This has been a rough week for fans of conventional marriage, hasn't it? A European woman actually weds her dead boyfriend. Ken and Barbie split. San Francisco city officials preside over the civil unions of hundreds of homosexuals, including two lesbians, ages 83 and 79, respectively, a couple for 51 years.

Such events, of course, fly in the face of our putative president DUH-Be-Yah's vaunted $1.5 billion drive for promotion of marriage – between men and women, that is – actually training couples to develop interpersonal skills supposedly sustaining healthy marriages, whatever they are. This is his mind-boggling Big-Brotheresque initiative preceded by last October's Marriage Protection Week.

Not only do the feds want to – shudder – get in bed with you, they'd still like to get in your pants, as well. What business does the gummint have intruding into our lives this way? Friends, we're not talking Patriot Act-Homeland Security issues here, either.

Sneaky Petes, too, those feds seeking confidential info on recent abortions in several states. "They're the new Taliban," a seething activist warns.

Although it's really hard for me to credit BUSHwah-generated lessons in marriage enrichment for mostly low-income Americans as being in any way practically or psychologically useful, I can imagine nothing more reinvigorating to the husband-wife dynamic than watching reruns of "The Honeymooners," "All in the Family," "I Love Lucy," maybe even 'Sanford and Son," while playing Strip Poker. Just give all Americans their own individual portable DVD players along with their income tax refunds, and the rest is easy.

Even I want one.

Yes, just when Marriage in America's heating up as a political hot-button – with legions of gays reportedly ready to storm the barricades of this sacred institution – fairytale sweethearts Ken and Barbie break up right before Valentines Day, after 43 years together. What a shame. Or could this just be a marketing ploy for Single Barbie?

"They say she has a new guy," predicts Manhattan intuitive counselor "Sforza Destino," "but I'm convinced there's another woman on the horizon ... for Barbie."

Ah, yes, she finally dumped her commitment-phobic swain. About time. Now Barbie – legendary fashion model /rock singer /surgeon /World Cup soccer player /entrepreneur /presidential wannabe – may even be trying on fuzzy-bunny slippers in preparation for a guest shot on television's "The L-Word."

"Their marriage will be a failya," snipes one slangy Web wag, "'cause they've got no genitalya."

Sometimes these "permanent" relationships seem so endless, don't they, and not in a good way. Didn't Clark Kent and Lois Lane date for 50 years? Actually, I think only my own parents were a couple longer than Ken and Barbie – more than half-a-century – but rumor had it the 'rents were considering divorce toward the end of their lives. Ma, what's the matter, I asked Yetta my maternal unit, you wanted to wait until the children are dead?

Though my own – you should pardon the expression – romances tend to be brief and fleeting, but intense like the life span of a mayfly, I still know that feeling.

Am I hallucinating, or does the Bushling want to reward "Frequent Liar" points to straying spouses?

While I understand perfectly well why gay couples would seek legal standing for their unions, I say, better them than me. I'm not rushing down the aisle any time soon, I can assure you that. For me, the sanctity of marriage was breached by Britney's drive-by Vegas nuptials, if not before. Or even the Bennifer "engagement." Those silly heteros!!

The day I told my parents that my husband and I were getting a divorce, they drove from New Jersey to Philly, picked me up, and took me to visit my favorite great uncle, a 94-year-old widower living in an old-age home in Feasterville, Pa. When we arrived, he was nowhere to be found, but finally, an attendant whispered to us that he had been pried off of the loins of a willing lady. Still dotty with unconsummated desire, he rubbed up against my mother, didn't recognize my father, and told me "A woman isn't a woman until she has a baby."

Indubitably, a fella after Bush 43's own heart.

"Now there's a piece for you!," exults "Maggie" the social worker. "Tie it into gay marriage and Bushie's stupid marriage training for couples. Or maybe Ken can propose to Britney, and Barbie to Madonna."

Mixed nuts, anyone?