Testicle Tuesday...Vintage Hotties

Even with all the current celebrity beauties, there's something to be said for revisiting the classics.

We'll start with everyone's favorite pin-up starlet. From the President of the United States down to the corner mechanic, Marilyn Monroe graced many a man's fantasy. What guy didn't want to handle these curves:

Speaking of curves, these Italian imports stacked up pretty nicely. Even today, Sophia Loren is holding up better than many women half her age.

And Isabella Ressellini...now that's a classic if there ever was one.

And finally, there's this Swedish import, Bond Girl Brit Ekland. If you haven't seen the Wicker Man, go out and rent it immediately. Forget that it's a cult classic about a group of murderous pagans. Brit displays the most amazingly divine ass in a dance so sexy that God will surely forgive you for watching it.

I must...

So, in order to study for and pass the Colorado bar exam, I have to employ a scorched earth methodology to ensure this is the last time I have to sit for the damn thing.

Therefor, I have to put the ol' blog on ice for a couple months. I will not be posting anything or participating in the weekly round table with Billy D & Morg. I've given them my login info and hopefully they'll at least post sporadically.

If anyone else wants to post shit on this here blog let me know and I'll send you the login info.

So, until August...

In memorium

I wrote and posted this in January and now post as a tribute to my late grandfather...


The following is a tribute to a true patriot…this is the ballad of a dead soldier.

When my grandfather was born on January 6, 1922, the coyotes were howling and the moon was full. Such was life in rural North Dakota. Born to dirt poor farmers he knew how rough life was in the upper Midwest. The winters were brutal and the work back breaking. This setting was the backdrop for grandpa’s formative years. It was a harsh environment that hardened the earth and oft times the heart.

My grandfather’s parents were decent people and raised five kids, four daughters and my grandpa. They were stern and uncompromising but North Dakota required such rigidity. The children were disciplined harshly and worked ceaselessly. Food as well as other essentials many long considered a birth right, were not easy to come by. There were times my grandpa had to go to his best friend’s house to eat. Times were tough but so were the people.

As a teen my grandfather joined FDR’s “Tree Army”, the now famous Civilian Conservation Corps. My grandmother once told me how grandpa took her up to the mountains to a monument outside Genesee, Colorado. His chest swelled with pride as he exclaimed, “I helped build this.” He was seventeen when he helped plant countless trees throughout the Colorado Rockies and he earned roughly $30 a month. All tolled the CCC would build 3,470 fire towers, 97,000 miles of fire road, and devote 4,235,000 man hours to fighting fires

His North Dakota National Guard unit was called up in February 1941 and shipped to Louisiana for training. In December of that year Japan attacked Pearl Harbor and my grandfather was called to action. The 164th Infantry Regiment was part of the larger 34th Infantry Division that was dispatched to Melbourne, Australia in March of 1942. The 164th was initially sent to New Caledonia to protect naval bases and shipping from Japanese attack.

Then on October 13 they landed on Guadalcanal. During the first five days 117 men from the 164th were killed. The battle for Henderson Field saw 1,700 Japanese lose their lives while the 164th lost 26 dead and 57 wounded. The unit was awarded the Presidential Unit Citation and was dubbed by the civilian press as “jungle fighters”. After the fight for Henderson field the 164th ceaselessly patrolled Guadalcanal through February, 1943 and fought numerous skirmishes with the Japanese. The 164th was eventually sent to Bougainville in the Solomon Islands where they remained until November of ’44. After all was said and done those that were part of the 164th saw 600 days of action, suffered over 1,400 casualties including 357 dead, and was the first Army unit to see offensive action in WWII. The men of the 164th would earn over 2,000 Purple Hearts, 199 Bronze Stars, 89 Silver Stars, and six Distinguished Service Crosses. My grandfather himself was awarded a Silver Star, Bronze Star, and two Purple Hearts.

I once interviewed my grandpa for a paper in junior high. I asked him what his proudest accomplishment was in WWII. I assumed he’d cite his medals or saving the life of one of his men but he answered very matter-of-factly, “making it out alive”. He then told me that the average life expectancy for an infantryman in the Pacific theatre was six months. My grandfather served for over a year and a half.

Later on when I was in high school I had the privilege of picking my grandpa’s head about WWII. As we talked tears welled up in his eyes as he told me how he saw his best friends killed before his very eyes, including the same kid who fed my grandpa on a number of different occasions. These were the best friends of his youth and it was then I realized that the war had left this rock of a man deeply scarred and it had stripped away his youth far too early.

My grandpa made the rank of sergeant at least three different times and was demoted every time for insubordination and striking a superior officer. Seems he would’ve rather suffered the indignity of losing a stripe than losing another man because some wet behind the ears lieutenant fresh out of college was spouting off orders from a military field manual. A dear family friend who we’ll call John told me once, through tear filled eyes, that he and many others in the 164th owed their lives to my grandpa. On patrols my grandfather would always take point, not out of bravado or hubris but out of a paternalistic protective instinct. After seeing many of his closest friends killed my grandpa became so withdrawn that some of the men in his unit referred to him as almost ghost like. Months of constant war fare took its toll on all.

After serving in the Pacific my grandpa was stationed at a rehab hospital for a bit to mend his bullet riddled left shoulder as well as his shattered psyche. Many of the boys he had grown up with never made it home and this haunted my grandfather.

In 1946 he met then married my grandmother. Together they had four children, my mother, two aunts, and the youngest, my uncle. They struggled to make ends meet in Bismarck, North Dakota so in the early 50’s they folded up their tent flaps and moved to Denver. Work and money were hard to come by so my grandfather worked odd jobs and eked out a meager living. Eventually he would find work as a construction foreman around Denver. When I was a kid he’d drive me around and point out the structures that he helped build. And it would surface again, that indomitable pride that my grandmother noticed in the mountains that day and that was unmistakable when he gloated over “his buildings”.

After toiling away in construction my grandpa found a job with the United States Postal Service. He worked primarily at the annex in downtown Denver, which he proudly proclaimed was the seventh busiest annex in the postal system.

He and my grandmother retired in 1986.

After their retirement they traveled a bit, once to Hawaii, Mexico, countless road trips to Montana where my granny’s sister & brother lived, and a number of other sojourns. Always the craftsman my grandpa settled in his garage, collected a vast array of power tools, and kept himself busy.

Then in 1990 the unthinkable happened. On July 3 one of his beloved grandchildren, yours truly, broke his neck in a car accident. That was the first time I ever saw the man cry was when he was bent over my hospital bed stroking my forehead trying to bring a little comfort to a scared nineteen year old. This impossibly stern and rugged man was reduced to tears and for that I will never forgive myself. After my accident he became increasingly more emotional and he would often cry at commercials on TV.

Once again his world was shaken as he was diagnosed with cancer in 1991. To be perfectly honest it rocked the foundations of our entire family. Our patriarch, our rock, our war hero was in the battle of his life against the most relentless foe he’d ever confronted. And it was a war he couldn’t win. In the early morning hours of Jan 18, 1993 my grandfather passed away, his wife of 47 years by his side. He had survived poverty, hunger, the largest military conflict the world had ever seen, and he had raised a family but he couldn’t beat cancer.

If you met him once you’d never forget him. That’s the kind of man he was. Always ready with a smile and a handshake but a stern task master. He expected a lot from people but he gave in kind. He would frequent the same restaurants over and over and over. He was known by name at his favorite Mexican food place as well as the Chinese restaurant across the street. He would even go in the kitchens, talk to the cooks, and take their knives home to sharpen them. He was a regular visitor to a nearby pawn shop where he was treated like family. My grandpa built a number of their shelves and did odd maintenance there for years. He was so highly regarded by the owner that when I tried to pawn some stuff one day they refused my business, saying, “we don’t do business with family.”

After he died my mom quipped, “It says something about a man when the biggest flower arrangements at the funeral were from restaurants and pawn shops.”

I miss him dearly. That corny sense of humor, those rough hands, that smile, the fierce glare, that appetite, the wind chimes he made, the way he doted over his grandchildren, that was my grandpa. If I were to use one word to describe this man it would be PRIDE. So here I sit paying tribute to the closest thing I had to a father and paying homage to the bravest man I ever met. I know he’s up there in Heaven cutting up with his friends and looking in on his family and doing his best to protect us. As I cast my eyes to the sky I say, “I know you’re up there old man! I hope I can make you proud, half as proud as am to call you grandpa.”

Rest in peace old man, rest in peace.

Very cool

Hehehehe, go figure.

What Famous Leader Are You?
personality tests by similarminds.com

Cool

Got this over at Billiam's blog. Check it out, man.

What Classic Movie Are You?
personality tests by similarminds.com

Weekly round table...the death penalty

This week we've decided to tackle arguably the most devisive topics in our country, the death penalty.

I'm up first...

As the years have passed my political ideology has morphed and evolved. My penance in law school was invaluable as I came to recognize the ominous specter of big and intrusive government. In a word my personal political philosophy is becoming decidedly more myopic, and dare say, more protectionist. But my views on what will ultimately serve these United States and protect her from harm is also nearly the polar opposite of my beliefs circa 1990-’95.

Thus, my stance on the death penalty has done a 180. I was once a “kill ‘em all” zealot. No punishment was too harsh for those who chose to snuff out the life of another or serially molest, rape, and torture. These individuals were pond scum and deserving of the most finite and dastardly punishment available and I would’ve been more than happy to flip the switch.

Times will change as do perspectives. No longer do I view the death penalty as the ultimate panacea that will cure all murder and heinous crime. Let me tell you why…

The government should in no way, shape, or form be given even the slightest discretion to kill its own citizens. It is the height of folly to assume the government will act with restraint when they’re given the opportunity to execute their citizenry.

In every state that employs the death penalty it costs nearly twice as much to execute the average death row inmate than keeping them behind bars for life. Why? Because death penalty cases are 3-5 times longer than other murder trials, the appeals process is lengthy and expensive, and court costs abound throughout the process.

The only way to reduce these hidden costs is to limit the appeals process. But this rationale is a double-edged sword. The appellate mechanism was devised as a measure to police the government’s actions in its prosecution of crime & punishment. When doling out the most severe punishment imaginable the public must be assured that the government acted properly and within the scope of its legislative mandate. And the police and prosecutors are nothing more than arms of the government bestowed with nearly limitless resources all in the name of upholding and enforcing the laws. As such they must abide by and follow the exact letter of the law or our criminal justice system looses all credibility and legitimacy. After all, if the government actors don’t follow the law why should the general public.

If the appeals process is limited you remove any meaningful impediment to rampant illegal criminal prosecutions, an especially foolish move when the punishment is death.

When the government is trying to execute one of its own citizens they should have to jump through an infinite series of litigious hoops. The one sure way to reduce the enormous cost of the average execution is to abolish the death penalty. It’s sure, cost effective, and removes the ability of our states to kill their people.

Currently in the U.S. 38 states sanction capital punishment. Since 1976, 1,023 inmates have been executed in the U.S., and 3,373 currently sit on death row. The U.S. executes on a greater scale than every nation on earth, save Russia and China. A 2005 Gallup poll revealed that 56% of the American public favored the death penalty while 36% favored life imprisonment. Nearly every year between 1976, when the death penalty was reinstated by the Supreme Court, and 1995 the murder rate went up. Since ’95 the rates have declined a bit; in fact since ’99 the per capita murder rate dipped to 5.5, the lowest such level since 1965.

These numbers suggest a couple things. First, the government, when given the opportunity, will kill its citizens with fervent zeal. Second, the death penalty seems to have little to no relation to overall murder rates. Lastly, the American public has actually been duped into believing that the death penalty works.

Does capital punishment serve as an effective deterrent? According the most studies and statistical analysis the answer is a resounding no. Is the death penalty cost effective? Hell no. Is it moral for our government to divvy out death sentences at its whim? Once again, no. You must be able to answer yes to all these questions if you feel the death penalty is a legitimate governmental exercise.

Now the government would be all too happy to keep this train of death rolling. They’re in the game to expand power and placate the masses. Their very DNA dictates a willingness to throw John Q Public under the proverbial bus. The death penalty is a tool and serves a fickle and amoral master.

Since attending law school I’ve become genuinely fearful of expansive government. The thought that my country and state can execute me and have the majority of Americans condone such practices doubly scares me.

Now, Billy D...

Ah…the death penalty. The sound of “Old Sparky” as a few thousand watts course through it’s metal veins. The smell of crispy-fried man-flesh wafting through the air.

Kidding. It may surprise some of you to know, I am not a proponent of the death penalty, with very, very few exceptions.

See, first of all, to put one to death for some heinous crime, is to give them an easy out, and sometimes, exactly what they want. No, we can do much, much better.
For starters, even though many states still carry that penalty on their books, they’ve not used it in decades, and won’t for many more. So what’s the point? As a deterrent? No, it’s entirely useless for that. It stops no-one from carrying out whatever madness it is they seek.

Let’s say, for capital crimes, instead of placing an inmate on death-row for the next thirty years while appeal after appeal moves through the system until said inmate dies in prison, we get a bit creative with the punishments.

First, we set up a few special facilities made just for these folks. Super-prisons like the one in Colorado. Say a few in Northern Alaska, and maybe two or three in Death Valley. So if one were to escape, it’s a slow suicide at the hands of the sun or a polar bear.

Now, 23.5 hours a day you sit in your cell. You get fifteen minutes a day for recreation, which takes place in a concrete room, maybe ten feet by ten feet. The other fifteen minutes out of the cell is for a shower.

The only item allowed to you in your cell is a Bible or Koran, or whichever Holy book you choose. But that’s it. No TV, no radio, magazines, whatever. Nothing.

Oh, and no phone calls, letters, no type of communication with the outside world whatsoever. For all intents and purposes, you are dead to the outside world.

Cruel and unusual? You’re there for a reason. Not for robbing a bank or for rape or embezzlement (As an aside, for those type of sexual crimes, either life in prison with no parole, or 25 years and physical castration should do the trick) but because you committed a capital offense.

Then again, instead of wasting all that free labor, maybe we start work farms where these type of lowlifes work day in and day out for the rest of their natural lives doing some horribly repetitive and useless task like breaking rocks with a hammer or whatever.

See, I don’t think there’s anything to be gained from the application of the death penalty except vengeance for vengeance’s sake. While I do understand that, as if it were me who had lost someone to a heinous act I’d want my revenge too, but the state has to be the overseer in it all, and at times the voice of reason.

Now, I did say “with a few exceptions”. Any offense involving children in any way, including murder and/or sexual violation automatically warrants the death penalty, which is then carried out swiftly. The defendant is limited to one appeal, which is reviewed by a three judge panel within thirty days. If it’s turned down, on day thirty one the offender is publicly executed by being drawn and quartered. This, I think, actually would be a deterrent to some. But it would have to be public, maybe pay per view or something. Whatever it took to get the word out.

But as far as killers go, half the time they’re ready and wanting to die anyway, they’re just begging for someone to do it for them, so why reward them with a granted wish. Make the punishment last a lifetime, and make it harsh.


Now, Morgan...

My husband and I were watching the news the night it was announced that the body of 9-year-old Jessica Lunsford was found buried within sight of the Florida home from which she’d been abducted a month earlier.

I remember my husband saying, “If someone hurt you or the kids I don’t even want to think of where I’d go, it would be such a dark place.”

I understood. Part of me was already there. In Jessica Lunsford I could see my own children. In her killer, John Evander Couey, I saw a man who deserved not just death, but a horrible one. If such a man broke into my home with the intention of harming my family, I can assure you he would not walk out alive.

I am in favor of killing in self-defense. Likewise, I could hardly blame a person whose rage led them to take the life of their loved one's murderer. If Jessica Lunsford’s father had gotten hold of Couey before the police did and ripped the man limb from limb, the actions of such grief and rage would be fully understandable. What parent wouldn’t want to avenge the death of a beloved child? I know I would.

The concept of revenge satisfies some hunger in us. Movies are full of it and we cheer when the bad guy finally gets his. Revenge supposed to bring “closure,” a relatively new and ridiculous concept that somehow implies getting even sets everything to rights.

But real life is different. The victim won’t be brought back to life when the killer takes his last breath. The victim’s family may feel a moment’s satisfaction as the man on the gurney draws his last breath, but such satisfaction should hardly be the basis for public policy.

That’s just one of the reasons I oppose the death penalty.

The prison system’s job is to keep bad people off the streets. It has no business killing people on behalf of crime victims.

This stance makes people indignant. “If the murderer is put to death he won’t do it again,” they say. But the same thing can be achieved by keeping him behind bars. If John Evander Couey, a career criminal with a 30-year record, hadn’t been turned back out, Jessica Lunsford would still be alive.

And let’s not forget that while Couey admitted his guilt, some death row inmates maintain their innocence.

“Oh, they all do,” you may say. But some are, indeed, wrongly convicted. Here in North Carolina, death row inmate Alan Gell was released in 2004 after it was revealed that prosecutors withheld key evidence at his trial, including an audiotape of one of the witnesses saying she’d “made everything up.”

Gell is far from alone. I won’t bore you with statistics, but go to this Web site for an eye-opening look at just how flawed the system is: http://www.deathpenaltyinfo.org/article.php?did=412&scid=6

It seems especially egregious to put people to death when exoneration is so readily available to those who can afford it. Look at O.J. Simpson and Robert Blake. Both men are likely guilty, but were lawyered up enough to walk away with their freedom. Escaping the ultimate penalty shouldn’t depend on one’s wealth or celebrity.

A system that can’t adequately dispense justice has no place putting people to death. The system should work to determine guilt or innocence. If true guilt is found, the killer should be put away to await the Hand of God.

The death penalty involves years of expensive appeals followed by a death far more gentle that monsters like Couey deserve. This is a man who raped a little girl and buried her alive. The hard part of me objects to his slipping off into a state-ordered permanent sleep. The hard part of me wants to think of this man as an 80-year-old, staring at the walls of his prison cell, painfully choking on his own phlegm. Perhaps as he lies there, he tries remember what the sun felt like on his face. But each time he tries the fleeting memory is replaced by the cold hopelessness that has haunted him throughout his lengthy confinement.

There are some penalties worth than death.

Testicle Tuesday...Ben's Jenns

What do you get when you combine one shitty actor with two smokin hot starlets? Another ingenious theme for Testicle Tuesday.







Like him or not, you can't challenge the success Ben Affleck has had with Hollywood tail. The boy is vying with Warren Beaty as the most discerning Lotharios Tinsel Town has ever seen. Affleck has shagged the best looking Jenns on the planet, Jennifer Lopez and Jennifer Garner. The boy's got mad skills.


**Update...the answer to the Movie Quote Quiz was Stanley Kubrick's Full Metal Jacket.

Movie quote quiz

Since all you chowderheads missed the quote profered on Testicle Tuesday I'll give you the answer...the "gorgeousness and gorgeousity" reference was from A Clockwork Orange.

Now, since I'm such a congenial host I'm going to give you another chance to solve the quotation and give me the correct movie from whence it came.

Let me lay a few ground rules...

1. No Googling the quote, t'would be unsporting. You'll be on the honor system.

2. One guess per person.

3. Must name the movie and actor, if possible. If the actor's name escapes you then submit your movie guess.

4. Whomever guesses both movie and actor, or should every one negate to name the actor, the first correct identification of the movie the quote is drawn from will pick the Testicle Tuesday theme/hottie. The movie must be right or y'all are SOL.

5. Contest ends Monday at midnight.

Depending on the success of this little venture this may become a weekly feature.

Now for our quote...

"Your ass looks like about 200 pounds of chewed bubble gum"

OWWWWWWWWWWWWW

Ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch.

I'm going to curl up in the fetal position for a while.

A few quick points before I cower and wimper in the corner...

How'd you like to be the cops who had to retrieve "evidence"?

If there was ever an excuse to hit a woman this certainly qualifies.

What does the rehab from such horror entail? Are there exercises?

Did this guy have to get his own nads back? How do you approach your wife on that one?

Weekly round table...feminism

We've decided to discuss the virtues, or lack thereof, of feminism.

First up is Morg...

My 9-year-old daughter has a dilemma. She isn’t sure what she wants to be when she grows up. Lately she’s talked about being a biologist - a biologist who studies foxes. But she also likes to write, so she thinks she may be an author. Or possibly do both.

I can’t imagine looking down at those hopeful eyes and saying, “Darling, what are you talking about? Sure, you’re bright. But you’re a girl, and girls were meant to make and raise babies. That is all you should be thinking about. Now go pick up after your brothers. It’s good practice for how you’ll be spending the rest of your life.”

Not so many generations ago that was the message that many young girls got. If it wasn’t conveyed directly, it was conveyed through societal expectations, media and families that automatically funneled females towards a life of domesticity. Women who did pursue higher educations were directed towards traditionally female careers - secretaries, teachers or librarians. The common joke was that a woman women to college to pursue her MRS. Degree.

“Go through the motions of pursuing a career if you must,” society said. “But don’t forget your place.”

Then in 1963, a little book called "The Feminine Mystique" was published - a book that dared to ask the question in the back of so many homemaker’s minds: “Is this all?”

For a public raised on "Donna Reed" and "Leave it to Beaver," the question bordered on the heretical.

But then, women began to respond and soon it was clear that the answer to the question "Is this all?," was a thunderous "It can't be. It won't be. We won't let it."

That acknowledgement of that collective unrest spawned the feminist movement that subsequently threw open doors for future generations of women to choose paths beyond hearth and home. But like any dramatic social change, it also inspired debate.

So has feminism been good for America?

If you’re a member of the Religious Right, the answer is a resounding, “No,” yelled as you thump a Bible conveniently opened to the passage where it says women should be “keepers at home,” and conveniently not open to Proverbs 31, which describes what sounds a lot like many of today’s working mothers.

The right winger has one image of the feminist: a hairy, man-hating lesbian who ends each praying that the Goddess grant her another pregnancy to abort.

But that's only because they're bitter. Conservatives like for people to know their place, especially if those people stand to challenge them for a piece of the pie they consider theirs by God-given right. Just when they thought they had it all wrapped up, here come the women and the black folk, mucking it all up.

Let's face it. No one likes to lose their bitch. It's even worse when your bitch becomes your equal. It's twice as bad when she beats you out for that promotion or becomes your boss. Ouch. Personally, I don't think they'll ever get over it.

But ironically, the same right-wingers who rage against the “scourge” of feminism hypocritically enjoy its benefits every day. The stay-at-home mother who looks down her nose at her employed counterparts has nothing but praise for her child’s female pediatrician, and the conservative businessman who decries what feminism has done to society is all too happy when working women spend their money on his goods. And I doubt few churches who preach “traditional values” turn down the faithful tithes of its working, female members.

I’ve said this before, but I’ll say it again. Don’t rail against what feminism has done to society and then turn around and enjoy its benefits. If you’re opposed to women working, then the only right thing to do is completely boycott women in the workplace. That means if you get T-boned at the intersection by an SUV, you should refuse aid if a female paramedic that shows up. If you’ve got a medical condition, make sure the drug you need to save your life wasn’t produced by a company that employs women. Don’t wear clothes designed by women. Don’t read books written by women. Don’t go to movies that feature female actors. Clean your own offices at work. Don’t eat at restaurants or shop at stores that hire women. The list goes on.

The primary argument against feminism is that it hurts children by robbing them of an at-home mother. But feminism didn’t pull unwilling mothers out of the home. The women’s rights movement simply opened opportunities beyond the home. This has led to varying dynamics. Some mothers went to work, either full or part time. Others stayed home. In some families, mom goes to work and dad stays home. In other cases, like mine, mom stays home but works.

The important thing to remember - the thing that critics of feminism would like you to forget - is this: The career opportunities women enjoy may mean more choices, but they are choices couples make together. And there are more than a few men who enjoy the higher standard of living that second income affords.

Do some women regret the choices they've made in the wake of feminism? Critics of feminism point at the angst of unmarried, childless women as evidence of feminism’s downside. There’s something to that. Indeed, some women, having put off childbearing to develop their careers, find themselves losing the race against the biological clock.

But is their fate any worse than the 50 percent of women whose “traditional” path to marriage and family ended up in divorce? I’d wager the childless, 45 year-old woman with a good career but who can't find a man to father her children is still better off than the single 45-year old woman who can’t find a man because she already has them. And let’s not forget that life isn’t always rosy for men, either. There are plenty of middle-aged guys saddled with regret. Regret often accompanies choices, but that doesn’t mean we should be denied them.

Which brings me back to my daughter, the fledgling writer/ biologist. A career isn’t all she wants. She also wants to be a Mommy, and she’s never asked me if she'll have to choose. Why? Because she’s grown up with a mother who fully enjoys balancing the rewarding demands of a family with the rewarding demands of a career. She's seen how both my work and my family make me happy. And how they make me whole.

As a woman, a mother and a feminist, I want nothing less for her., of feminism.

Now, Billy D...

Feminism. I hardly know where to begin. While I do think it probably had a useful purpose at some point, somewhere between the beginning and the pot of gold they originally sought, that whole scene kind of got turned into something resembling militant lesbianism 101.

I know many of you will vehemently disagree with what I’m writing, but, in my opinion, feminism has done far more harm for our society than good.

Yes, I know. Women can vote now, they’re in the workplace, they’re captains of industry… whatever. Look, let me try to explain myself.

Women should be home, procreating and raising children. Now, before anyone reads anything into that statement, let me explain. I do NOT mean barefoot and pregnant. What I do mean is, when the man is out at work, the woman runs the home. And I mean runs the home, not just vacuuming and baking cookies. I mean, schooling the kids, setting and maintaining a household budget, keeping the house clean, doing all those errands that need to get done during the day, while the man goes out and makes a living to pay for everything.

Now, before the rise of the wicked institution of feminism, this is pretty much how things were. But now, women need that extra-curricular “fulfillment”. Why the quotes? Look, if your job gives you the fulfillment you don’t get from raising your children to be everything they could be, then it’s not fulfillment you’re seeking. It’s approval from someone outside your family circle.

A pat on the head from a snotty neighbor, or a nod of approval from your withered and dried nasty sister. Something.

Look, I’m not discounting the role females play in making the world go ‘round at all. But the ERA thing turned into a screw men thing quite some time ago. At this time, I know many, many more women who will tell you that the leaders of the feminist movement today do not speak for them, than those who say they do. Why do you suppose that is?

Because they don’t hate men. They’re told they’re supposed to, but they can’t seem to actually do it. They’re told they’re less of a human if they have children, and downright garbage if they decide they wish to stay home and raise them like they were born to. Yes, BORN TO. Men hunt and gather, women nurture. Sorry ladies, that’s just how it is.

Now, because a woman chooses to define herself, and her own role she’ll play in the world, her sisters will become angry and attempt to chastise and discredit her. Shout her down, shame her, and with any luck, get her to change her mind and abandon those kids to a day care to opt for the mediocre job where she will spend her days hating every minute and watching a clock, instead of laughing and loving her children, and enjoying and loving her husband. Makes no sense.

Is that new car or bigger house worth it? In a few short years when the children are gone and you’re left all alone, except for your job that you hate doing, will you still feel “fulfilled” and satisfied? I doubt it. Do you suppose your children will call you on Mother’s day and thank you for doing such a great job at “XYZ” company, and tell you it’s OK that you missed the plays and the ins and outs and ups and downs of their lives, because they understand children are a burden best left to day cares and extended relatives to raise?

No, in all likelihood, they’re going to act out and attempt to gain mommies favor and attention any way they can. Don’t worry though, eventually they’ll figure out that’s not going to happen, and find someone or something else to fill that void. Indiscriminate sex, drugs, booze… whatever.

Look, women are not equal to men. They’re not. And men aren’t equal to women in certain areas either. They’re not supposed to be. Each was designed for a specific purpose, and to complete certain tasks. That’s the nature of it, the way it was designed. When feminism fights this, we, and our children lose every single time.

Now me...

I love feminists, they’re such easy fodder. So, in order to further the debate regarding the unending virtues of the great unwashed I give you my comprehensive list of the different types of feminism and the basic tenets of each individual school of feminism. As a side note, I got the list straight from Wikipedia, lest you doubt my accuracy. So I did my normal three and a half minutes of research and discovered there are actually different branches of feminism…and there’s a lot…twenty five recognized disciplines within one movement.


Amazon Feminism-six foot tall blondes with big boobs standing around quoting Margaret Sanger.
Anarcha- Feminism-screw the rules and give me what I want…I’m PMSing so don’t mess with me boy!
Anti Racist Feminism-even the spicks, slopes, sand-niggers, jigaboos, whaps, and other ethnically diverse women are all equal.
Cultural Feminism-bitching about men with Mozart playing in the back ground.
Eco Feminism-let’s hug a tree, rub our crystals, and bitch about men.
Equity Feminism-gimme my shit monkey boy!
Existential Feminism-huh?
French Feminism-can the French get any more feminine?
Gender Feminism-seems a bit redundant if you ask me.
Individualist Feminism-I am woman, hear me roar, or screech, or whine, or complain, you get the picture.
Lesbian Feminism-once again, redundant.
Liberal Feminism-we’ll elect the most hideously deformed troglodyte we can find.
Male Feminism-the Tony Awards!
Marxist Feminism-your vagina is now property of the state.
Material Feminism-I want nice stuff for all women.
Pop Feminism-Madonna is the Godess!
Post colonial Feminism-ah those kooky French & British. Those lovable little scamps just occupied half the globe’s surface, enslaving millions. Who cares when we can watch Desperate Housewives.
Post modern Feminism-now lesbian porn in one window and Gloria Steinem’s Revolution Within in another. The Internet’s a beautiful thing.
Pro sex Feminism-hey, I’m pro sex too. Bring all them ho’s on!
Psychoanalytical Feminism-lie down on this comfy couch and we’ll tell you how perky your breasts are and how you’re a wonderful person.
Radical Feminism-bitches all!
Separatist Feminism-give us our own island…it’ll be call Titty Tonka.
Socialist Feminism-healthcare for all women…the men can go screw themselves.
Spiritual Feminism-my soul is mine…piss off!
Standpoint Feminism-I have no opinion on this one.
Third-world Feminism-bitch about men while sweeping my dirt floor, because, after all, my hut must be as tidy as my vagina.
Transnational Feminism-we can cuss men out in multiple languages and dialects.
Trans Feminism-is this the same as trans fatty acids, I hear they’re really unhealthy.

As you can see I find feminism fodder for my satirical energy. Now, I’m not advocating abolishing feminism, just retooling it a skoch.

First of all, in order to regain any semblance of credibility feminism may have once had a changing of the old guard and their philosophies is in order. The Naomi Watts, Gloria Stienem, Margaret Sanger cabal who would denigrate and vilify stay-at-home moms need a refresher course in tolerance 101. The theory forwarded by these so-called leaders of the “movement” that women who choose to forgo work and raise their children are intellectually inferior is reason one why mainstream feminism will be demonized as intolerant and not worthy of anything other than disdain. Their shrill harpyesque whining serves only to alienate those they hope to gain allegiance with.

Secondly, their tent is most decidedly small and not inclusive. Differing opinions than the deities of feminism are roundly dismissed as being, once again, intellectually inferior. Those who disagree in the slightest are labeled as misogynist and oppressors of the already down trodden. By employing such rhetoric they are, once again, doing a disservice to their own cause. Tone down the harshness and shut up and listen for a change.

Lastly, all things male are under continual assault by feminism. The Duke Lacrosse story is a prime example. There have been two separate rounds of DNA testing performed that have yielded not a single genetic match to the accused or any of the team mates. Yet the feminists insist the allegations are valid and that the accused players should be tarred & feathered. Here’s my point, if your contention is proven false, fall back and re-evaluate. Don’t hold to your position just because you want to fry a couple idiot macho jerks. And all this negativity towards predominantly male institutions is just so much conjecture. Take a breath ladies, acknowledge the male logistical superiority.

All feminism has to do is tweek its philosophy a bit and they might find acceptance where there was once blood hatred. Because, have no doubt you feminist voices, many out there hate you and all you stand for. But you’re reaping what you’ve sewn.

Testicle Tuesday...child actresses turned uber hotties

Drew Barrymore and Natalie Portman were adorable child stars who sprouted to be full on examples of gorgeousness and gorgeousity. Who knew when you saw Fire Starter or The Professional for the first time that you were witnessing future hotties in motion?

And here's one in waiting...




Emma Watson, who plays Hermione in the Harry Potter series, is already stunning. She's going to be in the upper pantheon of beautiful celebreties in a few short years.

Take care y'all...until next week

Wait...I've got a test...whomever can guess which movie the "gorgeousness and gorgeousity" reference is from earns the right to pick next week's hottie.


*Update...you guys are pathetic. I'll give you a hint...the movie had a color in its title.

Perfection, Shrub be thy name

Today, by sheer accident, I achieved perfection.

I’ve always been taught perfection, by definition, is unattainable. Not so, for I reached, touched, and felt that which is flawless this very afternoon.

Let me set the stage for you…

I was at this place finishing some errands when I felt a twinge. ‘Twas not your ordinary twinge but the ominous harbinger of deadly forces afoot. I sensed something was about to burst, so I stealthily made my way to a deserted corner of the store and unleashed Hell on Earth.

What flew out of my rectum was a cloud of noxious gas that would’ve gagged a maggot. I’d let the perfect fart.

Now the sheer volume of gas that escaped was startling as was the thermo-nuclear explosion that emanated from ‘twixt my butt cheeks. The loud music playing over the PA masked what was the crowning achievement of my time here on terra firma. This fart had volume, duration, and stench. It was beautiful.

As a male you learn to love the smell of your own farts, and this was no exception. I wanted to bottle it in a glass vial that I’d wear around my neck and open up and sniff whenever I was in a bad mood. I’m smiling just thinking about it.

As the cloud deepened and ripened I found myself giddy, giddy as the first time I grasped a female breast under the bra. I giggled with the glee of a Leprechaun and the joy of a child waiting for the ice cream man. I wafted in the essence of eternal bliss, immersed myself in the pungent juices, and marinated in the odor. I was in rapture.

This thing would’ve stripped the bark off a tree. I could ingest burritos for the next month, glue my poop chute closed, open it up in June, and the gas that would escape would pale in comparison to today’s odiferous emanation.

Oh, to say I was moved to tears is a misnomer. I cried because perfection is so rarely seen let alone felt. It was the type of fart we men all dream of, the kind as little boys we listened to with doe-eyed enthusiasm as our elder male figures regaled us with salvos from turkey dinners at the holidays. They were gaseous gods and we were Plebian mortals.

But today I reached for and grasped immortality. This was the kind of fart that changes the chemical composition of the air and can cause atmospheric degradation. Now I know why the angels haves wings, to keep the aroma of such events from destroying the ozone layer.

Behold perfection peasants, and remember, thou art mortal.

Happy Matriarchal Parental Unit Day!

For all of you women out there who've decided to unleash your demon spawn upon the world, you've got your day, enjoy.

Seriously...

I'd like to share a quote that does honor to this special day...

"All that I am, or hope to be, I owe to my angel mother."-- Abraham Lincoln


Thanks mom, you're the best.

Football v Baseball

Here's my most recent sports musing...

I was confronted on another blog with a foolish contention that baseball is somehow a superior sport than American football. So I decided to analyze the two sports side-by-side and offer up a detailed and objective, or not so objective, juxtaposition of America’s two most popular sports.

Baseball can trace its origins back to the days of William the Conqueror in England around 1085. Throughout the last thousand years games that resembled baseball have been mentioned in literature and historical texts. There was even mention of a game called “base” in letters home from Valley Forge during the American Revolution. Jane Austin mentions in her classic Northanger Abbey, “it was not very wonderful that Catherine should prefer cricket, base-ball, riding on horseback, and running about the country, at the age of fourteen, to books”. The first organized baseball club in America was the New York Knickerbockers in 1842. Alexander Cartwright and Dr. Lucius Adams formulated the original rules in 1845 that form the foundation of modern-day baseball. The first league was established in New York during the 1850’s. Baseball was a diversion for prisoners of war during the Civil War and the first paid professional league was started in 1871 in New York City. In 1903 the first World Series was played.

In 1823 a game resembling modern-day American football was played in merry old England. The game was quickly adopted in the United States on the collegiate level. Schools such as Harvard and Princeton played as early as the mid 1800’s but organized games weren’t played until after the Civil War. In 1860 in Boston the first high school football games took place. These early contests were a hybrid of rugby and soccer and it wasn’t until 1873 that rules were set to paper. During the late 19th century a man named Walter Camp influenced the adoption of a whole new set of rules. The father of American football, Camp, reduced the field from its original dimensions of 140x70 yards to the more conventional 110x53 yards. Camp also reduced the number of players per side from 15 to 11, developed a system of downs, and called for the center snap. By 1895 professional football had begun. In 1921 the American Professional Football Association adopted its first set of bylaws and expanded to 22 teams. In ’22 the APFA changed its name to the National Football League.

Both sports are literally replete with mythical moments that will live for eternity in the pantheon of American sports. Baseball has Bobby Thompson’s homerun off Ralph Branca in 1951, the now legendary “The Shot heard Round the World”. Football has Dwight Clark’s touchdown thrown by Joe Montana, a.k.a. “The Catch”. Baseball has the infamous ninth inning collapse of the Boston Red Sox in the 1986 World Series against the Mets where Bill Buckner let a little dribbler slip through the wickets giving millions of Sox faithful nightmares for nearly twenty years. Football has “The Drive” where John Elway led the Denver Broncos on a game tying 98 yard drive with five minutes left to send the 1986 AFC Championship game to overtime. The Broncos eventually won and Cleveland Browns fans and Marty Shottenheimer have yet to exorcize the ghosts of that game. Baseball has Don Larson’s no-hitter. Football has Joe Montana’s last minute game winning drive in Super Bowl XXIII. Baseball has Sammy Sosa’s and Mark McGuire’s epic run at the once fabled 61 homerun mark and Cal Ripken’s consecutive games streak. Football has Dan Marino’s all out assault on the record books and Jerry Rice’s staggering numbers.

Both sports also have their fair share of super stars. Men such as Willie Mays, Mickey Mantle, Babe Ruth, Barry Bonds, Ted Williams, Satchel Page, Roger Clemens, Sandy Koufax, and Steve Carlton are deities amongst fans of America’s pastime. Likewise, stars like Lawrence Taylor, Jim Brown, Dick Butkus, Johnny Unitas, Joe Montana, John Elway, Dan Marino, Barry Sanders, Ronnie Lott, and Reggie White will live on forever in the minds of football fans.

Some of the most colorful nick-names in sports were spawned on the diamond or gridiron. The Sultan of Swat, The Galloping Ghost, The Splendid Splinter, Crazy Legs, The Yankee Clipper, The Minister of Defense, Mr. October, The Rocket, Tombstone (the best nick name in sports history, IMO), Night Train, The Say Hey Kid, Dizzy, Stan the Man, Hammerin’ Hank, The Wizard of Oz, The Big Unit (sounds like a porn star’s name), The Assassin, Mean Joe, Broadway Joe, Sweetness, The Freak, and Prime Time became synonymous with the games’ biggest stars.

Where the separation between the two sports occurs is in the athletes. While the toughest feat in sports is hitting a baseball there really can be no argument that the best athletes reside on the football field. The likes of Barry Bonds, Ken Griffey Jr., Alex Rodriguez, and Jim Edmonds are great athletes but they don’t even compare to an even average NFL player or even those in college football. Players in the NFL routinely run the forty in 4.3 seconds or better. It says something when the best athlete to ever play baseball, Bo Jackson, was also a football player. While sheer athletic ability doesn’t translate to being a gifted baseball player you must be a sensational athlete to play football. You must be physically strong and tough to even survive in the NFL but the same requirements cannot be said to exist for baseball. The main requirement for baseball is supreme hand-eye coordination, a feat which can be found in a professional billiards player.

There really is no disputing baseball’s historical significance in 20th Century America. Not only has baseball been a constant in the lexicon of our society it has been at the forefront of many turbulent and ground shaking events. The Black Sox scandal where members of the 1919 Chicago White Sox were accused, confessed, and eventually banned from baseball for life shook the foundation of sports. This event forever changed the way we viewed sports and tainted the reputation of the only significant professional sports league in America at the time. This sordid episode also shoved the problems of gambling and organized crime into the lime light.

However, the most important event in major sports history and perhaps in 20th century American history was Jackie Robinson breaking the color barrier in baseball in 1947. Branch Rickey, then owner of the Brooklyn Dodgers, had the courage to do what no one else did, hire an African-American player to play the nation’s most visible sport on its biggest stage, in New York. Up until ’47 baseball had been a staunchly all-white institution while hundreds of gifted black players starred in the now legendary Negro Leagues. Josh Gibson, Satchel Paige, Cool Papa Bell, Pee Wee Butts, Smokey Joe Williams, and other gifted black baseball players toiled away in relative obscurity while their arguably inferior white counterparts dominated the major leagues. All this for the sake of racial segregation.

That is until a man with a vision, Branch Rickey, chose to make a historical statement. Jackie Robinson was not chosen because he was the best Negro Leaguer but because he was the best suited to endure the hatred that awaited him in the majors. Had the best player from the Negro Leagues been chosen the unbelievably talented and volatile Josh Gibson would have begged to break down the door for blacks in MLB but Rickey knew that Gibson’s arrogance and abrasiveness would have alienated the very fans he desperately wanted to embrace this experiment. And in Robinson Branch Rickey found the perfect marriage of talent and temperament. Robinson proved to be the right choice and he became the ambassador everyone hoped he would be. Jackie Robinson’s dignity and unflappable nature forever changed the climate of race relations in America.

Football has no such claim on historical significance, unless you examine its effects on American pop culture. The 1958 NFL Championship between the Baltimore Colts and New York Giants is generally regarded as the first defining moment in sports television history and the moment when the NFL “arrived” on the scene. Since that night almost every major advancement in sports broadcasting has been pioneered in football. In 1970 the NFL and ABC struck a deal that would thrust football into the spot light forever. Monday Night Football drew huge audiences and massive advertising revenue. The marriage of football and TV was consummated, an arrangement that would vault the NFL into the position as America’s most watched, most followed, and most popular sport. The Super Bowl has become a cultural mainstay and a global phenomenon. It’s been estimated that over 1.5 billion people in 150 different countries tune in to what is arguably the single biggest sporting event on the planet outside soccer’s World Cup.

What is striking when you examine these two sports side by side is the overall health of the respective power structures. Since 1987 when the players union in the NFL was broken by a labor war with the owners (in 1993 after free agency was fully implemented the NFLPA was reformed as a union) there has been very little acrimony between players and owners. In fact not a single game has been lost due to labor disputes in the NFL since the ’87 strike. Since the 80’s the NFL has adopted a salary cap, comprehensive revenue sharing, a strict drug policy, and TV revenues and attendance figures remain steady. The NFL is now one of the strongest and most lucrative professional sports leagues in the world.

The same can’t be said about Major League Baseball. In 1994 baseball ceased operations ending one of the most exciting seasons in that sport’s history. Before play was stopped and the World Series cancelled for only the second time in one hundred years Tony Gwynn was making a run at .400 season average, Matt Williams was on pace to break Roger Maris’ 61 home run mark, and the Montreal Expos with the lowest payroll in the league were in first place. Only in the last couple years has baseball attracted fans on the scale seen before ’94. And trouble still looms large on the horizon. Last year baseball finally adopted some semblance of a drug testing policy but the specter of steroids threatens to unravel the fabric of the most hallowed records in the game. Barry Bonds’ 73 HR’s in 2001, Mark McGuire’s 70 in ’98, and Sammy Sosa’s 66 & 63 in ’98 & ’99 all come with significant baggage. The death of Ken Caminiti, the admitted steroid use of Jason Giambi, and the cloud constantly hovering over Bonds’ head suggests that baseball still has an extremely difficult time policing itself. This is due to a dysfunctional brain trust that is more bent on reaping the spoils of war than in preserving the sport. Bud Selig is a puppet of the owners and his arch nemesis Donald Fehr is the Don Corlione of the players’ union. These two have had more public spats than Al & Peg Bundy. Together Fehr and Selig have worked in concert to destroy whatever credibility baseball may have once had. Franchise success in baseball is largely due to deep pockets rather than to professional competency. Why else would the Yankees be able to compete year in & year out for a World Series trophy despite having possibly the worst minor league development system in the game? Simple, because George Steinbrenner has the deepest pockets in the league.

Baseball for the most part is a rich get richer kind of league whereas football has a genuine competitive balance. In order to compete in the NFL you need to be an astute talent evaluator, be a master mathematician, and relate well to fans and players alike. In baseball you need only have a fat TV deal, a gilded bank roll, and a willingness to shell out $2.5 million a year for an average middle reliever. In 1998 the NFL inked $17.8 billion in network television deals, that averages out to about $73.3 million per team per year. The average Major League Baseball franchise clears barely $11 million a year from network TV. Even if you factor in local television revenue the NFL still dwarfs MLB in the TV wars.

Another symptom of baseball’s dysfunction is the manner in which it flaunts its antitrust exemption. Baseball is the only major industry in America that has an exemption from antitrust laws. This means that teams can’t move without league approval, control of individual franchises can be stripped from owners (ask Marge Schott), and the league can contract teams at any time. Bud Selig flirted with this idea a couple years ago and the Expos and the Minnesota Twins were nearly wiped off the major league landscape. Instead the Expos were shipped to Washington D.C. to become the Senators. Another little ancillary effect of the antitrust exemption is that collusion amongst the individual teams has been commonplace, especially during the era of free agency. In the late 80’s the MLBPA filed three different grievances against the owners violating the anti-collusion clause of the 1976 Collective Bargaining Agreement. An independent arbitrator found that baseball owners were indeed guilty of collusion and awarded the players union a $280 million settlement.

When you view the picture as a whole you find that undoubtedly football is a better sport. You don’t find the acrimony between owners and players that exists in baseball, there is not the ominous presence of a massive steroid scandal that exists in baseball, and the athletes are superior in football. While baseball will always lay claim to being the more historically important sport the fact that the powers that be are a moronic band of nincompoops will always be, pardon the pun, strike one against our nation’s pastime. Strike two is the steroid problems baseball still refuses to address properly. And strike three is the nature of labor relations. The ’94 season was lost and it will happen again…guaranteed. Football is by far a more sound business entity with a more marketable product. I’ve weighed the merits, examined the history, and dissected the facts. The verdict is in and football is king.

STOP THE PRESSES...

AND READ ALL ABOUT IT!

Yours truly, Shrubadelica, has been feverishly writing away (just recycling old essays) and post copious amounts of material to my new sports blog. Just follow the link and comment on this string. Later!

Weekly round table...Gay Marriage

Our weekly round table discussion continues as we debate the finer points of gay marriage.

First up is the legendary Billy D...

Before we even get started here, let me say up front, that without having read Shrub’s or Morgan’s POV on this, I’m thinking I’m going to be on my own on this one.

Homosexual marriage. Where do I begin in explaining why this is so absolutely wrong for this or any other country? Marriage used to be between a man and a woman, and usually it was a precursor to having children. Now, I understand that this sounds old fashioned, and it is, really. Say, pre 1960-ish.

Homosexuals stayed in the closets, where they belonged. They weren’t “gay and proud” they were rightfully ashamed of the choices they were making. Sodomy (defined here as homosexual intercourse) was wrong, and they knew it. They still do know it, deep down inside, which I suspect is why there’s such a high number of gay suicides.

Now, I won’t go into any scripture here, it’s been done to death. Obviously homosexuality is very, very wrong in God’s eyes, at least in the Christian sense. But let’s focus on the marriage part of it.

First, the homosexuals claimed they want legal marriage for the benefits; partners rights after their deaths, insurance benefits (As an aside here, if gay marriage were to be legalized nationwide, your insurance rates would go through the friggin roof. Why? You would lose a portion of the pool paying in, as many would jump on their partners plans, and once the insurance companies have to start paying out for the ills that go along with a lifestyle making the average lifespan 42 years someone’s going to have to make up that difference) Civil unions were offered as a means to this end, and were flatly rejected by the gay community.

No, they want normalization. And legal equality is not nearly enough. See, homosexuality has already permeated most segments of our society. Obviously movies and music, television, even some of the various religions are now embracing homosexuality. So, marriage would be a logical next step, wouldn’t it? See, this has nothing to do with wanting legal rights. It has everything to do with forcing the other 98% of the country to not only accept homosexuals, but embrace them. An exaggeration? What’s happening in California right now with the textbooks? Mom and dad are being wiped from the pages, and replaced by mom and mom, or dad and dad.

I’ll not argue the repercussions gay marriage would have on the institution of marriage as a whole, as I don’t think there would be any. Marriage today is a government run thing, with not much at all to do with God anymore. And ever since the government took over the business of marriage, it’s been downhill since. Adding homosexuals to that group would hardly make it much worse, aside from driving the standing 50% divorce rate up even higher. And with a very large percentage of homosexual men claiming to have had between 100 and 1,000 different lovers in their past, with that amount of promiscuity the divorce rate would obviously be impacted.

Finally, take a quick look at the “slippery slope” factor. (I’m a big fan of the slippery slope) I know, it gets laughed off. “Where does it end?” people ask. Man and goat? Man and wife and wife? Man and Uncle? In each different scenario, the very arguments used to legally alter the state of marriage right now, can also, and would also, be applied to admit all the other perversions into the tent. You can’t legally have one without the other, at least not when someone starts screaming “It’s not fair”.

I know this is going to be an unpopular POV with many, and I understand that. But I don’t think the institution of marriage should just go quietly into that goodnight. It will eventually, but until then, it should be fought for and defended against those set to destroy it.

Now my take...

I have no opening statement so instead I’ll tell a joke…

How do you know if you’re at a gay wedding? Only half the guests are kneeling.

Now that that’s out of the way we can address the topic at hand…gay marriage.

The institution of marriage has existed in one form or another for eons. No societal tradition is as celebrated or sacred. Marriage and family have formed the foundation of society since the dawn of history. And truth be told, no commitment that one can enter into is as profound or life-altering.

So it’s amusing when some rail against gay marriage as if it’s the death knell for the very practice of pledging one’s fidelity to one another in the face of God and His church. Nuptials have been performed for as long as we’ve been walking upright and a few homosexual unions are going to undo in a few years what humans have been practicing since the Stone Age? Puh-leez.

All this hyper ventilating only serves two purposes; to raise the blood pressure and make one’s faith of choice look intolerant. Now if you want to deny the right for homosexuals to receive the holy sacrament of marriage, then by all means, as a private institution, do so to your little heart’s content. But to advocate a Constitutional Amendment barring homosexual unions under the guise of “defining” what marriage is is both unnecessary and foolish.

A federal government mandate to define what is and has always been a private arrangement is akin to handing the feds the keys to one’s house and saying “Stop by any time”. We as a populace would not dream of giving government such authority…but that’s precisely what you do if you favor a law that defines marriage.

Now there are those on the religious right who will make the stunning leap of logic that condoning gay unions will lead us down a slippery slope wherein polygamy, pedophilia, and a host of other taboo practices will be inexorably legitimized. Bah, nonsense. Polygamy and pedophilia are, by definition, illegal.

The same cannot be said of homosexuality. The only way to make homosexuality illegal is to strengthen sodomy laws and give the government sweeping police powers to burst into bedrooms at will and arrest adults for consensual sexual conduct. This is truly a Pandora’s Box that should be left closed, tightly.

Gay marriage may be an affront to God but isn’t that between the person and their church/deity. I really tire of hearing the self righteous crying from their ivory towers of indignation that gays are an abomination and should be ruthlessly persecuted and denied that which is maybe the most fundamental right we enjoy as humans, the right to cohabitate with whomever thou chooseth.

My mother has friends who are gay, one of my fraternity brothers is gay, and I’m certain 90% of the people out there know someone who’s gay. Now imagine walking up to them, looking them dead in the eye, and saying you will see to it that they never have the right to marry their mate. The gays I know are fiercely devoted to one another, and in the case of my mother’s friends, have been together for 20+ plus years. Like it or not you can’t deny the adoration they feel towards their partners, a love that is transcendent and beautiful. We should all be so lucky to wake up next to the person we envision spending eternity with.

All this consternation could have been avoided had we as a people told the government long ago to butt out of our marriages. Some will say that a certain amount of oversight is necessary for delineating inheritances, tax liability, and protecting the public health. These things were accomplished long before the proliferation of litigious legal systems and will sort themselves out if given due time and space. The legal fictions written and the unwieldy system that was created have served one primary purpose, to exponentially expand government power. And we are precariously close to handing over further power, on a silver platter, all in the name of preventing a few million gays from getting married.

So in my eminent way I’ve established that supporting gay marriage is a fairly foolproof way of strengthening the institution as a whole. Gays bring honor to marriage, their efforts to stay together and private makes your and my ability to keep the bedroom free from prying eyes all the more secure, and God will separate the worthy from the chaff when the time comes. Besides, at a gay wedding, you know the decorations will be elegant and tasteful.

Now, Auntie Morg...

With this ring, Fred weds Ted.

And I couldn’t care less.

Oh, I know. For one person like me who doesn’t care, there are any number of rabid fundamentalist Christians who are opposed to the idea of two men or women bonding through holy matrimony. Or any other way, for that matter. But for now, we’ll stick to their objection to matrimony.

The most common argument I hear is that if we let homosexuals marry, it will destroy the “sanctity” of marriage. They have a point. After all, why should we heterosexuals invite anyone to help us destroy and institution we've all but left in ruins.

The U.S. divorce rate stands at about 50 percent, and the Christian Right isn't immune. A 1999 poll conducted by the Barna Research Group found that that number of divorces is higher for conservative Christians than it is for atheists and agnostics. About 29 percent of Baptists, for instance, have at least one divorce in their past.

Of American couples those who remain wedded, there appears to be little bliss. Twenty-four percent of married men and 14 percent of married women admit to having extramarital affairs. One-third of divorce litigation involves Internet affairs. Internet discussion groups play to marital satisfaction. Forums with names like “Married But Flirting” or “Married But Looking” are booming.

If the Christian leaders were serious about preserving marriages, they’d lobby their representatives to tighten the laws that make divorce so easy. No more of this no-fault nonsense.

LIke that'll ever happen.

Getting conservative leaders to go for tighter divorce laws? You'd be about as successful as launching online Braille lessons.

Why? Because conservative leaders - especially the anti-gay marriage ones - just love their divorce.

Tighter divorce laws would have kept Rush Limbaugh from discarding his wives like so many empty Oxycontin bottles. Tighter restrictions may have kept Newt Gingrich from serving his last wife with divorce papers while she was hospitalized with cancer. Stricter divorce laws may have kept Operation Rescue’s wild-eyed Randall Terry from dumping his wife in favor of a twenty-something.

You know what I think? I don’t think government should be in the business of deciding the definition of marriage, or of sanctioning it. The government shouldn’t be in the business of issuing tax breaks as a reward for people who marry or have kids. My single, childless sister works just as hard as I do. Why should I get tax breaks for marrying and having kids that are only going to put more of a strain on what resources we have?

Why? Because it’s all about political pandering. And money. Politicians like Gingrich, while touting “traditional values”, throw a bone to heterosexual couples with promises to “protect” marital sanctity - and its monetary perks - from the gays. Religious leaders send out fliers touting the evils of same-sex unions and the money pours in. There's big money in bigotry.

But these religious types forget a fundamental truth - that marriage is a spiritual union. If a Joe wants to marry Beth, or if Joe wants to marry Ted, or if Joe wants to marry Beth and Ted, I’ll throw the rice as they run from whatever church gives its blessing. Even if it’s just the parties in a field, making their vows before God, who’s to say their union is any less valid. The only restriction should be age, for obvious reasons. But beyond that, there should be no barriers to marriage. But there shouldn't be any special perks, either.

Should that day ever come, only the weak will worry. And I will not be among them. No unconventional union can threaten the sanctity of my heterosexual marriage. There are only two people who can threaten that sanctity - my husband and I. We made the vows, and only we can break them. If a couple wants to honor the sanctity of marriage, it's easy. Just stay together.

Bonus edition...Testicle Tuesday

This week's bonus theme came as a special request from none other than Billy D. Seems he's got a thing for rockin' chicks. So, being the shameless whore that I've become, and because the research is so damned fun, I bring you an 80's rocker chick Testicle Tuesday. Lita Ford, Samantha Fox, Belinda Carlisle, and Susanna Hoffs may have contributed some truly horid music to the world but their collective bodies cannot be besmirched. Their music by definition sucked ass but their hotness is well worth inclusion in the pantheon that is Testicle Tuesday. Oh, on a side note, finding pictures of Samantha Fox with her clothes on is darn difficult, and I tried...a lot.

Testicle Tuesday...no theme, just another uber hottie

As a red-blooded American male there are few things I enjoy more than gazing at hot girls and watching sports. Ashley Judd is a sublime combination of sports nut and uber hottie. Who knew the University of Kentucky had a hockey program?

Until next Tueday...

New blog

I'm entering a contest on Foxsports.com to become the next great sports writer. And here's my new blog...enjoy!

Turn about is fair play...hahahaha

Seems that the world's largest retailer, Wal-Mart, who incidentally is the single largest benefactor of eminent domain claims in the United States, is in a juxtaposition. A suburb in the San Francisco Bay area is turning the tables on Wal-Mart and pursuing using eminent domain in an effort to reacquire some valuable waterfront property. Good Luck Hercules, stick to da man.

An open letter to my father, wherever he may be

Dear Dad,

When I was born in February of 1971 the men of Apollo 14 were walking on the moon. I guess I should’ve known then that nothing about my life would be normal. And where were you? No where.

Where were you when I broke my collar bone playing parachute by jumping off a bunk bed with a trash bag when I was four? No where.

Where were you when I stuck my hand on a seemingly cold burner and scorched rings on my palm when I was three? No where.

Where were you when I broke my jaw playing hockey? No where.

Where were you when I won state and made all-state in rugby my senior year in high school? No where.

Where were you when I got laid the first time when I was fourteen?

Where were you when I went to my senior prom, got drunk for the first time, learned how to hit a curve ball, learned how to shave, learned how to ride a bike, play football, wrestle, play chess, poker, gin, hearts, or go fucking fish? That’s right, no where.

Why weren’t you there? You forsook your son and abandoned your God given responsibility. You left a good woman to fend for herself and her only baby boy. You left, you left, you left.

As I sit writing this letter there are so many thoughts, so much baggage, the vestiges of lost youth and a stolen childhood. That’s what you stole from me you fucking coward, you stole my childhood. Because you shirked your responsibility and abandoned your son he had to grow up earlier than was right, earlier than nature dictates, earlier than he wanted.

My mother, God bless her, assumed your job and soldiered on. She raised a good man. And I’m the man I am today because of her. She’s twice the man you’ll ever be. She stayed, she comforted me when I burned my hand, took me to the hospital to bind that collar bone, drew up my protein drink I needed with a jaw wired shut, gazed with pride as I accepted the trophy we won, and jeered me when I came home drunk. She was there, my beloved mother, so strong yet so sweet. She sacrificed everything, long hours, shitty bosses, and a son seemingly bent on his own destruction.

So here I sit, and where are you? A real no where man sitting in his no where land making his no where plans for nobody.

Fuck you very much.

Your son, in biology only.

Friday's musing

I bring my foray into poetry...

Amethyst skies and angels eyes, with whispers on high
Purple haze in a sunset gaze as the sun fades from the sky
Darken deep the mountains steep and tower towards the stars
Twilight meets the darken streets as lights trail from passing cars
City beat that restless treat that only few will know
Spring’s step brings winter’s death and the passing of the snow
Where lovers walk and seldom talk down paved sidewalk
Cops prowl and punks growl as homey’s body is outlined in chalk
School yard carols and tin trash barrels dot the cityscape
Monkey bars and burned out cars in gnarly, twisted shapes
Neon lights on building heights shine like the sun
Lonely man strolls while rich man cajoles the woman he has won
Latch unlocked his head is cocked as he opens the front door
The city sleeps while grown men weep in bundles on the floor

Building castles...

In the sand. Very cool.

Introspection...the damnable misery of it all

Ever get in those moods where you direct the light of examination inward and see what bubbles up? Well that’s where I’m at.

As you already know I’m recuperating from a twelve day stint in the hospital. That in and of itself is mildly tedious and annoying. The sleep will come and my appetite will return in due time. But I received an additional cosmic kick in the teeth whilst holed up in the multi-trauma wing at a local hospital. I received the disheartening news that I failed the Colorado Bar Exam. Fuck.

It’s been a dream of mine since high school to become a lawyer. I’ve envisioned the corner office, the tawdry secretary, the heated debates, and the mindless sifting through case law for hours on end. And I liked the visual.

Then reality crashes the party and reminds me that it ain’t that easy. I studied hard, though admittedly not as long as I should have. I thought I knew contracts, torts, criminal, constitutional, evidence, property, administrative, corporations, agency & partnership, family, and trusts & estates cold. Boy was I wrong.

Now I’m faced with 6-8 weeks of cramming 3 ½ years of law school into my diluted and porous brain pan. I don’t know if I’ve got it in me to tackle this shit again. The mere thought of pouring over reams of case law and annotated outlines fills me with dread. Sifting through the legal morass seems about as appealing as giving mouth to mouth to a dead baboon.

It’s disheartening to say the least when you’re faced with the specter that your inner you may not be cut out for your ultimate goal. I’ve got my eyes on the prize but my grasp seems a tad short. I made it this far, why won’t the switch flip, why can’t I muster up the collective energy to pass the God damn bar?!

The one saving grace and primary motivator is my beloved mother. The woman has seen this man through more shit than imaginable. She watched her only child break bones, do sports, drink to excess, and nearly kill himself by the time he was nineteen. She’s been the bedrock of my life. She’s stood beside my bed as I clung barely to life and she held me as I rehabbed a broken body and shattered psyche. And she’s been my most vocal critic and supporter as I’ve attempted to get my fledgling legal career off the ground. I am the man I am today because of her.

I’ve got until mid of May to decide. I’m at the proverbial fork in the road and it’s sticking me in the ass. If I go on and meet failure again the results could be extreme. If I resign myself to defeat I spit in the face of those, primarily my mom, who’ve helped me along the way. Which way to take…

Waxing nostalgic, video game style

I just found a site with screen caps of some of the most influential and coolest video games ever. Almost makes ya teary with bright eyed rememberences of the days of yore. I remember fondly treking to the arcade and dumping rolls of quarters into Commando, Techmo Bowl, and Karate King. Thank God for Madden and Halo. And for you Diablo junkies the third installment of the most successful computer game ever should be released in the fall.

Testicle Teusday...Oh, I'm back

You're probably asking yourselves, "Wheredafuck Shrub been at?" I refer you to the next post.

You're also probably asking, "Where's the theme? How come this chick gets a beloved Testicle Tuesday to herself?"

Simple, Jessica Alba is that hot. She exudes hotness, hotness is secreted by her pores. She is a delightful and nubile little tart who deserves the spotlight of Testicle Tuesday.

Sorry kids...

I just did a ten day stint in the hospital. Needless to say had I not had a running supply of dilotted I would have gone nuts, what with mostly hideous looking nurses and shitty TV.

I was inspired by my stay to construct a list of things I’d rather endure than staying in the hospital.

I’d rather circumcise myself with a chainsaw than stay in the hospital.

I’d rather receive an enema of molten lead.

I’d rather eat out a Bassett hound.

I’d rather spend ten years in a Turkish prison.

I’d rather masturbate with a cheese grater.

I’d rather discuss literature with Anna Nicole Smith.

I’d rather pound nails with my forehead.

I’d rather lick the floor of a movie theater.

I’d rather cut my pubic hair with torch.

I’d rather visit a proctologist named Dr. Hook.