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Brothers, the radical sodomite agenda is on the march, and I'm sad to report that they are making in-roads everywhere. Brother Hatchett has documented the homerization of the children's cereal, snack and fast food industry. Today I want to highlight a disturbing new trend, clear evidence that queer marriage is destroying normal marriage. 
More men taking their wives' last names
Orenda Fink gave her husband, Todd Baechle, more than just her hand in marriage. She gave him her last name, too. But because men so rarely take their wives' surnames, it can confuse county officials. Todd Fink paid a pretty penny for the privilege: $500 instead of $5.Fans of his band, the Faint, buzzed about it. Music writers were confused when he said he had a brother in the band, even though every member has a different last name. The move initially miffed his parents.
And — most troubling for Fink — it was grueling to navigate the legal process of changing his name. Many county and state officials didn't know what to do.
"Humans trust traditions," said Fink, now married three years. "But some things are worth changing. Sometimes you have to walk off the sidewalk if you want new experiences."
There's a slow-growing trend for men to take their spouses' last names. No local, state or national agency records the instances, but anecdotal evidence nationwide indicates it's more common, said Mark Rosenbaum, a lawyer and University of Michigan professor of law who has led legal charges in California to make the process as easy for men as for women.
Employees at the Douglas County Clerk's Office, which issues marriage licenses, recall about five men who have made the choice in the past decade. Jackie Fairbanks, registration supervisor for the Nebraska Department of Health and Human Services' vital records division, hasn't seen many, but she has noticed more in the past year or two.
Todd Fink made the choice for a number of reasons.
His future wife was pursuing a solo music career after having been half of the pop duo Azure Ray. Todd Fink didn't want her to have to change her name after having established her own musical identity. They debated using separate last names, but they planned to have children and thought the different names would be confusing for the kids.
The decision to take his wife's name was one of the easiest parts of the process.
When Todd Fink informed his family, his parents were surprised — and not pleased.
"They eventually accepted it," he said. "They understand I'm still the same son I was before, even though I have a different name."
When Fink couldn't get a straight answer from government officials on how to change his name, he pursued a formal name change — a roughly $500 process that required him to hire a lawyer, file paperwork, have his name change publicized for four consecutive weeks and appear before a judge. Fink had to testify he wasn't changing his name to evade creditors or a criminal history.
In the end, it appears Fink did more than necessary.
Douglas County Clerk Tom Cavanaugh conferred with state vital statistics officials before concluding that, just as a bride would, a bridegroom can simply pay $5 for a certified copy of his marriage license. That document would enable him to change his last name on his driver's license, Social Security card and more.
Fairbanks, of HHS, wasn't sure how long that specific procedure has been in place, because the male last name change is so rare.
"We don't see very much of it," Fairbanks said. "And we've only recently seen it at all."
The confusion is common throughout the United States, said Rosenbaum, the attorney.
"Men who think about it are quickly discouraged either by the process or the public reaction," he said.
That reaction is the product of our roots as a patriarchal society and several hundred years of history, said Cleveland Evans, a member of the American Name Society and a psychology professor at Bellevue University.
People are more accepting when women change their names in marriage because it's an age-old custom — although, he said, in 14th and 15th century England, men were known to take their wives' names if a woman's family was more prominent.
When Omahan Kory Miller married Julie Delka in 1995, he fancied himself a fairly progressive guy. Delka didn't feel comfortable taking Miller's name but ideally wanted to share a name with him. They talked about him taking her name, or having both of their names hyphenated, or making up a last name.
Miller couldn't bite on any of those options. For the first three years of their marriage, he remained Kory Miller while she was Julie Delka-Miller.
When the time came to have children, the couple merged their last names, becoming the Delkamillers. He fleetingly pushed for Millerdelka before relenting.
"Delkamiller just sounds better," said the religion teacher at Marian High School.
Reactions varied. Some friends and family thought it was cool. Some certainly did not. Miller's family, especially, was troubled because he was the only male who could carry on the family name.
"My family wasn't doing cartwheels when I told them . . . but they eventually adapted and accepted it," he said.
That wasn't the only concern.
As with the Finks, the Delkamillers had to navigate a confusing legal process. It's their understanding that it would have been easier if they had done it immediately. Because they waited three years, they had to hire a lawyer, file paperwork and appear before a judge.
They were told they could pick any last name they wanted — as long as it didn't infringe on a copyright.
"I guess I couldn't have been Julie Diet Coca-Cola," Julie Delkamiller said.
All in all, the couple say it has been worth the trouble, because they share a name. There's only one hang-up for Kory Delkamiller: "Women have maiden names. What do I call mine?"
Todd Fink also is happy he made the change. Most of the problems — puzzled fans, sore family, legal bills — went away after the first year of marriage, when the name change became final.
"I don't think I gave up anything I shouldn't have," Fink said. "I'm happy to have her name."
Orenda Fink gave her husband, Todd Baechle, more than just her hand in marriage. She gave him her last name, too. But because men so rarely take their wives' surnames, it can confuse county officials. Todd Fink paid a pretty penny for the privilege: $500 instead of $5.Fans of his band, the Faint, buzzed about it. Music writers were confused when he said he had a brother in the band, even though every member has a different last name. The move initially miffed his parents.
And — most troubling for Fink — it was grueling to navigate the legal process of changing his name. Many county and state officials didn't know what to do.
"Humans trust traditions," said Fink, now married three years. "But some things are worth changing. Sometimes you have to walk off the sidewalk if you want new experiences."
There's a slow-growing trend for men to take their spouses' last names. No local, state or national agency records the instances, but anecdotal evidence nationwide indicates it's more common, said Mark Rosenbaum, a lawyer and University of Michigan professor of law who has led legal charges in California to make the process as easy for men as for women.
Employees at the Douglas County Clerk's Office, which issues marriage licenses, recall about five men who have made the choice in the past decade. Jackie Fairbanks, registration supervisor for the Nebraska Department of Health and Human Services' vital records division, hasn't seen many, but she has noticed more in the past year or two.
Todd Fink made the choice for a number of reasons.
His future wife was pursuing a solo music career after having been half of the pop duo Azure Ray. Todd Fink didn't want her to have to change her name after having established her own musical identity. They debated using separate last names, but they planned to have children and thought the different names would be confusing for the kids.
The decision to take his wife's name was one of the easiest parts of the process.
When Todd Fink informed his family, his parents were surprised — and not pleased.
"They eventually accepted it," he said. "They understand I'm still the same son I was before, even though I have a different name."
When Fink couldn't get a straight answer from government officials on how to change his name, he pursued a formal name change — a roughly $500 process that required him to hire a lawyer, file paperwork, have his name change publicized for four consecutive weeks and appear before a judge. Fink had to testify he wasn't changing his name to evade creditors or a criminal history.
In the end, it appears Fink did more than necessary.
Douglas County Clerk Tom Cavanaugh conferred with state vital statistics officials before concluding that, just as a bride would, a bridegroom can simply pay $5 for a certified copy of his marriage license. That document would enable him to change his last name on his driver's license, Social Security card and more.
Fairbanks, of HHS, wasn't sure how long that specific procedure has been in place, because the male last name change is so rare.
"We don't see very much of it," Fairbanks said. "And we've only recently seen it at all."
The confusion is common throughout the United States, said Rosenbaum, the attorney.
"Men who think about it are quickly discouraged either by the process or the public reaction," he said.
That reaction is the product of our roots as a patriarchal society and several hundred years of history, said Cleveland Evans, a member of the American Name Society and a psychology professor at Bellevue University.
People are more accepting when women change their names in marriage because it's an age-old custom — although, he said, in 14th and 15th century England, men were known to take their wives' names if a woman's family was more prominent.
When Omahan Kory Miller married Julie Delka in 1995, he fancied himself a fairly progressive guy. Delka didn't feel comfortable taking Miller's name but ideally wanted to share a name with him. They talked about him taking her name, or having both of their names hyphenated, or making up a last name.
Miller couldn't bite on any of those options. For the first three years of their marriage, he remained Kory Miller while she was Julie Delka-Miller.
When the time came to have children, the couple merged their last names, becoming the Delkamillers. He fleetingly pushed for Millerdelka before relenting.
"Delkamiller just sounds better," said the religion teacher at Marian High School.
Reactions varied. Some friends and family thought it was cool. Some certainly did not. Miller's family, especially, was troubled because he was the only male who could carry on the family name.
"My family wasn't doing cartwheels when I told them . . . but they eventually adapted and accepted it," he said.
That wasn't the only concern.
As with the Finks, the Delkamillers had to navigate a confusing legal process. It's their understanding that it would have been easier if they had done it immediately. Because they waited three years, they had to hire a lawyer, file paperwork and appear before a judge.
They were told they could pick any last name they wanted — as long as it didn't infringe on a copyright.
"I guess I couldn't have been Julie Diet Coca-Cola," Julie Delkamiller said.
All in all, the couple say it has been worth the trouble, because they share a name. There's only one hang-up for Kory Delkamiller: "Women have maiden names. What do I call mine?"
Todd Fink also is happy he made the change. Most of the problems — puzzled fans, sore family, legal bills — went away after the first year of marriage, when the name change became final.
"I don't think I gave up anything I shouldn't have," Fink said. "I'm happy to have her name."
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