Ending the War (on Christmas)

No, more to the right. So the neighbors can see.

The War on Christmas has terrorized millions of innocent people in this country. For years, it has waged in the minds and hearts of sensitive individuals, devastating their holiday cheer. The disputed territory is a minefield of sensibilities impossible to breech, leaving the two sides at a stalemate of their own creation.

Fighting for Christmas are many proud men and women without melanin in this country, striving for full expression of white Jesus in his newborn state. It’s a sacred time of year for these oppressed peoples, and yet they are asked to cover their glowing plastic statues, take down their religious signs, and merely decorate using tinsel, lights, ornaments, and mistletoe. How many more wishes for a “happy holiday” can Christians take? 

And on the other side, we find a band of rebels who seek justice for the oppression of literally hundreds of diverse individuals in select regions of our nation. People forced to overt their eyes from displays of the nativity, some of them with live animals. And the caroling! All those Christmas songs have religious overtones! There’s no escape for them. 

Ho ho holy hell he's packin' heat!

Well I’m waving the white flag of surrender… because more of us are tired of playing along with this war crap. We can put the cultural conflict to an end today. Stop the imaginary fighting before another make believe casualty falls. But both sides must be willing to compromise if a cease-fire can be reached. 

For our Christmas Warriors: Stop asking that we use government property like buildings and roads to display overtly religious imagery. That’s really the only concession Christians should make when it comes to celebrating and decorating for Christmas. I mean, it’s a holiday too! They can express themselves openly, just not on public property. We all pay for that, thank you. 

Every helmet lined with tin foil.

For those of a Politically Correct persuasion: The sticking point for you is displaying religious imagery on government property. And I agree with you. Stay within those parameters. Do not insist that privately owned stores and property dumb down their Christmas decorations to reflect a more sensitive holiday spirit. That is not your say. Make it more about freedom of expression and more diehard Christians will agree. America practically bulges with cultural diversity, so let’s start playing it up. Why not hype other religious celebrations? We can find a few holidays to jazz up in Judaism, no problem. 

If people don’t have a particular religious slant (like myself), then they should get over themselves. Religious people have a right to express their joy around the frickin’ holidays. If that really bothers atheists, they can rewire their reactions like mature adults. When they see a nativity scene, for example, they can celebrate the fact that they don’t need religion in their lives. It’s that simple. 

And so, ladies and gentlemen, dramatically overhyped wing nuts to the last, I place before you the terms of a cease-fire. There’s a line to be drawn here that everyone can agree on. And there’s something even more important to focus on in the future, that being a freedom of expression. Can we have your signatures? 

X: ________________  X: ________________

Once a treaty has been signed, I’ll fax the whole shebang to Bill O’Reilly. And then there can be peace (and eggnog) once more.

Togetherness

Between Minds

Happy Freakin' Easter

Try to keep your clothes on this year.

Very Merry

Happy Halloween!

Invaders from Graffiti Planet!!

THIS CAT FOOD WILL SELF-DESTRUCT

"Make with the food or I take out your kneecaps."

Few people recognize the dangers they face when handling a can of cat food. It’s an assault on cat owners everywhere, in fact, physically, mentally, and in extreme cases, emotionally. Sure, the commercials make those tins look harmless. Just peel back the lid and behold! A sumptuous protein feast swims in its own gravy amid slender carrot chunks and other bits. The meal slides effortlessly on to the plate, often in the shape of the animal that gave its life. The cat rushes in on cue, eats, and then bonds lovingly with her owner. It should be criminal to mislead the public like this.

Nothing could be more dangerous than a can of cat food in the hands of an unsuspecting owner. Of course, human error takes some small responsibility (because a human usually has cash and opposable thumbs). But those tin cans are designed to break through an owner’s defenses, lulling him to sleep with pastel colors and happy, serene pictures of cats. Those corporate bastards have obviously done their homework. Most people move right past the safer bags of dry food. Before he knows, the cat owner reaches for a can of such and such pâté, now with crunchy things, completely unaware of the potential blood and sacrifice in his hand. Domestic hand grenades, two for a dollar.

Consider the metal ring on top. Familiar enough. Seen it on a thousand soda cans and more, right? The brain recalls the same motions, pull back on the tab and replace, and sends those signals down the arm to the hand. But a tin ring is cheap. It pulls the lid half an inch away before it snaps off, creating a hole just large enough, say, for the typical owner’s finger to wedge in and pry it open. It’s also a hole small enough to slice hunks of skin away with the effort. And since few people open cans of cat food near a first aid station, the owner has to rush to the bathroom to tend to his gashed up finger marinating in protein ooze. Extensive testing reveals that this scenario comes up often enough to mention here, and that each time, the cut stings like motherfucker.

Once started, the owner must finish opening the can as soon as possible. Cat food is deadly serious to cats. Just look at their desperate eyes or the way their ears pivot back and forth when you open a can. They know that sound, that signature pop and release of air followed by thin metal cleaving away. Never mind that the kitchen stinks almost immediately, a sharp smell like garbage, which means even deaf cats have a way of homing in on the tin can once it’s activated. Those ripe odors attract every living creature within a few yards of the dish. Bugs love cat food, and mice too, which should say something right there. But cats only become more ravenous, as if they sense their competition scuttling nearer.

The pressure is mounting by now. A typical owner just wants to feed his damn cat and sit back down. But the devil’s tin, that antique puzzle box, it refuses to let go of the spongy meat cake no matter how it’s shaken or fingered. It makes a sucking sound like it wants to let go, like it’s trying to push the food free from inside. It’s really laughing, though; gagging as it catches its breath. If only scientists could pinpoint the escape velocity of cat food from tin cans. But then, the calculations are heinously complex, involving variables like the size of the can, the contents (both meat and slime coating), distribution of air pockets, firmness of grip (number of fingers and their placement), speed of the arm, even the level of panic motivating the cat around the owner’s legs. Too many things to consider. The typical cat owner doesn’t stand a chance. If even one of these variables is exceeded, the results are catastrophic. Namely, the cat food flies free of the can and hits the plate with such force that it slides right off the counter, shattering, nearly decapitating the cat. The meat rolls away and lands in a pile of cat fur gathered in the corner, as is found in a typical cat owner’s home.

Dazed, the owner drops the tin can as if it burned his fingertips. The cat notices a fur-covered meal scurrying away and is touched somewhere deep inside where instincts lay dormant. She pounces without mercy, and no amount of shooing or hissing can break through her trance. What’s left is to pick up the pieces of this traumatic event, wipe down the walls, and properly attend the wounded. By the time all that’s accomplished, the cat has barfed up the entire meal along with a large, greasy hairball. Hence, the cycle repeats. And it WILL repeat itself. The sinful contents of each tin hold addictive properties, guaranteeing a finicky attitude toward any substitute for this food substitute.

Only when free market Capitalism has died a horrible death can product designs such as this cat food tin be considered acceptable. That’s a consumer talking, of course. From a corporate perspective, this model is sheer genius. An owner may go through two or three cans of food trying to feed a single house cat. And they’ve all bought in to this design, too. Familiar, warm and fuzzy… dangerous.

I implore cat food makers around the world: think of the lives involved, both human and feline, the unnecessary suffering… when will it end?! Our government should investigate this container for possible ties to Nazi technology. Until then, I implore all cat owners to USE CAUTION when operating a can of cat food. Use the buddy system whenever possible. Together, we can fight back!

BIN LADEN

Hey, did you hear about the new drink called the bin Laden? It's a combination Colt 45 and a shot that goes straight to your head. 

TALK ABOUT CUTS IN FUNDING

It's time the gentlemen in power allowed women to speak for themselves in America. It's not just a choice, it's THE HARDEST CHOICE. Stay out of it! 

HAGDOM

While speaking with friends the other day, I realized how many people in the heterosexual community still do not understand the complex relationship between a fag and his female counterpart. You've probably witnessed countless examples of these two together, especially while at the mall or other comfort stops. This is no small thing, people... worlds turn on such intricate social networks. You might say that special give and take between gay men and straight women helps to balance the whole equation for human beings. For now anyway.

But of course, like all things human, the gay / girl dynamic has gradations to it depending on the people involved. And here's where the confusion comes in I think, because gay stereotypes are well known and shattered occasionally, but the women involved are still clumped together as one generic heterosexual group. The reality is far different:

the fruit fly = this woman has an unnatural attraction to gay men (and by unnatural, I mean sexual attraction that will never be fulfilled, no matter how much liquor is involved). Fruit flies often buzz their way through big city club scenes, hoping to find that sensitive, caring, and well groomed individual who listens to them... with a penis. You may hear one laughing about the whole "gay thing", knowing in her heart that all gay men really need is the right woman to come along. INDICATOR: multiple visits to a hair stylist per month, resulting in overworked color or perms.

the fag hag = god bless this lady of the evening. She is any woman who shouts, "Fuck you men! And your unrealistic expectations of women!!" Girl, you know them ol' gay boys are gonna hang with you, so come on over. They refer to the gays as "the funnest people to be around," which roughly translates to "guys I don't have to shave or wear makeup around." A little known fact, the first fart on record by a female occurred while in the soothing and non-judgmental presence of gay males. INDICATOR: at least one junk food item somewhere on their person (or in their car).

the flame dame = gay men flock to this powerful woman. And the chances are good that heterosexual men try to get at her as well. Flame dames are usually well composed, confident, and most important, never overly dependent on men. In general or specific. More than anything, gay men act as shielding for the flame dame, repelling straight men in the heat of their cruising. INDICATOR: spontaneous house party on a Saturday night followed by spontaneous clean up afterward.

the homo honey = after serving a number of years within the Homosexual Agenda, any woman will have tolerated more than her fair share of drama, heartache, and self-loathing from her gay counterpart(s). She thus becomes eligible for the homo honeys. The many perks of this select group include access to a clothing and style advisory board, a 30% discount at any Lane Bryant store, and a lifetime of respect and admiration. INDICATOR: repeated requests from gay men to get the phone numbers of other gay men. BONUS INDICATOR: membership in the "Purse of the Month Club".

Again, stereotypes are shattered daily, so no angry comments. These are mere parameters, and half hearted ones at that. For the real story inside Hagdom, ladies will just have to support their local gay man and see for themselves. Live the adventure!

(Note: this program is not available for college credit.)

STUFFED!!

How I spent my Christmas break:

Sorry it's taking me so long to post something with substance. It's 20 degrees out, which means I'm hibernating. More soon...

THANKS BUT NO THANKS

Happy Thanksgiving everyone! This year, I'm thankful for many things; my health, my friends, my two jobs and relative good fortune. And of course I'm thankful for my audience of wise and interesting readers. But most of all, I'm thankful that I'm not hanging upside down, my head on the chopper as government looks on without a clue. That's the greatest gift of all.

PEEP SHOW

Happy Easter!!

BURNING BUSH

In honor of Stephen Colbert's new book release I Am America (And So Can You), I'd like to share with you his speech at the White House Correspondent's dinner. Prepare to laugh yourself stupid.

(part 1)

(part 2)

(part 3)

AGE OLD QUESTION

Finally, after years of speculation, we can answer which came first ...

EASTER HAS BEEN CANCELLED