So it was announced recently that, thanks to the difficult economic climate, conservative Evangelical activist group/wacky Christofascist hate-o-rama Focus on the Family will be laying off 150 employees, or about 13% of their staff.
Now, the official position of Cupcakes in Hell is that we do not mock or celebrate anyone losing their livelihoods (or car keys).
However, unofficially, this might be the best side-effect of the recession so far. I mean, it's a shame that these people will no longer be able to earn their living in a position that both shares and celebrates their religious beliefs, and endeavors to inflict them upon innocent passers-by. But, really, isn't less Focus on Family always A Good Thing?
The organization's spokesman offered assurances that all of the future former employees would receive severance pay and job training, hopefully of the sort that prepares them for the unforgiving godless culture that exists in The Outside World, a place where people regularly engage in sex for pleasure* and take The Lord's Name in vain.
But if you're curious as to what sorts of jobs have been eliminated, I've done a bit of research**
to find out exactly what some of these positions were, and what sort of duties they entailed.
Junior Vice President of Demonization of Homosexuals: Someone has to scare everyone into thinking that The Gays are horrible amoral monsters hellbent on recruiting The Children. Not this guy anymore, though.
Assistant Professor of Evolution Denial: It takes some pretty smart people to be able to thoroughly misunderstand science, yet communicate that misunderstanding in a way that sounds "sciencey" to Joe the Six-pack Plumber, or whomever. But it no longer takes quite as many smart people as before. Oh, well.
Anti-Drug Consultant: I'm told Jesus spent a lot of time sounding off against illegal drugs when he wasn't busy turning water into wine. Not enough, I guess.
Sarah Palin: She's had a taste of power, Dr. Dobson; good luck getting her to go back into the baby-making business.
Prognosticator of the Anti-Christ: Who needs this asshole? The election gave them the only Anti-Christ they'll need for a good four to eight years.
Guardian of the Womb: Not as cool as it sounds; basically, they keep track of newborn babies. You see, someone needs to keep an eye on which babies are unborn (and therefore, according to FoF, have a divine right to the fullest protection federal law can give them) and which have been born (and are therefore no longer the responsibility of the federal government to feed, clothe, shelter, etc). Or, rather, someone used to need to do that.
Chief of Medicine Prevention: No, not "Preventative Medicine". "Medicine Prevention". Scientists are threatening to do some sci-fi shit with stem cells, and the less fearful people are of death and disease, the harder it is to sell them on the whole "Jesus" thing.
Economic Prayer Specialist: I think this goes without saying.
* - Or, if you're a fan of alliteration, "fornication for fun".
** - i.e., "making shit up".
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Monday, November 3, 2008
Election Day Special!!!
My more attentive readers will have noticed by now that I have been on sabbatical for the better part of five months. My vacation from the hectic world of Freelance Electronic Super-Journalism was incredibly relaxing, which is lucky, since it was almost immediately followed by a rather worrying phone call from my boss, Cupcakes In Hell editor-in-chief Horatio X. Grubbells, who kindly shared with me several pieces of surprising and helpful information, not the least of which was the fact that somebody other than me is in charge of Cupcakes In Hell, and the rather startling news that John McCain's selection of Sarah Palin as his running mate was actually A Genuine Piece of Real World Fact, and not, as I had assumed on first reading, an elaborate practical joke somebody was playing on me.
And so, at Dr. Grubbells' request, I have returned to the Blogosphere in order to pen an Election Day Special, which Dr. Grubbells was kind enough to assign without any particular mandate vis-a-vis content or style, with the exception of his demand that I "...quit it with the goddamn footnote shtick, already."*
So I decided that, as a special service to my readers, I would avoid commenting on the 2008 U.S. Presidential Election in the 2008 Election Day Special. I mean, c'mon: you're sick of hearing about it. I'm sick of hearing about it. You know who you're gonna vote for, if you haven't voted already, and you just want the damned thing to be over. Am I right?
Hey, I sympathize. Really. So instead of repeating everything you've heard a thousand times about What's-His-Name and Who's-His-Face, I'll be offering my predictions for the next five Presidential Elections.
Remember: You heard it here first!
2012: Barack Obama vs. Sarah Palin
Campaign Platforms: President Obama bases his campaign primarily on the message: "See? I told you I wasn't a Socialist Muslim Terrorist," while Gov. Palin focuses on appealing to exactly the sort of people you would expect to vote for Sarah Palin.
Prominent Supporters: While Gov. Palin's core message of folksy, small-town, religious family values is underscored by the support of Pat Robertson, Ted Neugent, and the banjo player from Deliverance, it is severely undermined when, in a development anticipated by absolutely no one at all**, Jesus Christ returns and unambiguously endorses Barack Obama, calling him, "My homeboy".
Results: A landslide so massive it re-affirms everybody's faith in humanity. Hooray!
2016: Al Franken vs. Mike Huckabee
Huh?: After Vice President Biden decides not to run (citing his "commitment to family" and "common human decency" as reasons he is unable to properly dedicate himself to the campaign process), the Democratic party, fresh out of eligible Kennedys and apparently believing themselves to be invincible, nominate the comedian-turned-political-satirist-turned-senator, bravely ignoring American history's notable lack of amusing yet unattractive Jewish presidents. The GOP responds by nominating the surprisingly likable Baptist preacher, former governor, and Fox News television personality.
Mud-slinging: While Franken sternly condemns Huckabee's biblically-based proposal to ban gay marriage, gay adoption, gay pornography, gay sex, and the classic Elton John album Madman Across the Water, it proves no match for Huckabee's fiery condemnation of Franken's alleged Host Desecration. Furthermore, Huckabee's assertions, during the third and final presidential debate, that if one were to prick Franken, he would not, in fact, bleed, nor laugh if tickled, turn out to be the metaphorical knock-out punch needed to clinch the election for Huckabee, despite his lack of an explicit endorsement from Jesus Christ (who had gone into relative seclusion after losing American Idol in 2013).
Take off, eh?: After Huckabee's victory by a comfortable margin, numerous grieving liberals and secularists emigrate to Canada in a move that turns out to be futile when, in the spring of 2018, the U.S. conquers Canada in a pre-emptive invasion that, according to President Huckabee, is "...foretold in Revelations, or something."
2020: Mike Huckabee vs. Angelina Jolie
And so, at Dr. Grubbells' request, I have returned to the Blogosphere in order to pen an Election Day Special, which Dr. Grubbells was kind enough to assign without any particular mandate vis-a-vis content or style, with the exception of his demand that I "...quit it with the goddamn footnote shtick, already."*
So I decided that, as a special service to my readers, I would avoid commenting on the 2008 U.S. Presidential Election in the 2008 Election Day Special. I mean, c'mon: you're sick of hearing about it. I'm sick of hearing about it. You know who you're gonna vote for, if you haven't voted already, and you just want the damned thing to be over. Am I right?
Hey, I sympathize. Really. So instead of repeating everything you've heard a thousand times about What's-His-Name and Who's-His-Face, I'll be offering my predictions for the next five Presidential Elections.
Remember: You heard it here first!
2012: Barack Obama vs. Sarah Palin
Campaign Platforms: President Obama bases his campaign primarily on the message: "See? I told you I wasn't a Socialist Muslim Terrorist," while Gov. Palin focuses on appealing to exactly the sort of people you would expect to vote for Sarah Palin.
Prominent Supporters: While Gov. Palin's core message of folksy, small-town, religious family values is underscored by the support of Pat Robertson, Ted Neugent, and the banjo player from Deliverance, it is severely undermined when, in a development anticipated by absolutely no one at all**, Jesus Christ returns and unambiguously endorses Barack Obama, calling him, "My homeboy".
Results: A landslide so massive it re-affirms everybody's faith in humanity. Hooray!
2016: Al Franken vs. Mike Huckabee
Huh?: After Vice President Biden decides not to run (citing his "commitment to family" and "common human decency" as reasons he is unable to properly dedicate himself to the campaign process), the Democratic party, fresh out of eligible Kennedys and apparently believing themselves to be invincible, nominate the comedian-turned-political-satirist-turned-senator, bravely ignoring American history's notable lack of amusing yet unattractive Jewish presidents. The GOP responds by nominating the surprisingly likable Baptist preacher, former governor, and Fox News television personality.
Mud-slinging: While Franken sternly condemns Huckabee's biblically-based proposal to ban gay marriage, gay adoption, gay pornography, gay sex, and the classic Elton John album Madman Across the Water, it proves no match for Huckabee's fiery condemnation of Franken's alleged Host Desecration. Furthermore, Huckabee's assertions, during the third and final presidential debate, that if one were to prick Franken, he would not, in fact, bleed, nor laugh if tickled, turn out to be the metaphorical knock-out punch needed to clinch the election for Huckabee, despite his lack of an explicit endorsement from Jesus Christ (who had gone into relative seclusion after losing American Idol in 2013).
Take off, eh?: After Huckabee's victory by a comfortable margin, numerous grieving liberals and secularists emigrate to Canada in a move that turns out to be futile when, in the spring of 2018, the U.S. conquers Canada in a pre-emptive invasion that, according to President Huckabee, is "...foretold in Revelations, or something."
2020: Mike Huckabee vs. Angelina Jolie
Spring forward, fall back: During the final weekend of campaigning before the election, President Huckabee, clearly worried by his poor showing in the polls, desperately attempts to convince the electorate that the sun's setting at a noticeably earlier time of day is caused, not by Daylight Savings Time, but rather "...an evil magic spell [Ms. Jolie] has cast o'er the land." Surprisingly, this tactic proves largely unsuccessful, and President Huckabee loses by a considerable margin.
Ding, dong...: Upon learning that the first female president of the United States is Angelina Jolie, Hillary Rodham Clinton dies of a heart attack, following a brief but apparently heartfelt burst of profanity.
2024: N/A
All your base are belong to us: The 2024 election is cancelled so that humanity can focus its attention on repelling the invading forces of space aliens. Vice President John Cusack, demonstrating the level-headed quick thinking that made him such an appealing running mate in the previous election, saves humanity when he discovers that the most effective weapon against the aliens is the music of Peter Gabriel.
Citizens for Alien Invasion Truth: President Jolie's approval rating remains high, despite a small but vocal group of conspiracy theorists who maintain that the entire invasion was merely a high-budget publicity stunt for an upcoming motion picture featuring Secretary of Defense George Clooney.
2028: Chelsea Clinton vs. Ashton Kutcher
But seriously, folks: In a move assumed by almost everyone (including both nominees) to be the season premiere for a high-budget revival of Punk'd, the GOP nominates the former actor and model as their candidate. Barry Goldwater and Ronald Reagan roll in their graves in perfect synchronization.
Chug! Chug! Chug!: During the first presidential debate, Kutcher responds to a complex and insightful statement from Clinton regarding her foreign policy position by funneling an entire six pack in what turns out to be a world-record-setting time. After numerous pundits cite this as the moment during which Kutcher won the debate, Clinton departs from her standard stump speech on the campaign trail to declare that "...democracy only works if you people aren't fucking idiots!" Somewhat predictably, she proves unable to regain momentum in the polls.
* - He says they're "confusing". Pfft. Maybe for you they are, Horatio.
** - Except me, obviously.
Monday, June 2, 2008
How to Speak Creationist
If you're anything like me, you spend a fair amount of time debating Creationists on the internet when you're not busy ogling Eastern European fetish porn. Yes, yes, I know, I'm a sucker for punishment. But, anyway, getting back to Creationists: I never really expected them to be the most rational people (these are, after all, folks who read an ancient story about a talking snake and magical trees and think, "That makes sense"), or even necessarily honest. But I genuinely thought that we were at least speaking the same language (English). Not true, as it turns out. I'm speaking English. They're speaking Wacky Bizarro Church Monkey Babble. Or, more briefly: Creationist.
Creationist, as far as I can tell, uses the same letters and sounds as English, but the actual meaning behind the apparently familiar words is not necessarily what the average lucid listener would interpret them as. So, as an act of Journalistic Public Service, I've presented a brief Creationist/English phrase guide that will help enormously in any future discussions you may have with these poor deluded bastards. You won't have to wait long for this stuff to come up, the average Creationist says each of these about as often as Davey Jones sings "Daydream Believer" (winning roughly the same amount of respect in the process).
Creationist: "There are no transitional fossils."
English: "The search for the fabled half pony/half monkey monster* continues!!!"
Creationist: "Evolution violates the Second Law of Thermodynamics."
English: "I flunked science in high school, but I'm learning a bunch of cool stuff at this website I found!"
Creationist: "Darwinism discriminates against non-naturalistic explanations!"
English: "Don't you find science boring if you don't sometimes make stuff up? Not at all? Not even a teensy-weensy smidgeon?"
Creationist: "Darwinism is a religion!"
English: "I am very religious!"
Creationist: "Darwinism is inherently racist!"
English: "Some of my best friends are black."
Creationist: "Haven't you read Darwin's Black Box? A lot of scientists are skeptical of Darwin these days."
English: "I don't get out much."
Creationist: "Evolution is a theory, not a fact!"
English: "I'm not entirely clear on exactly what the definitions of "theory", "fact", and "evolution" are."
Creationist: "All the answers we need are in Genesis."
English: "Oh, please don't dignify my comments with a response; I probably wouldn't listen anyway."
Creationist: "Evolution doesn't explain the origin of life!"
English: "Or how gravity works! Or why it rains! Or fire! Say, what were we talking about again?"
Creationist: "Darwin renounced evolution on his deathbed."
English: "I'm not lying per se, just repeating the lies of others. Jesus allows that, I think."
Creationist: "Darwinism lead to the Nazis and the Holocaust!!"
English: "Just push me down a flight of stairs, already."
Wasn't that fun? Now, next time you run into Duane Gish or Ben Stein or your grandmother's minister, you'll be able to read between the lines. Not that this will help the dialogue much: creationists are still either morons or liars, and that tends to interfere with meaningful communication. But it's a start! Right?
* - Goodnight, Jonathan Coulton, wherever you are!
Creationist, as far as I can tell, uses the same letters and sounds as English, but the actual meaning behind the apparently familiar words is not necessarily what the average lucid listener would interpret them as. So, as an act of Journalistic Public Service, I've presented a brief Creationist/English phrase guide that will help enormously in any future discussions you may have with these poor deluded bastards. You won't have to wait long for this stuff to come up, the average Creationist says each of these about as often as Davey Jones sings "Daydream Believer" (winning roughly the same amount of respect in the process).
Creationist: "There are no transitional fossils."
English: "The search for the fabled half pony/half monkey monster* continues!!!"
Creationist: "Evolution violates the Second Law of Thermodynamics."
English: "I flunked science in high school, but I'm learning a bunch of cool stuff at this website I found!"
Creationist: "Darwinism discriminates against non-naturalistic explanations!"
English: "Don't you find science boring if you don't sometimes make stuff up? Not at all? Not even a teensy-weensy smidgeon?"
Creationist: "Darwinism is a religion!"
English: "I am very religious!"
Creationist: "Darwinism is inherently racist!"
English: "Some of my best friends are black."
Creationist: "Haven't you read Darwin's Black Box? A lot of scientists are skeptical of Darwin these days."
English: "I don't get out much."
Creationist: "Evolution is a theory, not a fact!"
English: "I'm not entirely clear on exactly what the definitions of "theory", "fact", and "evolution" are."
Creationist: "All the answers we need are in Genesis."
English: "Oh, please don't dignify my comments with a response; I probably wouldn't listen anyway."
Creationist: "Evolution doesn't explain the origin of life!"
English: "Or how gravity works! Or why it rains! Or fire! Say, what were we talking about again?"
Creationist: "Darwin renounced evolution on his deathbed."
English: "I'm not lying per se, just repeating the lies of others. Jesus allows that, I think."
Creationist: "Darwinism lead to the Nazis and the Holocaust!!"
English: "Just push me down a flight of stairs, already."
Wasn't that fun? Now, next time you run into Duane Gish or Ben Stein or your grandmother's minister, you'll be able to read between the lines. Not that this will help the dialogue much: creationists are still either morons or liars, and that tends to interfere with meaningful communication. But it's a start! Right?
* - Goodnight, Jonathan Coulton, wherever you are!
Sunday, May 11, 2008
This Little Piggy Went Wii, Wii, Wii, All the Way Home
Now, I know what you're thinking: 28 is too young for a legitimate mid-life crisis.
This may well be true. Lots of things that contradict my reflexive understanding of the world around me are, in fact, true. I'm OK with this. Really.
So let's call it a quarter-life crisis. OK, then.
Bottom line: I took my Bush Money (for some reason, I find that more fun to say than "Economic Stimulus Check"), and bought myself a Nintendo Wii.
First of all, allow me to digress a moment here and just say that I personally believe that, since George W. Bush is the first U.S. President to actively contribute to my owning a state-of-the-art video game console, I believe that he should not only be allowed to serve as many additional terms in office as the American people wish (i.e., zero), but also, at the very least, made a saint.
I will furthermore go on record as saying that any of the current presidential candidates can buy my vote with a gift of impressive modern technology. I don't care if it's Hillary buying me an iPod touch, Obama hooking me up with a Segway, or McCain getting me one of those "new-fangled Victrolas" that he probably still thinks are pretty nifty. Give me gadgets, and I will give you my humble vote. I mean, really, do you think most Americans base their vote on anything substantially less frivolous than that (speaking of which, Mr. John Q. Public, did you ever get to sit down with Dubya for that beer?)?
But I digress.* The point of today's post is to reflect on my belated arrival in the modern age of video game consoles. Do you know when the last time I owned a current generation console was? (hint: it was back before we called them "consoles")
It's an amazing feeling that I'd nearly forgotten entirely; rather than scour Ebay for reasonably priced but outdated machines like the Nintendo 64 and the PlayStation 1(!) that once seemed impossibly advanced to me but are now fondly remembered by high school students the same way my friends and I fondly remember the Atari Fucking 2600, I go into a store and buy the same machine that everyone else is buying (excluding those poor, misguided bastards buying XBox 360's or PS3's). I'm living in the same era as everyone else. It's unspeakably lovely (forgetting, for the moment, that buying games is, once again, a "save up for several months" endeavor, rather than a simple and painless "search the couch cushions for loose change and head down to the discount bin at the mall" process).
And can I just take a minute here to rant about what it's like in this day and age to walk into a video game store in a mall? Once upon a time, it was a friendly, familiar place where my buddies and I would stop in after leaving the book store, but before wandering down to the record store. I fit in. I more or less knew which games would be filling the shelves before entering. I was part of that community. Hell, they even sold Magic: The Gathering cards (yeah, they saw us coming a mile away).
Now, the place is full of fucking kids. The in-store demos feature, not an impressive, new game like Donkey Kong Country, but some unholy abomination involving a miniature plastic Stratocaster. Rather than zip straight to the corner of the store featuring the games for the system of my choice, I have to wander along in an even more bemused state than I'm accustomed to, and Jesus Christ, did you see how young those kids looking at the Nintendo DS games are?!?! They're like, nine! What the hell, man?! I mean, I've made peace with the fact that people who weren't even fucking born yet when the Game Boy first came out will be voting in the upcoming presidential election, but these kids weren't even born when the Nintendo 64 came out. I've made peace with the fact that the children of the eighties are getting older, and the children of the nineties are taking over. But these kids are children of the nothings! These kids will grow up thinking of Nirvana, Weezer, and Green Day as classic rock. And, wait, what? Girls are playing video games these days? When did this happen?! I was in college before I even met a girl who actually liked video games!! And what the hell is a Pokemon, and why do they have all these games named after birthstones?!
But I digress.**
My point (did I have a point?) is that I've finally rejoined the gaming community and feel newly invogorated, despite it being a scary and unfamiliar place to me now. My point is that I'm proud of myself for managing to do so in a way that didn't require me to evolve into something capable of handling a controller that has 3 joysticks, nineteen buttons, and god knows what else.
And, above all, my point was to tell the Baby Boomers that their kids now officially know how it feels to get old. Are you fucking happy now? I hope so, because we're still gonna stick you in nursing homes one of these days.
If you're very lucky, we'll put you in one of those really nice ones where the rec room has a Wii.
* - No, really. It's kinda my thing.
** - See what I mean? I do it a lot.
This may well be true. Lots of things that contradict my reflexive understanding of the world around me are, in fact, true. I'm OK with this. Really.
So let's call it a quarter-life crisis. OK, then.
Bottom line: I took my Bush Money (for some reason, I find that more fun to say than "Economic Stimulus Check"), and bought myself a Nintendo Wii.
First of all, allow me to digress a moment here and just say that I personally believe that, since George W. Bush is the first U.S. President to actively contribute to my owning a state-of-the-art video game console, I believe that he should not only be allowed to serve as many additional terms in office as the American people wish (i.e., zero), but also, at the very least, made a saint.
I will furthermore go on record as saying that any of the current presidential candidates can buy my vote with a gift of impressive modern technology. I don't care if it's Hillary buying me an iPod touch, Obama hooking me up with a Segway, or McCain getting me one of those "new-fangled Victrolas" that he probably still thinks are pretty nifty. Give me gadgets, and I will give you my humble vote. I mean, really, do you think most Americans base their vote on anything substantially less frivolous than that (speaking of which, Mr. John Q. Public, did you ever get to sit down with Dubya for that beer?)?
But I digress.* The point of today's post is to reflect on my belated arrival in the modern age of video game consoles. Do you know when the last time I owned a current generation console was? (hint: it was back before we called them "consoles")
It's an amazing feeling that I'd nearly forgotten entirely; rather than scour Ebay for reasonably priced but outdated machines like the Nintendo 64 and the PlayStation 1(!) that once seemed impossibly advanced to me but are now fondly remembered by high school students the same way my friends and I fondly remember the Atari Fucking 2600, I go into a store and buy the same machine that everyone else is buying (excluding those poor, misguided bastards buying XBox 360's or PS3's). I'm living in the same era as everyone else. It's unspeakably lovely (forgetting, for the moment, that buying games is, once again, a "save up for several months" endeavor, rather than a simple and painless "search the couch cushions for loose change and head down to the discount bin at the mall" process).
And can I just take a minute here to rant about what it's like in this day and age to walk into a video game store in a mall? Once upon a time, it was a friendly, familiar place where my buddies and I would stop in after leaving the book store, but before wandering down to the record store. I fit in. I more or less knew which games would be filling the shelves before entering. I was part of that community. Hell, they even sold Magic: The Gathering cards (yeah, they saw us coming a mile away).
Now, the place is full of fucking kids. The in-store demos feature, not an impressive, new game like Donkey Kong Country, but some unholy abomination involving a miniature plastic Stratocaster. Rather than zip straight to the corner of the store featuring the games for the system of my choice, I have to wander along in an even more bemused state than I'm accustomed to, and Jesus Christ, did you see how young those kids looking at the Nintendo DS games are?!?! They're like, nine! What the hell, man?! I mean, I've made peace with the fact that people who weren't even fucking born yet when the Game Boy first came out will be voting in the upcoming presidential election, but these kids weren't even born when the Nintendo 64 came out. I've made peace with the fact that the children of the eighties are getting older, and the children of the nineties are taking over. But these kids are children of the nothings! These kids will grow up thinking of Nirvana, Weezer, and Green Day as classic rock. And, wait, what? Girls are playing video games these days? When did this happen?! I was in college before I even met a girl who actually liked video games!! And what the hell is a Pokemon, and why do they have all these games named after birthstones?!
But I digress.**
My point (did I have a point?) is that I've finally rejoined the gaming community and feel newly invogorated, despite it being a scary and unfamiliar place to me now. My point is that I'm proud of myself for managing to do so in a way that didn't require me to evolve into something capable of handling a controller that has 3 joysticks, nineteen buttons, and god knows what else.
And, above all, my point was to tell the Baby Boomers that their kids now officially know how it feels to get old. Are you fucking happy now? I hope so, because we're still gonna stick you in nursing homes one of these days.
If you're very lucky, we'll put you in one of those really nice ones where the rec room has a Wii.
* - No, really. It's kinda my thing.
** - See what I mean? I do it a lot.
Tuesday, April 8, 2008
She's the Inspiration
First order of business: New Readers!
That's right! I'm now a proud member of The Atheist Blogroll! A big welcome to all the godless heathens joining us for the first time.
I know it sounds pretty prestigious, but, as far as I can tell, it amounts to little more than a bunch of nerds blogging about whatever PZ Myers blogged about the day before.
NO!! JUST KIDDING, NEW READERS!!!! HA HA!! Just a little humor to show the Church Monkeys we can take it as well as we can dish it out.
C'mon, I make fun of people. It's my thing. You'll get used to it. I'll be gentle...
Anyway, in order to make the new atheist readers feel at home, I thought I'd throw them a bone (Calm down! I said I'd be gentle!) and blog on an atheist-oriented subject today. Unfortunately, this requires me to shelf the half-written post I had planned to put up recently; it was to be a fantastic example of the new and exciting genre known as "speculative journalism", dealing with the semi-recent amusing, yet apparently unfortunate, resignation of Governor Eliot Spitzer, and it was to be sensitively entitled, "Spitzer?! I Just Met Her!!"
But enough of that (the title was the best gag in the thing, anyway). Instead, I'd like to blog about something that (ahem) PZ Myers blogged about yesterday*.
Apparently, there's been a bit of a brouhaha in Illinois recently: some taxpayer money was supposed to go to rebuild a church that had burned down, or something. Which I guess sounds reasonable enough, although government-funded charity has seemed kinda iffy to me ever since I started drinking the libertarian Kool-Aid, so to speak. But apparently the money was then somehow shuffled into a private school.
At least, I think it was something like that. If I wanted to follow Illinois state politics, I'd move to Illinois. I'm too busy living in Vermont worrying about the proposed taxes on Volvos and Birkenstocks**.
Anyway, if this sounds a tad sketchy to you, you're apparently not alone, because it seems an atheist activist by the name of Rob Sherman was testifying before the House State Government Administration Committee when he was interrupted by some deranged maniac who wandered in from out on the street!
Haha. No, of course not. He was interrupted by Rep. Monique Davis (D-Chicago), who felt compelled to speak to Rob thusly:
"What you have to spew and spread is extremely dangerous . . . it's dangerous for our children to even know that your philosophy exists!...This is the Land of Lincoln where people believe in God...Get out of that seat . . . You have no right to be here! We believe in something. You believe in destroying! You believe in destroying what this state was built upon."
Bear in mind, this was Rep. Monique Davis (D-Chicago), and not, I repeat, NOT some deranged maniac who wandered in from out on the street.
Let's ignore for the moment that saying this to any member of any religious faith would result in a massive public outcry and a shameful resignation, while saying it to an atheist gets noticed only in a few of the finest blogs on the internet. Let's also ignore the irony of the allusion to Lincoln, who, according to most of the sources I consulted during my minimal research, was a deist at best. And, while we're at it, let's ignore the rather curious notion that atheism is SO horrible that to even know it exists harms children.
Let's ignore all this and instead contemplate the fact that Rep. Monique Davis (D-Chicago) is apparently a member of the same church as Barack Obama***. Y'know, the one with crazy-ass Reverend what's-his-name.
Now, you know what this means: any Republican cheerleaders looking to attack Obama's campaign by linking it to Rev. Coo-Coo-for-Jesus-Puffs Wright are stuck. Because any attack against Wright is an indirect attack against Davis, and therefore an indirect defense of atheists.
See, THIS is why this story needs to be more publicized: so we can all watch evangelicals scramble trying to figure out who's on whose side. And, if we're very lucky, we might get to watch James Dobson's head explode. And video tape it, so we can watch it in slow-mo afterwards. What fun.
* - Get it? It's irony! I do it a lot. Come to think of it, I also do this footnote thing pretty regularly.
** - What, you thought I was just gonna go for the easy maple syrup reference? Geez, you really ARE new here, aren't you?
*** - I think America is ready for a president whose first AND last names are unrecognized by modern spell-checkers.
That's right! I'm now a proud member of The Atheist Blogroll! A big welcome to all the godless heathens joining us for the first time.
I know it sounds pretty prestigious, but, as far as I can tell, it amounts to little more than a bunch of nerds blogging about whatever PZ Myers blogged about the day before.
NO!! JUST KIDDING, NEW READERS!!!! HA HA!! Just a little humor to show the Church Monkeys we can take it as well as we can dish it out.
C'mon, I make fun of people. It's my thing. You'll get used to it. I'll be gentle...
Anyway, in order to make the new atheist readers feel at home, I thought I'd throw them a bone (Calm down! I said I'd be gentle!) and blog on an atheist-oriented subject today. Unfortunately, this requires me to shelf the half-written post I had planned to put up recently; it was to be a fantastic example of the new and exciting genre known as "speculative journalism", dealing with the semi-recent amusing, yet apparently unfortunate, resignation of Governor Eliot Spitzer, and it was to be sensitively entitled, "Spitzer?! I Just Met Her!!"
But enough of that (the title was the best gag in the thing, anyway). Instead, I'd like to blog about something that (ahem) PZ Myers blogged about yesterday*.
Apparently, there's been a bit of a brouhaha in Illinois recently: some taxpayer money was supposed to go to rebuild a church that had burned down, or something. Which I guess sounds reasonable enough, although government-funded charity has seemed kinda iffy to me ever since I started drinking the libertarian Kool-Aid, so to speak. But apparently the money was then somehow shuffled into a private school.
At least, I think it was something like that. If I wanted to follow Illinois state politics, I'd move to Illinois. I'm too busy living in Vermont worrying about the proposed taxes on Volvos and Birkenstocks**.
Anyway, if this sounds a tad sketchy to you, you're apparently not alone, because it seems an atheist activist by the name of Rob Sherman was testifying before the House State Government Administration Committee when he was interrupted by some deranged maniac who wandered in from out on the street!
Haha. No, of course not. He was interrupted by Rep. Monique Davis (D-Chicago), who felt compelled to speak to Rob thusly:
"What you have to spew and spread is extremely dangerous . . . it's dangerous for our children to even know that your philosophy exists!...This is the Land of Lincoln where people believe in God...Get out of that seat . . . You have no right to be here! We believe in something. You believe in destroying! You believe in destroying what this state was built upon."
Bear in mind, this was Rep. Monique Davis (D-Chicago), and not, I repeat, NOT some deranged maniac who wandered in from out on the street.
Let's ignore for the moment that saying this to any member of any religious faith would result in a massive public outcry and a shameful resignation, while saying it to an atheist gets noticed only in a few of the finest blogs on the internet. Let's also ignore the irony of the allusion to Lincoln, who, according to most of the sources I consulted during my minimal research, was a deist at best. And, while we're at it, let's ignore the rather curious notion that atheism is SO horrible that to even know it exists harms children.
Let's ignore all this and instead contemplate the fact that Rep. Monique Davis (D-Chicago) is apparently a member of the same church as Barack Obama***. Y'know, the one with crazy-ass Reverend what's-his-name.
Now, you know what this means: any Republican cheerleaders looking to attack Obama's campaign by linking it to Rev. Coo-Coo-for-Jesus-Puffs Wright are stuck. Because any attack against Wright is an indirect attack against Davis, and therefore an indirect defense of atheists.
See, THIS is why this story needs to be more publicized: so we can all watch evangelicals scramble trying to figure out who's on whose side. And, if we're very lucky, we might get to watch James Dobson's head explode. And video tape it, so we can watch it in slow-mo afterwards. What fun.
* - Get it? It's irony! I do it a lot. Come to think of it, I also do this footnote thing pretty regularly.
** - What, you thought I was just gonna go for the easy maple syrup reference? Geez, you really ARE new here, aren't you?
*** - I think America is ready for a president whose first AND last names are unrecognized by modern spell-checkers.
Monday, March 17, 2008
She Ain't Messin' With No Broke Broke
So the fantastic tabloid drama of Sir Paul McCartney's Divorce from Heather "Stumpy" Mills has come to an end: the model/activist is walking away from this thing about $33 million richer, plus the child support for the couple's daughter (which I'll refrain from calling "excessive", but it's more than thrice my annual income).
So, by my count, Heather made more than $8 million per year over the course of their 4 year marriage. All that to sleep with, live with, and bear the child of an aging rock star.
Suddenly my lifelong goal of seducing Joni Mitchell seems less like a naive dream and more like a business plan.
Now, of course, being a big Beatles fan as well as a Dynamic Up-And-Coming Freelance Semi-Gonzo Neo-Journalist, I thought it would be fun to interview Paul McCartney on the settlement.
Of course, I also think it would be fun to ride the luck dragon from the Neverending Story. That doesn't mean there's a chance in Hell of it happening.
So I did the next best thing: I juxtaposed my questions with Paul McCartney's on-the-record statements. By which I mean song lyrics (get it?! "On-the-record"?!).
What can I say? It's an experiment.
Me: Paul, thank you for taking time out of your insanely busy schedule to talk with me.
Paul: It's wonderful to be here.
Me: So, how's life been since the divorce?
Paul: It's getting better all the time.
Me: Better?
Paul: Better.
Me: Golly, that's just swell. Now, a lot of people seem pretty surprised by the size of the settlement Heather got. Does it bother you at all?
Paul: I don't care too much for money. Money can't buy me love.
Me: But apparently it can rent it for a few years, eh? Ha ha!
Paul: (silence)
Me: I'm sorry, I hope I didn't offend...
Paul: I'll get you.
Me: Huh?
Paul: I'll get you in the end. Oh, yeah.
Me: ...um...are you threatening me?
Paul: Oh, yeah.
Me: Hmmm. I can see we've gotten off on the wrong foot. Is there any way we can patch things up?
Paul: We can work it out.
Me: Good, good. Because I'm a huge fan, and I'd hate to...
Paul: Yeah, yeah, yeah.
Me: I'm sorry, you probably get a lot of that fanboy gushing, don't you?
Paul: All the people that come and go stop and say 'Hello'.
Me: Yeah, I can see how that would get tiresome after a while.
Paul: Oh, yeah.
Me: Y'know what? You're a busy guy, and I bet you've been under a lot of stress lately, so...
Paul: Goodbye.
Me: Um...well, yeah, no time to waste on long goodbyes, I suppose. You must have important things to do after we're done here.
Paul: I gotta get a belly full of wine.
Me: I hear that. Well, thanks for taking the time, Sir Paul; I doubt it's been as memorable for you as it has been for me, but...
Paul: I will remember things we said today.
Me: Wow, I'm honored. Well, take care, Paul. Don't let the divorce get you down.
Paul: Life goes on.
Me: That's the spirit. Stiff upper lip and all that. How very British of you. Well, have a safe trip home. Are you going by car or...?
Paul: Jet!
Me: Ah.
Paul: Woohoohoo Woohoohoo Woohoohoo.
Well, that was fun.
And c'mon, admit it: you thought I was going to go for the obvious "Yesterday" quote. And I didn't. So there.
So, by my count, Heather made more than $8 million per year over the course of their 4 year marriage. All that to sleep with, live with, and bear the child of an aging rock star.
Suddenly my lifelong goal of seducing Joni Mitchell seems less like a naive dream and more like a business plan.
Now, of course, being a big Beatles fan as well as a Dynamic Up-And-Coming Freelance Semi-Gonzo Neo-Journalist, I thought it would be fun to interview Paul McCartney on the settlement.
Of course, I also think it would be fun to ride the luck dragon from the Neverending Story. That doesn't mean there's a chance in Hell of it happening.
So I did the next best thing: I juxtaposed my questions with Paul McCartney's on-the-record statements. By which I mean song lyrics (get it?! "On-the-record"?!).
What can I say? It's an experiment.
Me: Paul, thank you for taking time out of your insanely busy schedule to talk with me.
Paul: It's wonderful to be here.
Me: So, how's life been since the divorce?
Paul: It's getting better all the time.
Me: Better?
Paul: Better.
Me: Golly, that's just swell. Now, a lot of people seem pretty surprised by the size of the settlement Heather got. Does it bother you at all?
Paul: I don't care too much for money. Money can't buy me love.
Me: But apparently it can rent it for a few years, eh? Ha ha!
Paul: (silence)
Me: I'm sorry, I hope I didn't offend...
Paul: I'll get you.
Me: Huh?
Paul: I'll get you in the end. Oh, yeah.
Me: ...um...are you threatening me?
Paul: Oh, yeah.
Me: Hmmm. I can see we've gotten off on the wrong foot. Is there any way we can patch things up?
Paul: We can work it out.
Me: Good, good. Because I'm a huge fan, and I'd hate to...
Paul: Yeah, yeah, yeah.
Me: I'm sorry, you probably get a lot of that fanboy gushing, don't you?
Paul: All the people that come and go stop and say 'Hello'.
Me: Yeah, I can see how that would get tiresome after a while.
Paul: Oh, yeah.
Me: Y'know what? You're a busy guy, and I bet you've been under a lot of stress lately, so...
Paul: Goodbye.
Me: Um...well, yeah, no time to waste on long goodbyes, I suppose. You must have important things to do after we're done here.
Paul: I gotta get a belly full of wine.
Me: I hear that. Well, thanks for taking the time, Sir Paul; I doubt it's been as memorable for you as it has been for me, but...
Paul: I will remember things we said today.
Me: Wow, I'm honored. Well, take care, Paul. Don't let the divorce get you down.
Paul: Life goes on.
Me: That's the spirit. Stiff upper lip and all that. How very British of you. Well, have a safe trip home. Are you going by car or...?
Paul: Jet!
Me: Ah.
Paul: Woohoohoo Woohoohoo Woohoohoo.
Well, that was fun.
And c'mon, admit it: you thought I was going to go for the obvious "Yesterday" quote. And I didn't. So there.
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
Boning for Jesus
For those of you who are tired about my rants on religion, here's a welcome change of pace: a post about SEX!
And religion.
See, a pastor at a Florida church has apparently challenged his congregation to have sex every day for 30 days. Apparently, it has something to do with the high divorce rate. Or something. But fuck sociology, let's talk about SEX!
Now, I haven't seen religion and sexuality intermingle like this since the little-known porno film The Second Coming of Christ.* But it's about time, isn't it? I mean, I don't know about you, but nothing arouses me like hearing a minister tell me to have SEX. Mmmm. Yeah, baby. Tell me I'm bad. Then tell me I need to accept the Lord Jesus Christ as my personal savior in order for my badness to be forgiven. Ooh, that's hot.
Sorry, got caught up in the moment there.
Anyhoo, I kinda want to take a look at the plausability of this idea. Don't get me wrong, I loves me some SEX. But every day? For a month?! That seems pretty tiring.
I mean, sure, it's probably easier for decent, church-going Christians, who I imagine mostly stick to 5 minute wham, bam, thank you, ma'am sessions with the guy on top (why do you think it's called the missionary position?). But for a healthy young atheist like myself, SEX can involve a lot of time and energy; hell, a really satisfying encounter can last upwards of an hour, soup to nuts (so to speak). And that's not even counting the time spent untying your partner afterwards.
But the 30 Day Challenge doesn't really apply to me (c'mon, you knew there was a catch, didn't you?). The reverend's challenge is limited to married couples. Because apparently knowing that you'll spend the rest of your life with a person means you need to spend the next month fucking like it's going out of style. The flip side of the challenge is for non-married couples to NOT have SEX for 30 days. Presumably this is meant to emphasize the holy sanctity of the marriage vows, but to me it just implies that a lot of Flordian Christian men are going to be spending their free time masturbating while their girlfriends watch American Idol.
But perhaps I'm too cynical. After all, one congregationalist was quoted as saying of his fiance, "I think it's worth trying to find out other things about each other." That's good, right?
Yeah, whatever. Call me crazy, but I think a couple who are engaged and apparently haven't taken the time to get to know one another while fully clothed might be rushing into things just a smidgeon. You think? Maybe? I dunno. I just imagine scenarios like this happening:
Her: ...and I embrace Christian values, but I don't think they should be enshrined in the Constitution, so I'm leaning more towards Obama.
Him: Hey, did you know your eyes are BLUE?
But, all cynicism aside, I think it's a good thing that Christians are making an effort to back away from sexual repression and realize that SEX is good.
Provided the participants are married.
And of opposite genders.
And not doing anything kinky.
And there's only two of them.
But aside from that, get while the getting is good, Christians! A minister said it's OK! Put on a nice Christian Rock power ballad, tell the little woman to slip on that opaque, ankle-length negligee you love so much, and get it on!
Then repeat once a day for the following 29 days.
And then cry when your wife leaves you for someone who knows where the clitoris is.
* - Is this funny enough? I almost went with The Gospel According to Long John. Or Thou Shalt Covet Thy Neighbor's Ass.
And religion.
See, a pastor at a Florida church has apparently challenged his congregation to have sex every day for 30 days. Apparently, it has something to do with the high divorce rate. Or something. But fuck sociology, let's talk about SEX!
Now, I haven't seen religion and sexuality intermingle like this since the little-known porno film The Second Coming of Christ.* But it's about time, isn't it? I mean, I don't know about you, but nothing arouses me like hearing a minister tell me to have SEX. Mmmm. Yeah, baby. Tell me I'm bad. Then tell me I need to accept the Lord Jesus Christ as my personal savior in order for my badness to be forgiven. Ooh, that's hot.
Sorry, got caught up in the moment there.
Anyhoo, I kinda want to take a look at the plausability of this idea. Don't get me wrong, I loves me some SEX. But every day? For a month?! That seems pretty tiring.
I mean, sure, it's probably easier for decent, church-going Christians, who I imagine mostly stick to 5 minute wham, bam, thank you, ma'am sessions with the guy on top (why do you think it's called the missionary position?). But for a healthy young atheist like myself, SEX can involve a lot of time and energy; hell, a really satisfying encounter can last upwards of an hour, soup to nuts (so to speak). And that's not even counting the time spent untying your partner afterwards.
But the 30 Day Challenge doesn't really apply to me (c'mon, you knew there was a catch, didn't you?). The reverend's challenge is limited to married couples. Because apparently knowing that you'll spend the rest of your life with a person means you need to spend the next month fucking like it's going out of style. The flip side of the challenge is for non-married couples to NOT have SEX for 30 days. Presumably this is meant to emphasize the holy sanctity of the marriage vows, but to me it just implies that a lot of Flordian Christian men are going to be spending their free time masturbating while their girlfriends watch American Idol.
But perhaps I'm too cynical. After all, one congregationalist was quoted as saying of his fiance, "I think it's worth trying to find out other things about each other." That's good, right?
Yeah, whatever. Call me crazy, but I think a couple who are engaged and apparently haven't taken the time to get to know one another while fully clothed might be rushing into things just a smidgeon. You think? Maybe? I dunno. I just imagine scenarios like this happening:
Her: ...and I embrace Christian values, but I don't think they should be enshrined in the Constitution, so I'm leaning more towards Obama.
Him: Hey, did you know your eyes are BLUE?
But, all cynicism aside, I think it's a good thing that Christians are making an effort to back away from sexual repression and realize that SEX is good.
Provided the participants are married.
And of opposite genders.
And not doing anything kinky.
And there's only two of them.
But aside from that, get while the getting is good, Christians! A minister said it's OK! Put on a nice Christian Rock power ballad, tell the little woman to slip on that opaque, ankle-length negligee you love so much, and get it on!
Then repeat once a day for the following 29 days.
And then cry when your wife leaves you for someone who knows where the clitoris is.
* - Is this funny enough? I almost went with The Gospel According to Long John. Or Thou Shalt Covet Thy Neighbor's Ass.
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