The other day a prominent NYC columnist caused a fire storm with her column implying something nefarious about the DeBlasio family’s love life:
Columnist A: Chirlane McCray, wife of the public advocate and mayoral probable, admitted last week that she once slept exclusively with women. Can you really get over that?
“In the 1970s, I identified as a lesbian and wrote about it,’’ Chirlane McCray said in a statement. This after Politicker.com last week outed McCray, who penned a cover story for Essence magazine in 1979, “I am a Lesbian,” boasting about her lust for the ladies. Awkward!
“In 1991, I met the love of my life, married him and together we’ve raised two amazing kids,” McCray continued.
Lesbians don’t simply get cured, as if homosexuality were a temporary disease. Someone (de Blasio? McCray? Both?) isn’t being honest.
The response was furious
Columnist B: This could have been the nonstory of the season:
Public Advocate and mayoral probable Bill de Blasio’s wife, Chirlane McCray, used to be an out and proud lesbian. Then she married stud muffin Bill in 1994 and — presto! — her sapphic stranglehold was magically cured.
Well, who am I to say it can’t happen?
Sexuality in New York City is pretty much a non-issue, at least when it comes to the conventional gay and straight kind. That holds true whether you’re talking about former Mayor Rudy Giuliani’s pair of gay roommates during his marital separation, or City Council Speaker Christine Quinn’s committed, wedded bliss to another woman.
The problem here is that Columnist A and Columnist B are both Andrea Peyser.
Normally, I’d call anyone who published both column in the same seven day period a disingenuous sack of excrement. But in the case of Ms. Peyser she is clearly both so psychotic and so bereft of brain waves that I am absolutely sure she sincerely believes she is being utterly consistent.