Texas Wept.

Wow, what a week.

And what a strange land we Americans occupy. In a fragmented political atmosphere that could only be compared to such fickle mindsets as Sybil and those three zany faces of Eve, we experienced both the heroic and the nefarious these past four days.

Actually, both events transpired on Tuesday, which in my opinion, is the most under-appreciated day of the week. Tuesdays are the misunderstood middle children. When God created Tuesday, he sort of mailed it in, throwing together a crock pot casserole in the morning so dinner would be ready after work and he could recover from Monday and ramp up for Hump Day.

Anyway, or as my recent high school-diploma-holding daughter says, "anyways," the United States Supreme Court ruled on Tuesday, in a five-to-four decision, that the Federal Defense of Marriage Act is unconstitutional. The black-robed majority maintained that the Act violated the Fifth Amendment, disparaging "personhood and dignity" by treating same sex marriages as less respected than those utilizing complementary plumbing.

The usual suspects voted in favor of DOMA: Justices Roberts, Scalia and Alito danced with the Republican presidents who'd asked them to the prom, as did Justice Clarence Thomas, who kept alive his seven-year streak of never asking a question during oral arguments.

Impressive. He insists that justices should listen, rather than interrupt the advocates. I'm not saying he's not paying attention here; all I would submit is that nothing lures away the attention of a bored SCOTUS judge like the deadly cocktail a of an iPhone 5 and Instagram.

I don't want to downplay this decision, though. As former Arkansas governor Mike Huckabee proclaimed, "Five people in robes claimed they are bigger than God. Jesus wept."

He did? Like, just sort of choked-up or actual full-on, doubled-over sobbing where snot strings from his mustache and salty tear dollops plop against his strappy sandals?

Next time I see him, I'll have to ask Huckabee how he managed to livestream J.C. on his Jesus Cam.

And then there's the events that transpired in the Lone Star State. On Monday, the Texas State House voted overwhelmingly to pass a draconian proposal that would ban all abortions after twenty weeks, as well as adding stringent new restrictions on how clinics get licensed. The consequences would have essentially eliminated abortion clinics in our nation's second largest state.

Here's the heroic part. In order for the bill to not be voted upon by the Senate and enacted into law, Senator Wendy Davis instigated a thirteen-hour filibuster. Under Texas rules, she was required to speak continuously and only on the topic of the bill in order to continue the filibuster. Beginning at 11:00 AM, she was not allowed breaks to eat, drink, go to the bathroom or even lean against the desk, and only after midnight arrived, thereby ending the thirty-day special session, did Ms. Davis cede the podium. 

Then I'm guessing she went to the bathroom.

The bill was thereby vanquished and the women of Texas were assured a reprieve from Governor Rick Perry's medieval scourge on women's rights. This meat-stuffed suit who calls himself a governor needs to go the hell away. He's now threatening to call another special session to pound this thing through.

Look Rick, while you're at it, why don't you attack your state's obesity epidemic by eliminating all Cheesecake Factories in Texas? By your logic, citizens will abruptly halt consuming shoebox-sized chunks of cheesecake and the entire republic will enjoy a svelter profile. 

There's not a chance that anyone would skirt the law and whip up his or her own curdy loaf of illegal cheesecake, right? 

Come on, Texas, that door to the back alley is still propped open. Toss that pious governor of yours out by the rusty Dumpsters and slam that thing for good.