It's late.
I'm a bit tired, but feeling creative.
Introspective.
Insightful.
Utterly unwound.
And I don't want to get in bed.
Because this feeling is one I rarely have.
I'm always too busy
or too drunk
or too consumed by the minutae of everyday.
I don't usually see the beauty around me.
I'm not watching for the things that spark this mind of mine.
I think I need to forget the small stuff
put down the bottle
and just enjoy this life as it floats on by.
December 29, 2007
Why can't we all just love each other?
This country is divided.
It's full of factions
sects
glorified high school cliques.
And none of them seem to like each other.
One clan calls the other fags,
sinners,
niggers.
The other strikes back with morons,
WASPs
crackers.
Most don't ever say these words.
But they think them
and the hate that broods beneath the surface shows.
We are a nation
a world
a singular people
divided.
Why can't we all,
in a world that lets us connect as never before,
just love each other?
Our differences are what make the world go round.
They advance the conversation,
They develop our collective mind.
But lately, it seems we do not want to know what lies ahead.
We'd rather cling to what we have
and march backwards into the oblivion from which we came.
For those of you that believe in a higher power,
love is the ticket to a happy eternity.
For those of you that don't,
love is the ticket to a happy today.
It's full of factions
sects
glorified high school cliques.
And none of them seem to like each other.
One clan calls the other fags,
sinners,
niggers.
The other strikes back with morons,
WASPs
crackers.
Most don't ever say these words.
But they think them
and the hate that broods beneath the surface shows.
We are a nation
a world
a singular people
divided.
Why can't we all,
in a world that lets us connect as never before,
just love each other?
Our differences are what make the world go round.
They advance the conversation,
They develop our collective mind.
But lately, it seems we do not want to know what lies ahead.
We'd rather cling to what we have
and march backwards into the oblivion from which we came.
For those of you that believe in a higher power,
love is the ticket to a happy eternity.
For those of you that don't,
love is the ticket to a happy today.
December 17, 2007
Things I've noticed.
The best feeling I can ever recall
is the just-right form of a well-worn mitt on my hand.
Creamy brown leather wraps my hand like a loving mother as I cross the street.
I always knew my glove wasn't the most expensive
nor the biggest
nor the newest.
And I used to always see that.
But one day I just knew,
"This is mine, and nothing else could be better"
Because with a friend like that,
Who needs anything else?
Well, recently I've begun to feel that way about other things.
Friends.
Family.
Almost family.
They all have their faults, I know.
They are close-minded,
impatient,
conservative,
overbearing.
But you know what?
Only I know these things.
And I finally get why that's a good thing.
is the just-right form of a well-worn mitt on my hand.
Creamy brown leather wraps my hand like a loving mother as I cross the street.
I always knew my glove wasn't the most expensive
nor the biggest
nor the newest.
And I used to always see that.
But one day I just knew,
"This is mine, and nothing else could be better"
Because with a friend like that,
Who needs anything else?
Well, recently I've begun to feel that way about other things.
Friends.
Family.
Almost family.
They all have their faults, I know.
They are close-minded,
impatient,
conservative,
overbearing.
But you know what?
Only I know these things.
And I finally get why that's a good thing.
I think now is the time to talk.
I am getting married to this girl soon,
And she has been with another.
Not by her choice,
but by that of a man that was bigger than her,
but didn't act that way.
He pushed her down.
He pushed himself in.
And, though he says he regrets it now,
that man committed an act that took away a young woman's rights,
confidence,
and most of all, trust.
She was strong.
I admire her for that.
She pushed up her chin,
and turned up the corners of her mouth
while she could have, should have been turned upside down.
I helped, I think.
Tried not to act as though my insides weren't ripped clean from my body.
Tried not to act as though we lost something only the two of us should have ever shared.
Tried not to show the anger, the rage, the resentment that boiled inside.
But there was only so much I could do.
I wasn't there.
I couldn't stop it.
I couldn't put up a fight.
I couldn't take a swing in the name of the one I love.
But no matter.
We cried.
We cried.
We cried.
We cried.
We talked.
We talked.
We talked.
We talked.
We built.
We built.
We built.
We built.
We built a palace on top of this rubble.
And now we're going to live in it
for the rest of our time on this earth.
So here's to you,
you rat-bastard shell of a man.
I hate hate hate hate hate you,
but you've brought me closer to the only one I want to be near.
And for that, I suppose, I forgive you.
And she has been with another.
Not by her choice,
but by that of a man that was bigger than her,
but didn't act that way.
He pushed her down.
He pushed himself in.
And, though he says he regrets it now,
that man committed an act that took away a young woman's rights,
confidence,
and most of all, trust.
She was strong.
I admire her for that.
She pushed up her chin,
and turned up the corners of her mouth
while she could have, should have been turned upside down.
I helped, I think.
Tried not to act as though my insides weren't ripped clean from my body.
Tried not to act as though we lost something only the two of us should have ever shared.
Tried not to show the anger, the rage, the resentment that boiled inside.
But there was only so much I could do.
I wasn't there.
I couldn't stop it.
I couldn't put up a fight.
I couldn't take a swing in the name of the one I love.
But no matter.
We cried.
We cried.
We cried.
We cried.
We talked.
We talked.
We talked.
We talked.
We built.
We built.
We built.
We built.
We built a palace on top of this rubble.
And now we're going to live in it
for the rest of our time on this earth.
So here's to you,
you rat-bastard shell of a man.
I hate hate hate hate hate you,
but you've brought me closer to the only one I want to be near.
And for that, I suppose, I forgive you.
December 14, 2007
Content.
Well, it has finally settled in.
In 9 short months my life will change.
I'll be in a different house,
and my mate will replace my mates.
I'll be married.
Wow.
The boy who looks like he's 16
and acts like he's 12
will officially be grown up.
Trippy, eh?
Most men worry about hanging on to their manhood.
Losing my boyhood is what worries me.
In 9 short months my life will change.
I'll be in a different house,
and my mate will replace my mates.
I'll be married.
Wow.
The boy who looks like he's 16
and acts like he's 12
will officially be grown up.
Trippy, eh?
Most men worry about hanging on to their manhood.
Losing my boyhood is what worries me.
December 3, 2007
Right now, your parents miss you.
Mark Fenske wrote that. Van Halen said it. I think we all know it.
This web comic (I didn't think I'd ever find a meaningful one of those, by the way) really made me think about how many people out there really care about what happens to me. And conversely, how many people I should show how much I care, too.
Copy and paste the link below to check out "Animal Crossing".
http://cache.kotaku.com/assets/resources/2007/11/animalcrossing_mirror.jpg
This web comic (I didn't think I'd ever find a meaningful one of those, by the way) really made me think about how many people out there really care about what happens to me. And conversely, how many people I should show how much I care, too.
Copy and paste the link below to check out "Animal Crossing".
http://cache.kotaku.com/assets/resources/2007/11/animalcrossing_mirror.jpg
November 27, 2007
It's never too late to give a little thanks
After a four-day trip to the motherland (also known as Columbus, Ohio), I've decided that I have a lot of things to be thankful for. Here are a few of them.
I'm thankful for old ladies who love to give me hugs.
I'm thankful for uncles who love to give me shit.
I'm thankful for little cousins who idolize me.
I'm thankful for all the relatives who don't care when you drink more than your share,
And who don't care when you see them after they have.
I'm thankful for two-turkey dinners for a house full of family.
I'm thankful for White Castle dinners for just me and my girl.
I'm thankful for Missouri football,
And fantasy football
But most of all backyard two-hand touch football.
I'm thankful for all the experiences I have every time I visit the motherland
And all those that go through them with me.
I'm thankful for old ladies who love to give me hugs.
I'm thankful for uncles who love to give me shit.
I'm thankful for little cousins who idolize me.
I'm thankful for all the relatives who don't care when you drink more than your share,
And who don't care when you see them after they have.
I'm thankful for two-turkey dinners for a house full of family.
I'm thankful for White Castle dinners for just me and my girl.
I'm thankful for Missouri football,
And fantasy football
But most of all backyard two-hand touch football.
I'm thankful for all the experiences I have every time I visit the motherland
And all those that go through them with me.
November 19, 2007
What a weekend.
Well, folks, last weekend was, without question, the best I've ever experienced.
Friday = iPhone
Saturday = Engaged
Sunday = Dinner @ Avenues w/the family
Yep, I'm doing just fine these days.
Friday = iPhone
Saturday = Engaged
Sunday = Dinner @ Avenues w/the family
Yep, I'm doing just fine these days.
November 16, 2007
A little much? Nah, I didn't think so either.
Well folks, the new shirts for the famous MU-KU Border War game are out, and boy are they classy.
Mizzou's, which is pictured above, sports a famous painting depicting Quantrill's raid, which, for those of you who don't know, was a systematic pillage burn and murder festival that a few Missouri "Bushwhackers" threw in the lovely (sort of) town of Lawrence, KS (otherwise known as the biggest of the seven gates to hell). On the back there is a total hard-ass quote by the man himself which reads "Raise the black flag and ride hard, boys. Our cause is just, and our enemies many."
Fucking Rock.
KU's shirt, in response to the just outside of loony one above, shows John Brown, who orchestrated the raid on Harper's Ferry. It has some stupid saying that I won't post because, as a rule, I try not to look at anything supporting Satanic organizations.
Mizzou's, which is pictured above, sports a famous painting depicting Quantrill's raid, which, for those of you who don't know, was a systematic pillage burn and murder festival that a few Missouri "Bushwhackers" threw in the lovely (sort of) town of Lawrence, KS (otherwise known as the biggest of the seven gates to hell). On the back there is a total hard-ass quote by the man himself which reads "Raise the black flag and ride hard, boys. Our cause is just, and our enemies many."
Fucking Rock.
KU's shirt, in response to the just outside of loony one above, shows John Brown, who orchestrated the raid on Harper's Ferry. It has some stupid saying that I won't post because, as a rule, I try not to look at anything supporting Satanic organizations.
November 1, 2007
It's nice to know they're out there, watching from afar.
Enjoy "a soldier's new year's eve."
A dark heavy night a young girl stranded far from home.
Cold we and shivering from the fear of being alone.
She continues on aimlessly and finally sees a light.
Pinsized like a candle, far away on this rainy night.
A slight glimpse of hope fills her as she strays.
Walking quickly towards this light, with its dim shallow rays.
Suddenly a silhouette of an old wooden shack,
Outlines in the night sky a cabin much more black.
Still shivering and cold on this rainy New Years Day,
The young girl knocks on the door, praying for a bed to lay.
She awaits by the door in silence, hearing nothing from within.
All at once the door swings open, revealing a man pale and thin.
She stutters out some words asking for a place to rest.
The man says not one word, just pulls some blankets from a chest.
He points to a dark corner where sit a cot of brown.
The young girl grabs the blankets laying her weary body down.
Before she falls asleep she glances around the room.
Lit by merely one candle with its dim eerie gloom.
She watches as this young man lays back down to rest.
Shivering with one blanket on the floor by the chest.
Before she falls asleep, she looks at the man to say:
"Why are you alone on this rainy New Years Day?
Where is your family? Where are your friends?
Loved ones should be together when the year comes to end.
Yet you lay here by yourself with one blanket on the floor.
One candle in the window, in one room, with one door.
No TV, no phone, no pictures on the wall.
Merely a rifle in the corner, cold black steel standing tall."
"Young girl," said the man, "I need but few things.
FOod and water to survive, why live like kings?
The lord is my company and care for me does He.
As He does for you by bringing you to me.
I'm a soldier, a killer some people may say
But I would give up my life for your freedom each day.
Live simply I do, for simple it must be
For extravagance and show boating does not make you free."
He rolled over and slept, shivering on the floor.
The young girl,confused, wanted to talk to him more.
But she soon fell asleep not awaking till dawn.
Looking around the room she saw the young man was gone.
A beautiful day covered the ground outside.
The girls stepped back into the cabin, of the man was no sign.
Then she noticed something strange, near where she slept.
A small peice of wood and into it was etched.
"I enjoyed your company the Lord graciously giveth.
I ask but one thing of you relating not to a gift.
The next time you talk about or think about being free
Remember the thousands of men preserving it like me."
A dark heavy night a young girl stranded far from home.
Cold we and shivering from the fear of being alone.
She continues on aimlessly and finally sees a light.
Pinsized like a candle, far away on this rainy night.
A slight glimpse of hope fills her as she strays.
Walking quickly towards this light, with its dim shallow rays.
Suddenly a silhouette of an old wooden shack,
Outlines in the night sky a cabin much more black.
Still shivering and cold on this rainy New Years Day,
The young girl knocks on the door, praying for a bed to lay.
She awaits by the door in silence, hearing nothing from within.
All at once the door swings open, revealing a man pale and thin.
She stutters out some words asking for a place to rest.
The man says not one word, just pulls some blankets from a chest.
He points to a dark corner where sit a cot of brown.
The young girl grabs the blankets laying her weary body down.
Before she falls asleep she glances around the room.
Lit by merely one candle with its dim eerie gloom.
She watches as this young man lays back down to rest.
Shivering with one blanket on the floor by the chest.
Before she falls asleep, she looks at the man to say:
"Why are you alone on this rainy New Years Day?
Where is your family? Where are your friends?
Loved ones should be together when the year comes to end.
Yet you lay here by yourself with one blanket on the floor.
One candle in the window, in one room, with one door.
No TV, no phone, no pictures on the wall.
Merely a rifle in the corner, cold black steel standing tall."
"Young girl," said the man, "I need but few things.
FOod and water to survive, why live like kings?
The lord is my company and care for me does He.
As He does for you by bringing you to me.
I'm a soldier, a killer some people may say
But I would give up my life for your freedom each day.
Live simply I do, for simple it must be
For extravagance and show boating does not make you free."
He rolled over and slept, shivering on the floor.
The young girl,confused, wanted to talk to him more.
But she soon fell asleep not awaking till dawn.
Looking around the room she saw the young man was gone.
A beautiful day covered the ground outside.
The girls stepped back into the cabin, of the man was no sign.
Then she noticed something strange, near where she slept.
A small peice of wood and into it was etched.
"I enjoyed your company the Lord graciously giveth.
I ask but one thing of you relating not to a gift.
The next time you talk about or think about being free
Remember the thousands of men preserving it like me."
October 31, 2007
It's finally the first day of the rest of my life.
Well, I'm in my new house.
It isn't complete.
The gas isn't on.
Neither is the cable.
All I have around here is my chair and my bed and my tv and this laptop.
I'm stealing the internet connection from my neighbors.
Remember to always protect your wi-fi, kids.
I have so little here.
Just me and the basics.
And yet, I feel like a king.
It must be because I finally finally finally have a castle.
It isn't complete.
The gas isn't on.
Neither is the cable.
All I have around here is my chair and my bed and my tv and this laptop.
I'm stealing the internet connection from my neighbors.
Remember to always protect your wi-fi, kids.
I have so little here.
Just me and the basics.
And yet, I feel like a king.
It must be because I finally finally finally have a castle.
But mom, strangers have the best candy!
Years ago all children had to worry about was finding a razor in the candy apples given out by Old Man Carruthers. Times have changed, and neighborhood creeps are finding new ways to tamper with Halloween candy putting sugar-loving children and parents in danger.
The following list has been assembled for your protection.
Hazardous Objects Commonly Hidden in Halloween Candy:
• Broken glass in Candy Corn.
• Dirty bomb in box of Junior Mints.
• Copy of Britney Spears' "Blackout" in king size Snickers.
• Marijuana laced Mary Janes.
• Al Qaeda Operative in Bit o’ Honey.
• Loaded revolver in package of Sixlets.
• Raisins in Box of Raisins.
• Gay marriage in Laffy Taffy.
• Lead paint in Tootsie Pops.
• Waterboarding in Charleston Chews Minis.
The following list has been assembled for your protection.
Hazardous Objects Commonly Hidden in Halloween Candy:
• Broken glass in Candy Corn.
• Dirty bomb in box of Junior Mints.
• Copy of Britney Spears' "Blackout" in king size Snickers.
• Marijuana laced Mary Janes.
• Al Qaeda Operative in Bit o’ Honey.
• Loaded revolver in package of Sixlets.
• Raisins in Box of Raisins.
• Gay marriage in Laffy Taffy.
• Lead paint in Tootsie Pops.
• Waterboarding in Charleston Chews Minis.
October 25, 2007
Gay people are gross - at least that's what my daddy told me.
Here's a post that sums up (fairly well, I think) the idiocy of the arguments against gay marriage:
The top ten reasons gay marriage is un-American:
1. Being gay is not natural. Real Americans always reject unnatural things like eyeglasses, polyester, and air conditioning.
2. Gay marriage will encourage people to be gay, in the same way that hanging around tall people will make you tall.
3. Legalizing gay marriage will open the door to all kinds of crazy behavior. People may even wish to marry their pets because a dog has legal standing and can sign a marriage contract.
4. Straight marriage has been around a long time and hasn’t changed at all; women are still property, blacks still can’t marry whites, and divorce is still illegal.
5. Straight marriage will be less meaningful if gay marriage were allowed; the sanctity of Britany Spears’ 55-hour just-for-fun marriage would be destroyed.
6. Straight marriages are valid because they produce children. Gay couples, infertile couples, and old people shouldn’t be allowed to marry because our orphanages aren’t full yet, and the world needs more children.
7. Obviously gay parents will raise gay children, since straight parents only raise straight children.
8. Gay marriage is not supported by religion. In a theocracy like ours, the values of one religion are imposed on the entire country. That’s why we have only one religion in America.
9. Children can never succeed without a male and a female role model at home. That’s why we as a society expressly forbid single parents to raise children.
10. Gay marriage will change the foundation of society; we could never adapt to new social norms. Just like we haven’t adapted to cars, the service-sector economy, or longer life spans.
The top ten reasons gay marriage is un-American:
1. Being gay is not natural. Real Americans always reject unnatural things like eyeglasses, polyester, and air conditioning.
2. Gay marriage will encourage people to be gay, in the same way that hanging around tall people will make you tall.
3. Legalizing gay marriage will open the door to all kinds of crazy behavior. People may even wish to marry their pets because a dog has legal standing and can sign a marriage contract.
4. Straight marriage has been around a long time and hasn’t changed at all; women are still property, blacks still can’t marry whites, and divorce is still illegal.
5. Straight marriage will be less meaningful if gay marriage were allowed; the sanctity of Britany Spears’ 55-hour just-for-fun marriage would be destroyed.
6. Straight marriages are valid because they produce children. Gay couples, infertile couples, and old people shouldn’t be allowed to marry because our orphanages aren’t full yet, and the world needs more children.
7. Obviously gay parents will raise gay children, since straight parents only raise straight children.
8. Gay marriage is not supported by religion. In a theocracy like ours, the values of one religion are imposed on the entire country. That’s why we have only one religion in America.
9. Children can never succeed without a male and a female role model at home. That’s why we as a society expressly forbid single parents to raise children.
10. Gay marriage will change the foundation of society; we could never adapt to new social norms. Just like we haven’t adapted to cars, the service-sector economy, or longer life spans.
October 18, 2007
A letter from a pastafarian
For those of you who don't know, a pastafarian is another name for a member of the church of the Flying Spaghetti Monster. Look that up here: www.venganza.org.
For the record, I'm not QUITE this angry, but I do agree with quite a bit of this blogger's opinions.
For more by her, check out gretachristina.blogspot.com. There's a lot of pretty decent writings on spirituality, religion, etc.
And now, all the reasons why atheists are so angry:
I'm angry that according to a recent Gallup poll, only 45 percent of Americans would vote for an atheist for President.
I'm angry that atheist conventions have to have extra security, including hand-held metal detectors and bag searches, because of fatwas and death threats.
I'm angry that atheist soldiers -- in the U.S. armed forces -- have had prayer ceremonies pressured on them and atheist meetings broken up by Christian superior officers, in direct violation of the First Amendment. I'm angry that evangelical Christian groups are being given exclusive access to proselytize on military bases -- again in the U.S. armed forces, again in direct violation of the First Amendment. I'm angry that atheist soldiers who are complaining about this are being harassed and are even getting death threats from Christian soldiers and superior officers -- yet again, in the U.S. armed forces. And I'm angry that Christians still say smug, sanctimonious things like, "there are no atheists in foxholes." You know why you're not seeing atheists in foxholes? Because believers are threatening to shoot them if they come out.
I'm angry that the 41st President of the United States, George Herbert Walker Bush, said of atheists, in my lifetime, "No, I don't know that atheists should be regarded as citizens, nor should they be regarded as patriotic. This is one nation under God." My President. No, I didn't vote for him, but he was still my President, and he still said that my lack of religious belief meant that I shouldn't be regarded as a citizen.
I'm angry that it took until 1961 for atheists to be guaranteed the right to serve on juries, testify in court, or hold public office in every state in the country.
I'm angry that almost half of Americans believe in creationism. And not a broad, "God had a hand in evolution" creationism, but a strict, young-earth, "God created man pretty much in his present form at one time within the last 10,000 years" creationism.
And on that topic: I'm angry that school boards all across this country are still -- 82 years after the Scopes trial -- having to spend time and money and resources on the fight to have evolution taught in the schools. School boards are not exactly loaded with time and money and resources, and any of the time/ money/ resources that they're spending fighting this stupid fight is time/ money/ resources that they're not spending, you know, teaching.
I'm angry that women are dying of AIDS in Africa and South America because the Catholic Church has convinced them that using condoms makes baby Jesus cry.
I'm angry that women are having septic abortions -- or are being forced to have unwanted children who they resent and mistreat -- because religious organizations have gotten laws passed making abortion illegal or inaccessible.
I'm angry about what happened to Galileo. Still. And I'm angry that it took the Catholic Church until 1992 to apologize for it.
I get angry when advice columnists tell their troubled letter-writers to talk to their priest or minister or rabbi... when there is absolutely no legal requirement that a religious leader have any sort of training in counseling or therapy.
And I get angry when religious leaders offer counseling and advice to troubled people -- sex advice, relationship advice, advice on depression and stress, etc. -- not based on any evidence about what actually does and does not work in people's brains and lives, but on the basis of what their religious doctrine tells them God wants for us.
I'm angry at preachers who tell women in their flock to submit to their husbands because it's the will of God, even when their husbands are beating them within an inch of their lives.
I'm angry that so many believers treat prayer as a sort of cosmic shopping list for God. I'm angry that believers pray to win sporting events, poker hands, beauty pageants, and more. As if they were the center of the universe, as if God gives a shit about who wins the NCAA Final Four -- and as if the other teams/ players/ contestants weren't praying just as hard.
I'm especially angry that so many believers treat prayer as a cosmic shopping list when it comes to health and illness. I'm angry that this belief leads to the revolting conclusion that God deliberately makes people sick so they’ll pray to him to get better. And I'm angry that they foist this belief on sick and dying children -- in essence teaching them that, if they don't get better, it's their fault. That they didn't pray hard enough, or they didn't pray right, or God just doesn't love them enough.
And I get angry when other believers insist that the cosmic shopping list isn't what religion and prayer are really about; that their own sophisticated theology is the true understanding of God. I get angry when believers insist that the shopping list is a straw man, an outmoded form of religion and prayer that nobody takes seriously, and it's absurd for atheists to criticize it.
I get angry when believers use terrible, grief-soaked tragedies as either opportunities to toot their own horns and talk about how wonderful their God and their religion are... or as opportunities to attack and demonize atheists and secularism.
I'm angry at the Sunday school teacher who told comic artist Craig Thompson that he couldn't draw in heaven. And I'm angry that she said it with the complete conviction of authority... when in fact she had no basis whatsoever for that assertion. How the hell did she know what Heaven was like? How could she possibly know that you could sing in heaven but not draw? And why the hell would you say something that squelching and dismissive to a talented child?
I'm angry that Mother Teresa took her personal suffering and despair at her lost faith in God, and turned it into an obsession that led her to treat suffering as a beautiful gift from Christ to humanity, a beautiful offering from humanity to God, and a necessary part of spiritual salvation. And I'm angry that this obsession apparently led her to offer grotesquely inadequate medical care and pain relief at her hospitals and hospices, in essence taking her personal crisis of faith out on millions of desperately poor and helpless people.
I'm angry at the trustee of the local Presbyterian church who told his teenage daughter that he didn't actually believe in God or religion, but that it was important to keep up his work because without religion there would be no morality in the world.
I'm angry that so many parents and religious leaders terrorize children -- who (a) have brains that are hard-wired to trust adults and believe what they're told, and (b) are very literal-minded -- with vivid, traumatizing stories of eternal burning and torture to ensure that they'll be too frightened to even question religion.
I'm angrier when religious leaders explicitly tell children – and adults, for that matter -- that the very questioning of religion and the existence of hell is a dreadful sin, one that will guarantee them that hell is where they'll end up.
I'm angry that children get taught by religion to hate and fear their bodies and their sexuality. And I'm especially angry that female children get taught by religion to hate and fear their femaleness, and that queer children get taught by religion to hate and fear their queerness.
I'm angry about the Muslim girl in the public school who was told -- by her public-school, taxpayer-paid teacher -- that the red stripes on Christmas candy canes represented Christ's blood, that she had to believe in and be saved by Jesus Christ or she'd be condemned to hell, and that if she didn't, there was no place for her in his classroom. And I'm angry that he told her not to come back to his class when she didn't convert.
I'm angry -- enraged -- at the priests who molest children and tell them it's God's will. I'm enraged at the Catholic Church that consciously, deliberately, repeatedly, for years, acted to protect priests who molested children, and consciously and deliberately acted to keep it a secret, placing the Church's reputation as a higher priority than, for fuck's sake, children not being molested. And I'm enraged that the Church is now trying to argue, in court, that protecting child-molesting priests from prosecution, and shuffling those priests from diocese to diocese so they can molest kids in a whole new community that doesn't yet suspect them, is a Constitutionally protected form of free religious expression.
I'm angry about 9/11.
And I'm angry that Jerry Falwell blamed 9/11 on pagans, abortionists, feminists, gays and lesbians, the ACLU, and the People For the American Way. I'm angry that the theology of a wrathful God exacting revenge against pagans and abortionists by sending radical Muslims to blow up a building full of secretaries and investment bankers... this was a theology held by a powerful, widely-respected religious leader with millions of followers.
I'm angry that, when my dad had a stroke and went into a nursing home, the staff asked my brother, "Is he a Baptist or a Catholic?" And I'm not just angry on behalf of my atheist dad. I'm angry on behalf of all the Jews, all the Buddhists, all the Muslims, all the neo-Pagans, whose families almost certainly got asked that same question. That question is enormously disrespectful, not just of my dad's atheism, but of everyone at that nursing home who wasn't a Baptist or a Catholic.
I'm angry about Ingrid's grandparents. I'm angry that their fundamentalism was such a huge source of strife and unhappiness in her family, that it alienated them so drastically from their children and grandchildren. I'm angry that they tried to cram it down Ingrid's throat, to the point that she's still traumatized by it. And I'm angry that their religion, which if nothing else should have been a comfort to them in their old age, was instead a source of anguish and despair -- because they knew their children and grandchildren were all going to be burned and tortured forever in Hell, and how could Heaven be Heaven if their children and grandchildren were being eternally burned and tortured in Hell?
I'm angry that Ingrid and I can't get legally married in this country -- or get legally married in another country and have it recognized by this one -- largely because religious leaders oppose it. And I'm angry that both religious and political leaders have discovered that they can score big points exploiting people's fears about sexuality in a changing world, fanning the flames of those fears... and giving people a religious excuse for why their fears are justified.
I'm angry that huge swaths of public policy in this country -- not just on same-sex marriage, but on abortion and stem-cell research and sex education in schools -- are being based, not on evidence of which policies do and don't work and what is and isn't true about the world, but on religious texts written hundreds or thousands of years ago, and on their own personal feelings about how those texts should be interpreted, with no supporting evidence whatsoever -- and no apparent concept of why any evidence should be needed.
I get angry when believers trumpet every good thing that's ever been done in the name of religion as a reason why religion is a force for good... and then, when confronted with the horrible evils done in religion's name, say that those evils weren't done because of religion, were done because of politics of greed or fear or whatever, would have been done anyway even without religion, and shouldn't be counted as religion's fault. (Of course, to be fair, I also get angry when atheists do the opposite: chalk up every evil thing done in the name of religion as a black mark on religion's record, but then insist that the good things were done for other reasons and would have been done anyway, etc. Neither side gets to have it both ways.)
I'm angry at the believers who put decals on their cars with a Faith fish eating a Darwin fish... and who think that's clever, who think that religious faith really should triumph over science and evidence. I'm angry at believers who have so little respect for the physical world their God supposedly created that they feel perfectly content to ignore the mountains of physical evidence piling up around them about that real world; perfectly content to see that world as somehow less real and true than their personal opinions about God.
(Note: The litany of specific grievances is now more than halfway over. Analysis of why anger is necessary and valuable is coming up soon. Promise.)
I get angry when religious leaders opportunistically use religion, and people's trust and faith in religion, to steal, cheat, lie, manipulate the political process, take sexual advantage of their followers, and generally behave like the scum of the earth. I get angry when it happens over and over and over again. And I get angry when people see this happening and still say that atheism is bad because, without religion, people would have no basis for morality or ethics, and no reason not to just do whatever they wanted.
I get angry when religious believers make arguments against atheism -- and make accusations against atheists -- without having bothered to talk to any atheists or read any atheist writing. I get angry when they trot out the same old "Atheism is a nihilistic philosophy, with no joy or meaning to life and no basis for morality or ethics"... when if they spent ten minutes in the atheist blogosphere, they would discover countless atheists who experience great joy and meaning in their lives, and are intensely concerned about right and wrong.
I get angry when believers use the phrase "atheist fundamentalist" without apparently knowing what the word "fundamentalist" means. Call people pig-headed, call them stubborn, call them snarky, call them intolerant even. But unless you can point to the text to which these "fundamentalist" atheists literally and strictly adhere without question, then please shut the hell up about us being fundamentalist.
I get angry when religious believers base their entire philosophy of life on what is, at best, a hunch; when they ignore or reject or rationalize any evidence that contradicts that hunch or calls it into question... and then accuse atheists of being close-minded and ignoring the obvious truth.
And I get angry when believers glorify religious faith without evidence as a positive virtue, a character trait that makes people good and noble... and then continue to accuse atheists of being close-minded and ignoring the obvious truth.
I get angry when believers say that they can know the truth -- the greatest truth of all about the nature of the universe, namely the source of all existence -- simply by sitting quietly and listening to their heart... and then accuse atheists of being arrogant. (This isn't just arrogant towards atheists and naturalists, either. It's arrogant towards people of other religions who have sat just as quietly, listened to their hearts with just as much sincerity, and come to completely opposite conclusions about God and the soul and the universe.)
And I get angry when believers say that the entire unimaginable enormity of the universe was made solely and specifically for the human race -- when atheists, by contrast, say that humanity is a microscopic dot on a microscopic dot, an infinitesimal eyeblink in the vastness of time and space -- and yet again, believers accuse atheists of being arrogant.
I get angry when believers say things like, "Yes, of course, the human mind isn't perfect, we see what we expect to see, we see faces and patterns and intention when they aren't necessarily there... but that couldn't be happening with me. The patterns I see in my life... they couldn't possibly be coincidence or confirmation bias. I'm definitely seeing the hand of God." (And then, once again, those same believers accuse atheists of being close-minded and only seeing what we want to see.)
I get angry when believers treat the gaps in science and scientific knowledge as somehow proof of the existence of God. I get angry when, despite a thousands-of-years-old pattern of supernatural explanations being consistently and repeatedly replaced with natural ones, they still think every single unexplained phenomenon can be best explained by God. And I'm angry that, whenever a gap in our knowledge does get filled in, believers either try to suppress it (see above re: evolution in the schools), or else say, "Okay, that part of the world isn't supernatural... but what about this gap over here? Can you explain that, Mr. Smarty-Pants Scientist? You can't! It must be God!"
I get angry when believers say at the beginning of an argument that their belief is based on reason and evidence, and at the end of the argument say things like, "It just seems that way to me," or, "I feel it in my heart"... as if that were a clincher. I mean, couldn't they have said that at the beginning of the argument, and not wasted my fucking time? My time is valuable and increasingly limited, and I have better things to do with it than debating with people who pretend to care about evidence and reason but ultimately don't.
I'm angry that I have to know more about their fucking religion than the believers do. I get angry when believers say things about the tenets and texts of their religion that are flatly untrue, and I have to correct them on it.
I get angry when believers treat any criticism of their religion -- i.e., pointing out that their religion is a hypothesis about the world and a philosophy of it, and asking it to stand up on its own in the marketplace of ideas -- as insulting and intolerant. I get angry when believers accuse atheists of being intolerant for saying things like, "I don't agree with you," "I think you're mistaken about that," "That doesn't make any sense," "I think that position is morally indefensible," and "What evidence do you have to support that?"
And on that point: I get angry when Christians in the United States -- members of the single most powerful and influential religious group in the country, in the wealthiest and most powerful country in the world -- act like beleaguered victims, martyrs being thrown to the lions all over again, whenever anyone criticizes them or they don't get their way.
I get angry when believers respond to some or all of these offenses by saying, "Well, that's not the true faith. Hating queers/ rejecting science/ stifling questions and dissent... that's not the true faith. People who do that aren't real (Christians/ Jews/ Muslims/ Hindus/ etc.)." As if they had a fucking pipeline to God. As if they had any reason at all to think that they know for sure what God wants, and that the billions of others who disagree with them just obviously have it wrong. (Besides -- I'm an atheist. The "They just aren't doing religion right" argument is not going to cut it with me. I don't think any of you have it right. To me, it all looks like something that people just made up.)
On that topic: I get angry when religious believers insist that their interpretation of their religion and religious text is the right one, and that fellow believers with an opposite interpretation clearly have it wrong. I get angry when believers insist that the parts about Jesus's prompt return and all prayers being answered are obviously not meant literally... but the parts about hell and damnation and gay sex being an abomination, that's real. And I get angry when believers insist that the parts about hell and damnation and gay sex being an abomination aren't meant literally, but the parts about caring for the poor are really what God meant. How the hell do they know which parts of the Bible/ Torah/ Koran/ Bhagavad-Gita/ whatever God really meant, and which parts he didn't? And if they don't know, if they're just basing it on their own moral instincts and their own perceptions of the world, then on what basis are they thinking that God and their sacred texts have anything to do with it at all? What right do they have to act as if their opinion is the same as God's and he's totally backing them up on it?
And I get angry when believers act as if these offenses aren't important, because "Not all believers act like that. I don't act like that." As if that fucking matters. This stuff is a major way that religion plays out in our world, and it makes me furious to hear religious believers try to minimize it because it's not how it happens to play out for them. It's like a white person responding to an African-American describing their experience of racism by saying, "But I'm not a racist." If you're not a racist, then can you shut the hell up for ten seconds and listen to the black people talk? And if you’re not bigoted against atheists and are sympathetic to us, then can you shut the hell up for ten seconds and let us tell you about what the world is like for us, without getting all defensive about how it's not your fault? When did this international conversation about atheism and religious oppression become all about you and your hurt feelings?
But perhaps most of all, I get angry -- sputteringly, inarticulately, pulse-racingly angry -- when believers chide atheists for being so angry. "Why do you have to be so angry all the time?" "All that anger is so off-putting." "If atheism is so great, then why are so many of you so angry?"
For the record, I'm not QUITE this angry, but I do agree with quite a bit of this blogger's opinions.
For more by her, check out gretachristina.blogspot.com. There's a lot of pretty decent writings on spirituality, religion, etc.
And now, all the reasons why atheists are so angry:
I'm angry that according to a recent Gallup poll, only 45 percent of Americans would vote for an atheist for President.
I'm angry that atheist conventions have to have extra security, including hand-held metal detectors and bag searches, because of fatwas and death threats.
I'm angry that atheist soldiers -- in the U.S. armed forces -- have had prayer ceremonies pressured on them and atheist meetings broken up by Christian superior officers, in direct violation of the First Amendment. I'm angry that evangelical Christian groups are being given exclusive access to proselytize on military bases -- again in the U.S. armed forces, again in direct violation of the First Amendment. I'm angry that atheist soldiers who are complaining about this are being harassed and are even getting death threats from Christian soldiers and superior officers -- yet again, in the U.S. armed forces. And I'm angry that Christians still say smug, sanctimonious things like, "there are no atheists in foxholes." You know why you're not seeing atheists in foxholes? Because believers are threatening to shoot them if they come out.
I'm angry that the 41st President of the United States, George Herbert Walker Bush, said of atheists, in my lifetime, "No, I don't know that atheists should be regarded as citizens, nor should they be regarded as patriotic. This is one nation under God." My President. No, I didn't vote for him, but he was still my President, and he still said that my lack of religious belief meant that I shouldn't be regarded as a citizen.
I'm angry that it took until 1961 for atheists to be guaranteed the right to serve on juries, testify in court, or hold public office in every state in the country.
I'm angry that almost half of Americans believe in creationism. And not a broad, "God had a hand in evolution" creationism, but a strict, young-earth, "God created man pretty much in his present form at one time within the last 10,000 years" creationism.
And on that topic: I'm angry that school boards all across this country are still -- 82 years after the Scopes trial -- having to spend time and money and resources on the fight to have evolution taught in the schools. School boards are not exactly loaded with time and money and resources, and any of the time/ money/ resources that they're spending fighting this stupid fight is time/ money/ resources that they're not spending, you know, teaching.
I'm angry that women are dying of AIDS in Africa and South America because the Catholic Church has convinced them that using condoms makes baby Jesus cry.
I'm angry that women are having septic abortions -- or are being forced to have unwanted children who they resent and mistreat -- because religious organizations have gotten laws passed making abortion illegal or inaccessible.
I'm angry about what happened to Galileo. Still. And I'm angry that it took the Catholic Church until 1992 to apologize for it.
I get angry when advice columnists tell their troubled letter-writers to talk to their priest or minister or rabbi... when there is absolutely no legal requirement that a religious leader have any sort of training in counseling or therapy.
And I get angry when religious leaders offer counseling and advice to troubled people -- sex advice, relationship advice, advice on depression and stress, etc. -- not based on any evidence about what actually does and does not work in people's brains and lives, but on the basis of what their religious doctrine tells them God wants for us.
I'm angry at preachers who tell women in their flock to submit to their husbands because it's the will of God, even when their husbands are beating them within an inch of their lives.
I'm angry that so many believers treat prayer as a sort of cosmic shopping list for God. I'm angry that believers pray to win sporting events, poker hands, beauty pageants, and more. As if they were the center of the universe, as if God gives a shit about who wins the NCAA Final Four -- and as if the other teams/ players/ contestants weren't praying just as hard.
I'm especially angry that so many believers treat prayer as a cosmic shopping list when it comes to health and illness. I'm angry that this belief leads to the revolting conclusion that God deliberately makes people sick so they’ll pray to him to get better. And I'm angry that they foist this belief on sick and dying children -- in essence teaching them that, if they don't get better, it's their fault. That they didn't pray hard enough, or they didn't pray right, or God just doesn't love them enough.
And I get angry when other believers insist that the cosmic shopping list isn't what religion and prayer are really about; that their own sophisticated theology is the true understanding of God. I get angry when believers insist that the shopping list is a straw man, an outmoded form of religion and prayer that nobody takes seriously, and it's absurd for atheists to criticize it.
I get angry when believers use terrible, grief-soaked tragedies as either opportunities to toot their own horns and talk about how wonderful their God and their religion are... or as opportunities to attack and demonize atheists and secularism.
I'm angry at the Sunday school teacher who told comic artist Craig Thompson that he couldn't draw in heaven. And I'm angry that she said it with the complete conviction of authority... when in fact she had no basis whatsoever for that assertion. How the hell did she know what Heaven was like? How could she possibly know that you could sing in heaven but not draw? And why the hell would you say something that squelching and dismissive to a talented child?
I'm angry that Mother Teresa took her personal suffering and despair at her lost faith in God, and turned it into an obsession that led her to treat suffering as a beautiful gift from Christ to humanity, a beautiful offering from humanity to God, and a necessary part of spiritual salvation. And I'm angry that this obsession apparently led her to offer grotesquely inadequate medical care and pain relief at her hospitals and hospices, in essence taking her personal crisis of faith out on millions of desperately poor and helpless people.
I'm angry at the trustee of the local Presbyterian church who told his teenage daughter that he didn't actually believe in God or religion, but that it was important to keep up his work because without religion there would be no morality in the world.
I'm angry that so many parents and religious leaders terrorize children -- who (a) have brains that are hard-wired to trust adults and believe what they're told, and (b) are very literal-minded -- with vivid, traumatizing stories of eternal burning and torture to ensure that they'll be too frightened to even question religion.
I'm angrier when religious leaders explicitly tell children – and adults, for that matter -- that the very questioning of religion and the existence of hell is a dreadful sin, one that will guarantee them that hell is where they'll end up.
I'm angry that children get taught by religion to hate and fear their bodies and their sexuality. And I'm especially angry that female children get taught by religion to hate and fear their femaleness, and that queer children get taught by religion to hate and fear their queerness.
I'm angry about the Muslim girl in the public school who was told -- by her public-school, taxpayer-paid teacher -- that the red stripes on Christmas candy canes represented Christ's blood, that she had to believe in and be saved by Jesus Christ or she'd be condemned to hell, and that if she didn't, there was no place for her in his classroom. And I'm angry that he told her not to come back to his class when she didn't convert.
I'm angry -- enraged -- at the priests who molest children and tell them it's God's will. I'm enraged at the Catholic Church that consciously, deliberately, repeatedly, for years, acted to protect priests who molested children, and consciously and deliberately acted to keep it a secret, placing the Church's reputation as a higher priority than, for fuck's sake, children not being molested. And I'm enraged that the Church is now trying to argue, in court, that protecting child-molesting priests from prosecution, and shuffling those priests from diocese to diocese so they can molest kids in a whole new community that doesn't yet suspect them, is a Constitutionally protected form of free religious expression.
I'm angry about 9/11.
And I'm angry that Jerry Falwell blamed 9/11 on pagans, abortionists, feminists, gays and lesbians, the ACLU, and the People For the American Way. I'm angry that the theology of a wrathful God exacting revenge against pagans and abortionists by sending radical Muslims to blow up a building full of secretaries and investment bankers... this was a theology held by a powerful, widely-respected religious leader with millions of followers.
I'm angry that, when my dad had a stroke and went into a nursing home, the staff asked my brother, "Is he a Baptist or a Catholic?" And I'm not just angry on behalf of my atheist dad. I'm angry on behalf of all the Jews, all the Buddhists, all the Muslims, all the neo-Pagans, whose families almost certainly got asked that same question. That question is enormously disrespectful, not just of my dad's atheism, but of everyone at that nursing home who wasn't a Baptist or a Catholic.
I'm angry about Ingrid's grandparents. I'm angry that their fundamentalism was such a huge source of strife and unhappiness in her family, that it alienated them so drastically from their children and grandchildren. I'm angry that they tried to cram it down Ingrid's throat, to the point that she's still traumatized by it. And I'm angry that their religion, which if nothing else should have been a comfort to them in their old age, was instead a source of anguish and despair -- because they knew their children and grandchildren were all going to be burned and tortured forever in Hell, and how could Heaven be Heaven if their children and grandchildren were being eternally burned and tortured in Hell?
I'm angry that Ingrid and I can't get legally married in this country -- or get legally married in another country and have it recognized by this one -- largely because religious leaders oppose it. And I'm angry that both religious and political leaders have discovered that they can score big points exploiting people's fears about sexuality in a changing world, fanning the flames of those fears... and giving people a religious excuse for why their fears are justified.
I'm angry that huge swaths of public policy in this country -- not just on same-sex marriage, but on abortion and stem-cell research and sex education in schools -- are being based, not on evidence of which policies do and don't work and what is and isn't true about the world, but on religious texts written hundreds or thousands of years ago, and on their own personal feelings about how those texts should be interpreted, with no supporting evidence whatsoever -- and no apparent concept of why any evidence should be needed.
I get angry when believers trumpet every good thing that's ever been done in the name of religion as a reason why religion is a force for good... and then, when confronted with the horrible evils done in religion's name, say that those evils weren't done because of religion, were done because of politics of greed or fear or whatever, would have been done anyway even without religion, and shouldn't be counted as religion's fault. (Of course, to be fair, I also get angry when atheists do the opposite: chalk up every evil thing done in the name of religion as a black mark on religion's record, but then insist that the good things were done for other reasons and would have been done anyway, etc. Neither side gets to have it both ways.)
I'm angry at the believers who put decals on their cars with a Faith fish eating a Darwin fish... and who think that's clever, who think that religious faith really should triumph over science and evidence. I'm angry at believers who have so little respect for the physical world their God supposedly created that they feel perfectly content to ignore the mountains of physical evidence piling up around them about that real world; perfectly content to see that world as somehow less real and true than their personal opinions about God.
(Note: The litany of specific grievances is now more than halfway over. Analysis of why anger is necessary and valuable is coming up soon. Promise.)
I get angry when religious leaders opportunistically use religion, and people's trust and faith in religion, to steal, cheat, lie, manipulate the political process, take sexual advantage of their followers, and generally behave like the scum of the earth. I get angry when it happens over and over and over again. And I get angry when people see this happening and still say that atheism is bad because, without religion, people would have no basis for morality or ethics, and no reason not to just do whatever they wanted.
I get angry when religious believers make arguments against atheism -- and make accusations against atheists -- without having bothered to talk to any atheists or read any atheist writing. I get angry when they trot out the same old "Atheism is a nihilistic philosophy, with no joy or meaning to life and no basis for morality or ethics"... when if they spent ten minutes in the atheist blogosphere, they would discover countless atheists who experience great joy and meaning in their lives, and are intensely concerned about right and wrong.
I get angry when believers use the phrase "atheist fundamentalist" without apparently knowing what the word "fundamentalist" means. Call people pig-headed, call them stubborn, call them snarky, call them intolerant even. But unless you can point to the text to which these "fundamentalist" atheists literally and strictly adhere without question, then please shut the hell up about us being fundamentalist.
I get angry when religious believers base their entire philosophy of life on what is, at best, a hunch; when they ignore or reject or rationalize any evidence that contradicts that hunch or calls it into question... and then accuse atheists of being close-minded and ignoring the obvious truth.
And I get angry when believers glorify religious faith without evidence as a positive virtue, a character trait that makes people good and noble... and then continue to accuse atheists of being close-minded and ignoring the obvious truth.
I get angry when believers say that they can know the truth -- the greatest truth of all about the nature of the universe, namely the source of all existence -- simply by sitting quietly and listening to their heart... and then accuse atheists of being arrogant. (This isn't just arrogant towards atheists and naturalists, either. It's arrogant towards people of other religions who have sat just as quietly, listened to their hearts with just as much sincerity, and come to completely opposite conclusions about God and the soul and the universe.)
And I get angry when believers say that the entire unimaginable enormity of the universe was made solely and specifically for the human race -- when atheists, by contrast, say that humanity is a microscopic dot on a microscopic dot, an infinitesimal eyeblink in the vastness of time and space -- and yet again, believers accuse atheists of being arrogant.
I get angry when believers say things like, "Yes, of course, the human mind isn't perfect, we see what we expect to see, we see faces and patterns and intention when they aren't necessarily there... but that couldn't be happening with me. The patterns I see in my life... they couldn't possibly be coincidence or confirmation bias. I'm definitely seeing the hand of God." (And then, once again, those same believers accuse atheists of being close-minded and only seeing what we want to see.)
I get angry when believers treat the gaps in science and scientific knowledge as somehow proof of the existence of God. I get angry when, despite a thousands-of-years-old pattern of supernatural explanations being consistently and repeatedly replaced with natural ones, they still think every single unexplained phenomenon can be best explained by God. And I'm angry that, whenever a gap in our knowledge does get filled in, believers either try to suppress it (see above re: evolution in the schools), or else say, "Okay, that part of the world isn't supernatural... but what about this gap over here? Can you explain that, Mr. Smarty-Pants Scientist? You can't! It must be God!"
I get angry when believers say at the beginning of an argument that their belief is based on reason and evidence, and at the end of the argument say things like, "It just seems that way to me," or, "I feel it in my heart"... as if that were a clincher. I mean, couldn't they have said that at the beginning of the argument, and not wasted my fucking time? My time is valuable and increasingly limited, and I have better things to do with it than debating with people who pretend to care about evidence and reason but ultimately don't.
I'm angry that I have to know more about their fucking religion than the believers do. I get angry when believers say things about the tenets and texts of their religion that are flatly untrue, and I have to correct them on it.
I get angry when believers treat any criticism of their religion -- i.e., pointing out that their religion is a hypothesis about the world and a philosophy of it, and asking it to stand up on its own in the marketplace of ideas -- as insulting and intolerant. I get angry when believers accuse atheists of being intolerant for saying things like, "I don't agree with you," "I think you're mistaken about that," "That doesn't make any sense," "I think that position is morally indefensible," and "What evidence do you have to support that?"
And on that point: I get angry when Christians in the United States -- members of the single most powerful and influential religious group in the country, in the wealthiest and most powerful country in the world -- act like beleaguered victims, martyrs being thrown to the lions all over again, whenever anyone criticizes them or they don't get their way.
I get angry when believers respond to some or all of these offenses by saying, "Well, that's not the true faith. Hating queers/ rejecting science/ stifling questions and dissent... that's not the true faith. People who do that aren't real (Christians/ Jews/ Muslims/ Hindus/ etc.)." As if they had a fucking pipeline to God. As if they had any reason at all to think that they know for sure what God wants, and that the billions of others who disagree with them just obviously have it wrong. (Besides -- I'm an atheist. The "They just aren't doing religion right" argument is not going to cut it with me. I don't think any of you have it right. To me, it all looks like something that people just made up.)
On that topic: I get angry when religious believers insist that their interpretation of their religion and religious text is the right one, and that fellow believers with an opposite interpretation clearly have it wrong. I get angry when believers insist that the parts about Jesus's prompt return and all prayers being answered are obviously not meant literally... but the parts about hell and damnation and gay sex being an abomination, that's real. And I get angry when believers insist that the parts about hell and damnation and gay sex being an abomination aren't meant literally, but the parts about caring for the poor are really what God meant. How the hell do they know which parts of the Bible/ Torah/ Koran/ Bhagavad-Gita/ whatever God really meant, and which parts he didn't? And if they don't know, if they're just basing it on their own moral instincts and their own perceptions of the world, then on what basis are they thinking that God and their sacred texts have anything to do with it at all? What right do they have to act as if their opinion is the same as God's and he's totally backing them up on it?
And I get angry when believers act as if these offenses aren't important, because "Not all believers act like that. I don't act like that." As if that fucking matters. This stuff is a major way that religion plays out in our world, and it makes me furious to hear religious believers try to minimize it because it's not how it happens to play out for them. It's like a white person responding to an African-American describing their experience of racism by saying, "But I'm not a racist." If you're not a racist, then can you shut the hell up for ten seconds and listen to the black people talk? And if you’re not bigoted against atheists and are sympathetic to us, then can you shut the hell up for ten seconds and let us tell you about what the world is like for us, without getting all defensive about how it's not your fault? When did this international conversation about atheism and religious oppression become all about you and your hurt feelings?
But perhaps most of all, I get angry -- sputteringly, inarticulately, pulse-racingly angry -- when believers chide atheists for being so angry. "Why do you have to be so angry all the time?" "All that anger is so off-putting." "If atheism is so great, then why are so many of you so angry?"
October 16, 2007
So this is what the edge looks like.
I've got a job writing ads.
I'm about to get my own place.
I'm about to get my own car.
I'm about to buy a diamond ring.
Shouldn't I be anxious, worried, scared
to embark on the rest of my life?
I don't think so.
I like the way it sounds.
I'm about to get my own place.
I'm about to get my own car.
I'm about to buy a diamond ring.
Shouldn't I be anxious, worried, scared
to embark on the rest of my life?
I don't think so.
I like the way it sounds.
October 8, 2007
This is what I need some days.
Some days I need this to tell me,
"Yes, there is still good out here
on sunny days in back yards across America."
September 21, 2007
Cats: Well, at least they're good for something.
If loving LOLCats is wrong, I don't wanna be right.
These things, once just a joke among internet geeks, are now becoming a bonafide phenomenon. Check out an article about them here:
http://www.chron.com/disp/story.mpl/business/silverman/4862013.html
And if LOLCats rock your world like they rock mine, go here for more:
www.icanhascheezburger.com
September 18, 2007
September 15, 2007
We've got your back, and the shirt that's on it.
One of the more inspiring news stories I've read this year. It's good to see what solidarity and mutual support can do to change the world. I'm certainly happy I've had the luxury of great family, friends and mentors (educational, professional, life-essional) that have allowed my to shape my life.
CAMBRIDGE — Two students at Central Kings Rural High School fought back against bullying recently, unleashing a sea of pink after a new student was harassed and threatened when he showed up wearing a pink shirt.
The Grade 9 student arrived for the first day of school last Wednesday and was set upon by a group of six to 10 older students who mocked him, called him a homosexual for wearing pink and threatened to beat him up.
The next day, Grade 12 students David Shepherd and Travis Price decided something had to be done about bullying.
"It’s my last year. I’ve stood around too long and I wanted to do something," said David.
They used the Internet to encourage people to wear pink and bought 75 pink tank tops for male students to wear. They handed out the shirts in the lobby before class last Friday — even the bullied student had one.
"I made sure there was a shirt for him," David said.
They also brought a pink basketball to school as well as pink material for headbands and arm bands. David and Travis figure about half the school’s 830 students wore pink.
It was hard to miss the mass of students in pink milling about in the lobby, especially for the group that had harassed the new Grade 9 student.
"The bullies got angry," said Travis. "One guy was throwing chairs (in the cafeteria). We’re glad we got the response we wanted."
David said one of the bullies angrily asked him whether he knew pink on a male was a symbol of homosexuality.
He told the bully that didn’t matter to him and shouldn’t to anyone.
"Something like the colour of your shirt or pants, that’s ridiculous," he said.
"Our intention was to stand up for this kid so he doesn’t get picked on."
Travis said the bullies "keep giving us dirty looks, but we know we have the support of the whole student body.
"Kids don’t need this in their lives, worrying about what to wear to school. That should be the last thing on their minds."
When the bullied student put on his pink shirt Friday and saw all the other pink in the lobby, "he was all smiles. It was like a big weight had been lifted off is shoulder," David said. No one at the school would reveal the student’s name.
Travis said that growing up, he was often picked on for wearing store-brand clothes instead of designer duds.
The two friends said they didn’t take the action looking for publicity, but rather to show leadership in combating what they say is frequent bullying in schools.
To all those out there who helped me - from the couple who gave me life to the guy on the corner that helped me pick up the books I dropped all over - thank you. You have truly made a difference in the life of at least one person on this earth, and for that you should be acclaimed.
CAMBRIDGE — Two students at Central Kings Rural High School fought back against bullying recently, unleashing a sea of pink after a new student was harassed and threatened when he showed up wearing a pink shirt.
The Grade 9 student arrived for the first day of school last Wednesday and was set upon by a group of six to 10 older students who mocked him, called him a homosexual for wearing pink and threatened to beat him up.
The next day, Grade 12 students David Shepherd and Travis Price decided something had to be done about bullying.
"It’s my last year. I’ve stood around too long and I wanted to do something," said David.
They used the Internet to encourage people to wear pink and bought 75 pink tank tops for male students to wear. They handed out the shirts in the lobby before class last Friday — even the bullied student had one.
"I made sure there was a shirt for him," David said.
They also brought a pink basketball to school as well as pink material for headbands and arm bands. David and Travis figure about half the school’s 830 students wore pink.
It was hard to miss the mass of students in pink milling about in the lobby, especially for the group that had harassed the new Grade 9 student.
"The bullies got angry," said Travis. "One guy was throwing chairs (in the cafeteria). We’re glad we got the response we wanted."
David said one of the bullies angrily asked him whether he knew pink on a male was a symbol of homosexuality.
He told the bully that didn’t matter to him and shouldn’t to anyone.
"Something like the colour of your shirt or pants, that’s ridiculous," he said.
"Our intention was to stand up for this kid so he doesn’t get picked on."
Travis said the bullies "keep giving us dirty looks, but we know we have the support of the whole student body.
"Kids don’t need this in their lives, worrying about what to wear to school. That should be the last thing on their minds."
When the bullied student put on his pink shirt Friday and saw all the other pink in the lobby, "he was all smiles. It was like a big weight had been lifted off is shoulder," David said. No one at the school would reveal the student’s name.
Travis said that growing up, he was often picked on for wearing store-brand clothes instead of designer duds.
The two friends said they didn’t take the action looking for publicity, but rather to show leadership in combating what they say is frequent bullying in schools.
To all those out there who helped me - from the couple who gave me life to the guy on the corner that helped me pick up the books I dropped all over - thank you. You have truly made a difference in the life of at least one person on this earth, and for that you should be acclaimed.
September 12, 2007
I AM IMPORTANT! Said the speck of dust.
I spotted this piece on a forum where there were lots of folks saying that they believe that this advertisement, and many other pieces of art, ads, etc, like it predicted the events of September 11th, 2001.
I think it's more likely that the ad men and women behind the pieces, like most ad men and women, were merely trying to communicate a message relevant for the time (in this case, the early 1980s) with little concern for what the future held.
This piece is a good reminder that we in advertising are, in the grand scheme of things, supremely unimportant. All that we do is temporary, dependant on the present and rendered obsolete by the future. I think many inhabitants of this big ball of dirt, myself included, might do well to realize this fact more often.
September 10, 2007
I'm going shopping. Mind if I take the Suburban?
I had a half-drunken conversation with a few close friends this weekend about the state of the Union.
We've decided we're going to hell in a handbasket, and possibly a lot sooner than we thought. Oil prices are as high as they've every been, yet so has the percentage of Americans driving V-8 powered vehicles. We spend too much. We save to little. We focus on what we have instead of what we know.
In short, we're stupid, we're shallow, and we're increasingly both individually and nationally in debt.
And all the while lots of young men, including a few that I've had the pleasure of knowing before their deployment, are dying so that we may procure even more oil to fuel our stupid, shallow, indebted populace.
America: Fuck No.
September 6, 2007
Blimps: Laying waste to humanity at 3 miles per hour.
This has got to be one of the funniest stories I've read in a long, long time. Check it out.
THE HORROR OF BLIMPS
Last week while travelling I stopped at a Zany Brainy store and saw that they had a blimp for sale. It's called Airship Earth, and it's a great big balloon with a map of the Earth on it, and two propellors hanging from the bottom. You blow up the balloon with helium put batteries in it, and you have a radio controll indoor blimp.
I'd seen these things for sale in Sharper Image catalogs for $60-$75. At Zany Brainy it was on clearance for $15. What a deal!
Last night my wife was playing tennis and it was just my daughter and I at home. I bought a small helium tank from a party store, and last night we put the blimp together.
Let me tell you, it's quite a blimp. It's huge. The balloon has like a 3 ft diameter.
We blew it up with the tank attacched the gondola with the propellors, and put in batteries.
Then we balanced the blimp for neutral bouyancy with this putty that came with it, so it hangs in the air by itself neither rising nor falling.
It was easy and fun, and then I blew up another balloon and made Mickey Mouse helium voices for my daughter.
My three year old girl loved it. We flew the blimp all over the house, terrorized the dog, attacked the fish tank, and the controls were so easy my daughter could fly.
Let's face it, blimps are fun.
Alas, the fun had to end and my daughter had to go to sleep. I left the blimp floating in my office downstairs, my wife came home, and we went to bed, and slept the sleep of the righteous.
At this point it is important to know that my house has central heating. I have it configured to blow hot air out on the ground floor and take it in at the second floor to take advantage of the fact that heat rises.
The blimp which was up until this moment a fun toy here embarked on a career of evil. Using the artificial convection of my central heating, the blimp stealthily departed my office. It moved silently through the living and drifted to the staircase. Gliding wraithlike over the staircase it then entered the bedroom where my wife and I lay sleeping peacefully.
Running silently, and gliding six feet or so above the ground on invisible and tiny air currects it approached the bed.
In spite of it's noiseless passage, or perhaps because of it, I awoke. That doesn't really say it properly. Let me try again.
I awoke, the way you awake at 2:00 AM when your sleeping senses suddenly tell you without reason that the forces of evil on converging on you.
That still doesn't do it. Let me try one more time.
I awoke the way you awake when you suddenly know that there is a large levitating sinister presence hovering towards you with menacing intent through the maligant darkness.
Now sometimes I do wake up in the middle of the night thinking that there are large sinister and menacing things floating out of the darkness to do me and mine evil. Usually I open my eyes, look and listen carefully, decide it was a false alarm, and go back to sleep.
So, the fact that I awoke in such a manner was not all that unusual.
On this occasion I awoke to the sense that there was a large menacing presence approaching me silently out of the gloom, so I opened my eyes, and there it was! A LARGE SILENT MENACING PRESENCE WAS APPROACHING ME OUT OF THE GLOOM, AND IT COULD FLY!!!
Somewhere in the control room of my mind a fat little dwarf in a security outfit was paging through a Penthouse while smoking a cigar with his feet up on the table, watching the security monitors of my brain with his peripheral vision. Suddenly he saw the LARGE SILENT SINSITER MENACING FLOATING PRESENCE coming at me, and he pulled every panic switch and hit every alarm that my body has. A full decade's allotment of adrenaline was dumped into my bloodstream all at once. My metabolism went from "restful sleep mode" to HOLY SHIT! FIGHT FOR YOUR LIFE OR DIE!!!! mode" in a nanosecond. My heart went from twenty something beats per minute to about 240 even faster.
I always knew this was going to happen. I always knew that skepticism and science were mere psychological decorations and vanities. Deep in our alligator brains we all know that the world is just chock full of evil and monsters and sinister forces aligned against us, and it is only a matter of time until they show up. Evolution know this, too. It knows what to do when the silent terror comes at you from out of the dark.
When 50 million years worth of evolutionary survival instinct hits you all at once flat in the gut at 200 mph it is not a pleasant sensation.
Without volition I screamed my battle cry (which is indistinguishable to the sound a little girl makes when you drop a spider down her dress (not that I'd know what that sounds like,) and lept out of bed in my underwear.
I struck the approaching menace with all my strength and almost fell over at the total lack of resistance that a helium balloon offers when you punch the living shit out of it with all the stength that sudden middle of the night terror produces.
It's trajectory took it straight into the ceiling fan which whipped it about the room at terrifying velocity.
Seeking a weapon, I ripped the alarm clock out of its plug and hurled it at the now High Velocity Menacing presence (breaking the clock and putting a nice hole in the wall.)
Somehow at this moment I suddenly realized that I was fighting the blimp, and not a monster. It might have been funny if I didn't truly and actually feel like I was having a legitimate heart-attack.
On quivering legs I went to the bathroom and literally gagged into the toilet while shaking uncontrollably with the shock of the reaction I'd had.
Unbeleivably, both my wife and daughter had completely slept through the incident. When I decided that I wasn't having a heart attack after all I went back into the bedroom and found the blimp which had somehow survived the incident.
I took it to the walk in closet and released it inside where it floated around with the air currents released from the vents in there. I closed the door, this sealing it in, and went back to bed. About 500 years later I fell asleep.
***
At about 7 am my wife awoke. She had been playing tennis and wasn't aware that we have assembled the blimp the previous evening, and that is was now floating around the the walk-in closet that she approached.
The dyndamic between the existing air currents of the closet and the suction caused by opening the door was just enough to give the blimp the appearance of an Evil Sinister Menace flying straight towards her.
This time the blimp did not survive the encounter, nor almost, did I, as I had to explain to my very angry spouse what motivated me to hide an evil lurking presence in the closet for her to find at 7 am.
I can order replacement balloons on the internet but I don't think I will.
Some blimps are better off dead.
THE HORROR OF BLIMPS
Last week while travelling I stopped at a Zany Brainy store and saw that they had a blimp for sale. It's called Airship Earth, and it's a great big balloon with a map of the Earth on it, and two propellors hanging from the bottom. You blow up the balloon with helium put batteries in it, and you have a radio controll indoor blimp.
I'd seen these things for sale in Sharper Image catalogs for $60-$75. At Zany Brainy it was on clearance for $15. What a deal!
Last night my wife was playing tennis and it was just my daughter and I at home. I bought a small helium tank from a party store, and last night we put the blimp together.
Let me tell you, it's quite a blimp. It's huge. The balloon has like a 3 ft diameter.
We blew it up with the tank attacched the gondola with the propellors, and put in batteries.
Then we balanced the blimp for neutral bouyancy with this putty that came with it, so it hangs in the air by itself neither rising nor falling.
It was easy and fun, and then I blew up another balloon and made Mickey Mouse helium voices for my daughter.
My three year old girl loved it. We flew the blimp all over the house, terrorized the dog, attacked the fish tank, and the controls were so easy my daughter could fly.
Let's face it, blimps are fun.
Alas, the fun had to end and my daughter had to go to sleep. I left the blimp floating in my office downstairs, my wife came home, and we went to bed, and slept the sleep of the righteous.
At this point it is important to know that my house has central heating. I have it configured to blow hot air out on the ground floor and take it in at the second floor to take advantage of the fact that heat rises.
The blimp which was up until this moment a fun toy here embarked on a career of evil. Using the artificial convection of my central heating, the blimp stealthily departed my office. It moved silently through the living and drifted to the staircase. Gliding wraithlike over the staircase it then entered the bedroom where my wife and I lay sleeping peacefully.
Running silently, and gliding six feet or so above the ground on invisible and tiny air currects it approached the bed.
In spite of it's noiseless passage, or perhaps because of it, I awoke. That doesn't really say it properly. Let me try again.
I awoke, the way you awake at 2:00 AM when your sleeping senses suddenly tell you without reason that the forces of evil on converging on you.
That still doesn't do it. Let me try one more time.
I awoke the way you awake when you suddenly know that there is a large levitating sinister presence hovering towards you with menacing intent through the maligant darkness.
Now sometimes I do wake up in the middle of the night thinking that there are large sinister and menacing things floating out of the darkness to do me and mine evil. Usually I open my eyes, look and listen carefully, decide it was a false alarm, and go back to sleep.
So, the fact that I awoke in such a manner was not all that unusual.
On this occasion I awoke to the sense that there was a large menacing presence approaching me silently out of the gloom, so I opened my eyes, and there it was! A LARGE SILENT MENACING PRESENCE WAS APPROACHING ME OUT OF THE GLOOM, AND IT COULD FLY!!!
Somewhere in the control room of my mind a fat little dwarf in a security outfit was paging through a Penthouse while smoking a cigar with his feet up on the table, watching the security monitors of my brain with his peripheral vision. Suddenly he saw the LARGE SILENT SINSITER MENACING FLOATING PRESENCE coming at me, and he pulled every panic switch and hit every alarm that my body has. A full decade's allotment of adrenaline was dumped into my bloodstream all at once. My metabolism went from "restful sleep mode" to HOLY SHIT! FIGHT FOR YOUR LIFE OR DIE!!!! mode" in a nanosecond. My heart went from twenty something beats per minute to about 240 even faster.
I always knew this was going to happen. I always knew that skepticism and science were mere psychological decorations and vanities. Deep in our alligator brains we all know that the world is just chock full of evil and monsters and sinister forces aligned against us, and it is only a matter of time until they show up. Evolution know this, too. It knows what to do when the silent terror comes at you from out of the dark.
When 50 million years worth of evolutionary survival instinct hits you all at once flat in the gut at 200 mph it is not a pleasant sensation.
Without volition I screamed my battle cry (which is indistinguishable to the sound a little girl makes when you drop a spider down her dress (not that I'd know what that sounds like,) and lept out of bed in my underwear.
I struck the approaching menace with all my strength and almost fell over at the total lack of resistance that a helium balloon offers when you punch the living shit out of it with all the stength that sudden middle of the night terror produces.
It's trajectory took it straight into the ceiling fan which whipped it about the room at terrifying velocity.
Seeking a weapon, I ripped the alarm clock out of its plug and hurled it at the now High Velocity Menacing presence (breaking the clock and putting a nice hole in the wall.)
Somehow at this moment I suddenly realized that I was fighting the blimp, and not a monster. It might have been funny if I didn't truly and actually feel like I was having a legitimate heart-attack.
On quivering legs I went to the bathroom and literally gagged into the toilet while shaking uncontrollably with the shock of the reaction I'd had.
Unbeleivably, both my wife and daughter had completely slept through the incident. When I decided that I wasn't having a heart attack after all I went back into the bedroom and found the blimp which had somehow survived the incident.
I took it to the walk in closet and released it inside where it floated around with the air currents released from the vents in there. I closed the door, this sealing it in, and went back to bed. About 500 years later I fell asleep.
***
At about 7 am my wife awoke. She had been playing tennis and wasn't aware that we have assembled the blimp the previous evening, and that is was now floating around the the walk-in closet that she approached.
The dyndamic between the existing air currents of the closet and the suction caused by opening the door was just enough to give the blimp the appearance of an Evil Sinister Menace flying straight towards her.
This time the blimp did not survive the encounter, nor almost, did I, as I had to explain to my very angry spouse what motivated me to hide an evil lurking presence in the closet for her to find at 7 am.
I can order replacement balloons on the internet but I don't think I will.
Some blimps are better off dead.
Another Slap at the OSHA folks.
I especially appreciate the guy up on the lifted forklift. You couldn't make me stand there for $1,000.
OK, maybe I'd do it for that much. I am just a poor entry-level minion after all.
September 4, 2007
Go Green.
I attended the Kansas City Irish Festival over the weekend, and had a rollickin' good time drinking Pale and rockin' out to The Elders, whose song-writing I typically find to be just OK. One song this weekend, though, I did find to be well-written and, as is the norm with The Elders, wonderfully performed in front of a crowd of 20,000 or so crazy drunk Irish Kansas Citians. Here it is:
Right With The World
When the river flows up to the mountain
When the crooked turn into the curled
There’ll be plenty too many for countin’ my friend
When everything’s right with the world
When we ride off into the sunset
When the hero comes home with the girl
We’ll be ridin’ with queens in their long limousines
When everything’s right with the world
Not a word will be spoken in anger
We will hold every loving cup high
We will look our old enemies straight in the eye
As we drink to you and I
When the presidents fold up and go home
When the flags of the battle are furled
We’ll tear down the temples of concrete and chrome
When everything’s right with the world
When the arrows all fall away harmless
And the slings have already been hurled
We’ll unravel the road that we traveled from home
When everything’s right with the world
When the rumor turns into a reason
And the ghosts of rebellion have swirled
We won’t need any proof to follow the truth
When everything’s right with the World
Have a listen here. Track 5 on "Racing the Tide".
Right With The World
When the river flows up to the mountain
When the crooked turn into the curled
There’ll be plenty too many for countin’ my friend
When everything’s right with the world
When we ride off into the sunset
When the hero comes home with the girl
We’ll be ridin’ with queens in their long limousines
When everything’s right with the world
Not a word will be spoken in anger
We will hold every loving cup high
We will look our old enemies straight in the eye
As we drink to you and I
When the presidents fold up and go home
When the flags of the battle are furled
We’ll tear down the temples of concrete and chrome
When everything’s right with the world
When the arrows all fall away harmless
And the slings have already been hurled
We’ll unravel the road that we traveled from home
When everything’s right with the world
When the rumor turns into a reason
And the ghosts of rebellion have swirled
We won’t need any proof to follow the truth
When everything’s right with the World
Have a listen here. Track 5 on "Racing the Tide".
September 3, 2007
Thoughts from a Royal poet.
Dan Quisenberry pitched in two World Series. He invented the submarine sinkerball. He was the most devastating closer in the American League for some of the greatest Royals teams in history. In 1998 he was the 15th person and the first relief pitcher inducted into the Royals Hall of Fame. The Quiz is a Kansas City legend.
And yet I love the man for his words.
After he retired, Dan Quisenberry started writing. I still don't know why he didn't start earlier. His poems on baseball, his battle with brain cancer and sunny Sunday afternoons touch me in a way that poetry never has. They truly inspire and enrapture me.
Here are some of my favorites.
Old (G)love
mushy leather
burnt brown
light cracks
saddle creaks
your strings held up well
mine have too
we look trim enough
to still play
you protected me
Wilson A2000 XL
only glove I really liked
though I flirted with others
you were the one for me
I love your dark center
your womb
rich as Iowa soil
tight feel to my left hand
a worker's glove
you brought slap shots
stinging in my palm
but I knew where they were
so I could grab them quick
now you look so small
do you shrink like old men
stiff and less flexible?
me too
we're both on the shelf
but you still look nice
and holding you
feels so right
Vicissitudes of Love
glancing at her husband
of twenty-nine years
his nose in the sports pages
she thinks
dosomethingsaysomethingbreathedammitIcan'ttakethis
anymorelife'swaytooshortIgottabebetterthan
boxscores
he drops the paper, says
"the redsox are out of it,
let's go to the hills and pick blueberries"
and she thinks
Iloveyousomuch
And finally, Vocations
my attourney said
"we've gotta get you a job"
"get some structure into your life"
oh, I see
but poetry doesn't grow
in concrete
or in straight black and white lines
and besides that
I don't think well with a suit on
I can't figure out which I would rather be: As skilled as the Quiz, or as inspired. I think probably the latter.
And yet I love the man for his words.
After he retired, Dan Quisenberry started writing. I still don't know why he didn't start earlier. His poems on baseball, his battle with brain cancer and sunny Sunday afternoons touch me in a way that poetry never has. They truly inspire and enrapture me.
Here are some of my favorites.
Old (G)love
mushy leather
burnt brown
light cracks
saddle creaks
your strings held up well
mine have too
we look trim enough
to still play
you protected me
Wilson A2000 XL
only glove I really liked
though I flirted with others
you were the one for me
I love your dark center
your womb
rich as Iowa soil
tight feel to my left hand
a worker's glove
you brought slap shots
stinging in my palm
but I knew where they were
so I could grab them quick
now you look so small
do you shrink like old men
stiff and less flexible?
me too
we're both on the shelf
but you still look nice
and holding you
feels so right
Vicissitudes of Love
glancing at her husband
of twenty-nine years
his nose in the sports pages
she thinks
dosomethingsaysomethingbreathedammitIcan'ttakethis
anymorelife'swaytooshortIgottabebetterthan
boxscores
he drops the paper, says
"the redsox are out of it,
let's go to the hills and pick blueberries"
and she thinks
Iloveyousomuch
And finally, Vocations
my attourney said
"we've gotta get you a job"
"get some structure into your life"
oh, I see
but poetry doesn't grow
in concrete
or in straight black and white lines
and besides that
I don't think well with a suit on
I can't figure out which I would rather be: As skilled as the Quiz, or as inspired. I think probably the latter.
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