AMURRICA!!!

Question: How many of these images were found on websites that automatically played music?

   

    

  

 

 

  

Answer: All of them.

GOD BLESS AMURRICA!!!!!!

YAY AMERICA YAY!

HAPPY AMERICA FREEDOM INDEPENDENCE LIBERTY AMERICA JESUS AMERICA DAY!!!  FUCK YEAH!  BEER AND CAPS LOCK ALL DAY LONG!!!

EVERYTHING IS FREEEEEDOM!!!!!!!

Things I Have No (or Very Little) Evidence For But Still Believe

Once again I came across one of those fun, “If you’re an Atheist then you believe in nothing,” emails and started thinking about all the things I do believe because of massive amounts of evidence, and that led me to ponder a lot of things I do believe but that have very little or no evidence supporting them.  This list isn’t all-inclusive, but it’s some of the first that come to mind:

I believe

• there is no god or supernatural realm.  This is not to say I don’t believe in a god, but that I believe there is no god.
• there is intelligent life elsewhere in the universe, but I do not believe we’ve yet been visited by aliens.
• humanity can continue long after the Earth is destroyed if we begin colonizing other planets soon, and our time to start this project may be running out in the next century or two.
• human thought will one day be interfaced into a single computer so that our collective conscious can outlast our species by billions of years.
• the origins of all religions are born not in ignorance, but in authority figures knowingly taking advantage of ignorance.
• science will never conclusively prove to the believers that there is no supernatural realm or that there are no gods.
• while a valid case for pre-determination can be made using biochemistry and physics (or maybe not with physics… with the advent of quantum theory, anything can be evidence for everything.), sentient beings have free will.
• as many religions fizzle out or turn into a weak blend of humanism and tradition, fundamentalist and extremist sects will be ubiquitous throughout the future of humanity.
• Michelle Malkin is actually the perineum (or taint) of a middle-aged gay whore from Van Nuys, California that somehow achieved sentience.
• there is no solution to global warming that does not require immediate cessation of all technological progress and a global reboot.  I believe subtle transition is not a viable option.
• racism, sexism and homophobia are ingrained in humanity and will never be defeated.
• evangelists like Pat Roberson, Jerry Falwell and his son, Billy Graham, etc. know that what they preach is a lie and are motivated by power and greed.
• the Bush Administration knowingly refused to act on intelligence pertaining to 9/11 to use the attack to justify ousting Saddam Hussein, but the events of 9/11 were almost exactly as described in the 9/11 Commission’s report and not a US government conspiracy.
• the US and UK governments are hiding massive amounts of material pertaining to UFOs and abduction reports, although none of the hidden material coincides with legitimate alien contact.
• the majority of the events in the Old Testament, including the captivity in Egypt, were fabricated out of earlier myth and flat-out lies.
• Jesus was a man who actually existed, but none of the acts or words attributed to him are accurate.
• bacon is the single most delicious food in the universe.  If we ever do make contact with extraterrestrials and they discover this fact, all of our pigs will be stolen by every other race of spacefaring creatures within 100,000 Ly of Earth.

Sarah Palin Resigns

Alaska can breathe easy.  Finally, Sarah Palin, the Witless Wonder, has resigned from office as Governor of Alaska.

Everyone should drink a Purple Alaskan Thunderfuck tonight in recollection of how we almost got landed with that idiotic creature as President.

Burqa Ban?

Most of you already know that French President Nicholas Sarkozi is prepared to ban the wearing of burqas in France because, “the burka is not a sign of religion, it is a sign of subservience.”

I disagree that the burqa isn’t a sign of religion.  It is quite clearly a symbol of the Islamic religion, and many Muslims who immigrate to Western countries proudly flaunt it around as such.  And because it is a symbol of religion shouldn’t give it any sort of special government protection.

But laws work on punishing actions rather than judging intent, at least on the level of police intervention.  A ban on burqas, while meant to suppress the intent of emotionally abusing women, would suppress the action of wearing a burqa, no matter the intent.  If a woman has a clear-minded desire to wear a burqa, she should have the right to do so.  If I wanted to wear a burqa ironically at a drag show, I should have the right to do so.  (There will be photos and I will share them if I am lucky enough to get my hands on a burqa any time soon.)

It also raises the question of what constitutes an illegal robe in France after this ban goes into effect.  The burqa, as I understand it, completely covers the face and body, with mesh fabric over the eyes that women can see through but men can’t see into.  Would a hijab that has a slit over the eyes where the eyes are visible to everyone be acceptable?  Would head scarves that cover the hair and ears but not the face be acceptable?  Would this distinction be up to the police to make (which is always a bad idea)?

What about non-religious displays of subservience?  If I wanted to hire a professional dominatrix to walk me around on a leash, could I not do that anymore in France?

Should anyone be allowed to wear the headpiece of a burqa at a bank or when getting her drivers license or passport photo taken?  Fuck no.  My security waiting in line at the bank or DMV means more to me than your stupid self-hating religious views.  But should we outright ban the burqa?  I don’t think so.

Remember: Only bad guys cover their faces.

No more Palin?

Apparently, if BNO news is to be trusted, Governor Sarah Palin is not seeking re-election.

This could mean that she’s planning on running in the next Presidential election however, but probably is because her daughters are getting verbally raped by the media.

Sen. Al Franken

Al Franken was finally declared the winner of the Minnesota Senate seat by the state Supreme Court.

Eight months later.

(Facepalm)

And Now Billy Mays?

What the fuck? If Twitter is to be believed, Billy Mays died this morning. His son said he didn’t wake up and people are reporting that Fox News is reporting that he died.

Billy Mays was the television “pitch man” who was known for his iconic blue shirt and loud voice. He was best known for his commercials for OxyClean and products from the Mighty brand. He had just begun a show the the Discovery Channel Pitchmen.

This was completely unexpected.

Update: Confirmed!  This has to be a celebrity-specific strain of Swine Flu!  Ed McMahon, Farrah Fawcett, Michael Jackson, Billy Mays… who’s next?

Jizz, Coffee, Stale Cigarettes and Gin

I got back from seeing a play which starred my wonderful friends Kris and Gina, and the last thing I expected to happen happened.

Someone designed a perfume for me.

Mr. Braden,

I’m sure you know now that Richard Dawkins and Hemant Mehta have their own fragrances.  Even Jenny McCarthy has her own! Bullshit! lol Well I read your blog and (SORRY!) imagined what you smell like, and, well, see attached.

In good fun!

Jackson

First, don’t call me Mr. Braden.  The name’s Reed.  Second, that is NOT what I smell like!

(Sniffs self)

You forgot cat hair.

Anyhoo, links to Hemant Mehta, Richard Dawkins and Jenny McCarthy’s stink sprays are here, here and here, respectively.

I like that my fragrance looks like they peeled the label off the Jenny McCarthy fragrance and stuck a new one on.  I guess it’s what they do with all the bottles that won’t move off the shelf.  Jenny, you can’t sell too many cosmetics when your target audience is dying of measles.

Well, I’m off to the store to buy 300 sticks of deodorant.  I hope CVS sells Right Guard in bulk.

Response from Richard Stevens

Richard Stevens responded via email to a post I wrote about a cartoon of his that offended me.

Your first commenter is dead-on correct!

My first commenter suggested that, “The better value joke is not a negative view on gay people, it’s the joke that being Bi gets you laid more than anyone else.”

Okay.  I thought too hard about the comic, trying to figure out the meaning behind the specific word choice in the last panel.  I would just suggest that Richard Stevens be a bit more careful with the word value when used in jokes pertaining to gay people.  We’re still licking our wounds (and others gays’ wounds… sorry…) over damage inflicted by other meanings of that word.

I was wrong.  To the stocks with me.

Now, Back to Important Things

An update on the gay exorcism story: CNN scored an interview with the pastor of the church that performed an exorcism on an allegedly gay member who looked like a teenager or a young adult.

This looks long and outrageous, so I’m going to semi-liveblog my reaction.

The beginning of the video.  The host said the video shows, “a young man being ministered to, I suppose.”  No you do not suppose!  You see a young man being held down, beaten and yelled at by a delusional cult of retards!  If that’s what we call the ministry these days, no wonder why the Christian church is in trouble with keeping asses in seats!

First question was when it happened.  Patricia McKinney, the pastor, wasn’t sure when she held down the homosexual, beat him and screamed that he was possessed by a demon.  Funny… that seems like an event you would remember clearly if it was a one-time deal.

She is whoring and advertising for her church rather than answering the question of if the man wanted to be beaten, shout at and sexually harassed.

Now she answers:  “All of a sudden, he hits the floor.”  THEN CALL A MOTHERFUCKING AMBULANCE YOU IGNORANT CHRISTTARD!  Falling to the ground and shaking violently does not mean, “I’m gay. Heal me.”  It means, “I’m having a SEIZURE!  Call the fucking paramedics!”

Now she says he came into the church (doesn’t put it on the timeline with the filmed incident) and said he didn’t want to live the life of a gay man.  Why the sudden change of story?

The next saying I hear echoed a lot from family and those who surround me where I live and it really boils my blood:  “Manifested Glory is not against homosexuality.  We do not hate them.  We don’t come up against them.  We just don’t believe in their lifestyle.”

Pause.

Let’s replace some words to make a point.  The following does not reflect what I actually believe.

I am not against the nigger community.  I don’t hate them.  I don’t come out against them.  I just don’t believe in the niggers’ lifestyle.

Anyone who can explain how my statement is any different from hers gets a cookie.

Being gay is not a lifestyle, any more than being black is.  Yes, there is a stereotypical lifestyle that some gay men participate in that involves fashion, pride parades and celebrity trash news, but that is not what it means to be gay.  And that’s not what she is talking about either.

Whenever you hear someone saying that they don’t agree with, “the homosexual lifestyle,” they are saying that they hate homosexuality.  If you dosed this bitch with sodium thiopental and interrogated her, you’d come out with the truth, that she is disgusted by gay people and she shares the same virulent hatred that her parents and grandparents faced from white racists.  Her hatred is just targeted at gay people instead of black people.

They use the word lifestyle because it sounds like something you choose.  And the irony is this:  The people who say that homosexuality is a choice are often the best evidence against that idea.  Why would I choose to be gay if the world is full of Pat Robertsons, George Bushes and Patricia McKinneys who will hate and discriminate against me for that choice?  Their very existence disproves their own argument.

Patricia McKinney may not hate certain gay people, but she hates them in general.

Carrying on.

If you are gay, “You can come in our church, but you can not live that lifestyle in our church.”  Remember, “live that lifestyle” means “be gay.”  You can not join the church if you are gay.  It’s discriminatory.  It loses tax exemption.  Call the IRS.

The host asks for further clarification and she states that the only way a gay person can be a member is if they are “cured” first.

“We do not like the lifestyle of a man with a man or a woman with a woman, and that’s our beliefs[sic].”  Funny.  My sister told me the same thing when I asked her why she voted to ban me from getting married.

All people, even gays, are allowed to come into the church, but they have to, “get delivered.”  As we saw in the video, the “delivery” of a gay man looks just like a lynch mob.

The fat bitch is comparing homosexuality with alcoholism, crack cocaine and adultery.

She just said that she’s a prophet who, “declares the word of the lord.”  The word of the lord has gone down the tubes a loooooooooong way since the Old Testament.  She hasn’t uttered a single sentence so far that would pass a 1st grade grammar test.

Oh… she’s a recovering crack and heroine addict.  That explains everything.  I’m done with her.  I don’t waste my time refuting the delusions and spiritual hallucinations of drug users.  When half of your brain cells are dead, I have nothing rational to discuss with you.

(Via The Gay Atheist)

Farrah Fawcett and The Creature That Used to be Black and Adorable Died

There are certain people who have died that I could not find it in me to mourn.  Those are people like Saddam Hussein and Timothy McVeigh who made me kick the dust at me feet and mumble, “good riddance.”  I think all humans, at least those who are honest with themselves, have moments like that.

Only a few of us chosen people (not to be confused with Chosen People®) can admit that there are a few deaths that, either because of the timing or because of the person, caused them to laugh relentlessly and unashamedly.  My list is short:  Jerry Falwell, because he died on my 18th birthday as God’s present to me; Anna Nicole Smith, because she was Anna Nicole Smith; and Michael Jackson, who several sources (TMZ, Perez, LA Times) are reporting has just died from the rare and fatal face-sliding-off-in-chunks disease cardiac arrest.

I was in mourning for the great actress and sex goddess Farrah Fawcett who was reported dead this morning when Jack-O appeared out of nowhere to brighten my day.

Does this make me a bad person?  In all probability, yes.  Will calling me a bad person for laughing at the 75% freakshow make me laugh even harder and direct some of that laughter toward you, his fans?  Abso-friggin-lutely.  Laugh away, my friends.  The biggest joke in the world has reached its punchline.

Now that the 80’s are officially dead, can we go back to good music now?

Okay… now that we’ve got all the laughs out of our system…

Today is a day to mourn the loss of the brilliant, attractive and wonderful entertainer Farrah Fawcett, whose loss will overshadow any of today’s other media jokes in my book.

@Accostherwilde Rides the Snake

Several people have asked me about my recent #hashtag on Twitter, #ridethesnake.  The term has no real definition and let this image of @accostherwilde be all the explanation you’ll ever get:

If you have never ridden the snake, this is not you.  But is it FOR you?

Probably.

Riding the snake is the most awesome thing in the world.

Gay Exorcism

I knew these things actually happened in the US, but this is the first time I’ve seen video evidence.

The video is from a church in Connecticut called Manifested Glory Ministries.  They put it n their website, obviously proud that they could muster the audacity to put their knowingly fraudulent and psychotic practices to work as a tool for homophobia.  I wonder if the shysters made any money off of scaring this possibly gay child for life.

The FDA needs to crack down hard on these dangerous and bogus blowhards for offering (and perhaps selling) a dangerous medieval “therapy” that claims, and consistently fails, to cure ailments.  They might get away with it if the conditions they claim to cure are imaginary (Our Name is Legion. Your mother sucks cocks in Hell!), but since homosexuality is a real thing, and they claim to cure it, the FDA needs to bring the hammer down hard.  And they can.  The same goes for Benny Hinn and the other lunatics who think that pushing old ladies in the head and knocking them down will cure cancer.

After seeing this, I have no doubt that what you are seeing in this video is violating at least a dozen laws relating to advertising, medicine, child abuse, harassment (could the gay person walk away or stop the hazing at any time?), physical abuse, emotional abuse, slander, discrimination, etc.

If I don’t start hearing about some very strong legal cases brought against the psychos, I’m going to be extremely angry.  This is not something that is or should be protected by the First Amendment.  Freedom of religion is not the freedom to abuse.

Or are we going to wait until this kid is older, and, as churches are known to do, he is intimidated with everlasting flame to stay in such an environment where he eventually kills himself?  Press charges, State of Connecticut.  Put these errant frauds in jail.

Smokeless Day #2

I went 24 hours without a cigarette and smoked one.  Next goal:  48 hours.

The tremours and tics have mostly gone back down to normal (at least normal for me) levels.

Last night’s dreams were awful though.  I dreamed that I had a romantic relationship with my ex Nigel–not the bloody motherfucking asshole who recently broke my heart, but an old high school boyfriend I haven’t even thought about in months.  We were walking hand-in-hand from my apartment to Pop’s, an ice cream bar on my street in Roanoke, when a man leaving Spike’s, the bar next to it, pulled a gun on us, shouting, “Faggots!  Queers!  Everywhere I go; these fucking queers!” and shot us both, wounding me and killing him.  I woke up screaming and crying.

After I went back to sleep, it was the same story line—which was odd—but I was in court testifying over what happened and wept on the bench.  After I couldn’t stop crying the judge called me a, “blithering faggot,” and held me in contempt of court.  He then dropped the murderer’s charge to “voluntary manslaughter.”  Then I led a million-man march on Richmond to urge the inclusion of the LGBT community into Virginia hate crimes law.

This was the first dream I’ve had on the patch that wasn’t patently absurd—although the thought of me dating Nigel again is personally absurd, even though I do consider him a friend.  It could have only been made less horrifying if there was something absurdist about the dream… I don’t know… Sarah Palin shooting an octopus cannon at the march from a zeppelin or something.  And now that I wrote that, I guarantee she will at least have a balloon-oriented cameo in tonight’s 3-D IMAX mindfuck.

Nothing too interesting or entertaining to report, I’m afraid.  My last few posts garnered enough attention that I almost didn’t post an update today out of fear of boring/depressing my readers today… but liveblogging my recovery from addiction is something that helps me and I hope helps other quitters as well, so I’ll continue doing this as often as possible.

One helpful tip to fellow quitters:  As tempting as it may be, never sniff the back of a NicoDerm patch.  Shit stung my nose for five minutes after one short sniff.  The smell is comparable to a paper mill and the stinging comparable to a jellyfish… a jellyfish the size of Rhode Island who is currently PMSing inside of your nostril.  Don’t sniff the patch.

Richard Stevens Has Some ‘Splainin to Do

I’m a big fan of the webcomic Diesel Sweeties by Richard Stevens, but today’s comic made me cringe.

Here’s the final panel of the comic:

I’m not one to decry an artist’s entire collected works over one bad or tasteless moment. (What do I look like?  The Vatican?)  Diesel Sweeties is usually a very tolerant and progressive—not to mention hilarious—comic, but this comic brought up a serious question:

Does Richard Stevens really think that being bisexual is really, as his character Indie Rock Pete says, “a much better value,” than being gay?  I’ve heard some unpleasant dialogue in the South that was much like this, usually along the lines of, “Well, at least he likes pussy too,” or, “It’s only half as bad,” but to see that sentiment echoed in a progressive webcomic as the punch line of a joke is just tacky.

I understand that this joke would be killed if the punch line was replaced with, “It doesn’t necessarily mean you’re gay, Clango, but if you discover that you are gay, bisexual or transgendered, that would be just fine with me!”  But sometimes if you can’t change a joke to make it less offensive or divisive, it’s probably best to not do the joke at all.

Also, I’m not going to argue that I was offended by Clango’s subtle fear that he might have had (GASP!) a gay thought about Indie Rock Pete’s exposed nether-regions, but it really doesn’t help people who are struggling to find their sexual identity to see moments like this as something to be feared or ashamed of instead of the start of a journey into honest exploration of one’s self.

I would like to state, for the record, that I’m not easily offended and I usually groan when I hear news stories about some gay group getting up in arms over a tiny gay joke in a TV show… but this was just unexpected and unappreciated.

Richard Stevens, I really want to know if you feel that bisexuals have “a better value” than gay people, and if not, why would you use such a commonly-held and poisonous belief as the punch line (rather than the butt of) a joke?  If this was the first comic I ever saw of yours, I wouldn’t read on.

Buzz Aldrin: Astronaut, First Man on the Moon, Rapper

Wikipedia has a short list of people who have died from laughing too hard on their article about death from laughter.  I almost needed to be added to the list after watching this:

Buzz Aldrin: Rocket Experience

The “making of” video is even funnier.  It features Snoop Dogg.

(Via Susan Lendroth, Planetary Society Blog)

Mark, Dear, Learn to Plan Your Lies in Advance

Not that you’re going to have very many more opportunities to lie to the public again…

SC Governor Mark Sanford (R, no matter what Fox calls him) went missing from his wife and children (and, you know, that whole state he was in control of) over Father’s Day.  He didn’t tell anyone where he was going.  Not even his family.

First, his wife lied for him, saying he “often” takes these trips because he likes solitude when he’s writing.

Then his staffers came up with another reason why no one, not even law enforcement, can find him and why he is unreachable on his cell phone:  He’s hiking the Appalachian Trail!  Duh! … Wait… what do you mean the 21st, when Gov. Sanford went on his hiking trip, is the day when avid hikers hike on the AT completely naked?  What?  And the stimulus money goes to trail upkeep?  Oh dear, this looks very, very bad.  Can we retract that last excuse please?

So with the media (with the exception of Fox “News,” who claimed of the Republican Governor that they don’t care where that lousy Democrat is), law enforcement and his family trying to reconcile the myriad different stories and getting stuck with, “Well, he was lugging his writing desk up the Appalachian Trail so he could write, alone and naked in the woods, as Democrats are oft wont to do, when he accidentally threw his cell phone off a mountain… as Gov. Sanford is ‘often’ prone to do,” Gov. Sanford (R!) exits his plane with a nice golden tan and an Argentinean woman’s hickies all down his neck.  And, as we all know, Argentineans are second only to Brazilians in terms of rape beauty and the Gov.’s wife looks like Susan Boyle.

Quick, Team Sanford, come up with another lie!  Your jobs are at stake!

As the Gov grabbed his whore, as he started to grope,
He heard his whole state, as they all tried to cope.

He turned around fast and he saw all the press.
CNN, MSNBC, Fox and the rest.

They stared at the Gov and said, “Governor, why?”
As his wife, Susan Boyle, and his children all cried.

But you know, that old Gov was so smart and so slick,
That he thought up a lie and he thought it up quick.

“Why my sweet little press,” the Republicrat lied,
“There’s a dick ‘twixt my legs that won’t cum for my wife.

“So I’m taking it to South America, my dear.
I’ll get it up there, then I’ll bring it back here.”

One Step Closer to a Cure?

This came out today from the CBC:

HIV, chemo therapies combine for new AIDS-fighting approach

Treating HIV/AIDS with a combination of antiviral drugs and chemotherapy seems to destroy both the circulating virus and immune cells in which the virus hides, a team of Canadian and U.S. researchers has found.

Read more.

Smokeless Afternoon #1

I finally got some sleep.  My dreams were incredibly fuck-all real and I woke up after each one, pissed off that they didn’t really happen.  I remember them all in excruciating detail.

In one, I was trying to operate an crazy steam-punked DC Metro train that had to be continuously fed quarters and my friend Kyle Moir was there, kicking a vending machine.  Every time he kicked it, a different brand of Reese’s candy came out, but not the Reese’s FastBreak which is what he wanted.  Even in the world of dream steam punk, coin-operated machines never work how you want them to.  In the first car of the train an ensemble piece of pitchy, creepily enthusiatic, racially diverse vocalists performed a version of The Threepenny Opera accompanied by a small brass band with four trumpets, two trombones, a picolo trumpet and a tuba; an old family friend Becky Wallenborn with a full grand piano, a grand harpsichord and an old Hammond B-3 organ and Colin Meloy from the Decemberists with a whole slew of old antique string instruments including an old steel guitar, a banjo, a massive sitar whick he never played and a beat-up acoustic guitar signed by John Coltraine, who, as far as I and Colin knew, never actually played guitar.  There was a clarinet part, but it was played on the Hammond organ.  Both the car and my memory of the dream were uncomfortably cluttered with the musicians.  It didn’t seem unusual since we were on a steam punk Metro train.  At one point, I helped improve the Balladeer’s choreography on “The Ballad of Mack the Knife.”

In another, I was sitting in a garden, not unlike the garden where the newt-enthusiast Gussie Fink-Nottle proposed to Madeline Bassett in one of P. G. Wodehouse’s novels, with my friend Heather Creel, baring my soul and weeping.  She was wearing a top hat.  At the end of the dream, and completely out-of-character for Heather, she beats me about the head with a banjo taken from a polka musician who was serenading us with a small, lederhosened polka band near our bench in the garden.

The last one was so bizzare that I still feel like it should be Groundhog Day again.  My phone rang and I woke up, ignored the call, and saw it was 11:58 PM and that I had slept for the whole day.  I waited, and when the clock on my phone switched over, the date stayed the same.  So I went back to bed.  I actually woke up at 3:10 PM when my mom called me, ignored the call and lay in bed extremely confused that the sun was back up.

As an added bonus, the nicotine patch fell off while I was asleep.  I just applied a new one, but until this fucking thing kicks in, fuck you all.  I hope all of you are in a North Korean death camp being tortured with bamboo chutes up your urethras!

That’s about it.  I hope you’re enjoying my misery.