as our adversaries look on. Alex Blaze and I lightly spar with respect to it on occasion.
The whole thing has started to give me some grief as I go through that part of my life not spend in front of my laptop. Last week a friend called me and wanted to go out to lunch, saying that there was some good Mexican food at such-and-such location. When I got there, I saw that the name of the establishment was…….you guessed it: Qdoba. Not the usual “Q” that can’t appear in public without a “U” tagging behind, but a big, fat, obvious one up there just daring me to say something like: “Could we please just go to the McDonald’s drive-up instead”?
My friend knew one of the employees, and so we entered through the back kitchen door. As I looked nervously around to see if anybody I knew had spotted me nibbling on a Quesadilla, which I contend is OK because it’s pronounced as if it really begins with a “K”. So long as there aren’t three of them strung conseQutiavely together, I won’t have to be too circumspect about telling my other half where I’ve gone for lunch. (If that last sentence went over your head, read the last sentence of my bio. I'm the lighter 50% of that combo.)
Well, I managed to survive. Will I go back there anytime soon? I'll have to take that one under advisement. Meanwhile I’ll continue to gently chide Alex and Bill about “LGBTQ”. Maybe if the two of them ever decide to drop the last letter I can enjoy some salsa and chips at Doba’s and use the front door without hesitation. A fair trade, don’t you think?