Thoughtless for the Day

Rosey and Dewey Butt

Before I get to the latest mini-debunking kit, I'd like to take a moment
to focus on that noblest of media: television.

Last night, on Larry King Live, famous and inaccurate psychic Sylvia
Browne appeared on a panel with two other psychics to debate two skeptics
(on of whom was a Rabbi). I'd always wanted to into a talk show and ask
a psychic to contact my dead brother. Since I never had a brother, I
always assumed that this would be a great source of amusement until
none-other-than James Randi, himself, explained to me that, as soon as
I revealed that I never had a brother, the psychic would inevitably
counter with some crazy cover story about how some malevolent spirit
had contacted them pretending to be my brother. Plan B was to
call and ask Sylvia why she wasn't able to predict that eating fifty
pounds of Ben & Jerry's would turn her into a reasonable facsimile of
a lowland gorilla.


Finally, I settled on Plan C which consisted of drinking several glasses
of wine while mocking the "people" who did call in: who were all
pro-psychic.

Speaking of television shows which are composed mostly of idiots, I highly
recommend that you check out no-more-than fifteen minutes of Moral Court.
The show is basically a variation on all of those other daytime courtroom
shows (Judge Judy, Judge, Joe Brown, The People's Court, Judge Hatchet,
Divorce Court, etc.) in which people facing complex moral dilemmas, such
as "Should I sell me baby to Satanists?" and "What color should I paint
my Meth lab?" have the concepts of Right and Wrong explained to them very,
very, slowly. Up next: Basic Hygiene Court.

OK, now that I've gotten that off my chest, let's debunk some shit!

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One of my all-time favorite headlines from the Onion is Sacco, Vanzetti
Executed For Murder, Italian Descent. I found myself thinking about
that headline, recently, when I found myself debating the death penalty
with a pro-capitol punishment, Italian-American. When I asked him how,
consider what happened to Sacco and Venzetti, he, of all people, could be
in favor of the government putting citizens to death, his answer was
simply "Who?" Clearly, he hadn't been doing his homework.

I, on the other hand, have been doing mine. My opposition to capitol
punishment is, unlike many others, not based on any moral argument, but
on the facts that I've managed to glean during my brief sobriety which
took place in the early nineties. I should also mention that even if
Sylvia Browne were facing death-by-chocolate, I (along with Greenpeace
who never like to see a whale hunted down) would oppose her execution.


Death Penalty Mini-Debunking Kit

1. The Death Penalty does not deter crime. Murders are either
crimes of passion or they're premeditated. Agreed? I think we can also
agree that, except in crappy Sci-Fi films starring sofa-leaping
Scientologists, it's impossible to prevent crimes of passion. As for
premeditated crimes, well, the individuals who commit these crimes tend
to consider themselves to be too smart to get caught: otherwise they
wouldn't be out there pulling that drive-by shooting at two in the
afternoon in front of a local news crew, now would they?

2. The Death Penalty may actually lead to an increase in the murder
rate. Statistics seldom lie: the murder rate in non-death penalty
states has continually remained lower than in states which employ
execution; and, as number of people put to death has grown, the greater
this divide has become. In 1990, the murder rates between pro and non
death penalty states differed by 4%. By 2000, you stood a 35% higher
chance of getting killed in death penalty state than in a state without
the death penalty. In 2001 that number went up to 37% and dropped,
slightly, in 2002, to 36%. Of the twenty states with the highest murder
rates today, eighteen have the death penalty.

3. Most Western Democracies have abolished capitol punishment.
By continuing to hang on to this barbaric practice, the United States
finds itself in the company of such truly enlightened countries as China,
Saudi Arabia, Pakistan, Yemen, Kuwait, Vietnam, Egypt, and Belarus
(where, I have it on good authority, all of the women look like Sylvia
Browne).

4. Blacks get to "ride the lighting" more than Whites. While Trevor
Boswell-Pennington IV is ten times more likely to get his WASPish skull
smashed in by Rakim Washington than vice-versa, and while fifty-seven
percent of the people on Death Row are White, Blacks are five times more
likely to be sentenced to death than Whites. Oh, and since 1977, 85% of
the murderers executed in Utah were convicted of killing a white person,
as opposed to only 11% who were executed for killing black persons.

5. Poor people get to "ride the lighting" more than rich people.
It shouldn't come as a surprise to no one (well, maybe Bill O'Reilly) that,
in the words of Justice William O. Douglas, "One searches our chronicles
in vain for the execution of any member of the affluent strata in this
society." 90 % of the people on death row couldn't afford to hire a
lawyer. Good luck with Mr. Court-Appointed Attorney, Carlos; you're gonna
need it.

6. Women rarely, if ever, get to ride "ride the lighting". Even
though women commit about 15% of the murders in America, they comprise
only 1% of the death row population. Since 1930, the USA (USA! USA!) has
only executed 33 women (none of whom were Sylvia Browne)

7. We have now sunk to the point where we're executing the mentally
retarded. Even though numerous studies have shown that and the
mentally impaired (as well as minors) are more vulnerable to suggestion
than any other segment of the population and, therefore, more likely to
make false confessions, the United States continues to sentence them to
death. Ricky Ray Rector, who was convicted of the 1979 rape and murder
of Pamela Moseley Carpenter, had an IQ of approximately 60: which means
that his reasoning capabilities were on par with that of a seven-year-old.
Ricky asked if he could save the dessert from his last meal so that he
could have it as a snack later…after his execution.

8. The Death Penalty is irreversible. Simply put: if you're
sentenced to life for a murder, and you're later found to be innocent,
you can be released. You can't undo an execution. While the likelihood
of a mistake being made is incredibly low (roughly 0.33 of 1%), mistakes
do happen. We know of twenty-five people who were wrongfully executed
in America during the twentieth century.

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OK, since I like to switch back-and-forth, debunking both the Left and
the Right, the next time we play this game, it'll be with Afrocentrism.

The Latin word of the day is:
sententia -ae - feeling, thought, opinion
vote, sentence



Rodney on 12.29.05 @ 09:31 PM EST [link] [No Comments]

Heidi Yum-Yum Gluck

Lisa Whelchel's/Blair's/Deranged Witch of the Southwest's Christmas
E-letter is out and, frankly, I'm speechless. Well, maybe not exactly
speechless: I can put a few words together like "Blair…E-letter…dear
Christ…craziest ever…holy shit…'Hormones have been Haven's friend'…dog
honeymoons???"; however, a little over a half hour after reading Blair's
latest digital denunciation, full sentences are still beyond my present
capabilities.

Due to the extraordinary nature of what you're about to read, I'm going
to take the unprecedented step of posting Blair's e-letter with a minimum
of my comments. While it's tempting to add my own thoughts (as well as
the occasional "Shit Luther"), in order for you to experience the full
effect of Blair's Christmas credo you really need to read it in its
most pristine possible form.

OK gang, take off your thinking caps and strap on your crash helmets;
here it come…

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I'm sending our personal family letter that we sent out this year. Please
know that I consider you both a friend, and as a fellow believer in
Christ, family. So, from our family to yours - Merry CHRISTmas!

Christmas 2004 2005

So sorry this letter is late (by about a year). Steve had a computer crash
and didn't have a good back-up last Christmas. (Feel free to give my dear
"Mr. I.T. Man" [ Mr. I.T. Man sez: "I pity the fool who don't have
enough RAM. I pity him DEAD"] a hard time about that.)

Dear friends and family,

Not only are you receiving our Christmas 2004 letter, albeit updated. We
are also sending last year's picture [No photo was attached to Blair's
E-letter. I'll have to give "Mr. I.T. Man" a hard time about that.].
If that wasn't tacky enough, we don't even look like this photo anymore.
The kids all have braces and shorter hair. I added the requisite
pound-per-year. Steve became a bit grayer and, subsequently, even more
dashing.

All those changes are just the ones you can see on the outside. With
three teenagers, we are officially living in the House of Hormones!
While Clancy was yet on the threshold of becoming an official teenager,
we celebrated Steve's 55th birthday at one of his favorite restaurants.
Tucker astutely, if not tactfully, observed, "Hey, we are probably the
only family in this restaurant who can order from the Kids' Menu and get
the Senior Citizen's Discount. Next thing you know, we'll be getting our
meal for free!"

Hormones have been Haven's friend, and she is growing into a beautiful
young woman. To be sure, this development is not lost on the boys.
Returning from church camp last summer, I asked her if she made any new
friends. Exasperated, she explained that all the girls were only
interested in chasing the boys. She, on the other hand, informed me that
she discovered the best way to get a boy's attention was to simply ignore
him and walk past, tossing a casual smile on the way by. She would then
count and see how long it took him to come running after her. (How does
she know this stuff already? And God, have mercy on these boys!)

A few months ago, out of the blue, Clancy asked me how I would feel if
she married a man who had a tattoo. Attempting to keep my cool, while
trying to act cool, I casually responded, "I wouldn't be thrilled, but
I understand that what is on the inside of the man is what is most
important." She pressed in, "What if the tattoo was of a naked lady?"
Pulling my best Dr. Phil I returned, "Well, the real question is, 'How
would you feel about that?'" "I don't think I would like it," she
answered honestly, "but as a wedding gift he could have clothes drawn
on the tattoo for me. Or, better yet, he could leave the clothes off
and have the face redrawn to look like me." Yikes, I want my little girl
back.

Even Clancy's dog, Donut, is PMS-ing! She entered her time during the
Christmas holidays last year and was "married" to a handsome stud named
Getty. They spent their honeymoon at his house over the New Year's weekend
and she came back glowing - but still acting like a real "female dog."
1 C-section, 2 puppies, 3 sonograms, and a 4-tune in vet bills later,
let's just say…we got our "fix" of dog breeding.

The teenage years not included, have you ever wondered why do we do the
things we do? Especially at Christmas time! For instance, what in the
world does a big pine tree with blinking bulbs and dangling doodads have
to do with Baby Jesus? And can someone please tell me why we climb on
top of our roofs [with our rifles and scopes], risking life and
limb, to outline our houses with 40-watt icicles (in 70° weather, no
less)? I'm not even going to bring up the whole fruitcake phenomenon.

A few years ago I decided enough was enough. I determined to make
Christmas for our family more about the birth of the Savior and less
about the death of the savings account. In an attempt to redeem the
meaning, I investigated all of the holiday traditions we were so
blissfully, blindly following.

Guess what I found? Jesus! He was there when we dressed the evergreen
tree, when Dad dressed up in a red suit, and when we ate turkey and
dressing! Yes, we were caught up in all the trappings of Christmas, but
I discovered that it was neither the enemy nor the world that set the
bait. It quickly became my desire to lure parents into the hustle and
bustle of Christmas and then set them free to join their children in the
celebration-guilt-free. I'd like to share one of my favorite discoveries,
which eventually ended up in my book, The ADVENTure of Christmas
[Yeah, plug that book!].

Ornaments on the Tree

In medieval Europe, plays were performed throughout the year based on the
lives of Bible characters. December 24 was declared Adam and Eve's Day and
the setting of this day's drama was the Garden of Eden. Remember what
happened? The serpent tempted Eve to disobey God and eat the forbidden
fruit. And she did. The play ended with God sending Adam and Eve out of
paradise as a consequence of their sin [Actually, God told Adam and Eve
that if they ate the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge they would die; which
they didn't.].

There was only one minor problem in staging this drama: where to find a
fruit tree in winter! Some Renaissance stage director must have discovered
that with a little smoke and mirrors he could turn a pine tree strung with
apples into the one-and-only Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil. This
"costumed" tree delighted the audience and became the star of the show.

The decorated evergreen delighted audiences, even upstaging the actors.
Years after the medieval plays were no longer performed, German families
continued to decorate their own evergreens with shiny red apples on
December 24 and called them "paradise trees."

Through the years, the decorations became more and more elaborate.
Mothers hid gingerbread cookies in the branches. Nuts dipped in sugar
were nestled among the pine needles. Fruits and vegetables formed from
marzipan candy hung from the boughs. The family Christmas tree became
so sugar-coated, it was often appropriately referred to as the "sugar
tree."

But no matter how sweet the treats, the most important ornaments were
tiny, round wafers of bread hidden among the other decorations. These
thin biscuits represented the body of Christ that was broken on the Cross
for our sins. And so hidden among the forbidden fruit, through which
death entered the world, were signs of Jesus Christ, the One who gives
us eternal life.

As we decorate our Christmas trees this year, I hope you are reminded of
Romans 5:19-"Because one person [Adam] disobeyed God, many people became
sinners. But because one other Person [Jesus] obeyed God, many people will
be made right in God's sight."

Until next year (or the next), I pray you find the treats and treasures our
sweet Lord has hidden in such odd places as hormonal teenagers, holiday
traditions, and hope-filled tomorrows.

Christmas blessings,

Steve, Lisa, Tucker, Haven, Clancy and Donut Cauble [I think she means
"Cabal"]

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So, what have we learned? Let's recap; shall we?

1) Blair is not only getting fatter by the minute, but she is, in fact,
only two or three Eskimo pies way from reaching critical mass and
collapsing in upon herself.

2) Haven is either destined for a spot on the Woman's PGA tour or will
soon be on the receiving end of a "nobody likes a Tease" speech from her
prom date.

3) Clancy isn't telling Blair the whole story, which, I'm afraid, goes
something like this: "Mom, what if I wanted to marry a man who had a
tattoo? And what if his tattoo was of a naked lady with my face on it?
And what if the guy with the tattoo was the janitor at my school? And what
if we, you know, had to get married?" I have to admit, it's times
like these when I feel pretty shitty about picking on Blair. Sure, she's
nuttier than the whole fruitcake phenomenon, but she's not nearly as
fucked up as those wretched cows at Concerned Women for America. If one
of their daughters even mentioned naked lady tattoos she'd be
looked in the attic until she either repented of starved to death.

4) Blair's pro-life attitude doesn't seem to extend itself to dogs. By
the way, I can't read that paragraph without shuddering. The less said
the better.

5) Somehow, blatant, crass commercialism returns the focus of Christmas
back to the birth of Jesus.

6) We may now add "The Pagan origins of Christmas" to our list of subjects
on which Blair is blissfully ignorant.

7) Somewhere, perhaps in a garage in a small Midwestern town, a punk band
have just re-christened themselves as Donut Cauble .



Rodney on 12.27.05 @ 09:34 AM EST [link] [15 Comments]

Immaculate Conception Finkelstein

In the spirit of Jean Teasdale meets your pretentious college roommate,
it's time for RATYHTCook's 2nd Annual Gingerbread Celebration.

Last year, you all took a brief respite from downloading amputee porn to
lean how to create gingerbread and how to transform those globs of dough
into eye-popping works of art that make the efforts of the Great Masters
appear as the finger paintings of Red State children by comparison. One
reader was so impressed that she wrote in to say "Mr. Anonymous, as an
art historian, I can attest that the gingerbread houses created by you
and your readers will, someday, expose charlatans such as Leonardo da
Vinci and Michelangelo as the frauds whom I've now come to realize they
are. The ceiling of the Sistine Chapel is transformed into a river of
fetid hobo's piss when placed beside your magna opera. My eyes have been
opened and I hereby renounce will current occupation and shall enroll in
culinary college immediately!" This year, we'll be playing a subtle
variation on that theme: Tribute Gingerbread Houses.

Once I'd hit upon the idea to build a gingerbread house paying tribute to
the work of one individual, I was next face with the dilemma of choosing
exactly whom that individual should be. Should I build a James "The
You-Bet-Your-Ass-He's Amazing" Randi house, featuring the bent spoons of
debunked "psychic" Uri Geller? Perhaps a "melty" Salvador Dali house? I
decided that it was best to leave the choice to serendipity and set off
to the Reading Terminal Market to buy gingerbread supplies. And
that's when I saw it…




A lobster shaped cookie cutter! Could there be any clearing sign that I was
to base my gingerbread house on the life and work of Jean-Paul Sartre?
Here's a side and back (photographed while the house was under
construction) of the house which prominently display the monstrous lobster
motif (as you're probably aware of, Sartre spent the final years of his life
believing that he was being pursued by a giant lobster)





I've mentioned in a previous essay, one of the central tenets of
Existentialism is that with freedom comes responsibility. As Sartre had
been a devout Marxist, I felt that I had the responsibility of using the
gingerbread house to depict the struggle of the urban proletariat; but
how? One again, serendipity came to my rescues as, while exiting the super
market after picking up some extra cloves, I notice a vending machine
filled with Homies. This time, responsibility had resulted in freedom; as
I was now free: free to complete my masterpiece.

The Tower of Gingerbread Existentialism…











Rodney on 12.26.05 @ 03:19 AM EST [link] [6 Comments]