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Sorry about being MIA for over two weeks, folks. My new job requires a great deal of "ramping up", so much homework has been needed (whoever would've thought that being a men's room attend would be this difficult). Until further notice, I'll only be posting sporadically (hopefully I'll be making some long posts on weekends), and the bulk of the posts will either consist of links to items of interest, or media clips (like the one below), or a combination of both.
Hey kids, it's Sunday (OK, so it's Sunday night. I took a nap; go ahead and sue me): the day on which Islamofonzie has custody of us, and the day on which we discuss trends in Religion. And if I've learned on thing from a dozen years of running this website it's that you can't talk about Religion without talking about Kansas.
The Belles of Saint Mary's
On ground Hog Day/Fred Flintstone's Birthday/Vienna's Birthday/The Day Sid Vicious Died, referee Michelle Campbell arrived at St. Mary's Academy outside of Topeka only to discover that she would not be officiating at that evening's basketball game because putting a women in a position of authority over boys is an affront to the good folks at St. Mary's.
For the record, St. Mary's is run by the Society of St. Pius X, a "Traditionalist" Catholic sect who are opposed to the majority of the reforms brought about by the Second Vatican Council. The group's founder, Archbishop Marcel Lefebvre, along with four of its bishops, was excommunicated by the late Pope John Paul II for being a dick.
F-A-T-W-A in the U-S-A
From Kansas, it's off to sunny California for the story of Pastor Wiley Drake.
Back in August, Americans United for Separation of Church and State alerted the IRS to the fact that Drake had been using his church's letterhead and radio program to electioneer for Ayatollah Mike Huckabee, in clear violation of his church's tax-exempt status.
On February 5th, Pastor Drake was informed by the IRS that he was under investigation, so on Valentine's Day Drake sent out an e-mail asking his followers to pray for the deaths of the members of Americans United for Separation of Church and State.
I may have said this before, but if I thought God would smite my enemies, I might actually believe in Him:
Dear Baby Jesus, the cable hath gone out again – and once more during Rock of Love 2. So I beseech thee in thy infinite mercy to blind the Board of Directors at Comcast. And Jesus, if you could perform one small miracle for me: please place the brain of Eleanor Cliff inside the head of Daisy. Amen.
Hey kids, it's Saturday! And we all know what that means. Yes, once again it's time for Mummified Fonzie to bring us a roundup of this week's archeological news:
"Inside the burial shaft -- a recess crudely carved from bedrock -- experts found a closed wooden coffin inscribed with the name 'Iker', which translates to 'excellent one' in ancient Egyptian." - from Rare Egyptian "Warrior" Tomb Found
"...the find is nearly 1,000 years older what many consider Sudan's most spectacular discoveries of human sacrifice -- scores of bodies buried together." - from Archaeologists dig up 'oldest' African human sacrifice (Spokins ought to love that one)
"We shall not accept, however, the myth that space aliens or people from Atlantis arrived to help." - from Last of the ancient wonders: II- The Great Pyramid
"'I didn't find one drug that wasn't prepared properly,' Campbell says. 'I have no evidence that they were aware of the chemistry of their actions, but fortuitously or otherwise, they adopted the right techniques.'" - from Health-care plan in ancient Egypt? Research suggests more than spells, prayers
"'One might imagine that the Christian church had some misgivings about a style of dress which emphasized the breast and in addition revealed the front of the linen blouse underneath.'" - from Viking women had sexy style
It's Valentine's Day and nothin', with the possible exception of drug-fueled beating at the hands of the late Ike Turner, says luvin' like the latest Aid or Invade.
It's Wednesday: the day Mike Huckabee sneaks over to Ted Haggard's house, and the day we recap the previous night's episode of Bad Girls Club 2. But before we can recap this week's episode, let's just admit that last week's installment of BGC2 was to Reality TV what Martin Lawrence is to comedy: a giant, festering boil on its ass. Ah, that was cathartic.
As the Darwin Day episode of BGC2 kicks off we're introduced to Craig, a "Professional Party Planner" and "King of Questionable Business Decisions". Within the course of two minutes Craig hires the girls to attract people (mainly from the psychiatric care industry) to his parties, makes the previously mute Hanna his "go-to" person, and assures the girls that he has compete confidence in them. We watch as Craig smiles and waves goodbye to the girls. It's not unlike watching old footage of the crowds cheering the Titanic as it slowly drifts away from the dock
Jennavecia and Cordelia then announce that they are going to help Darlen (the photo says it all) overcome her drinking problem by making her serve as their "designated driver". Sometimes you have to be cruel to be kind; but, most often, you have to be cruel to be a total bitch. We all feel sorry for Darlen, but within the next ten minutes Darlen will make a series of statements that'll make Sherri Shepherd look like Stephen Hawking.
A house-meeting has been called because Tanisha feels that the watering down her carton of juice was a sign of disrespect. Not quite as disrespectful as shoving a cross in someone's face and attempting to perform an impromptu exorcism just because they don't happen to have an imaginary friend named "Mr. Jesus", but subtlety was never Tanisha's strong point.
Jennavecia and Cordelia show up late and drunk and last week's truce is officially ended.
Neveen, who has seen her share of peace treaties with the Klingon Empire fall apart, is not surprised, but Hanna (SPOILER ALERT: who, in a future episode gets arrested for loitering in front of a film crew) has some what can only be described as a combination of an epileptic fit, an orgasm, and that weird shaking thing to some Christians do when they get "entered by 'The Holy Spirit'" (which, to me, also looks like a combination of an epileptic fit and an orgasm).
The next day, Darlen, out of the blue, declares that she is the smartest women in the Bad Girls Club.
Folks, being the smartest woman in the Bad Girls Club is pretty much like being smartest member of the Bush family: sure, you might impress to other nose-picking morons around the dinner table, but to the rest of us, you're just a Texas-sized dickweed.
Darlen then claims that Einstein pulled his famous formula, e=mc2, out of his ass. Cordelia walks out of the room without explain the meaning of e=mc2 to Darlen, which means it's now up to me. OK Darlen, are you ready? Energy (e) equals Mass (m) multiplied by the speed of light (c) squared. In other words, you can get a lot of energy from a small amount of matter. This explains how skinny-ass little Lyric was able to single-handedly steal a grand piano. Einstein's Theory of General Relativity also explains why time seems to drag whenever Cordelia's "friend" Scott appears on screen.
It's funny because Darlen is so stoopidd.
By the way, Darlen isn't alone in here scientific ignorance: 20% of Americans think the sun revolves around the Earth. Only 11% can define what radiation is, and only a piss-poor 13% can describe a molecule. Not so goddamn funny now, is it?
Oh, and Darlene: it's the male seahorse that gives birth.
At some point a picture of Tanisha's mother went missing. As it's just not cool to fun of people's mothers, I'll skip the mug-shot, freakshow, and bigfoot jokes. Jennavecia and Cordelia exchange guilty glances, but it turns out that it was Darlen who torn up the picture and tossed it out. Either way, Tanisha freaks out, and she and Jennavecia finally come to blows.
There's something truly satisfying about watching a bully get their comeuppance, even if it has to be delivered by an dime-bag-dumpster-date like Jennavecia. Be sure to count those lumps, Tanisha. Each one represents an Atheist who couldn't walk two blocks without having to hear the "Good news" about Invisible Sky Daddy.
Next week, one of the show's producers stops by to express her shock and dismay that the girls have resorted to physical violence. Horrible, ratings-grabbing violence.
Ironically, today would be the great man's 199th birthday if it hadn't been for some evolutionary advantage to our species by having its members die before they reach 200.
This Darwin Day, I'd like to ask each of you to focus on celebrating the life and work of the brave genius to whom we all owe so much and not on the ignorant backward mule-rapists who tremble in fear at what they can't understand. For today, just be happy that you, unlike the majority of Americans, understand the beauty of Evolution.
Did you catch that? I just did what I asked all of you not to: I focused on the ignorant backward mule-rapists and not on Darwin's achievements. And, OK, so maybe calling them the ignorant backward mule-rapists doesn't help to promote an intelligent debate of the subject, but I ran out of patience for these jokers a long time ago. Damn it! Another Darwin Day ruined by mule-rapists!
Next year, of course, Charlie hits the big two-oh-oh. I'm going to spend the rest of the week trying to find out if any of the Museums here in Philly are planning anything for 2009. If they're not, I'm going to see if I can organize something.
Here are some Darwin Day pieces for your reading enjoyment:
"The knowledge that all life on this planet evolved from a single common ancestor should inspire incredible awe from everyone, and I think it's a far more satisfying explanation than to believe that we all suddenly popped into existence one day about 6,000 years ago." - From Darwin Day: Triumph of Evolution
"...Americans may be no more ignorant about evolution than they are about other aspects of science. According to surveys conducted for the National Science Foundation over the past two decades, more than two-thirds of adults are unable to identify DNA as the key to heredity. Nine out of 10 Americans - nearly 63 years after the United States dropped the first atomic bomb on Hiroshima - do not understand what radiation is or its effects on the body. One in 5 believes that the sun revolves around the Earth."
"'Darwin's ideas today, paradoxically, run in two different directions,' Giberson says. 'Within the scientific community, they grow ever more relevant. But culturally, they grow less relevant as they continue to be rejected by conservative Christians. We now have presidents and congressmen who prefer 19th century creationism to 21st century science.'"
- from Rediscovering Darwin
"When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things."
- 1 Corinthians, Chapter 13, verse 11
This other day, my editor at the City Paper sent me an email asking if it was true that the Dead Milkmen were playing a show at the Knitting Factory on April 25th . I told him that it was some sort of misprint, but I checked the Dead Milkmen message board, just to be sure.
This got me thinking: Since the Milkmen are never going to play again (don't get me wrong, I love Joe and Dean to death, and I think it would be great to re-unite for the occasional benefit show, but I doubt any of us have the time), why do I have all of this equipment cluttering up my house? Look, I got into music because I wanted to get women (this didn't really work) and because I thought I wasn't qualified to do anything else. Now I'm happily married, have well paying corporate gig and, although I might not look it, I'm going to be forty-five years old this May. My life today consists of work, writing, reading by the fire, and tiny plastic Roman soldiers. I can comfortably pack away my dreams of being a rock star.
That's why I'm selling off some of my musical gear (No, not my guitar. I'm not parting with that). If you live in the Philadelphia area and can pick this stuff, please email a reasonable offer for each piece of equipment you'd like to buy (or any question you may have about the gear) to rodney@rodneyanonymous.com and put "everything must go" in the subject line.
Remember; just because I've given up on my dream of conquering the music world (I now dream of conquering the entire world, but that's another story), doesn't mean you have to.
This is a rack-mounted EPS 16 Plus Sampler. It comes with a practically indestructible case (shown), the original manual, and about discs (I never counted all of them) chock full o' samples.
You can't operate that sampler without a controller, and this is the Excalibur of keyboards - my legendary Yamaha DX11! If this synth could talk, I'd have to kill it. 'Nuff said? Includes original manual, patch book, and a case that's guaranteed to survive the Apocalypse!
Finally we have an Alesis Midiverb and a Yamaha MT 100 II four-track recorder. And yes, I've got the original manuals for both.
Please note, that if I make enough money from the sale of these items, I'll probably buy a decent hurdy gurdy and start a new band, so some of that stuff I said earlier about giving up music may have been bullshit.
"Forced worship stinks in the nostrils of God."
- Rodger Williams
The other day, when Mitt Romney dropped out of the presidential race and delivered that batshit crazy speech to CPAC, Vienna and I started trying to figure out the motivation behind Mitt's actions (which is like trying to figure out the motivation behind the decision of the crazy homeless guy on the corner of 10th and Spruce to no only shit his pants, but to give said shit a name). My theory was that Romney was angling for the job of Vice President. "Why not Huckabee?" asked Vienna.
"Well," I said, "the economically conservative wing of the republican Party despises Huckabee's 'Populist' fiscal policies. Besides, can you really imagine people in Northeastern state like, say, Rhode Island voting for any ticket that contained an ignorant silo-fucker like Huckabee?"
Vienna pondered this for a few minutes before asking "Why the Hell do they call it Rhode Island anyway?"
"I dunno. Maybe it's named after the Isle of Rhodes? People give things stupid names all the time. Pennsylvania has Intercourse, Bird-in-Hand, Mount Joy, Reamstown, and Blue Ball. "
Actually, Rhode Island was not named after the Isle of Rhodes. It seems that there really was a Rhode Island – a tiny island of the coast. The name was later applied to the entire state. So, while my Isle of Rhodes theory might have fallen a little short of the mark, I might have been on to something about Huckabee (or, for that matter, Romney) wanting to avoid Rhode Island with the same effort I exert to avoid Alabama, as the place has quite a history as a hotbed of religious tolerance.
Rhode Island was founded in 1644 by Roger Williams: one of the more interesting characters in colonial history. Williams, an Anglican priest, had been kicked out of Massachusetts (the state Mitt Romney had once governed) in 1635 for criticizing that colony's charter which allowed civil punishment for religious infractions, and sanctioned the confiscation of Indian territory (While Williams actually paid – yes paid - the Indians of Rhode Island for their land, he did so despite believing that the English Crown had no rights to Indian lands. He thought the Indians would better off with him as a neighbor that the local assholery.). Rhode Island soon became a haven for the undesirable element of the day: hoodlums like Jews and Quakers.
One undesirable who landed in Rhode Island was Anne Marbury Hutchinson. Hutchinson, like Williams, had been booted out of Massachusetts: Hutchinson's crime being that she had hosted meeting in her home in which men and women discussed that week's sermon. Despite losing her trial, Hutchinson is said to have "bested the best of the Colony's male preachers, theologians, and magistrates."
I subscribe to Starz which means I have access to Starz On Demand, a service that allows you to watch certain selected Starz programming whenever you want. Anyway, there used to be an option on the Starz menu designated as "Only Here". This is were you would go to watch horror movies and "Adult" entertainment. For some unexplained reason, that section of the menu has been removed. The horror films were moved to another section, but the porn-lite is gone. And that got me wondering if anyone had called up to complain that the titty flicks had vanished.
I have a theory that rental stores could replace 50 percent of their porn DVD's with Disney films and the people who rented them would be too embarrassed to point out the error: either that of they'd just masturbate to Bambi. And why we are so embarrassed when it comes to talking about porn, but not about horror movies? How many times have you been standing in line at the DVD store when you've heard a conversation like this:
Estragon: Did you see Hostel?
Vladimir: Dude, it fuckin' rocked. This dude got his toes hacked off and this chick got her eye plucked. It was fierce! I almost puked – and nothin' makes me puke.
But have you ever heard anything like this?
Lucky: Did you see Big Ass Pool Party?
Pozzo Dude, it fuckin' rocked. After you watch these studs banging these big-assed chicks, it won't be long before you are reaching for the lube. * It was fierce! I almost jizzed - and nothin' makes me jizz.
In all honesty, I'd be more embarrassed to rent Norbit than, say, No Cum Dodging Allowed #8.
What this country really needs is a Rosa Parks of porn. Someone who won't be relegated to the back of the video store. Someone who's not afraid to shout "I thought Busty Dildo Lovers #6 was poorly acted, had bad lighting, and was full of holes. Plot holes, that is." Someone who has not only sang "We Shall Overcome" but who also owns the director's cut.
Last night a nation took a much needed half hour break from watching Mike Huckabee declare himself "God-Emperor of the Hillbilly States" in order to check in with Bad Girls Club 2. Let's recap:
Last week we said goodbye to Lyric, the plucky rapper who stole our hearts. Wait. I'm sorry. I meant to write "the sucky rapper who stole our credit cards." That's better. Before exiting, Lyric was offered this piece of matronly advice: "If things are bad, why not watch a Tyra." If only Lryic had waited a few days, she would've found herself living inside an episode of "Tyra".
Last night's show started off with Tanisha gathering the remaining girls together in the living room to declare a cease-fire between the warring factions, or – as the viewing audience liked to think of it – eight minutes of watching paint dry. As the camera shifted from girl-to-girl two things became apparent. The first was that there is a blond girl sharing the house with the others. It seems that her name is "Hanna" and, so far, she has spoken a total of four words (all variations on the term "skank"). The other is that Cordealia is wearing a t-shirt depicting the Periodic Table of the Elements. At long last we discover the real reason for the tension in the house is Tanisha and Jennavecia's inability to agree on the standard atomic weight of Boron.
Moving right along...
Darlen goes out; gets drunk; returns home and begins to rub her breast on everything that moves and a few things that don't. This upset Tanisha, but only, we suspect, because it's the most action Jumbo's gotten in months. Meanwhile, Cordealia breaks up with her boyfriend over the phone and then goes for a yawn-inducing car ride with...
Sweet breast-rubbing Jesus! Can that really be Ron Palillo - the guy who played Arnold Horshack on "Welcome Back Kotter"??!!?? Hell yeah! It's about time Horshack got some pu... No. Wait. It's just that Moby-looking motherscratcher who Cordealia's been kickin' it with. Sorry.
At this point I switched over to MSNB to catch a breaking story about Mrs. Huckabee's secret lust for Barack Obama's "magnificent specimen of pure Alabama Blacksnake". When I tuned back into BGC, Neveen was still getting ready for that Star Trek convention that never seems to materialize and Cordealia was asking Darlen if she'd ever read Chaucer's "Canterbury Tales". Shockingly, the answer is "No".
The episode wraps up with Cordealia getting "Love Conquers All" (in English, and not the Latin "Amor vincit omnia") with a line through it on her wrist. Cordie, if you're reading this, you should get "Amantes sunt amentes" (Lovers are lunatics) on your other wrist. Darlen pledges to sober up, Tanisha says something crazy, Hanna says nothing at all, Jennavecia doesn't say the N-word, and Neveen waits patiently in the backyard for the mothership to land.
Wake me up when the new girl arrives.
There's nothing like the feeling of sitting down to write a column that you know at least one presidential candidate and the sitting President wouldn't be able to understand. So, Mr. Huckabee and Mr. Bush, please don't feel obligated to read what follows. Just for the two of you, here's a lovely link to an article about Creation Myths that someone on your staff can read to you. Yes, there are pictures.
For the rest of us, it's time that this nation had a frank, no-holds-barred discussion about color: eye color. My eyes are brown; my mother's eyes are brown; my younger sister's eyes are brown. Normally, that would be the end of this piece and you'd be looking at the Words of the Day and then surfing over to that "2 Girls 1 Cup" video, if it weren't for my older sister. My older sister has blue eyes.
"Well, whoopdie-fuckin'-do. ", you might say. "Plenty of people have blue eyes. Why don't you go back to writing about tiny plastic soldiers? We like that." OK, the first reason why we're talking about blue eyes is because 10,000 years ago, nobody had blue eyes! Don't just take my word for it; Live Science says it's true.
Think about it. If you, like me, have brown eyes, you have something in common with everybody who lived more than 10,000 years ago. If you don't own an iPod and have a hairy back, you have three things in common. This means that if someone invented a time machine tomorrow that could travel back in time 10,000 years (yes, I know that the time machine couldn't go back to before it was built, but…um…fuck Huckabee), everybody with blue eyes would have to stay home in order not to draw attention to themselves. Or they could wear brown contact lenses, I guess. OK, forget about that.
The second reason why were talking about blue eyes is because, according to geneticists, every person you meet with blue eyes has at least one single ancestor in common. That's right; one person managed to spread the blue eye gene (OCA2) around enough that it can now be found all over the planet (With the exception of Harlem).
Now, think about this. If my sister has blue eyes, then at least one of my parents (or the mailman) has in their ancestry, the first blue-eyed individual: which means that the first blue-eyed individual was also an ancestor of mine. Interesting? Maybe. Disturbing? Definitely. Why? Because Ann Coulter has blue eyes, and 100 generations is absolutely not enough distance from that crazy bitch.
