Monday, April 30, 2007

And the Lord Said, "Wha?"

Last night I watched the documentary “Jesus Camp” about a summer camp for evangelical Christian youth. And let me tell you something, fervor is funny and frightening at the same time. When I wasn’t convulsing in laughter (who knows, maybe the Holy Ghost was in me!), I was slack-jawed in abject horror. Some of the things these children are being taught should constitute child abuse in my book.

One of the salient facts that I gleaned from this was that 75% of the children who are home-schooled are evangelical. (The other 25% are probably helping guard the pot crop--can you say "Sanjaya?") Shocking, I know. Nothing like “sheltering” your children from learning about the world. And then there’s the scene where the mom is teaching out of a creation textbook and spouting off things like “Science proves nothing. That’s a fact.” Or, “Creationism is the perfect answer to all questions.” Wonder where she got HER PhD?

Mostly though, it was an hour and a half of writhing on the floor, frenzied emotion, speaking in tongues and REALLY bad haircuts. Now, I know Jesus’ hippie tresses weren’t exactly the highest point in hair history, but Dear God, some of these cuts were sinful! The cute little blond boy with the Moe Howard meets Dorothy Hamill bowl cut? You can’t tell me Satan didn’t have a hand on those scissors.

Some of the “pastors” would suddenly begin speaking in tongues, a language which was surprisingly consistent, considering the supposed spontaneity. It all pretty much sounded like the “holla, holla, holla” guy from Chappelle’s Show. And by the way, aren’t these the same people who are all about “English Only?” Helloooooo! You’re speaking in “tongues.” That ain’t exactly English, but you’re saying it’s the word of the Holy Spirit. Doesn’t that seem like just a bit of a contradiction?

What am I saying? These folks LIVE in contradiction. Doesn’t seem to phase them at all. They call it “faith.” I call it “dumb motherfucker” or “stupid cracker” depending on my mood.

The best part was the Rev. Ted Haggard. I’d never seen him preach before. I’d only seen him lie and cower and beg for more meth—I mean, forgiveness—on the telly.

S.L.I.M.Y. Slimy motherfucker. And my gaydar was whooping like a drag queen at a wig sale. Of course, Christians always set off my gaydar. Something about not breaking eye contact. And hiring male prostitutes for sex.

But Teddy boy was super creepy. And kinda hot. Yeah, I know it’s sick. Sue me.

The best though was the GIGANTIC lesbian preacher who was the “star” of the show. She spent inordinate amounts of time getting her spiky-dykey haircut JUST right. And the rest of the time smothering her flock with dogma and flannel.

By the end, though, I realized that the people in the film and I agreed on one big thing. These children need to be saved. I just don’t think we define that word in quite the same way.

Saturday, April 28, 2007

Snarky Saturday

According to CNN, workers excavating the site of a future Wal-Mart in Phoenix unearthed the bones of a 10,000 year-old camel. Speaking on condition of anonymity, one of the archaeologists involved in the find said, “It actually wasn’t that big a surprise. We’ve been seeing camel toes at Wal-Mart’s for quite some time, so we felt it was inevitable that the rest of the camel would eventually surface.”

Friday, April 27, 2007

Cutting Off Our Dean to Save Our Face

So the Dean of Admissions at MIT was forced to resign because she had lied on her resume. Turns out, she wasn’t a college graduate, as she had claimed when she applied to, and came to work at MIT . . . are you ready for this . . .28 YEARS AGO!!! Can you say tardy?

Apparently, there’s no statute of limitations on lies. But this seems an awful lot like my dad wanting to take away my driving privileges for something I did in high school.

Marilee Jones joined the staff of MIT in 1979. Since then, she has pretty much been a model employee. According to CNN, “Jones was named dean of admissions at MIT in 1997 and received MIT's highest award for administrators, the "MIT Excellence Award for Leading Change." She was also the 2006 winner of the "Gordon Y Billard Award" given "for special service of outstanding merit" performed for the school.”

And . . . now she’s gone. Because she didn’t have a college education. Which apparently hampered her not in the least in her career. Maybe they’re afraid that seeing a person succeed without a college education will set a bad precedent at a school notorious for its intellectual elitism.

Now don’t get me wrong—I’m all for college. I think it is a critical time of development, a first blush of independence . . . an opportunity to learn how to hold your liquor.

Plus, I’ve always thought those MIT geeks were too smart for their own good. I mean, you can’t get a decent drink anywhere near campus, since all the bartenders are students and feel compelled to explain the chemistry of the cocktail. I’m more of the “I drink. I get drunk. I fall down.” kind of drinker. No need for the backstory of vodka distillation or the plight of migrant agave pickers.

But seriously, people. Shouldn’t Ms. Jones’ professional accomplishments, loyalty and contributions to the school have mitigated her lack of education? Couldn’t there have been some other sort of punishment? Maybe they just should have taken a page out of fraternity play books and soaked her underwear in menthol and zapped her with a cattle prod.

I mean, look where it got me.

Tuesday, April 24, 2007

Lending a Helping Hand

So, when did Scientology become everyone’s caregiver. They dispatched a team to Virginia Tech in the aftermath of the shootings. And now Tom Cruise is promoting the "New York Rescue Workers Detoxification Project." Tom, who is looking more and more like Jason Schwartzman every day, was in New York recently for a fundraising gala for his project.

Sounds like a wonderfully altruistic thing, doesn’t it? I thought I’d check out their website.

“Only one method for reducing body levels of toxic chemicals has been widely implemented, studied and demonstrated to be safe and effective: the detoxification program developed by L. Ron Hubbard.”

Uh . . . wasn’t L. Ron a fiction writer? But . . . then . . . that would throw into question the entire validity of Scient . . . ohhhhhh!! Never mind.

The specific treatment includes exercise, sauna bathing, and vitamin, mineral and oil supplements. Hmmm. A bunch of hunky NY firefighters and policemen sitting in a sauna? No wonder Tom Cruise is so supportive. I bet the “oil supplements” are made by KY.

I tried to upload a photo from the official website, showing Tom and a bunch of rescue worker holding their loosely clenched fists in front of them (check it out here: Apparently this is one of the more common methods for removing the toxins from the bodies of hot rescue workers.

Now don’t get me wrong. I think anything that helps the brave firefighters and cops who survived 9/11 is a good thing. In fact, I’d kind of like to volunteer.

Monday, April 23, 2007

Light a Match

Ever hear the saying “Light a fire under your ass?” Growing up in East Texas, that was a common phrase thrown at recalcitrant kids. It sounded more like “I moan lida far unner yer ass” but you get the point. Well, apparently, we East Texans are not alone.

TOTO (the Japanese toilet maker, not the band most famous for stalking Roseanna Arquette) has recalled 180,000 of its Z series bidet/toilets because they catch fire. Talk about a wienie roast!
According to the AP story, “Toto has been a pioneer in high-tech toilets fitted with pressurized water sprayers a standard fixture in Japanese homes. The popular Z series features a pulsating massage spray, a power dryer, built-in-the-bowl deodorizing filter, the "Tornado Wash" flush and a lid that opens and closes automatically.” What? No shampoo and set?

I don’t know about you, but I can see an entire Three Stooges episode scripted around one trip to this toilet. The snapping toilet lid, the spray and dryer, and then, Curly’s ass on fire, Moe banging him in the ass with a shovel, trying to put the fire out. And, as always, some gratuitous eye-poking.

But, I digress. Over the course of the last year, three “electric bidet” features caught fire. Okay, I was taught at an early age that electricity and water were a dangerous cocktail. So “electric bidet” right away seems a little oxymoronic. 26 others “only” started smoking. Maybe they should have just rigged it with a smoke detector, and the bidet feature could double as a sprinkler system.

"Fortunately, nobody was using the toilets when the fire broke out and there were no injuries," said spokesperson Emi Tanaka. "The fire would have been just under your buttocks."

The Japanese are not usually known for their stupidity, but this particular company seems to have been just a little too smart for it’s own good.

I can just hear the stupid people saying, “See. That’s what happens when you overthink things.”

Wednesday, April 18, 2007

On the QT

I hate Quentin Tarantino.

There. I’ve said it. And if you’re a big fat QT fan (you’re in luck, ‘cause he’s big and fat right now) go ahead and shoot me. A whole bunch of times in slow motion with lots of blood and screaming. Then say “fuck” a whole bunch of times. Feel better?

Don’t get me wrong. I think he is a talented man, with a definite point of view, but he is one of the most obnoxious humans I’ve ever encountered. And he’s stalking me. Mostly at meal time. WHY, QUENTIN?! WHY?! It’s not like I’m ordering a Royale with Cheese.

Quentin has ruined more meals for me than gristle.

Knowing that the Reservoir Dog himself was HANGIN in Austin for the last while, I entered every eatery with trepidation. I wanted the “hostess” (that’s what we call maitre d’s in Texas) to offer “Tarantino or non-Tarantino” seating. I wound up eating at home a lot, hoping some well-meaning star-fucker friend wouldn’t call up in a drunken state, saying “Dude, I’ve been telling Q about your house and we’re on our way over. Get out the good tequila. Let’s sit on the porch and shoot the shit and some tequila! It’s Tarantino, man!”

And then the movie opened. And then it flopped. And I knew I could rest easier, knowing that every media outlet in the world had already shot their Tarantino load and were now staring lustily at Tobey Maguire.

And I go toddling off to LA for a (gay) celebrity soaked weekend, secure in my knowledge that Tarantino wouldn’t be there. (But I did talk to LANCE BASS—jealous, much?)

So imagine my surprise, when, sitting in a public bathroom at the LA farmer’s market, after a delicious breakfast at Loteria, my phone rings. Now, those of you who have been reading my blog for a while know that I’m not fan of cell phones in the bathroom. But this was My Beloved calling. The man I knew was standing on the other side of the bathroom door, no more than 30 feet away. WTF?

I answered as discreetly as possible.

“Quentin Tarantino is JUST walking into the bathroom where you are!!!”

“You’re fucking KIDDING me?!”


I see the shadow pass my door, and the scuffed shoes of a hipster settle into the next stall. And I can now confirm what I’ve always thought: Yes, Quentin, your shit DOES stink!

Tuesday, April 17, 2007

Notes from the Left Coast

So I’m sitting at the corner of Fairfax and Hollywood, enjoying an afternoon coffee, when a stretch hummer limo cruises by. Now, seeing a limo in LA is about as common an occurrence as seeing a sorority girl on campus. And they’re both usually stretched to an abnormal size.

But seriously, this was the biggest fucking car I’ve ever seen. It was the length of an 18-wheeler. White with blacked out windows. The kind that hides a multitude of sins. Unless . . . you have the windows down!!

HELLO! The whole point is anonymity, people. You want people to think you’re a star. You want people to wonder, “Who could it be, now?”

Because, unless you are Tara Reid or this gaggle of identical blondes, you don’t roll down the windows on a limo. Ever.

(special exception to Dave Chappelle, who does one of the funniest bits ever about a baby dealing weed in the ghetto)

And let’s not even talk about hanging your skanky ass out the “moon” roof. That’s not what that means.

But, like I said, this was a car full of identical (they all look alike to me) blondes. Now, I suppose they could have been quintuplets, all grown up, in town for an appearance on the Jimmy Kimmel show. But more than likely these girls were either in high school or college, passing around the Garnier like Britney passes panty crickets.

Now I know that, as a rule, when blonde girls are riding in the backs of limos in LA, their heads aren’t generally visible, but, given that there were no producers in the car and these girls think Sapphic is a cosmetics store, I guess they had no alternative but to woo-hoo their way through West Hollywood.

Or maybe it was just another episode of My Super Sweet 16.

Wednesday, April 11, 2007

Maybe She’s Just Too Smart for Me

Camille Paglia (whose name has always sounded like a venereal disease to me. “OMG, Muffy, I went home with that TOTALLY hot SK8R boy on Saturday—and now, I have, like, this totally stinky case of camillepaglia. Sha!”) has revived her column on woo-hoo (lower case and lack of exclamation intentional—and you know how I loves me some exclamation points!!!)

Millie (you don’t think she’d mind if I called her Millie, do you?) is one of those people I think I’m supposed to like, but really, really don’t. My ambivalence evaporated upon reading her entry in Wikipedia:

Camille Anna Paglia (born April 2, 1947 in Endicott, New York) is an American social critic, intellectual, author and teacher. She is a professor of humanities and media studies at the University of the Arts in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. She has been variously called the "feminist that other feminists love to hate," a "post-feminist feminist," one of the world's top 100 intellectuals by the UK's Prospect Magazine, and by her own description "a feminist bisexual egomaniac."

Puh-leeze, girl. I just threw up a little in my mouth.

You know that bitch wrote that herself. I mean when was the last time you saw “intellectual” as a noun in someone’s bio?

But I thought, what the hell? I’ll read her column. Maybe I’ll learn something.

And I did. I learned that my evaporated ambivalence had now turned to full-on, eye-rolling disdain.

One of the premises of her column today was her doubt of the existence of global warming. I won’t go into all of the detail—and forgive me, cuz you know I loves the big words--but, the woman’s use of florid vocabulary reminds me of Wal-Mart perfume—IT. JUST. STINKS. TOO. MUCH.

An example: “Who is impious enough to believe that Earth's contours are permanent?” Uh . . . I dunno. Is it J. Lo?

From C. Pag’s perspective, “virtually all of the major claims about global warming and its causes still remain to be proved.”

Say wha? My sense is that she doubts it because she carries a large share of the responsibility for said global warming. Greenhouse gas, fossil fuel, and blowhards like Camille. Need proof? Check out this line from a different part of her column, relating to political dynasties:

“There may be an atavistic longing for quasi-divine kingship that surfaces in unsettled times. Especially after 9/11, with its diffuse sense of peril, we should beware of the seductive dream of the strong man or clan who will shield us from harm. Democracy is predicated on sometimes chaotic cross-talk, not on governance by fiat, the whims of a hereditary elite.”

Somewhere in New Zealand there is a sheep growing a third eye.

Monday, April 9, 2007

Don't Blink!

This weekend, a friend got herself into a little fender bender. If you can call having your fender ripped off your car a “bender.” When she first called, she was PISSED. Seems a 17 year old, driving without a license or insurance had hit her. How many times have you heard that story?

When she called back, she was more pissed, but also shocked. It seems the police had arrived. And given her a ticket.

See, the young man had his blinker on, indicating he was going to turn. So my friend pulled into traffic. But he didn’t turn. And two wrongs collided.

So, who do I think is el stupido in this equation? Texas, The Great State of.

See, we’re completely wrongheaded when it comes to driving here. People think it’s a right. In fact, most people in this whole country think their privileges are “rights” and don’t understand the difference. I’m shocked on an almost-daily basis by the dumb ass moves stupid drivers pull. Turning across traffic after the light has turned red. Changing lanes without looking to see if someone is right beside them. Turning left from the right lane, or, my favorite, just deciding that the first lane over from the turn lane is okay to turn from, too. And don’t even get me started on the ubiquity of cell phones in the hands of already bad drivers.

Now, in Texas (as in most states), you are required to have car insurance at all times. And it goes without saying that you have to have a driver’s license. You can’t get your car inspected or registered without both of those documents.

But did ya know that in this Land O’Bush (the bad kind, not the lesbian utopia—sorry ladies), kids also don’t have to go take a driving test anymore. When I was 16, I had to go sit next to a hot state trooper in his Texas Tan uniform. Hard enough to drive properly at that age, much less keep my eye on the road. But I did it. And I passed.

Now, when a Driver’s Ed instructor says you’re good to go, you get a license!! No muss. No fuss. No trooper. Until that first fender bender. Which brings us back to the 17 year old.

I think he should go to jail. Not for long. Just long enough to inconvenience at least one member of his family. Doesn’t seem like much to ask in exchange for driving without a license or insurance. Or how about a pre-paid, non-refundable six-month auto policy before he can be released? Seems fair to me.

Of course, in his seventeen-year-old mind, he probably thinks getting his Mustang fucked up was punishment enough.

Thursday, April 5, 2007

Why Don't They Ever Shoot the White Rappers?

If you’re wondering about the paucity of posts this week, I’ve decided to blame it on Rove. And three other white guys. And a black guy. I’m seriously scarred.

Every once in a while, perfectly well-educated people will do something so staggeringly stupid (see: six years under bush) that I’m left speechless. I haven’t even called my usual phone chain to exclaim, “Can you fucking believe this shit?!?!?!”

I’m talking about the performance at the Radio and Television Correspondents Dinner, where Rove and three other guys “rap.” I’m totally serious. It is absolutely one of the most mind-boggling things.

On one hand, I’m not big fan of White Rappers. Eminem gets a pass here, but pretty much everyone else needs to go back out to the cul-de-sac and quit “rhyming” about popping a cap in some bitch’s ass, when the only bitch you know is a cheerleader at your high school.

On the other hand, I’m not a big fan of Republicans, and this does nothing to assuage that.

Put the two together and . . . I don’t what you get. But it’s funny. And scary. And nausea-inducing. I guess, aside from the lack of artistry, my biggest issue with this is the arrogance it displays. Yes, this dinner is supposed to be ribald—a bit of a self-roast. But dear God, do these people have a clue? (Sorry, of course they don’t, what am I thinking?)

I think the part that was most uncomfortable for me was watching the one black guy on stage, trying to be game. Trying to be part of the club. And probably never having felt like more of a token than at that very moment.

If you’re feeling particularly masochistic, here is the link. You might want to wait for breakfast to digest before watching.

Lo Siento, Newt.

So Newt Gingrich is sorry he’s a jingoistic, racist, conservative WHITEY. Yeah, me too. For those of you who haven’t been following the misadventures of the Ginja, he basically said last weekend that English should be the “official” language of government in the US. He was talking to the National Federation of Republican Women, so he may have been scouting for wife # . . .wait, what number of wives are we up to again?

Turns out, Gingrich has been secretly studying Spanish. Funny how, whenever Gingrich criticizes something, it usually turns out he’s doing it too, huh? So, once again, he’s forced to apologize.

But get this, after delivering his speech to a room full of giant hair, probably in some posh hotel ballroom, he chose YOU TUBE to deliver is mea culpa---or “lo siento mucho” in his newfound tongue. Nothing like taking it to the people. And to top it all off, he delivered the message in English and Spanish. Newtie, YOU SO COOL!

In his original speech, Gingrich said bilingual education should be replaced by an English language immersion program, “so people learn the common language of the country and they learn the language of prosperity, not the language of living in a ghetto."

What a dumbass. Everyone knows that Hispanics and Latinos live in barrios, not ghettos. Get your minorities straight, White Man!

Gingrich is apparently still harboring hopes of a White House run. Seriously. But before your incredulity meter smacks the ceiling, just remember what most idiot Republicans must think: “Shit, if they’ll elect BUSH twice, I’ve definitely got a shot!”

Latest polls show NG with 9 percent (of likely Republican voters). The poll also showed that 43 percent of Americans view him unfavorably including a third of registered Republicans. Gingrich’s response? “They’re still better than W’s numbers!”

Now, I haven’t heard Mr. G’s statement in Spanish, but I would hope it is better than GDub when he was running for Presidente. At a rally in Houston, the Bush campaign put up a Spanish language banner they believed said, “Together we Can!” which was Bush’s (now ironic) slogan. In Spanish, it should have said “Juntos Podemos.” Unfortunately, it said “Juntos Pedemos,” or “Together we Fart!”

Welcome to the Big Tent party, amigos. Bring a mask.