This Is Not Me (Not Even Close)

This is a not a normal Saturday afternoon post.

But this is not a normal Saturday.

You may have heard that the University of Virginia in Charlottesville has been beseiged by a large number of alt-right activists...

Sorry, backing up. Can't say that with a straight face.

UVA has been invaded by fucking white supremacists who claim they are being threatened by  non-white, non-male, non-Christian people aka most of the freaking planet.

They brought their own nahtzee helmets.
How cute is that?

Apparently the definition of "threatened" is now "we thought democracy meant we were in charge but now it means we're equal to people who don't look or worship like us and we just figured out that sucks for us."

And so these butthurt white Christian males have chosen to express their outrage that other lives actually do matter. By burning torches and rallying around a statue of Thomas Jefferson, because why not it's not like Daveed Diggs, a POC, slayed the role of TJ in Hamilton, proving that skin color doesn't define greatness.

FUCK YOU GUYS.

Look. My dad is a white American male. My brother is a white American male. I have many co-workers who are white American males.

I don't agree with their views 100%. But I love them, and I respect them, because I know they're all good people. And good people can disagree.

But if any of them - ANY, including my own family - were to light a torch and chant slogans about being superior to lesser beings aka anyone who doesn't look and think exactly like them, they would be dead to me.

DEAD.

I am a white middle-class suburban mom. Aside from the obvious defect of my gender, I'm a member of just about the most privileged class in American society. Not considering the super-wealthy, who in my mind only exist to demonstrate the evils that money can do to putatively normal people.

I love good people. Whether they be white, black, Hispanic, Muslim, gay, religious, or whatever.

Also, I despise bad people, whether they be white, black, Hispanic, Muslim, gay, religious, or whatever.

Because "good" and "bad" transcend random accidents of birth.

But fuck these people who can't deal with the world not being controlled by white professed-Christian males.

How dare you claim to be Americans in an America populated by immigrants, refugees, marginalized groups, and outcasts?

This country belongs to those who love it.

And doesn't give a damn about the pigmentation, religious affiliation, or political orientation of anyone who pledges their allegiance to our flag.

Take your torches and your slogans and shove them up your asses, you pseudo-American hatemongers.

Babies.

Please love or hate me. Either response is totally welcome.

Yippi-Ky-Adkbar, MOFOS

Today, on my IRL Facebook page, I unfriended someone

I rarely unfriend people. I'm not in any position to toss away friendships, you know? Some people have hundreds or thousands of Facebook friends and no compunctions about shuffling the mix if time or circumstances call for it. Me, I treat every one like a precious validation of my weak, insecure soul.

Nothing a few decades of therapy couldn't straighten out,
I'm sure.

Specifically, I have immense tolerance for people whose political views differ from mine. Facebook would be totally boring if the only posts I saw were from those whose opinions and viewpoints mirrored my own. I have friends who are far more liberal than I am, as well as friends who are far more conservative . I'm OK with that, as long as we approach our differences with mutual respect (or if we ignore them altogether, which actually is preferable). 

When I unfriend people, it's generally because a) they become abusive or b) they tell lies. Those are deal-breakers, mmkay?

Let me tell you about the person I unfriended today.

She is a former co-worker (actually, I was her boss). She's a lovely woman from a lovely, large, devoutly Catholic family. She is - really - a former nun. 

What could possibly make me unfriend such a person?

Well. You've heard, I'm sure, about the attack on a mosque in Quebec. Six people were killed, eight were injured, while praying. You may have heard that two suspects were arrested. One was later described as merely a witness and released. The other was 27-year-old Quebec citizen Alexandre Bissonnette, who has been charged with 11 counts of murder and attempted murder.

Looks like the love child of Daniel Radcliffe and Tobey Maguire,
only filled with hate and armed.

These are the facts we know right now. Except that my former friend - and her family members and friends - have a different point of view. Which they expressed in no uncertain terms on Facebook.

I wish I had taken screenshots before I unfriended her, but I didn't, so I'm going to be paraphrasing here. But it's close, honestly.

• They believe there were two shooters, both Syrian refugees who had been in Canada for less than a week.

• They believe the shooters screamed "Allahu akbar" as they fired. Well, actually, they believe it was something like "ali ackbur" (again, no screenshots, unfortunately). But you get the gist from this ignorant rendering of what is believed to be a threatening phrase.

• They believe the "mainstream media" are outright lying about what happened.

To recap: these "devout" Catholics on my timeline were convinced that the murder of six innocent people by a radicalized asshole is somehow a conspiracy, a lie, and an opportunity for the Church to step in and "correct" society's ills.

And they said I was buying into the leftist media's lies (again paraphrasing actual rhetoric) because I dared make a comment questioning the truth of their "facts."

So yeah, f*ck that shit, you're unfriended.

Hypocrisy bugs me. As does extremism. As does devotion to mindless rhetoric in lieu of thinking for oneself.

Disagreements are welcome, here, on FB, anywhere.

Just don't be a Kool-Aid-swallowing, keyword-spouting bitch about it.

And we'll get along just fine. 

But I'll cut off a Canadian Catholic nun if need be, don't forget.

Christmas, Sights, Smells, and Others

Precocious Daughter and I want to string lights on our balcony this Christmas.

Possibly not to this extent.

Technically, our lease prohibits us from decorating our balcony in this way. Technically, our lease is 12 pages of the Grinch rendered in legalese on 8x14" paper.

However, a few of our neighbors already have decorated their patios/balconies with lights and other seasonal fripperies.

Just as the bro-dudes a few units over have hung a Texas Longhorns banner from their balcony every weekend since college football season began.

The iron-clad prohibitions of our apartment leases are not quite as iron-clad as they seem, is what I'm saying.

I'm totally willing to risk a letter of admonishment from property management if it means I can have pretty blinking lights festooning my balcony railings this December.

They're not going to evict us for putting up Christmas decorations, for Pete's sake.

THIS IS TEXAS AND TEXANS ARE CHRISTIANS WHO LOVE CHRISTMAS.

I intend to ride that silly religious train so that I can put up shiny lights and assorted baubles.

I don't buy into the whole Baby-Jesus-Son-of-God spiel. But I do love a shiny, shiny Christmas replete with cookies and bayberry-scented everything.

Candles, Drunkards. Effing scented candles for the win.

I totally respect those of you who consider Christmas to be a religious holiday. I don't share your belief, but I'm OK with it, as long as you're OK with my staunch secularism. I love that at this time of year, we all try to love and cherish one another, regardless of our faith (or lack thereof). I wish it happened more than one month a year, you know?

PDaughter and I will trim our tree, and decorate our little home, and keep Christmas in our way. We will wish peace and love to everyone we know.

We'll be baking cookies, so if you want some, let us know.

Feliz Navidad, you guys. Let's come together and celebrate the spirit of Christmas. There's already too much dividing us.

Christmas hugs are available here, if you want them.

I love you all.

Frankie Say Relax...I Think

On Thursday His Holy Badness, Pope Francis, addressed a joint session of Congress.

On Friday, Speaker of the House John Boehner announced his resignation.

And I know that correlation is not causation, but HOLY SHIT PEOPLE DO YOU NOT SEE THE DIRECT CONNECTION HERE?

Sorry to shout like that, but dayum, that is some
sexy logic right there.

If you don't think that Papa Frankie put a bug in the ear of the Orange Menace to take a hike, then you're just, like, one of the sheeple, man. You're not hip to the real motion of the ocean, you dig what I'm saying?

I don't know what I'm talking about, either.
Possibly I'm a little drunk.

The point is...uh...oh, RIGHT! The point is that I have exclusive proof that John Boehner's resignation is the direct result of a call from the Pope for him to reconsider his vocation, his wardrobe, and his entire life.

See, all kinds of media outlets covered the Pontiff's speech. But they all mysteriously left out one segment of Francis' remarks. As if they were politely requested, under penalty of eternal damnation, to do so.

Not sayin'.

But I alone have obtained a transcript of the Pope's words to John Boehner, the ones that inspired him to reflect, pray, and ultimately get the hell out of Congress.

And I'm going to share them with you, exclusively, because I'm that kind of blogger. (Also - no lie - the kind who has been asked to write for a startup Canadian online lifestyle magazine. CREDENTIALS, yo.)

Without further ado, here is the secret, hidden, covered-up but totally authentic transcript of Pope Francis' message to Speaker of the House John Boehner.

Your own responsibility as members of Congress is to enable this country, by your legislative activity, to grow as a nation. You are the face of its people, their representatives.... To this you have been invited, called and convened by those who elected you.

(pauses)

You know, as Pope, I am considered the emissary of God on Earth. My words to you are divinely inspired and formed by His teachings. But on rare occasions, the Lord has chosen to speak to me directly, in His own words. And recently, just such a conversation occurred. The subject was a certain member of the U.S. House of Representatives. God implored me to use the opportunity of my visit here to speak directly to an individual whose deeds as a legislator and a human being have garnered heavenly attention.

And so, I call upon that individual to come forward and hear the Word of God, as delivered through His poor servant Francis. I call upon...Mr. John Boehner.

(gasps and murmurs)

That is correct. Speaker of the House John Boehner, will you come forward to receive God's message to you?

I've taken the liberty of writing it down. I'm old, and the Lord speaks rather quickly. Are you ready?

*ahem*

I won't attempt to sound like God, by the way. I'm no good at accents. 

*ahem*

Here are the words of the Lord.

Boehner, you orange-skinned fuck, get over here.

Yes, you. Mr. "I'm the third most important person in the greatest nation on Earth." You know what else you are? You're a giant prick.

Yeah, I went there.

I am the LORD your GOD. And I'm speaking through my main Catholic homeboy Frankie here to tell you that I'm pissed as fuck at you.

First of all, drop that Bay-ner shit. Your name is pronounced Boner and always will be. John Boner. Got it? Amen.

All right. Now, you're Catholic. You have, like, eleventy  siblings because your mom and dad thought condoms were the Devil's knapsack. OK, fine. But you know what? I fucking created the Catholic church, and I'm here to tell you...you're doing it wrong.

America is not a Catholic nation, Mr. Boner. It's not a Christian nation. It's not even a nation under Me. It's a geopolitical construct, and I don't give half a fuck about that. America is full of Buddhists and Muslims and Jews and agnostics and even Satan-worshippers, and I'm FINE with that. 

You know why? Because I made all you fuckers, and I gave you all free will. Not "only if you devote your lives to me" free will. Not "ask Me to intervene every time one of your Facebook friends loses their goddamn dog" free will. But ACTUAL free will. Like, believe in Me or not. No big whoop.

Here's what I don't need, Boner. I don't need old white men creating governments based on what they think I want.

You don't have a clue. I promise.

You, Mr. Boner, you want a Constitutional amendment to define marriage. Well, I made gay people, and I say let 'em get married, you judgmental piece of shit. You want to deny benefits to poor people. My kid Jesus said "the poor will always be among us," not "fuck the poor, they should be wealthier." You think Federal money should be withheld from schools that don't want to promote Christianity over other religions. I DON'T GIVE A RAT'S ASS ABOUT ONE RELIGION OR ANOTHER.

I mean, Me, it's hard to work around your prejudices and perversions of My scripture.

Shit.

So here's what I want, John Boner. I want you to go away. I demand that you retire from the U.S. Congress. You're a conniving, corrupt, crying son of a bitch, and you're not doing yourself or the concept of the United States as a putatively religious nation any favors.

IF YOU DO NOT OBEY YOUR LORD AND HIS HOLY EMISSARY POPE FRANCIS I WILL SMITE YOUR ASS BACK TO THE 1300S, WHICH WERE VERILY A SHITSTORM OF MISERY.

Back to you, Frank. I'm done here.

*drops the heavenly mic*

At this, Pope Francis shook his head, as if awakening from a dream, and continued his prepared remarks.

But John Boehner? He thought about what his God had said, and resigned the very next day.

That's how it happened, you guys.

I swear to...somebody, I guess.

Instructions for A Hundred Years from Now

You may recognize the name of loyal Drunkard Pablo. He also happens to be an IRL co-worker and good friend of mine.

Pablo just lost his mom to a combination of cancer, heart issues, and advanced age.

Guys, I'm pleased and also humbled to say that he took such good care of his mom in her final days.

He conveyed strength, and dignity, and compassion to a degree that truly honored a long, complex, and sometimes difficult mother-son relationship to its very end.

Literally, I can only imagine what that relationship is like.

Yesterday was her memorial service. Although I knew her only through Pablo's many anecdotes, of course I attended. For him. After all, these things are for the living, as the dead are, you know, dead.

Unless, you know, you think Led Zeppelin
were really on to something.

It was a lovely, generically but distinctly Christian service. Pablo's Mom was an active Red Hatter, so there was a large delegation of older ladies wearing purple and red in attendance, in addition to those of us who were there to support Pablo.

And then there was Pastor Jeff of no fixed but obviously Protestant affiliation, who presided over the service. Or as I think of him, the Reverend Smoove. This guy was smooth. Like, creamy-peanut-butter smooth. Nutella smooth, if you will.

You know that's smooth.

He was good at what he did, which was selling the religion. Having abandoned religion myself, it could be that in ignoring his message (in a nutshell, "The Bible says you go to Heaven when you die [unless you don't], and by God you better believe it"), I fixated on his performance. Which certainly wasn't his intention. It's like forgetting about the concept of "magic" and just watching the illusionist's hands to see exactly how he tricks you. It destroys the illusion, it annoys the illusionist, and frankly you lose out on the enjoyment you could have had if you'd just suspended disbelief.

Don't stop believin'. Unless, you know, you do.

Anyway, Pablo is even less religious than I am, but he still put together a heartfelt, touching, and quite religious memorial service for his mom, because that's what would have pleased her. And I was moved by the outpouring of love and happy memories her friends presented, even if it was much more Goddy in nature than I would have preferred. All in all, it was a mournful yet joyous celebration of a good woman who had passed on.

Seriously, I can only ask for the same kind of consideration when it's my time.

In the end, we are naught but a cheap prize for the side that wins.

The point is, I started thinking about my own inevitable demise. In 100 years or more, since I fully intend to live to be 150. What kind of memorial service will I want?

First, I absolutely do not want to be placed in an expensive wooden box and buried underground. Think of how much affordable housing we could build if we just reclaimed all the land occupied by cemeteries in this country. 

Guys, yer bones aren't going to Heaven.
You're wasting the land My Dad gave you. Assholes.

Burn me up and use my ashes to fertilize a tree, already. If there is such a thing as a soul, it doesn't depend on some corporation making money off a plot of land to store my cold, dead body.

Second, do not hold a religious service for me. Not a Christian service, not Buddhist, not Pastafarian, not anything. Do NOT mention Heaven or Jesus when you talk about my death. I died, because everybody dies. I don't know what happens to our consciousness after death, and I don't want you to speculate on my behalf.

Third, I want music at my service. No hymns. No contemporary Christian songs, which should be banned by law. I want you to play "Dead Flowers" by the Rolling Stones. "It Doesn't Matter Anymore" by Buddy Holly. "Good Feelings" by the Violent Femmes. "Mercy" by Muse. "And When I Die" by Laura Nyro. Maybe Johnny Cash's version of  "Hurt." 

Fourth, only circulate pictures of me when I was young, thin, attractive, and happy, or I will haunt your ass until the end of time.

Finally, be happy. Wherever I end up, life goes on, and that's a good thing.

Hugs to Pablo for his loss. You rock. Let's all celebrate the time we've got in his honor.

Split Decision, So To Speak

I don't know if I've ever mentioned this here, but my pinky toenails are cloven.

Yeah, not going to post a picture of that.

But, you know, cloven.

My feet are pretty gross in general. Not proud of that, but it's simple fact. They're what Precocious Daughter calls "crusty." And they smell bad. I have stinky feet, yo.

Deal with it.

But the most distinctive feature of my feets is that the pinky toes have nails that are split vertically from tip to base. Like a goat, or a pig. Jews are Biblically required to shun me, you guys.

I'm really nice once you get to know me, though.

I don't know why. My mom has really gross fingernails, so maybe it's a hereditary thing. But otherwise, I have no idea why my pinky toenails are freaking cloven in twain.

I would like to hear from anyone out who suffers from toenails similarly split in half.

Or really from any physical anomaly that is specifically called out as sinful in the goddamn Bible.

This blog is a no-judgment zone. Feel free to tell me how you're freaky.

I think we'd all enjoy learning.

So...go.

I'm Not Gay, But I Feel That Way Today

If you follow me on Facebook or Twitter, you've probably noted that I'm pretty elated about today's Supreme Court decision on gay marriage.

But you may not know why.

I have no skin in this fight. I'm not gay, and at this point in my life, with divorce looming after 25 years of marriage, I'm not a fan of that particular institution.

Other than being able to share in the joy of friends and loved ones who are directly affected by today's ruling - which is pretty great - the fact that gay couples can now legally marry in all 50 states does not impact my life at all.

And so I get to feel pure happiness and satisfaction that a great wrong has been righted. Not because it grants me a right I previously was denied, not because I have a vested interest in the outcome, certainly not because I stand to gain financially or in any way, besides maybe getting invited to a few more weddings in the future. (I prefer open bars, if anyone is making plans)

I have no ulterior motive to love this affirmation of civil rights and to be proud of SCOTUS for protecting them. I just think it's amazing that gays and lesbians are one step closer to being people first and "gay people" second.

I'm happy that America is now a place where consenting adults can get married if they so choose, whether it's for love, money, legal protection, or social standing. All of the brilliant, dumb, and dangerous reasons for two people to sign a marriage license are open to everyone, regardless of how their sexy-parts fit together. Which frankly is nobody's business whether they're married or not.

Ya sick bastards.

To anyone reading this who has "sincere religious objections" to gay people: Today's decision did not ban your right or privilege to be a bigot. If you want to think gay people are morally inferior, if you want to "love the sinner, hate the sin" and pretend that you're not still harboring hatred, go for it. Your religious liberties remain intact.

To anyone who doesn't oppose gay people on religious grounds but is simply a bigot without portfolio: Freedom of speech is still a thing following today's decision. You may continue to say "That's so gay" when you dislike something or use words like "faggot" without fear of government reprisal. No one is going to throw you in jail or kick you out of America. You may get called a few things in return, but that's only because we all have the same rights around here.

To anyone who fears that gay marriage is a slippery slope to allowing threesomes, babies, interspecies couples, and inanimate objects to be married: Please don't breed. If you already have, please don't speak. You're entitled to your opinion, but really that's a pretty stupid opinion.

One last thought: The Republican attorney general of my state, Ken Paxton, believes that county employees shouldn't have to issue marriage licenses to gay couples if they have religious objections. So I have a question for the AG and like-minded public servants in the great conservative state of Texas: If you support the right of employees to refuse to do their jobs if they believe the employers are doing wrong, do you also support labor unions and/or whistleblower laws for the same reason?

Just wondering.

Anyway, congratulations to the Supreme Court for getting this landmark decision right. Congratulations to the men and women whose lives are affected. I'm happy to be a witness to your happiness. You maybe don't want to come to me for marriage adivce, but still...thumbs up.

Let's Talk. Maybe for the Last Time. But Let's Talk.

Before I begin, thanks so much for sharing the details of your Saturdays with me. You guys are an amazing bunch of folks. If you ever find yourselves in my neck of the woods, drinks are on me.

This is objectively the cutest picture in the universe.

Now let's talk about scumbag and bearer of an incredibly bad haircut Dylann Roof, aka the Charleston Church Murderer.

Evil should not look this dorky and insignificant, somehow.

Actually, let's not talk about him, because fuck him. He's a racist and a murderer and a cold-hearted asshole who prayed in a church with his victims before gunning them down. Let's put him away for life and then erase him from the annals of notoreity, please.

Instead, let's talk about the lengths to which certain people will go to distance themselves from the hatred and irrational ideology they patently share with this killer.

Let's talk about GOP Presidential candidate and perpetual embarrassment Dick Perry, who called the racially-motivated assassination of a state legislator and eight other people "an accident." At least until his high-octane spin machine was forced to derpsplain that "from the context of his comments, it is clear Gov. Perry meant incident," even though from the context, it is clear that Gov. Perry remains a tone-deaf idiot.

Let's talk about A.J. Delgado, the hateful columnist from Florida who, along with others of similar loathsome character, want us to believe Roof's violence wasn't racially motivated because "he doesn't look white".

Shown here: The poster boy for "white" as a bad thing.

Let's talk about douchebag-from-the-ground-up Chuck Todd, who aired a piece about gun violence on NBC's "Meet the Press" that claimed to be "color-blind" and then showed clips exclusively of black men who had committed murders with firearms, just a few days after the lily-white Roof unleashed unspeakable violence on peaceful black churchgoers.

Let's talk about another joke of a GOP candidate Lindsey Graham, who says the Confederate flag is "part of who we are [in South Carolina]," simultaneously embracing and distancing himself from people who continue to conflate "Southern pride" with institutionalized racism. 

Let's talk about the National Rifle Association's head mouthpiece/dilettante Charles Cotton, who wants us to know that the nine innocent victims were responsible for their own deaths because they didn't carry guns into a house of worship.

Let's talk about those - up to and including yet another GOP candidate, Rick Santorum - who want people to think the actions of a self-professed white supremacist against an historic African-American institution constituted "an assault on religious liberty" rather than a statement of hatred against people of color.

Let's talk about the fact that nine people are dead at the hands of someone who believed he was doing the world a favor by eliminating humans who were deemed inferior because the color of their skin was different from his.

Let's talk about what might have happened if this idiot hadn't been able to buy a gun as easily as a can of Coke.

Let's talk about an American state that still uses a racist, secessionist flag as an official symbol of its government and then feigns amazement that some of its citizens feel entitled to remain racist and secessionist.

Above all, let's talk.

Because this is never going to end until one side converts the other.

I'm asking you to pick a side. 

Unfollow me if you're not on my side.

Share this post if you agree with me.

Let's talk.

For My Mom

I look like my mom. A lot. And I'm OK with that, because I think my mom is beautiful, even though I don't think I'm beautiful.

I love my mom so much. And since Sunday is Mother's Day, here are some reasons why.

My mom is gifted when it comes to raising house and garden plants, in a way she did not pass on to me.

My mom gave me a love of reading at a very early age. And she taught me that reading to your child is imperative, even if your goofy voices and exaggerated cadences make you seem ridiculous. And she gave Precocious Daughter the first book she ever read by herself.

Thank you, Biscuit. Thank you, Grammy.

My mom was my Girl Scout leader.

My mom insisted that I watch Sesame Street and Mister Rogers' Neighborhood when I was a pre-schooler, because she saw how valuable they were. And she was right.

My mom made a lot of clothes. Some of them were polyester nightmares, but she made them. For me. The clothes I'm wearing in (at least) my 2nd, 3rd, 4th, and 5th grade school pictures were hand made by my mom. Wow.

My mom should have a college degree. But she doesn't because she had three children before her 25th birthday, and she raised us instead.

My mom taught me to cook and bake. To this day I love to cook and bake.

My mom taught me to do needlepoint and cross-stitch, although she never did get me to pick up knitting and crocheting. It's not her fault. I just don't get them. (PDaughter can crochet, however, so I'm grateful it skipped a generation and picked up again.)

My mom was raised Lutheran, but converted to Catholicism when she married my daddy, and she raised three kids as Uber-Catholics. It didn't take with any of us, but that's more the Church's fault than hers, clearly.

My mom introduced me to the writings of Stephen King, and Anne McCaffrey, and Robert Heinlein. Three of my favorite authors to this day.

My mom had a complicated relationship with her parents, whom I never knew. I relate, but I also work hard not to be estranged from mine, because I see through her how painful that can be.

My mom loves cats.

My mom said "crap" in my presence once. It's the only time I've ever heard her curse. I've never known anyone with her ability to get good and mad without resorting to cursing.

My mom could have had a very different life from the one she's led. Should have? Maybe. But she's my mom, and I love her and am selfishly glad her life made her my mother instead of something else.

It is the prerogative of the child to be selfish of the mother.

I love you, Mom. Happy Mother's Day.

Not enough roses.

God Bless Whatever

Let me explain succinctly yesterday's events in Garland, Texas.

Garland, by the way, is the Dallas suburb widely credited as being the inspiration for Arlen, the fictional suburb that was home to Hank Hill & Co. in Mike Judge's long-running series "King of the Hill."

Imagine four used-car lots and a pawn shop just out of shot,
and you've got Garland.

So yesterday a group calling itself the American Freedom Defense Initiative - which is considered a hate group by  organizations dedicated to identifying hate groups - held a "Draw a Mohammad Cartoon Because Muslims Consider That Offensive But Fuck That Because 'Murica" contest in Garland.

And of course their motives were totally pure and First Amendment and shit, because the venue where they held their event required them to spend $10,000 on private security in order to hold it. Because it's offensive to devout Muslims to portray Mohammad, but fuck that because we have tons of pictures of Jesus for the win.

Behold, my niggas. Me bless America. Fuck yea verily.

And then two radicalized Muslim assholes decided to shoot all the people because Muhammad is too fucking weak and stupid to stand up to some rednecks' attempt to mock him.

Muhammad is so much stronger than the assholes
who claim to worship him.

If you're keeping score, it's asshole conservative Christians who think the First Amendment gives them the right to be jackholes with impunity vs. asshole radicalized Muslims who think they  get to murder innocent people because their version of the Flying Spaghtetti Monster says it's OK.

Anyway, two assholes are dead, after attacking a bunch of assholes who deliberately set out to be offensive to a religious community that has been nothing but  peaceful and positive in the Dallas area.

I'm not really seeing a hero here.

But, like, god bless america for allowing people of differing faiths and cultures to act like fucking idiots, right?

Did I mention this whole story is about a bunch of assholes who claim to be on opposite sides but really are united by being assholes?

Whatever. I still think respecting people who are different from me is fine as long as they are respectful in their differences.

Which doesn't include trying to kill people, by the way.

I'm not from Texas.

Just putting that out there.

Images for You

This is really late, I know.

Today was an odd day.

It happens.

So here is a picture of a quokka.

And here is a picture of Vice President Joe Biden before he got his hair in check.

And here's a depiction of Muhammad, which apparently is still a problem for some people.

Good night, my loves. Tomorrow I'll write about...you know, shit and stuff.

God Created Everything, Including Underwear

I was in despair because I have no clean bras.

And I have a contractor coming over tomorrow to assess repairs on my house.

Like, I can't open the door to a contractor wearing a bra that smells like three-day-old boob sweat.

Aside: I don't mean that the contractor is wearing the bra. I've talked to him twice, and he sounds like a normal red-blooded male. If he likes to wear women's underwear I don't really care. But I don't mean to imply that he does, having never even met him. Or that, if he does, they are unclean and smelly.

I'm just doomed here, aren't I?

Contractors are in high demand right now. They don't need a reason to turn away work. They might take pity on my sad-ass house and my paltry repair budget. But if they suspect I don't have my act together sufficient to wear a clean (and not completely elastic-depleted) bra to our consultation, they will laugh me out of consideration and then blackball me on Angie's List as "the sad chick with malodorous undergarments."

As if I need that in my life.

It doesn't take much to stress me out these days.

But then I realized: My appointment with this contractor is at 2:30 tomorrow afternoon.

And I'm on vacation this week.

So I have plenty of time to wash every bra I own.

Can I just say: Thank you, Jesus, for watching over the state of my brassieres lest I offend the nice contractor who wants to charge me a lot of money to get my house ready to put up for sale.

I'll light a candle or burn some incense or some shit next time I'm in church.

Or, you know, if you want me to do something in less than 40 years, Jesus, just let me know. DM me or something. You know where to find me.

Follow the scent of sweaty cups.

Kmen.

Everything's All Right Now, Everything's Fine

Today I introduced Precocious Daughter to the awesomeness that is the 1973 film version of Jesus Christ Superstar.

The cast was in Chicago this weekend promoting the new
digital remastering of the film, and one of my childhood friends
went and saw it, and she had her picture taken with the cast (above)
and Ted Neeley kissed her. Jesus H. Christ.

PDaughter loves Andrew Lloyd Webber. She loves Cats. She loves Phantom. But she had never heard or seen JCS, which I've loved since I was about four years old. I typically try to watch the movie, or at least listen to the original album, during Lent every year. But this year I tracked down a copy of the movie on Blu-Ray especially so we could watch it together for the first time.

Holy (pun intended) crap. I love this movie. I mean, Baron Lloyd-Webber and Sir Timothy Rice's composition is stunning, but as a film, Norman Jewison's adaptation is goddamned brilliant. Accounting for the 1973-specific preponderance of bellbottoms and Afro wigs, of course.

Don't you get me wrong.

I loved watching it, as I always do. And PDaughter loved it, too. She was tickled pink to learn that King Herod was played by Josh Mostel, because she knows his dad Zero from his role as Max Bialystock in The Producers. She thought Yvonne Elliman's voice was beautiful.

I'm just in awe of this photo.

And perhaps most important, a few hours after we watched it and she'd had a chance to ponder it, she wanted to know more about the story...about why the Pharisees were so hot to crucify Jesus and why Pontius Pilate was so reluctant to do the same.

That gave me a chance to tell her one of the greatest stories ever told. And to explain to her that, completely separate from the religious implications that have reverberated for 2,000 years, this was a story that has shaped contemporary politics, history, literature, and mythology in a profound way.

Her dad took her to Easter Mass this morning. I didn't participate, because I don't do that scene any more and because I thought it a tad bit hypocritical for a couple on the brink of divorce to walk into a Catholic church which in a few months will refuse to acknowledge our existence as anything but excommunicants.

I was happy for PDaughter to share the experience of Easter Mass with her dad (it's been a few years since we've attended). I was even happier to share with her with literary and historical context of the story of the Passion. I think between us, she was exposed to the depth and breadth of this important story today.

And I got to watch Ted Neeley. Because...damn. Jesus.

I hope you all had a great Easter/Passover/Spring day. Whatever makes you sing, you know?

Pizza, Politics, and Poofdahs

By now, we've all heard ad nauseam about the pizza-parlor owners in Indiana who say they'll use the state's new "God says it's OK to be bigots" law to deny service to gay people.

The Bible clearly states that pizza is for the righteous only.
Right? It says that?

And we've all heard the jokes in response.

And been appalled at the response by asshole trolls pretending to be progressive.

AND seen the left take a swing at the right for taking a swing at the left for taking a swing at the right.

What's left?

Just this.

Good pizza is really, really important to me. I will purchase good food from ignorant people if need be. (See: my continued patronage of Chik-fil-A.)

Thoughts, beliefs, and convictions are ultimately flimsy and cheap.

I love a good many people who hold opinions very different from my own.

Sometimes I have to bite my tongue and hold my breath in order to associate with them, but I do it willingly because I judge people by their actions, not their words.

If Memories Pizza ever actually turns away a gay customer, then they will have my enmity, and for good reason.

But if all they're doing is saying how they might act in a situation they might encounter - but haven't - then I declare their beliefs not worth my time.

There is more than enough actual evil in the world without well-meaning people fabricating evil where in reality there exists only questionable intelligence.

Threats and insults and downright meanness...they're unattractive at any point on the sociopolitical spectrum, people.

The Indiana RFRA is a stupid and pointless law.

Let's not make it important by martyring those who support it.

BTW: In the North Dallas area, Angelo & Vito's and Rotolo's serve up the best pizza ever. Oh, and Carmine's on Spring Valley.

#PizzaNotPolitics

Talking Marriage Equality, Starring Nutty People

Kory Watkins, not content to be the hilariously inept poster man-child for open carry of handguns in Texas, instead wants to be the hilariously inept poster man-child for all sorts of libertarian hijinks.

Like protecting the Constitution with rap.

KoKo is a member of NORML, because he opposes outdated government prohibitions on the possession and use of marijuana for medical and recreational purposes. And also really likes to smoke weed. The DFW chapter of NORML held a rally in Austin earlier this week (and you should click on the link, because the writer of the headline deserves a great big prize for awesomeness), and Kory was there. Which you would know if you follow his Facebook page, but not if you read the article I linked to.

I suspect Shaun McAlister, who organized the rally, slipped the reporter a rather large baggie of sticky bud to please, please, PLEASE leave Kory's name out of the article. Because his last few trips to Austin have demonstrated an uncanny grasp of self-promotion over, you know, lucidity.



Good on NORML for recognizing that having KoKo on your side is like having an orangutan riding shotgun: Lots of great photo ops, but you're equally likely to have your face ripped off.

Clint Eastwood (R-Empty Chair) grossly misled us.

And now Kory Watkins has weighed in on the subject of gay marriage.

Get your popcorn.

Getting pretty tired of the Michael Jackson
meme, you know?

This week Texas issued its first same-sex marriage license. Kind of. It's a pretty convoluted story (read about it here), but the upshot is that Republican heads are exploding because one white dude outsmarted another white dude to make it happen.

Well, KoKo, ever the champion of small government and individual rights, took to his Facebook page and posted this:

And actually, yeah, if you're going to be a libertarian, this is exactly what you should think about the whole issue. Good on you, Kory Watkins.

But while KoKo may believe he's the ideological leader of a throng of like-minded souls who follow his teachings as if he were Christ in a trilby, the reality is that most gun nuts (not gun owners, per se, but extremist wingnuts) could care less about ideology. They are for the most part narrow-minded reactionaries who don't want anybody pointing out that violent misandry is not protected by any part of the Constitution.

I know, them's big words. Try not to shoot the dictionary
as you look them up.

To his credit, KoKo understands that open carry of firearms is one small issue in a larger value system that abhors intrusive government. What he doesn't understand is that such nuances are lost on many of the illiterate rednecks who follow him on Facebook.

To cut to the chase: A lot of gun nuts don't like teh gays.

Oh, some of them try to deflect.

And some of them, er, I think try to be supportive in their syntactically challenged way.

(By the way, I'm not sure what "publice" are, but may I suggest you patronize a higher class of tavern if these are a problem?)

Apparently this gentleman believes that being gay should be a religion, and also that the Second Amendment somehow explains this.

But at least he gets that gay couples are not out to loot and pillage your land.

Uh-oh, someone's been listening to anti-gay talking points!

And someone's been listening to anti-gay talking points AND reading lots of Ayn Rand. Possibly while taking lots of drugs! (tl;dr: Them faggots is destroying America.)

I'd like to suggest that this lady move out of her current neighborhood, because the North American Man-Boy Love Association is not considered "mainstream" where I hang out. Just sayin.

Also, if she thinks every TV show has homosexuals, someone should tell her that there actually are other channels besides LOGO.

Remember, this started out as Kory Watkins' statement that the government shouldn't be in the business of denying same-sex marriages.

Really.

And we've reached Godwin's Law. I think we're done here.

OK, just one more.

This is America, Sergio. Everybody has the ability to succeed. But I think perhaps you meant "secede," in which case, secessionary movements in our nation's history historically have failed as the result of a majority desire in those states to preserve the union.

Yeah.

In short, America: Where everyone has the right to express his or opinion, and I have the right to make fun of your atrocious grasp of the English language.

Thanks as always to Kory Watkins for being an endless inspiration to this blog.