Salvete reges et reginas continentiae,
By now you've probably heard that the entire Middle East is abuzz with anti-Scandinavian sentiment courtesy of a Danish magazine which printed a crude comic strip featuring a depiction of the Prophet Mohammad. What sort of seriously disturbed bastard would have such a blatant disregard for religion that they would do something that sick?
Life with the Prophet Mohammad
Salvete pudicae uxores pulicum,
Those of you who read Friday's Thoughtless and remember how shaken up I was to discover that one of the stars of one my favorite movies, Jesus Christ Superstar, ended up directing a porno movie titled Guess Who Came At Dinner? can imagine the apprehension that gripped my loins on Saturday night as I was watching Fiddler on the Roof on WHYY.
I kept thinking, "I love this movie; it would break my heart to learn that a member of the cast ended up making stag films in West Hollywood." After the film was over I tip-toed downstairs to my office (Vienna always tries to fall asleep before the Russians wreck Hodel and Tzeitel's wedding: that way she can give the film a happy ending) and checked out the fates of the cast on the Internet Movie Database.
I really wish I hadn't, because it only confirmed my worst fears.
It seems that after turning in a brilliant performance in the lead role of "Tevye", the gifted actor Topol soon found himself typecast. As the offers started drying up, the Israeli star of stage and screen was forced to act in soft-core porn in order to make ends meet. Sadly, Topol's last three films were Snatchmaker, Perchik's Putz Party, and Guess Who Came At Seder?
I'm too choked up to write anymore. Look for a longer post tomorrow...or maybe the day after.
"She was ghetto-fabulous: Minus the fabulous." - Contestant on MTV's NEXT
Salvete amici, amicae, et molesti alieni:
I hate to bring this up on a Sunday when we should all be taking it easy and using the web only to catch up on the latest groin injuries to plague the Flyers, but I've put off having this talk with you for far too long and I just can't let the matter rest. We need to have a few words about Lewis Carroll.
Yes, the same Lewis Carroll (born Charles Lutwidge Dodgson) who wrote, among other things, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland and Through the Looking-Glass and what Alice found there (which includes his classic poem Jabberwocky). Now, you may have heard that the reason why Lewis Carroll wrote children's books as a sort of "mental vacation" form his regular gig as a mathematician at Oxford. While this may have some truth to it, there seems to be another motivational factor behind Mr. Carroll's decision to produce children's literature. It's the same impetus which might compel one man to quit Law School and become a clown, or another to send the millions of dollars he'd earned as a recording star to build private amusement park on his isolated ranch. For Lewis Carroll, writing children's books was a great way to meet children. And Lewis had a thing - a terrible, awful, monstrous, and unspeakable thing - for children.
While some academics claim that Lewis Carroll's interest in children was completely innocent (Some histo-tards have even claimed that Lewis Carroll was Jack the Ripper) and that the charge of pedophilia is simply a reflection of out modern, suspicious minds. To these people, I offer the following quote for Carroll's niece:
"He...seemed almost quivering with delight at the prospect of playing with four or five little girls. He had an odd, and of course frustrated, love for little girls -- in part identifying with them, in part substituting 'child friends' for more difficult and responsible adult relationships."
Given, there are some who might counter by saying that this proves nothing and that if one examines the 581 existing letters of Carroll's to his female friends, you'll find that the majority, 250, were written to women aged 20 and over.184 were penned to girls and young women aged 14-19 and only 147 were to girls under the age of 13. Um…OK…not like there's anything suspicious about a grown man writing 147 letters to little girls. But what about a man who takes nude photographs of little girls?
Starting in his mid-40's, Lewis Carroll began photographing and attempting to photograph (Carroll sent numerous letter an Oxford colleague pleading for permission to take nude photographs the man's daughters, ages 6, 11, and 13. Carroll emphasized that no other adults should be present during the session. Understandably, the colleague said no thanks) nude little girl.
While we never have a smoking gun in the Carroll case, I think we can be fairly certain that if Lewis Carroll were alive today, you'd receive notification before he moved into your neighborhood. This is, of course, due to Megan's Law: a chunk of legislation that does nothing to protect children.
Look, while I don't have any kids of my own, I do have plenty of nieces and nephews, and if someone were to even sneeze around them, that person would be in for a world-class curb stomping, but I'm not going to pretend for one gawddamn minute that Megan's Law does anything to keep them safe. In fact, I propose that it has the exact opposite effect.
Megan's Law perpetuates the myth that children molesters are shadowy strangers lurking in the bushes, and that knowing there exact whereabouts will keep a future generation of hymens and rectums intact. "Thank God, I was notified that Mr. Wilson likes to butt fuck little boys. I was just about to give Waldo Jr. permission to go over to his house and play naked leapfrog." It's also based on the idea that sex offenders can't be cured and, like an Energizer bunny in a trench coat, they just keep on goin'. Actually, the recidivism rate for sex offenders is lower than for any other category of criminal behavior.
What???
It's true: a Department of Justice study, released in November, found that 43 percent of sex offenders were arrested for any type of crime within three years, compared with 68 percent for all other former inmates. Only 6 percent of the sex offenders were rearrested for a sex crime.
The awful truth is that if a child is going to be molested it's most likely going to be by someone the child knows: and that person is almost always either a relative, a coach, or a priest/minister/rabbi. Shit Luther, as a child I never went to family reunions, played sports, or attended church: and nobody ever tried to get me drunk on "Jesus juice" and play naked leapfrog with me.
I Don't Know How To Love Him (Despite the fact that he seems to have several instructional videos available)
Regular readers are no doubt aware of my obsession with Jesus Christ Superstar. Yes, I realize that newer readers might be shocked to learn of this. That's why each subscription to RATYHTL Premium will come with a gift certificate from Rush Limbaugh's personal physician; because nothing helps you deal with cognitive dissidence better than a handful of "Fat Three-Time-Loser's Little Helpers".
Anyhoo, Vienna and I were watching JCS (the 1973 version, not the 2000 version which features none of the original cast, as a series of drug busts and charges of cannibalism over the years have made it impossible for most them to re-enter the United States. And don't even get me started on Godsmell and Your Arms Too Short to Box With Quetzalcoatl.) when I noticed that the actor/singer playing "Peter" looked kind of familiar. I was fairly certain that I remembered him from an episode of Room 222* where all the kid's 4H projects caught rabies and Miss Mcintyre had to undergo a series of painful injections. In fact, I even went so far as to say "Hey, the actor/singer playing 'Paul' looks kind of familiar. I think I remembered him from an episode of Room 222 where all the kid's 4H projects caught rabies and Miss Mcintyre had to undergo a series of painful injections." "Looks like another smelly hippie to me," Vienna said before musing on how cool it would be if Jesus really had been the on of God and really had magical powers and had run around preaching peace and love instead of condemning trees to death. Since Vienna's thoughts were much deeper than anything I can come up with, were going to skip over them and concentrate on the actor/singer who played "Peter"
Although he's credited as "Philip Toubus", today his name is Robert Paulsen Paul Thomas (two apostles for the price of one) and he's graduated from being the double-threat of actor/singer to being the quadruple-threat of actor/singer/writer/director. And he's managed to accomplish this monumental leap by spending the last 33 years many, many, many dirty movies.
Yes, the man who once stood on a hill next to Mary Magdalene and sang "Could We Start Again, Please?" to Jesus Christ is the same man responsible for Janine's Got Male, If the Balls Fit, Suck 'Em!, Prettiest Tits I Ever Came Across, and Guess Who Came at Dinner?
I honestly don't know what we're supposed to take away from this. Maybe it's that you never know where life will lead you, or some crap about not judging a book by its cover. Maybe the whole thing is just an excuse for me to attempt to introduce "If the Balls Fit, Suck 'Em!" into the modern lexicon? I do know that I should get bonus points for avoiding the temptation to christen this piece either "Jesus Christ Pornostar" or "Jesus Christ Superstud". As this post's only real purpose is to test RATYHTL's new blogging software, your best approach would probably be to simply ignore it.
* I've always wanted to film an adaptation of George Orwell's 1984 (as opposed to Barbara Courtland's 1984?) that would remain completely faithful to the book up until the point when Winston Smith is about to be summoned to Room 101. Smith (portrayed in a surprisingly effective manner by Johnny Knoxville, or incompetently by whatever Scientologist Actor/ Auditor the producers force on me) will be sitting, terrified, in a holding cell when an emotionless voice over the intercom announces "Room 222." Cue the theme music. Screaming "No, no! Anything but that!", Smith is dragged from the room by two teenagers sporting sideburns and bellbottoms, and dragged to a classroom where Mr. Dixon has written 2 + 2 = 5 on the blackboard. At this point the action becomes frantic and confused: Principal Kaufman is put on trial for heresy, Bernie is declared to be the living embodiment of Nietzsche's Superman, and Karen Valentine is offered as the prize at a cockfight.
My other film projects include Fight Club: the Musical and a remake of Mel Gibson's The Passion of the Christ featuring an all-midget cast
I did mention that this is merely a test post; right?