Here's a photo from the new Broadway production American Idiot.
Evidently in this bleak, nihilistic vision of America, the godless punks spend three hours a day at the gym.
I have a lot more respect for Orthodox Jews than I do for Christians.
I'm an atheist, but that doesn't mean I automatically think religious people are stupid. I do a lot of things that other people think are stupid: I enjoy parades, I eat outdated sushi from the Bargain Bin, I buy CDs. Obviously I'm living in a glass house, so who I am to say somebody's dumb to believe in God?
Personally, I don't think the Bible is the word of God. I mean, if God had exactly three hundred pages to tell earthlings how to act, from the beginning of time all the way to the Rapture, I'm thinking there probably wouldn't be a chapter on the moustache.
If you're going to say the Bible is the word of God, though, you've got to follow through, and Christians just don't. They divide the Bible into two parts: the sensible stuff, and the crazy shit. Jesus, obviously, is sensible. He's cool. He's like a zen master always ready with a sound bite. Luckily he's in a whole different chapter, far away from the parts that say you should kill people who sprinkle parmesan cheese on fish. But then there's all that wacky stuff about shunning and stoning and human sacrifice. Whereas something written by an omnipotent creator should be a pretty cool read, the bible is the novel equivalent of a road trip across the U. S. It's really cool when you drive through Yosemite or Zion, but then there's those long stretches where everybody's toothless and has beer-bottle windchimes.
For the life of me, I can't figure out why religious people think editing the Bible is okay. I mean, God was all-powerful, right? He knew everything. He wasn't Norman Mailer. Was God schizophrenic? Did he drink? How come he needs this kind of leeway? I mean, after he realized vast portions of the book were total crap, couldn't he have rewound time and replaced it with an edited version?
I don't see them cutting regular folks that kind of slack. Einstein was nearly super-human too, but people would have written him off if he'd drunk-called them at night saying they should kill their kids with rocks.
Orthodox Jews, though, wholeheartedly embrace the Torah's crazy. When they decided to believe in the book, they threw themselves in whole hog. Christians would read the part about mixing dairy and meat, and think to themselves, "Whoa, that's weird. Wonder how that got in there. God musta had a bad day." Orthodox Jews, though, go, "Looks like I need more pots and pans."
When Christians read the Bible's words about how disgusting menstruating women are, they say, "Wow, that is so freaky I'm just gonna pretend it's not there. Orthodox Jews, though, think, "Hmm -- I guess I gotta get some kind of special tub."
It's easier for me to accept somebody's homophobia when I know it's part of a giant package of weird. If you're laying on the couch all Sunday drinking beer and watching football and you say God don't like gays, you're not religious: you're an idiot. But if you stay home because it's a sin to press elevator buttons and you think God doesn't like gays, I got no problem with that.
I might disagree, but I'll admire your courage. And if your God is okay with dollar shellfish, I might even offer you a snack.
Last week, Barack Obama gave a speech in which he addressed America's responsibility to the world. "[W]hether we like it or not," he said, "we remain a dominant military superpower, and when conflicts break out, one way or another we get pulled into them."
Naturally, Sarah Palin was tweeting about it within seconds, not even waiting to hear the sentence's end. "'Whether we like it or not we're a superpower'?" she repeated. "What kind of commie doesn't want America to be a superpower? Does he want to tear down all of our skyscrapers and plant banana trees?"
Word quickly circulated in the idiot media, and soon teabaggers were addressing the subject in their signs. "WE LIK BEING A SUPRPOUR," said one sign. "WE DONT WANnA BE LIK KEENYA," another said.
Rather than lower ourselves into this imaginary debate, we'll just explain a grammatical rule to Ms. Palin: You can't slice a clause down the middle and pretend the second half doesn't exist.
Here's an easy example. "Like it or not," Paris Hilton might say, "I'm pretty, and I attract the attention of a lot of men."
It's easy to guess Palin's reaction. "Like it or not she's pretty?" Palin would scream. "What's wrong with being PRETTY? Should we all slice at our faces with KNIVES?"
I'm surprised Palin ignored the next line in Obama's speech. "[Getting pulled into conflicts] ends up costing us significantly in terms of both blood and treasure." "'Treasure'?" she could yell. "Are we paying our hardworking servicepeople with DOUBLOONS?"
Still, I got no problem with Palin. She's the natural end result of a country with no education and no attention span. She soldiers on the only way she can.
PAT SAJAK: All right, we want to hear the Brent Benedetti story now.
BRENT BENEDETTI: I'm recently married to a man who's been cracking me up for the last ten years. His name is John. Uh, we have a dog named Inspector Dudley Crumbs and a cat named Kitty-Pants.
PAT SAJAK: Yeah? So do I. Fantastic. Our lives are almost parallel. Strange.
BRENT BENEDETTI: I love interior design and home staging, and I love to hike and travel in my free time.
PAT SAJAK: All right, good to have you here, Brent.
Awesome? Incredible? Unbelievable? All of that and more. Introducing EyeToEye, the world's first wearable hummingbird feeder.
EyeToEye is a plastic face shield with a miniature hummingbird feeder built into it. Hummingbirds will see you walking around with this colorful hydrangea stuck on your face and will feed right before your eyes!
EyeToEye is a breakthrough in bird feedery, the very first of its kind. It's made of hi-impact polycarbonate, and comes complete with two miniaturized feeding tubes. You'll find more hummingbirds will approach if you remain quiet and motionless, rather than, say, driving somewhere, or giving a speech.
EyeToEye is only $79.95, and it makes the perfect gift.
EyeToEye: You'll never forget the first time a lightning-fast, pointy-beaked creature came flying straight at your eyes.™
This is unbelievable. I went to a sandwich shop yesterday and saw this tiny notice posted on the wall.
Disclaimer
Due to the high cost of food manufacturing and the strict laws regarding quality, this sandwich shop has replaced its cheese with triangular non-dairy sandwich slices. We're confident that you will enjoy these triangular non-dairy sandwich slices for their bright colors and sharp flavors, as we appreciate their indefinite shelf-life and how they don't need to be kept anywhere cold.
For your convenience, however, we will assume that when you say you want Cheddar on your sandwich, you really mean you want a yellow slice. The same with requests for American cheese. We also assume when you say you want Swiss on your sandwich, you want a white slice. Similarly Provolone. Edam, Gouda, Vermont White Cheddar, Parmesan, Feta and Mozzarella.
This notice therefore serves as legal written notice that we are not required to correct your assumptions about our triangular non-dairy sandwich slices, whether you assume they're imported from another country, aged in a cave or not made entirely of oil. We're certain that you'll find them tasty either alone or paired with our shaved lunch cutlets, pink or brown, which are discussed at length in our brochure.
Friday, April 16, 2010
Octuplets mother Nadya Suleman, under threat of having her home foreclosed, has accepted an offer from People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals. For $5,000 and a month's supply of vegan food, she'll allow the animal-rights group to place a sign on her front lawn telling people they need to sterilize their pets.
You know those sea turtles that swim up onto the beach and deposit hundreds of eggs into a hole? Even they were offended by this.
Yeah? I'd lick the print off all those bills before I'd get my tongue near one of those chicks.
THEM: Our priests never molested anybody. This is just one or two bitter gay atheists making crazy accusations so they can get rich quick.
US: Then why do you keep paying them off?
THEM: We're just trying to be nice. Well, maybe there's one or two bad apples in the barrel. When we find the occasional priest who's guilty of molestation, though, we do something about it!
US: Yes. You move them to another church.
THEM: Okay, maybe there's a problem, but it isn't pedophilia. These are evil gay men who somehow infiltrated our ranks.
US: If they were gay men, they'd be sleeping with each other.
THEM: You know, I think you're trying to make a big deal out of nothing. I think this is a vast left-wing conspiracy by atheists aimed at bringing down the Pope. But he didn't know! He didn't have a clue!
US: Oh, look! Here's a signed letter from him telling somebody to ignore a molestation case.
THEM: You people really need to forgive and let go.
I'm on the fence. Would a thoughtful boyfriend do something that makes you think, if even for a second, that the fruits and vegetables in your fridge were going to rise up and consume you?
Thursday, April 15, 2010
Hong Kong scientists have developed a robotic hand that allows people talking over the web to experience the sensation of touching each other — even feeling the strength of a handshake.
The cyber hand can grip and shake as well as make gestures and touch. The current model is expected to go on sale by Christmas for around $37 each.
I've got a beta version of this and I'm not convinced it's a good thing. For instance, I accidentally dialed the Vatican and now I can't find my underwear.
Did you know you can print exactly 83 pages after your Canon MP530 says you're out of ink?
Did you know the difference between "self-employed" and "unemployed" is $6,583 in tax?
Did you know that if you pop Tylenol like candy, your headache won't go away but your liver will shut down?
Taxes in America are ridiculous. The forms are unbelievably long and complicated, though one form assured me that a committee had been formed to judge whether an ordinary human could understand and complete the form within a calendar year and the answer came up yes. Still, you've got to admire the balls of a state where, if you earn $85 over poverty level, they've got dibs on $3.
In simpler terms, work, for Mr. Blasberg, means what he is doing right now, which is being a part of a scene. What that scene is does not matter, so long as the same Very Important People are there being photographed, their dresses remarked upon and their names recorded in the party pages of a newspaper or magazine or whichever blog is in favor at the moment, like the one written by Mr. Blasberg for Style.com. He is very good at his part — witty, teddy-bear cute but no threat to anyone’s husband.
A pair of male swans have built a love nest in the UK. "They sit on the nest and act in every way as if they were a pair expecting to lay eggs," said swannery manager John Houston. "It is quite sweet. . . We realized they were together because the swan herds can obviously tell the difference between the males and females as the cobs have a much larger bump on their nose."
Meanwhile, you know how this is being reported on Fox News? TWO BLIND SWANS FOUND IN ENGLAND.
Constance McMillen, a Mississippi high school honors student who fought back when her school told her she couldn’t take her girlfriend to the prom, has been announced as one of the Grand Marshals for the 41st Annual LGBT Pride March in New York on June 27, 2010. “I never dreamed so many people would support my fight to take my girlfriend to the prom, much less that I’d end up being asked to be a Grand Marshal at NYC Pride,” said McMillen, an 18-year-old high school senior from Fulton, Mississippi, adding, “I’m really honored and touched to be asked to be part of this celebration.”
By the way, if any of the folks in Mississippi are interested in seeing the demonized hometown girl applauded by millions of New Yorkers, I have vital information. The original route, marching down 5th Avenue from 52nd Street, has been changed. The new route is down McDougal Street in Staten Island, starting at the Exxon on Turner Boulevard and ending at the Tottenville Food Circus at Willis and Grand.
I didn't like Glee from Day One. Where everybody else saw a fresh new era of fun, diversity and inclusiveness, I saw the same old minstrel show where straight white people were up front and all the members of minority groups served as comic relief.
So I was startled when every dude with a blog hailed Glee as a wonderful, fun breakthrough, whereas I saw it as a musical Mary Tyler Moore show where Rhoda's in a wheelchair and Phyllis is gay.
You'll be pleased to hear, though, that now I'm ready to eat my words. Glee recently released two compilations of music from the series, a total of thirty-nine songs, and Kurt, the gay character, is actually featured on one of those songs!
Well, color me contrite. Like Ricky Martin coming out, this is a startling breakthrough for gays that I never thought we'd see in our lifetimes.
Sure, one out of thirty-nine isn't such a huge number. In fact, there's a higher ratio of African-Americans at Moody Blues reunions. Still, it's the thought that counts. We're included! We're part of the perky tapestry. So what if Kristin Chenowith has twice as many songs on the compilations and she guest-starred on exactly one episode? Ha ha to all the bigots and haters out there who, over the course of nearly three hours of music, will have to hit the fast-forward button on their iPod once!
I am now officially a Gleek. With my foot in my mouth and a sheepish grin on my face I'm heading over to the Itunes store right now. I'd like to thank the amazing folks at Glee for creating such a groundbreaking vision, but I send special thanks to the people at Amazon for making the records available by the song so I can buy the entire gay part for just thirty-nine cents.
Actually is one of my favorite words. Actually, it's my favorite word, since you can actually use it in so many ways. It's actually kind of weird, though, because when you say actually I think you're really saying really, and really isn't actually such a great word. Actually, really is actually kind of meaningless, actually meaning something like very, which is really pretty useless. That's actually why I use actually far more than I actually use really, and really more than I actually use very. Worst of all, though, is pretty, which I actually use far less than really, and really use less than very, actually, because pretty is actually completely meaningless, and I really actually pride myself on avoiding words that are really pretty meaningless.
Investigators examining the crash in which Polish President Lech Kaczynski was killed appear to be focusing on why the pilot did not heed instructions from air traffic controllers to give up trying to land in bad weather.
Attention has been drawn to the pilot's state of mind because of a previous incident involving the Polish president.
In August 2008, Mr. Kaczynski got into a dispute with a pilot who refused to land his plane in bad weather, and threatened that there would be consequences. "If someone decides to become a pilot, he cannot be fearful," Mr. Kaczynski said. "After returning to the country, we shall deal with this matter."
Rest in peace, Fearless.
After four consecutive nights of partying, I spent last night at home. I aimed my face at the TV and held down the channel-changing button on the remote. At eleven, I turned it off, convinced America is a far stranger place than I thought.
On Iron Chef America, guest Holly Smith battled the home team's Cat Cora. From her website: "[Ms. Smith's] Cafe Juanita has been a labor of love, allowing Holly to express her passion for Northern Italian food and wine; a commitment to organics and sustainability and a holistic approach to the dining experience. Holly hopes to showcase local products while serving modern Northern Italian inspired cuisine." She's been in every magazine, received every award, blah blah blah.
When the battle ended, Ms. Smith's team beamed with pride, and we saw her Hispanic assistant was missing four of his front teeth. Nobody says a word. Nobody notices. Me, I wonder: exactly how many James Beard Awards does Ms. Smith have to win before her employees can afford incisors? Is she making them wait to buy locally-sourced ivory?
Continuing our theme of idiots versus gays, remember that beauty-pageant moron, Miss South Carolina, who blathered on for five minutes about trying to find crap on maps? Caitlin "Caite" Upton is on The Amazing Race this season, and last night she proved exactly how smart she is. She got a chance to knock any team out of the race and she picked the third-place lesbians. "The lesbians!" she repeated, as her eyes glazed over and bits of foam appeared at the corners of her mouth. "LESBIANS!"
She parroted the words like they're an epithet, until you started to wonder if the show was homophobic for allowing it. I mean, would we see this idiot make these same outbursts if she had other targets in mind? If she were playing against a pair of rabbis, for instance, would we hear repeated exclamations like "When I get a chance, I'm really gonna screw them Jews!"?
The real head-scratcher, though, was the Celebrity Apprentice, a show that clearly cannot be watched by people with functioning brains. Two teams had to make commercials about Right Guard, which means we had to hear alleged celebrities talk about how much they sweat, with various degrees of success. Goldberg, the wrestler, described how stressful his work is, saying "Have you ever wrestled live in front of millions in your underwear?" Well, no, I haven't -- but he hasn't either, unless he's got purple spandex under those pleated Dockers. Chef Curtis Stone tried to convince us that he gushes veritable buckets as he artfully dabs basil bechamel onto porcelain. Holly Robinson-Peete shared a conversation-stopping anecdote about the first time she smelled her preteen son's B. O.
And you thought your friends were weird when they talked about sniffing their newborn's head.
The winning commercial, though, was a tour de force that'd make David Lynch flinch. Two kids are sitting on a couch. "He ain't coming," one kid says.
"Yeah, he is," says the other. "I won him in a contest, so he is."
Clyde "The Slide" Drexler turns up, and what do you think the kids have planned for the basketball star? A game of HORSE? Some one-on-one? Nope. They have Clyde exercise, and then they smell him to see if he has B. O.
You know, if I caught my kid doing this, I'd take him to a psychiatrist. Which is saying something, because if I caught him reading a magazine called "Shetland Ponies Fuck Nazi Sluts!" I'd totally let it slide.
The kids make Clyde do two hundred sit-ups then sniff at him. "Nothing," the first kid in disgust. "Told you," the other replies. They make Clyde do a thousand jumping jacks. "Nothing," repeats the first kid. "Told you," the other replies.
Judging by the dialog, you realize they've planned this in advance. "Oboy!" one of them must have yelled. "A basketball star is coming to my house!"
"Wow!" screamed the other. "I wonder if his pits smell like cheese."
Obviously, the world has changed. On TV, we've got commercials in between commercials, with people fighting over who can sell out more. We proudly paint our children as perverts if it fits the marketing plan. "If I work really hard," goes our new American Dream, "one day I'll sign with the Yankees, and I can see what A-Rod smells like!"
At some point, we think, something's got to give. People just can't be that dumb. The last battle the world will face isn't going to be masses of Satan's winged followers fighting haloed angels with enchanted swords. No, there'll be somewhat blander teams, like Idiots vs. Lesbians, or Rich People vs. Toothless Assistants, with the rest of us taking sides.
Which is too bad. Because judging from the word around my neighborhood, sweaty angels smell like basil bechamel.
Michelle "Bombshell" McGee, Jesse James' mistress, is involved in a bitter custody battle, and she's written up a long rebuttal to some of the claims her ex has made. I'll admit it's no picnic being on the defensive, but as you parse her words you'll notice they're oddly qualified.
"I do NOT show my children how to 'nazi salute,'" she says. Well, that's nice, but it's a little specific. Just the salute is off-limits? Maybe it interferes with their goose-stepping.
"I do NOT do any pornography in my home." Oh-kay. Do we need to ask specifically about bowling alleys, or the Dollar Store?
"I do NOT do any webcam 'sessions' from my home with my children present." Well! Two qualifiers there. Sure that's enough, "Bombshell"? Best play it safe and tag on "while DJ Jazzy Jeff played on the radio."
Last, she says, "I do NOT have a swastika tattoo on me." We were always confused about that, because we've seen pictures of her virtually naked and played Spot the Swastika to no avail.
What about the WP tattoo, though? She doesn't mention it. Maybe it stands for Wolfgang Puck. He makes a cream-cheese-and-lox pizza that'll make you plotz, right there in the Dollar Store.
Did you read about this? It's pretty amazing. Archaeologists digging in Greece have discovered a couplet inscribed in stone that appears to be the world's first personals ad. It's truly strange, a time capsule into a different world, but also shows that we haven't really changed that much in the ensuing 5,000 years.
[Butch Anthony is] the host of the Doo Nanny, the annual alt/folk art “micro” festival, as he calls it, that started as an “art party” he and two friends gave on the side of the road 15 years ago in nearby Pittsview, and moved to Mr. Anthony’s property here three years ago.
“There’s a 100-foot vagina we’re fixing to burn,” Mr. Anthony remarked recently while filling a garbage can in the back of his battered truck with water, a precautionary measure, one gathered, in case things got out of hand.
But why a vagina? “They’ve got a burning man, why not have a burning woman?”
Really? Woman = vagina? This dude sounds like a dick.
Nicholas Cage's bedroom.
If that train stops at the bed and drops off ice cream cones, this is the house I've been dreaming about since I was five years old.
Thursday, April 8, 2010
This sculpture evokes a lot of mixed feelings in me.
I'm sad to see Super Mario is dead, since I've had more than a few dreams about his tiny moustache tickling hard-to-reach parts of my body.
I'm curious if some new religion will spring up around him, with a Holy Trinity that includes Mario, Luigi, and Donkey Kong. When you turn thirteen, instead of declaring that you're a man, they'll give you a hammer and then roll barrels at you.
But mostly I'm sorry I missed what must have been an awesome Last Supper.
Okay, I'll admit it: I was suspicious about Tiger Woods from the beginning. He looked like a hip black man, but he didn't act like one. He played the Masters at Augusta, a club where women aren't allowed. I thought he should have spoken out about their discrimination, since he knows what it's like. But then I thought, well, you can't hold a dude to higher standards just because he's black.
Then there was the issue of racial identity. Tiger looks black, and if he'd just come out and said he was black he would have revolutionized golf. There's never been a famous African-American golfer, and he'd have been a hero to that community. Instead, he said he was something called a Caucablackapaloozan.
WTF?
I sat down and puzzled for hours over that one. First, you know, ethnic identity doesn't require military precision. We're not naming birth-control pills here. My parents are German and French but you didn't see me scouring the Census for a FERMAN box. You just pick out your predominant ethnic background and go for it. Besides, Tiger is one quarter Thai, one quarter African American, one quarter Chinese, and one quarter other stuff. Wouldn't that make the dude Thaiblachin?
Either way, you know his little semantics game doesn't mean shit to folks in the South. I'm pretty sure Otis McRedneck wouldn't say, "I know we run the black folks out of town, but Tiger says he's Caucablackapaloozan so I say we give him a pass."
Since then, Tiger's been to hell and back, and we're willing to give the man another shot. Sure, he still hasn't said a word about Augusta, which still doesn't let women join. And sure, he's still just done one thing for civil rights, and that's reaffirm the right of rich dudes of any ethnic background to fuck white whores.
But I'm an optimist. I hope Tiger has learned something. Like his wife Elin, I wonder if he'll finally take the high road, or if once again we'll see a secretive man, smaller than life, wielding that misplaced Cauc.
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
Two Brazilian designers have created a pair of shoes that broadcast every step you take to Twitter. The shoes contain bluetooth-connected sensors that activate with each step and transmit the updated status information to your mobile phone. The phone then tweets the data to your followers.
I got an advance pair of these shoes, and if you don't subscribe to my Twitter feed here's everything they posted, word for word:
omg i just took my first step. aint that historic. alert the media. wow. step 2 was totally hot. i aint no fuckin bambi, dudes. color me haulin now. im walkin. yeah im walkin. note to history: sidewalk is totally cool. shout out to wally's rubber factory in beijing & props to all my peeps hope you all find good homes right now i is large and in charge dont know where im goin but ill tell you when im there man i think im gettin hi from this foot funk hey theres some smoking chucks, how ya doin man yo hey i see you sexy little jimmy choos ill be back for you later on im walkin yeah im walkin wtf oh holy jeezus im feeling dampness in my sole its warm and sticky and god somebody tell me this aint happenin omg i do not believe it wheres a kleenex wheres a kleenex wheres a kleenex there goes my clean shoe smell nobody tell me i dont even wanna know what kinda shit that was KLEENEX COME IN KLEENEX take me off take me off take me off i feel so dirty smbd hep me pleez tthats it adio asta lego ttfn ths shooz iz ou
MSNBC interviews Joshua David Stein about "a mini-phenomenon in the gay community," nude yoga:
Joshua Stein, editor-at-large for OUT Magazine, who attended a class in 2008, says the quality of the yoga was diminished by the heightened sensuality. "It's almost if the yoga is something between an afterthought and an excuse," said Stein, who is heterosexual. "It gives you this gray area where you can be intimate physically, but not so aggressively intimate as in a bath house or in a bar."
From an interview with Ewan McGregor by Joshua Stein:
His butt, since its magnificent . . . debut in What the Butler Saw, has been seen by millions and his penis has appeared on-screen so often -- in Trainspotting, in The Pillow Book, in Velvet Goldmine -- it deserves its own Oscar nod.
From an interview with Levi Johnston by Joshua Stein:
God, I feel weird asking this, but our friends on Facebook want us to ask you: How big is your penis?
A life of glamour is an ethos to which every gay -- from the 17-year-old Dominican tranny voguing in his bedroom to the tanorexic middle-aged Miami circuit queen -- can relate. It’s one reason we love Gaga.
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
A: (From a New York Times opinion piece): "I feel for a moment like an alien, entranced by our fondness for small representations of the spheroid on which we live. How we love to test gravity and admire the trajectory of a spinning orb!"
Q: What are thirty-six words that mean "People sure do love balls"?
Bill Donohue, president of the Catholic League, recently ran an ad in the New York Times staunchly denying the recent allegations they made about child molestation within the church. In the case of Father Lawrence Murphy, Donohue says that "[t]here is no evidence that [Pope Benedict] knew about it," and he declares that "[t]he Times continues to editorialize about the 'pedophilia crisis,' when all along it's been a homosexual crisis."
Today, however, the Times has a front-page story about a priest who allegedly molested a teenage girl despite the fact the parish's bishop sent repeated warnings to the Vatican, saying the priest was a continuing danger to women and children.
When questioned by reporters, Donahue replied, "As Jesus said when he was dragged off by Pontius Pilate's soldiers, 'Hang on! Just give me a day or two to explain.'"
RICK WARREN:In a Beliefnet interview . . . Steve Waldman asked me about gay marriage. . . . I gave some examples of what I think shouldn't be considered to be marriage, like an older guy with a younger woman. Then [Waldman] said, "Are you saying that those are the same thing?" I said, "Oh sure." It made it sound like I was equating homosexuality with pedophilia and incest. I don't believe it, never have, and never would.
*** FLASHBACK ***
RICK WARREN:I’m opposed to having a brother and sister be together and call that marriage. I’m opposed to an older guy marrying a child and calling that a marriage. I’m opposed to one guy having multiple wives and calling that marriage. STEVEN WALDMAN:Do you think, though, that they are equivalent to having gays getting married? RICK WARREN:Oh I do. . . . Me, I'm not saying a word. Jesus said something about judging not. As for Warren's confusing the "child" in the earlier interview with a "younger woman" in the latter, well, I'll let the Mormons defend him on that.
Constance McMillen wanted to bring another female as her date to the Itawamba County Agricultural High School prom. The school district didn't want any trouble, so they cancelled the prom altogether. The ACLU sued, but a judge ruled against them: yes, he said, the school district discriminated against you, but since there's an "alternative prom" you can go to, I'm not going to make them do anything.
So, Constance went to the "alternative prom," which was chaperoned by the high school principal. It drew exactly seven people, including the school's two students with learning disabilities. Turns out somebody organized an alternative "alternative prom" at the local country club and everybody else went there.
Though the city is a bit embarrassed at the controversy, they're trying to spin it to their advantage. Now as you cross city lines there's a sign that says, "Welcome to Itawamba, Mississippi. We ain't the smartest or the purtiest, but we can sure keep a secret from lesbos and geeks."
Japanese professor Hiroshi Ishiguro has unveiled an android that precisely mimic a person's expressions. The robot, called Geminoid TMF, can move its rubber face to replicate a smile, a toothy grin, and a grim look with crumpled brows using a motion-capture system.
Unfortunately, Mr. Ishiguro destroyed the doll with a hammer after the eightieth time it said, "No, YOU stop repeating ME!"
From the New York Times article headlined Can Animals Be Gay?:
No assumptions should be made about the animals' sexual preference based on their appearance in this portfolio.
I see a lawyer's fingerprints all over that one. I mean, when a bunny rabbit sues you, you stay sued.
Unexplained sheep attacks in Shropshire have led to claims that aliens are to blame.
UFO hunters are linking the mutilations -- including the removal of sheep brains and eyes -- to sightings of mysterious orange lights in the sky and claim to have witnessed sheep being zapped by two of the spheres.
Shreep and Boing are on the UFO Tazeeba entering earth's atmosphere at 800 miles per hour. They are from the planet Waksplat, one of a cluster of constellations that initially seeded Earth with the DNA from which human life began. The Tazeeba can reach a speed of 2,000 miles per hour in four seconds, and make a ninety-degree turn while doing 1,000, but on Waksplat it's the rough equivalent of a Toyota with brakes.
"Fratulating the garplers," Shreep says. "Clatzing up the gromklings."
"Check," Boing replies. "Commence to scanning Earth's perimeter with subsplatious quanka rays."
The pair's eyes turn to the display as a 3-D representation of Earth's surface appears, with a resolution to one millimeter. They watch with little expression until the silhouette of a sheep appears.
"Holy Christ!" Shreep yells. "What the fuck is that?"
Boing is nearly speechless. "Ohmigod," he finally squeals. "In four thousand light years I've been to eight million galaxies, and never in my life have I imagined that something could exist that was simultaneously fluffy and white."
"No one will ever believe us," Shreep confirms. "We need physical proof. Boing, fire up the ionic disontegrizer and beam it up. Let's show the folks back home."
"Shreep, you forget: though this ship has a nuclear generator at its core and an infinite string of recursive ions to stabilize it, it lacks the ability to lift something fuzzy that weighs nearly a hundred pounds. How about if I lower you on a rope and you cut its eyes out?"
"ME? Why's it always ME?"
"Well, I'd do it, but I have to stay here and mitigate the souvlaki."
Boing sighs. "Oh, okay."
Five minutes later, Boing returns carrying bloody sheep parts. "Oh, gah-ross," he says.
"Good job!" Shreep says, and they high-twelve with their spare temporal lobes. "Our scientists will hold you aloft and carry you through the streets when we return home."
"Aw, thanks," Boing says, his ankles blushing. "You know, it's odd that humans can clone animals from a single cell but if we want another couple eyeballs we've got to fly back here and slice up another one of those things."
"Ain't it crazy?" Shreep says. "Well, let's go recharge Charo and then we can head back home."
Sunday, April 4, 2010
You know you're going to hell when you see an intricate, passionate pageant celebrating Our Lord and you think it looks like David Hasselhoff looking for his cheeseburger.
Friday, April 2, 2010
A senior Vatican priest speaking at a Good Friday service compared the uproar over sexual abuse scandals in the Catholic Church to the persecution of the Jews. Rev. Raniero Cantalamessa said they "know from experience what it means to be victims of collective violence and also because of this they are quick to recognize the recurring symptoms. . . . The use of stereotypes, the passing from personal responsibility and guilt to a collective guilt, remind me of the more shameful aspects of anti-Semitism.”
Now see, I didn't realize the Jews used to tell little boys to kiss them to see if their moustaches tickled. Then again, I left Catholic school back when they were teaching Latin, rather than French or Greek.
So, everybody's been nagging us to fill out the census. "The Census Bureau also makes a compelling argument for not procrastinating and sending in your response by mail," says one whiny blog. "It costs the government just 44 cents for a postage-paid envelope when a household mails back the 10-question form, which should take just 10 minutes to complete. It costs the Census Bureau $57 to send a census taker door-to-door to follow up with each household that fails to respond."
Unfortunately, this little blurb doesn't do quite what it intended. Instead of prompting me to fill out the census, it makes me want to overthrow the government. It makes me want to join the Tea Baggers, and picket Washington with a sign that reads "$57 TO SEND SOME PENSIL PUSHER TO MY HOWS?"
News flash: here in New York, I can get somebody to bring me chicken lo mein and a gram of crack for $35. So what's up with the $57? Is the dude bringing a pony? Will he have a Candygram?
Here's an idea I'll give the government for free. Send Dominos out to the people who don't return their forms, and they don't get the pizza until they answer every question.
Something tells me all that blather about invasion of privacy and government conspiracy will wither like a dead raccoon in the face of pepperoni.
Who's got a bigger dick, Roger Clemens or Dean Cain?
Thursday, April 1, 2010
Kate White is the next editor-in-chief crossing over into television. The Cosmopolitan boss will appear in an ABC movie, "Beauty and the Briefcase," along with Hilary Duff playing a freelance writer who lands her dream assignment with Cosmo.
After a "Welcome to the big city!" montage scored to Lady Gaga, Hilary instantly dashes off three cover stories:
"How To Drive Him NUTS With Your Uvula"
"Ten Things You Should NEVER Say When Your Man Has a Schwing and a Miss," and
"Give Your Va-Jay-Jay some Va-Va-Va-VOOM!!!"
When I was six, some people gave me a test and then told my parents I was smart. My parents were thrilled. Me, not so much. I thought, hey, that and fourteen bucks will buy you a frappuccino.
I imagine stupid people fantasize about how wonderful it'd be to be smart, but I think it's the other way around. How lovely it'd be to be stupid! I could hit the remote at random and find a good TV show. I could buy a warm meal for just ninety-nine cents.
Being smart, on the other hand, is no picnic. The smart person dodges idiots clustered at the top of escalators, happily chattering away on cellphones. The smart person stands while riding the subway so they don't risk sitting in the drips of the dumb person's Taco Bell. The smart person can't believe half of America thinks George Bush could aspire to anything higher than surfer.
And eventually the smart person thinks, wait: if I'm so smart, how come stupid people are controlling me?
This seems to be an underlying theme in Jamie Oliver's Food Revolution, a new show on ABC. Mr. Oliver is the world's most altruistic chef, opening schools to teach underprivileged kids restaurant skills, working with Britain's schools to serve healthier food. Since the U. S. is the fattest nation in the world, it makes sense he'd head here, and in fact he went straight to the fattest city in the fattest state.
The residents, though, were forewarned. The local newspaper published a story in which Mr. Oliver seemed to say they were stupid, and they just about shut him down at the gate. "Why don't you just get lost?" they said. "You think we're dumb."
Now, the average person would reply, "Well, yes, because you are dumb. You know, Einstein never fed his two-hundred-pound four-year-old fried bologna for breakfast and Cheetos for lunch, then said, 'I'm pretty sure that kid's problem is glandular.'"
Last night on David Letterman Ricky Gervais echoed this sentiment. "Some of these people have 60% bodyfat," he said (paraphrased). "That's equivalent to a confectionary. Maybe you should think about eating less when you're chemically identical to a pudding."
Instead, Mr. Oliver's life flashes before his eyes. "Wait," he thinks, "I can't help them if I'm not here." So, he backpedals. "You're all really smart!" he says. "Smart, and attractive, and friendly! And I'm so happy you're letting me visit you!"
Of course, Mr. Oliver doesn't have a choice, unless he wants his show to end during its premiere. But the rest of us watching are dumbfounded. Wait, we think, if we want to help stupid people, we can't say they're stupid? How does that work? It reminds me of those corporations that settle lawsuits without admitting guilt. "Sure," their lawyer says on the courthouse steps, "we paid the residents eighty million dollars, but we still say those clouds that escaped our factory were just harmless, fluffy mist."
We think, can somebody really improve if they don't admit they were wrong?
As the episode ends, it hits us: this is the U. S., in a nutshell. Just as the stupid control Jamie Oliver, the stupid control our government. When we tell them maybe they're a little dumb to believe Fox News, or choose a senatorial candidate based on his centerfold, they rebel. They write up picket signs saying "DOWN WITH THE ELEET!" and put another moron in office. They don't need to get smarter: they outnumber us.
So, I'm curious to see how far Mr. Oliver will get with this Revolution. Can he really educate them? Can he really convince them that they're dying at the age of forty because of their eating habits, and not because Jesus just missed them too much?
We'll see. But me, I'm guessing somewhere around Week Five the futility will hit him, and by Week Seven he'll be eating KFC on the subway and tossing the bones at my feet.
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