Yes, it’s horrible. But we must realize that war is horrible, and horrible things happen in war. I am not condoning the actions of these young Americans, but neither will I jump on the bandwagon and rush to criticize.  

Let us keep in mind the brutalities of the enemy they are fighting. An enemy who routinely beheads anyone that opposes them. Not just captured American soldiers, but civilian contractors working to support American military efforts, news reporters, teachers who try to educate women, and anybody else who crosses their path. An enemy that believe suicide bombings of innocent people in marketplaces and restaurants is a valid military action. A brutal, bloodthirsty enemy.

And yes, I know that two wrongs do not make a right. I get that. However, before you pass judgment, I would ask you to think about what our troops are exposed to. They see their friends killed and mutilated, they see innocent civilians brutalized, and tomorrow, they will see the same thing again, and again.

Take a young person, train them to kill, hand them an automatic weapon, and send them off to a daily diet of war’s horrors, and the atrocities committed by an enemy that thrives on unspeakable brutality. Then ask yourself how we can be surprised when occasionally some of them overreact. 

I can hear some of you saying that soldiers in every war see the same things. Yes, that’s true. And there have been soldiers, American soldiers, in every war who have committed atrocities. That’s the cold, hard truth.

But there is another factor at play here, one that few people seem to grasp. In World War II, my father and my uncles fought a war, won it, and came home. In Korea, and later, in Vietnam, most military people went over, did their tour, and came home. No matter how long they were in the combat zone, a year, eighteen months, or for the duration of the war, those soldiers knew that when  they did their job, they got to go home.

But in this never ending war, we are seeing GIs being sent back for two, three, and even four tours. What must that do to one’s psyche? How much brutality can a person absorb and still remain the same?

Before we condemn those Marines, maybe we should think about the government that keeps getting us involved in these no win situations. A government that trains young men and women to kill, that sends them off to die, and then shackles them with rules and regulations that are more politically motivated than for any military purpose. Rules that care more about not offending the sensibilities of the people they are supposed to be fighting to free, than actually allowing our troops to do what is needed to end the war and really free those same people.

A few years ago I spoke to a young soldier who was home to attend the funeral of his best friend, who had been killed in combat, and then he was headed back to Iraq for his third tour of duty. He had just turned 21. Could you endure what that young man had been exposed to, and go back again and again? Because I’ll be honest with you, I don’t think I could.

Yes, the actions in that video were horrible. But I can understand why things like this happen. In fact, I’m surprised we don’t see more incidents like this.

In an Associated Press story about the controversy, it was reported that Lowes cancelled the ads on the reality TV show All-American Muslim, after protests by a Florida-based evangelical Christian group called the Florida Family Association. That action, in turn, caused criticism of the retail giant nationwide.

California state senator Ted Lieu (D) called Loews’ decision “un-American” and “naked religious bigotry” and said he would consider legislative action if Lowes does not apologize to the Muslim community and reinstate its ads.

Some people feel that, in bending to the demands of the Florida Family Association, Lowes is practicing racism and bigotry. Others say that any company should have the right to advertise (or not advertise) where it wants to.

I won’t get into the whole debate about whether Muslims are evil, or are merely a religion that has been labeled wrongly because of the actions of a relatively small number of radicals in this blog, because I don’t have room for that. But, while I don’t think it is a wise move for a company to bow to the demands of any special interest group, I also believe that Lowes does indeed have the right to spend their advertising dollars wherever they choose to.

Many are calling for a boycott of Lowes, and they, too, have the right to spend their money with any company they want to, and to not patronize whomever they care to. But think about it for one minute, if you are one of those calling for a boycott. Why is it okay for you to withhold your money from a company, but not okay for Lowes to do the same thing?

For a politician to threaten legislative action to force Lowes to reinstate the ads is completely ridiculous, not to mention that such action would be a violation of the company’s rights. What’s next? Do politicians decide where other companies can spend their ad budgets? What if they decide that something you are against deserves those ad dollars? Gay rights? The Catholic Church? Planned Parenthood? Fox News? The American Civil Liberties Union? Barrack Obama’s reelection campaign? Newt Gingrich? Which of those mandates would get your dander up?

Maybe Lowes’ decision was bigotry. Maybe they caved in too fast to one group without weighing all sides of the issue. But folks, it’s their right to do so. Nobody, and no company, should be required to support anything they don’t want to.

If you agree with Lowes, spend your money with them. If their choice offends you, vote with your wallet and go someplace else. That’s what free enterprise is all about. But do not think that you, or I, or any group, and for damned sure not any politician, has the right to force them to support a cause, a program, or a business they choose not to, for any reason.      

But don’t worry about it, because it ain’t gonna happen.

Nobody has to do anything to us, because I truly believe that in another generation, or two at best, we’ll all be so dumb that we’ll just all exhale someday, forget to inhale, and fall over dead!

I’m not sure if it’s something in the water, all of the preservatives in our food, or too many first cousins breeding, but I am absolutely convinced that the average American IQ is only about two points above a gerbil. If you don’t believe me, just look around you, or listen carefully to the people in stores and restaurants. Better yet, turn on the evening news! 

The other day, a TV newscast out of Orlando reported a story about a dog that went missing in Virginia eight years ago that was recently picked up as a stray in California, 3,000 miles from home. When the California animal shelter routinely scanned the dog for a microchip, they found one and tracked it back to its owner on the other side of the country. Arrangements are being made to reunite the long lost dog with its family.

Isn’t that a nice story? Doesn’t it make you feel all warm and fuzzy? It did for me, until the anchorwoman finished reporting the story, and then turned to one of her co-anchors and asked “Do you think the dog lived on her own all this years, or did somebody take care of her?”

No, nobody took care of her. It’s a dog eat dog world, and everybody has to fend for themselves. She had a small apartment in Burbank, worked as a waitress on the night shift at Denny’s, and sold designer flea collars at the swap meet on the weekends to supplement her income until she got her big break in show business.

A while back, we were in the Midwest, and the news out of Chicago reported on a strong windstorm that had uprooted a number of huge hundred year old oak trees. After the reporter ended the story, the anchor sitting next to him said “That’s so sad. Can they set them back up?” Her coworker did a good job of hiding his surprise, and replied “No, these are hundred year old trees, they weigh a ton. They can’t be replanted.” And then, the twit behind the microphone said “I wonder how long it will take new trees to get that big?” Hello? They are hundred year old trees!! How long do you think it will take? 

But it’s not just the news media. Look at the post office, that immense bureaucracy where ignorance grows faster than germs on a Petri dish. The post office has been losing money for decades, and with the advent of e-mail, instant messaging, and carriers like UPS and Fed Ex who can do a better job for less money, fewer and fewer people are willing to stand in long lines to deal with rude clerks to get poor service. Now they are proposing to slow down mail delivery, cut back on services, and stop Saturday mail delivery.

So that’s what do you do if you are losing customers? You raise prices and cut back on services! I mean, if they won’t pay what you want for what they are getting now, let’s give them even less and charge more! Makes perfect sense to me, how about you? ‘

I’m pretty sure that if they sent that long lost dog to Washington, instead of back home to Virginia, and let her run the post office, things would be a lot better. Could she really do any worse than the folks in charge now?

Don’t get me wrong, I like Christmas. I especially love Christmas music. But I mean real Christmas music. Songs like Silver Bells, and White Christmas. Not Grandma Got Run Over By A Reindeer and such nonsense. And if I I have to listen to that bunch of annoying chipmunks sing one more Christmas carol, I’m gonna load my shotgun and go hunting! 

Let’s face it, Christmas stopped being about anything except profit many years ago. You buy me something I don’t really want or need, and then I’ll feel obligated to by you something you don’t want or need. And even though we say we won’t do that again, next year I’ll remember that you bought something for me last year, and I’ll guilt myself into getting you something. And the viscous cycle continues. Here’s an idea – how about you buy yourself something that you want, and I’ll buy me something I want. About two weeks after Christmas.

For years, when I owned small town newspapers, we would find a family in need, and collect presents for the kids, and on Christmas Eve, I’d don my Santa Claus costume (Yes, Bad Nick made a fine Santa, thank you very much!), I’d make a couple of the girls from the office put on elf costumes (short, skimpy elf costumes, because Santa’s a lecherous old bugger), and off we’d go to spread Yuletide cheer. I think those were some of my favorite Christmas activities, and I looked forward to it every year.

There is a move on to encourage people to shop at smaller, independent retailers instead of the big box stores this year. Of course, we all know that won’t happen, because if most people can save 49 cents, they’ll go to the big places and fight the crowds to do so. Screw that little guy trying to make a living and put something back into the local economy, I saved 49 cents!  

Maybe we should just forget all of the holiday bullcrap and stop for just one minute and think about what it’s really all about. You remember, things like peace on earth, and goodwill toward mankind.

Oh damn, there go those darn chipmunks again. Honey, grab me my shotgun!

Well, as fate would have it, Barbara and I were not destined to be together. I think it was only a week later that she fell in love with an older, more sophisticated man, and left me heartbroken. But what second grader can compete with a third grade boy who had a Superman lunch box? Love is a fickle thing.

Of course, these days pretty little Barbara would be punished severely for her transgressions. I don’t mean breaking my heart, I’m talking about that kiss. These days a simple kiss, or even a hug between school kids, seems to be forbidden.

A couple of weeks ago, a Brevard County, Florida middle school student received an in-school suspension when the school’s principal observed the 14 year old hug a girl in the hallway between classes. By all reports, it was a mutual hug, the boy did not touch the girl inappropriately, and she did not complain. Still, the school’s policy forbids hugs, to “protect students.” Protect them from what?

Now, a 12 year old Fort Myers girl has been investigated for a “sex crime” after a teacher saw her kiss a boy on the playground at Orange River Elementary School. The teacher reported the kiss to the assistant principal, who called the police and child welfare officials to report what she believed was a possible sex crime.

To their credit, the officers who responded decided that the brief kiss was not a crime and left it at that. But what the hell are we teaching our kids, anyway? Since when could either of these innocent, mutual acts, be considered a crime? When will we ever stop this kind of nonsense?

What’s next, arresting high school wrestlers for “groping” each other on the mat? Charging cheerleaders with indecent exposure if they show a little thigh when going through their maneuvers?

I’m more worried about school officials who see sex everywhere they look than a couple of kids expressing innocent affection. I’m more worried about a society that wants to teach young people that anything and anybody around them is a potential threat. A society that teaches them it is wrong to express affection. How can that be healthy?

I saw a couple of dogs doing what dogs do naturally the other day. Should we call in a SWAT team to arrest them?        

Her blog post got me to thinking about something that has been kicking around in my head for a long time. I wonder how many of us ever know how our words might impact somebody else’s life, or how another person’s words impact the path we travel in our own lives?   

Many times we say something, or hear something, and forget it as soon as the moment passes. But there are times that a few simple words, maybe spoken in anger, maybe with sarcasm, or possibly with love, can change a person’s whole world. Or impact their entire impression of us. And there are times that words can bring comfort to someone when they need it the most.

A few weeks ago, I got an e-mail from a woman who reads my daily RV blog, telling me that the Thought For The Day that I always put at the end of the blog helped her and her husband cope with the death of their daughter. I wish I could take credit for those words, but in looking back, they were sent to me after the death of my cousin in September. But I am still glad they they helped those people at such a terrible time in their lives.

Just like J.A. Jance, who I mentioned above, from the time I was a kid I wanted to be a writer. In fact, I wanted to be a newspaperman. I came from a blue collar family with very little money, and the opportunities to continue my education looked pretty slim to me when I was in high school. But I was fortunate to have an excellent teacher named Jim Summers, who always encouraged me, and drilled the same message into me that my father did at home – that I could do anything I wanted to do, and become anything I wanted to be, if I was willing to work hard enough and sacrifice enough to accomplish it.

I went into the Army right out of high school, and I was very fortunate to have a company commander early on who recognized something in me. He urged me to take advantage of the educational opportunities the military offered, instead of becoming just another barracks rat sitting on my bunk waiting for payday. I followed his advice, and when I returned from overseas, I spent a lot of my off duty time taking classes in everything from college subjects to military skills. I signed up for every class and Army school available, from photography classes, to truck driving school, to leadership courses, and even demolitions school.

When I got my discharge, I went home to Toledo, Ohio, ready to start the next phase in my life. The day after I got home, I took myself down to the Toledo Blade newspaper and applied for a job as a reporter. I didn’t have a college degree, I didn’t have any experience, but I was full of enthusiasm, and I just knew they wanted me! As it turned out, I was wrong.

It took me three or four trips to the newspaper’s office before I ever got past the receptionist and into the office of an editor. I don’t know his name, or even what his title was, but I still remember the large man who gave my hand typed resume a very cursory glance, then flipped it back across his desk to me and said “Kid, do yourself a favor and go down to Jeep and get a job on the assembly line, because neither you nor I are ever going to live long enough to see your name in print.”

Before I went into that office, I wanted to be a writer and a newsman. But when I walked out, I knew I was going to become one, if for no other reason than to go back someday and show that SOB just how wrong he was! I never did get back, of course, and I’m sure he forgot me the minute I walked out the door, but those words changed my life more than any other, before or since. It wasn’t many more years before I started my first newspaper, and over the years my name has been on the masthead of a dozen or more publications, and even a few books. 

Early in my small town newspaper career, I was having lunch with the owner of a small chain of papers when an older lady came to the table and spent several minutes telling him about how her paperboy never got the newspaper onto the front porch, and how she had to fish it out of her rose bushes everyday. He put down his fork, looked at her, and listened patiently, and then assured her that he world speak to the young man.  She hadn’t been gone for more than a moment or two when a local shopkeeper stopped by to complain about something in the paper. My friend again nodded, said he appreciated his input, and promised to share his thoughts with the reporter who had written the story. By the time we had finished our meal, a third person stopped by to thank him for covering some club meeting that they were involved in. He thanked them and said he was glad to do it. 

I told him that it must be hard to eat a hot meal with so many interruptions, and that I admired how he never seemed to lose patience with the interruptions. He then told me something that I have always tried to remember; “Get used to it, Nick. A small town newspaper editor is a big fish in his little pond, and you become something a celebrity, like it or not. When a reader or advertiser or anybody else stops you to say something, you had better give that person your full attention and make them the center of your world for that minute or two. Because it doesn’t matter if you’re hungry, or tired, or have a migraine headache, or you just got word that your mother died. If you don’t give them the attention they need and really listen to them, in their mind you’re just a stuck up SOB who thinks you’re better than them, and doesn’t care what they have to say. On the other hand, if you give them your time and show them you are listening, you just made a friend. They may not agree with you, but they know you care enough to hear them out. Because whatever it is they want to talk about, that’s the most important thing in their lives at the moment, and they need it to be important to you, too.”

I’ve always tried to remember that lesson, and yes, I ate many a cold meal in my newspaper days. Because we never know what impact the things we say or do have on other people. If we’re lucky, we do it right and make a friend, or comfort somebody at a painful time in their lives, or leave them with a good feeling about themselves. If we do it wrong, we may hurt their feelings, or make ourselves appear to be cold or callous. Or who knows, maybe we inspire some other young person to make something out of themselves, even if it is just to show us how wrong we are!

I’m not talking about the national debt, or out of control budgets, or anything else of a political or financial nature. I’m talking about the debt that we all owe to every man and woman who ever put on a uniform and served our country.

It doesn’t matter if they were Army, Navy, Air Force, Marine, Coast Guard, or Merchant Marine. It doesn’t matter if they were drafted, enlisted, or were part of a National Guard or Reserve unit. It doesn’t matter if they waded ashore at Omaha Beach, walked a jungle trail in Viet Nam, served on a flight line in Thailand, or peeled potatoes on KP duty at Fort Dix, New Jersey.

Because if it wasn’t for these brave men and women, who left their homes and families behind to answer duty’s call, we wouldn’t have the freedoms we do today to worship as we choose, to squabble over politics, to sleep safely in our own homes at night, and to live our lives with a freedom unknown by most of people in the world.

Our veterans are tall and short, fat and thin, young and old, male and female, gay and straight, Christian, Jew, and agnostic. Many are proud of their service and wear caps or put bumper stickers on their cars that tell you so. Others never say a word about that time in their lives.

Some did their time and came home and picked up their lives where they left off, some found a home in the military and made it a career, others saw changes that needed made in our society and our government, and worked to make them happen.

Our veterans live in comfortable ranch houses, sprawling mansions, rundown cabins, mobile homes, in cardboard boxes under bridges, and in prison cells.

Millions of our nation’s war veterans came home with physical or psychological problems. Some hide their scars, and some have scars that cannot be hidden. Some become recluses and withdraw from society, some still wake up in the dark with cold sweats and nightmares, and some use anger or humor to drive away their personal demons when they come to call.

But no matter when or where their service was, or how they have lived since then, there are two things that all of these men and women have in common – they stepped up to the plate when they were needed, and we all owe them a debt that we can never repay.

Yeah, I know you’ve heard it a million times before, but it has never been truer than it is today; if you love your freedom, thank a vet.

To all of my brothers and sisters who served America, from the bottom of my heart I say Thank You and Welcome Home. 

Those immortal words from the Declaration of Independence are beautiful, aren’t they? Our forefathers wanted to create a nation where that was true. Perhaps they even believed those words. But they lied. We are not equal. We never have been, and we never will be.

After reading all of the comments on yesterday’s blog, Preoccupied, I think that this illusion of equality is a big part of the problem. People really believe that we are equal, and as equals, we should all have the same opportunities and enjoy the same successes. But it just doesn’t work that way in real life.

I’m short fat, bald, and you might call me plain on a good day, if you were feeling very generous. Would I have liked walking into a place with a super model on each arm, back in my younger days? What young man wouldn’t? But I realized that was never going to happen, and it’s just as well. I prefer real women, the kind you can hold an intelligent conversation with, and who accept themselves, laugh lines and all, just as they are. Because that’s the way I accept myself.

I may be built like a football, but I was never any good at sports. When it comes to making or fixing things, anybody who knows me will tell you that I can cause more damage with a hammer and a screwdriver than a hundred monkeys could if they were all driving trucks the wrong way down a Los Angeles freeway at rush hour. And to be honest, I’m too lazy to want to play sports, or to build or repair anything.

But I was born with certain talents and abilities. From the time I was a kid, I had a vivid imagination, and was always a natural storyteller. I’ve never been afraid of taking a risk, if I felt the payoff was worthwhile. And I have always been able to make friends, anywhere I have ever been. That combination has allowed me to make my living doing what I love best, as a writer, for much of my adult life.

I know other people who can read the same page in a book a dozen times, and still not grasp what it says. But they may know how to tear a gasoline motor down and put it back together again so that it purrs like a kitten, or to build furniture that would look perfectly at home in the finest homes in Savannah or Boston.

When I was in high school, I had a conversation with the father of a friend of mine, who worked on a production line at the Jeep factory in Toledo. I remember saying that I just didn’t understand how anybody could be content with a job like that, when there was a whole wide world out there, just waiting to be explored.

Instead of being offended by my rudeness, he told me that he loved his job, he loved putting in his forty hours and getting his paycheck at the end of the week, and forgetting all about it until next Monday morning. He had helped his parents pick up coal along the railroad tracks to heat the house during the Great Depression, and that’s all he wanted out of life, a steady job and a warm house to come home to at the end of the day. “The world needs worker bees too,” he told me. “And I’m right where I need to be in life.”

No, we are not all created equal. Each of us is a unique individual, with strengths and weaknesses, with our own hopes and dreams, as lofty or as plebian as they may be. 

I think a lot of Americans have forgotten that, or maybe they never got the message in the first place. We can’t all be super models or sports stars. But what each of us can do is to use whatever gifts we are born with to follow our own dreams, and work hard to make those dreams come true.    

In several news reports, I have heard various spokespersons for the movement, or just people interviewed at the various places, and they all seem to say they don’t have a common goal, except that they want a piece of the pie, and don’t feel that they are getting their fair share.

Let’s talk about fair. My 81 year old father-in-law retired after 22 years in the Air Force, then worked two other careers. Now he’s working at WalMart to make ends meet. What’s fair about that?

What is fair? I don’t think it’s fair that huge corporations like GE, DuPont and Wells Fargo have not paid taxes in years, and in fact are actually getting money back from the government every year. In the meantime, you and I are supporting the nation’s poor, paying for wars we don’t want to be in, and are sending billions of our tax dollars overseas every year. In the meantime, many of us can’t afford health insurance, or college tuition for our kids, while chronic welfare rats get free healthcare, and illegal aliens get medical care, and can even send their kids to college on our tax dollars. Why is that fair?

I’ve heard it said that these huge tax breaks help businesses grow, so they can provide more jobs. Okay, then where are those jobs? Every time I want to buy something, everything seems to be made in some other country. What’s the answer? I sure don’t have it. But I do know some things.

Yes, we have a lot of problems in our country, and the way we are doing things isn’t working. Yes, I believe that there are some really big guys and big corporations that are getting too many breaks, courtesy of the congressmen and senators their lobbyists have paid off.

But the flip side of that coin is that there are way too many people in this country who have an entitlement mindset and want everything handed to them.

I keep hearing about this 99 percent who say that they are getting shafted. But nobody I know is out there taking part in the protests, because they are too busy working and living their own lives.

More than one person in the occupy movement has been pictured holding signs that say they can’t find work. Bullshit. There is always a job or a way to make a buck, if you want to. It may not be a great job, and it may not pay top dollar, but just about anyone can drive a taxi, work in a convenience store or fast food restaurant, or a thousand other menial jobs. No, you may not be able to pay all of your bills on those kind of wages, but guess what? There are millions of people who do live on that kind of money!

I’ve also heard a lot of comments about the rich people who have it all. But what’s rich? Obviously, we have people like Microsoft’s Bill Gates, or Apple Computer’s late Steve Jobs. But we also have a lot of people who have a lot less, and have worked damned hard to get it. Why should they be expected to give up what they worked and saved for so somebody else can have it? Mystery author J.A. Jance had an interesting post on her blog, titled Notes From a One-percenter that sums it up quite well, much better than I can say it.

I’ve been flat out broke, and I’ve had some relative success at different times in my life. Eleven years ago, when my wife was diagnosed with cancer, it wiped us out financially. I don’t mean we took a hard hit to our bank account, I mean we were broke. Busted. To the point where we had to borrow money to eat.

Man, it sure would have been easy to just give up at that point. But one thing about hitting rock bottom; you have nowhere to go but up. So we rolled up our sleeves and worked hard, and today we are doing just fine. Because those are the values we were raised on.

But I’ve noticed a funny thing. When we finally did get out of the hole that we found ourselves in, and actually reached the point where we could afford a small luxury or two, there were people who resented us for it. After I bought a used motorcycle, one person actually cancelled his subscription to our newspaper, saying “If Nick can afford a motorcycle, he doesn’t need my money.”

Years earlier, when we were first getting ready to go on the road as fulltime RVers, I had worked out a plan to sell my business to my employees. It looked like a pretty good offer to me, and all they had to do was keep right on doing their jobs, and within five years, they would own the place.

Instead, the minute my back was turned, they started stealing me blind. When confronted, they said “Yeah, well you have a new RV, and you have a Corvette. We deserve something, too!”

I realized that they were right, and they got just what they deserved, a quick trip out the front door, never to return. I will never apologize for busting my butt for years, and for reaping the benefits of my hard work.

I’m sure that there are some folks involved in the Occupy movement who really want to help change things in a positive way. But I also think that for many of them, this is just an excuse to party and hang out, and they really have no clue what they are doing.  And I suspect that a lot of the people jumping up and down in front of the cameras at these gatherings have the same attitudes as that reader and those former employees of mine.

“My parents were married for 63 years,” she wrote. “My paternal grandparents were together over 50 years before death took them apart. My maternal grandparents had 60 years of a loving, stable marriage. My husband and I celebrated our 35th anniversary this year. Nick, how can you compare those kind of relationships with what gay people call love (but is really just a sick form of lust)? Marriage is a sacred thing between a man and a woman, not a fad or a political tool to win votes.”

What makes a relationship between a man and a woman automatically more “sacred” than that between a same sex couple? While I cannot claim to know any gay couples who have been together as long as the marriages this lady wrote about, I do know two or three gay couples who have been together for many years. They are just as committed to each other as any straight couple I know, and more so than many. 

Now let’s compare television personality Kim Kardashian’s divorce announcement from NBA player Kris Humphries after only 72 days of marriage. Yeah, that’s real sacred isn’t it? It has to be – after all, they’re straight!

We live in a disposable world. We have disposable diapers, disposable plates, and, it seems, disposable marriages. This brings to mind a young couple who came into my weekly newspaper back in Arizona to put in a wedding announcement. I congratulated them on their upcoming nuptials, and told them that I wished them a lifetime of love and happiness. The young lady thanked me, then said “We decided we’d give it a year and see what happens. We figure if it doesn’t work out, we can always get a divorce.”

How can a marriage “work out” if you go into it with that kind of attitude?

I’ve always heard that marriage is a 50-50 proposition, but that’s not true. I believe a successful marriage is a 100 -100 thing. Both parties have to give 100% of themselves to the other and to the relationship. How can something succeed if you only put half of yourself into it?

And that includes gay and straight couples. Anything less is what makes a mockery of marriage.