Abolish Christmas

So, the Southern Tier Pride Event 2008 has come and gone and the Star-Gazette Letters to the Editor are swollen with comments supporting and condemning the festival.

Not only are the letters flowing, but so are the comments left by readers at the end of the articles.

They are always pure gold. The unfiltered, unbridled lunatic rantings of the uncompromising soldiers of JESUS™, come to save you from yourself, always bring a smile to my face. I love how the comments never contain facts, are never grounded in any reality I'm familiar with, never contain proper grammar or spelling and rarely make any point beyond, "Jesus loves me, and Jesus doesn't love you....er, I mean your sin." Or the longer version, which usually goes like this: "Jesus loves you....but, um, uh, first you must repent your sin to get Jesus's love. Otherwise, Jesus want you to fucking die and burn in hell and get raped with a burning hot curling iron in your asshole...and oh, oh, this is making me so hot for Jesus...but not in a gay way. By the way, now it's time for me to reveal some kind of creepy personal information about what brought me to Jesus. When I'm done telling you about how I heard Jesus's voice in my chapstick that one night in Balitmore, with my ankles in the air and Chex mix stuck in my strap-on, you're going to want to get the hell away from me so fast."

So anyways, I always have my eyes peeled for comments like that one. I just love them. I found one that gave me a good chuckle, courtesy of user name jgardner35 , who wrote:

I may be against this and that's your own business to do as you choose! There are two choices in life you can make. Either you can live and choose to walk with Jesus or the Devil. The only one who will judge you is JESUS! So if you believe in God and he sent his only Son and died and rose three days later from our sins! GREAT then you believe everything he wrote in the bible! Otherwise if you dont then Please dont consider Christmas or Easter for it is about JESUS nothing else! We are only spreading the TRUTH thats it besides PRAY! It's sad to see how this world is turned out to be and GOD is not in the picture and they took pray out of schools not letting them even say one nation UNDER GOD(thats a joke) or gee money "IN GOD WE TRUST and the list goes on. People are trying to take that out too. Look how this nation is every thing that goes on in the small cities and schools that never used to be this bad. Lord I will like to Pray for those who dont know you or refuse!

This one was so much fun. Obviously jgardener was drunk when he wrote this, or he's mentally handicapped, and in that case, good try gardener. But maybe next time you should save it for the Special Olympics, where you can compete with people of our own caliber, rather then trying to argue with the big boys who have been speaking English their whole lives rather then picking it up as a second language, as you obviously have.

Before gardner pointed it out to me, I had no idea that I had only two choices: Walk with JESUS™, or walk with the DEVIL™. My whole life, I've walked by myself. But maybe it IS time I pick a side. After all, my ego is overblown to the point where I could use some sycophants as an entourage.

In that spirit, I select Martian Sheen to be my walking buddy. But I don't just want him to walk with me, I want him to narrate my every move like it was an episode of E! True Hollywood Stories.

However, if I'm going to have Martian Sheen be my narrator, I'm going to have to start doing interesting things with my time. So I've decided to devote my life to a singular cause. I'm going to route out American's number one evil. I'm going to protect America from the greatest threat to its national security. I'm going to save our children from the worst, most pervasive, most destructive enemy.

I am going to abolish Christmas.

Because gardner is right. America is a secular nation. And as he pointed out (so elequently) supporters for the Seperation of Church and State have been aiming for the removal of all public displays of nativity scenes on government property, removing the Ten Commandments from court houses, arguing for the removal of "In God We Trust" from our currency, and they've been moving towards abolishing the Pledge. It follows in the American tradition of keeping prayer out of public schools and creationism out of Biology class.

So obviously, abolishing Christian holidays as Federal Holidays is the logical next step. And its about time, too. Because, seriously, I'm so sick of buying presents for everyone. And its not enough you have to buy presents for your spouse, your kids, your parents, your siblings, your siblings kids, your aunts and uncles and grandparents, and then all your inlaws. No, then people have to do cute things like buy little presents for everyone at the office. That's it. That's like, 6 months of income gone.

For the privilege of having 1 day off, you have to put in overtime for the entire month of December. And during one of the most dangerous times of year for driving, everyone is racing around in their SUV's like maniacs, going from store to store.

Then the hardcore Christians start bitching that retail is destroying their Holiday. That images of Santa have replaced Jesus, that Secularists (in the spirit of not offending anyone by excluding the other religious holidays that coincide with Christmas) have replaced "Merry Christmas" with "Happy Holidays" which greatly offends them.

I agree with those hardcore Christians. So I say, let the Federal Government take Christmas and Easter and all Christian holidays off the Federal calender. Let people celebrate Christmas at home, in private with their families and at Church where Christmas belongs...not at the office Holiday Party were Kimmy the secretary has too much eggnog and starts stripping to Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer on the copy machine.

To make this transition possible, we're going to have to have some guidelines. First, there can be no holidays movies on television and no Christmas specials. It adds to the Secularism. Also, CocaCola can't use the Santa mascot anymore. Second, stores will have to pledge not to run any sales in the month of December. No Black Friday, no Super Holiday Savings. Retailism is destroying Christians' most loved holiday, and until people can separate material things from the gift of Christ's love, we have to discourage the giving and receiving of presents. For this reason, mall Santas should also be banned. They're creepy anyway. Third, all Christmas decorations should be limited to depictions of Jesus. No white plastic reindeer, no motorized snow globes, just lights and Jesus. Just wallpaper your whole house with a picture of Jesus. Fourth, cutting down pine trees during this season should be strictly prohibited to end the secular practice of the Christmas Tree. Cutting down all those trees every year isn't good for the environment anyway.

With a few simple Federal Laws, you and I together can abolish Christmas. And it was totally be in the best interest of our country, and in the best interest of Christianity. If we start now, in June, we might be able to make it happen as soon as this year.

Write your Senators, write your Congressmen. Let them know you support the abolishment of Christmas as a Federal Holiday. Together, we can save Christmas for Christ.

Southern Tier Pride 2008 Huge Success

I woke up early today with the intent on sneaking out in my pj's, run to my car, drive to Dunkin' Donuts and get some coffee without anybody realizing I hadn't gotten dressed. But on my way out the house, I saw Joe from Ray of Hope Church on the corner, chatting it up with a neighbor and my fag hag kicked in. I made a beeline right for him. We ended up walking down to the Gay Pride Event set up, me in my pj's and all.

All in all, it was fine day with a great turn out. Mothers on Prozac was a great band, Hill Top's food vendors offered some delicious choices, the Drag Queens/Kings were both hysterical and fantastic entertainers, and just the general love felt by everyone who participated was warm and genuine.

Mayor Tonello got the warmest reception I've ever seen. He gave a fantastic speech about community, pride and standing up for what's right and ignoring people who want to tell you that your evil for supporting gay rights. He was really in his element.

The unspoken highlight, though, the Protesters, were the biggest let down. Last year, they got arrested for being obnoxious. And there's been all this talk this year about what they would do this time. And seriously, they did nothing. They were so absolutely boring, just standing on the other side of the street with their signs and their little plastic megaphone. I mean, shit, they could have at least brought me some donuts or something.

My favorite thing, though, was a ceremony between two lesbians, renewing their vows. It was so awesome. They got up on stage, they had a pastor marry them, and they kissed and the crowd went wild.

I can't wait for next year.

The Ballad of Mr. Lebowski

At 11:30, I was talking to my mother on Instant Message when she told me about a phone call she got that night: someone on Clinton street had called her to tell her that a cat had been hit by a cat in front of their house and the driver had scooped up the thing with cardboard and dumped it next to their recycling bin. It was out there, yowling, unable to move. They called the police, and the police wouldn't come. They called animal control, and they wouldn't come until morning.

Nothing pisses me off like uncaring Fucktwats who torment helpless little animals. I was out there, 5 minutes flat with my cat carrier, a towel, a pair of work gloves and a can of cat food. I saw the cat immediately: a crumpled gray thing laying next to the recycling bin, limbs askew, mewing.

"Hi kitty-kitty."

"Ooooo." Sneeze. "Oooooo." Sneeze. Blood.

When I approached, the cat got scared and tried to run away, but it didn't get far. It dragged itself to the front of the house and tried to climb the stairs. Then it gave up. "Oooo."

A car pulled up beside mine. It was my husband, Joel, and his friends. I had been entertaining them at my home and I left in a hurry without saying good-bye. "What are you doing?"

They helped me bundle up the cat and get him into the carrier. He didn't hiss. He didn't bite or scratch or struggle at all. He just went, "Oooo. Oooh." We brought the cat back to my house and locked him in the office, away from my own cats who greedily sniffed the door. I opened up the carrier and looked inside to see the damage.

The carrier interior was covered in blood. The cat kept sneezing blood--lots of blood. "Oh no." I thought. "He probably has a rib puncturing his lung, or his chest is crushed. Poor thing." He couldn't stay in my apartment. He would probably die. And even if he was going to die no matter what, he deserved to at least be euthanized and not be allowed to suffer all night.

"So, what do you want to do?" Joel asked.

I was crushed. "This cat needs to go to a vet. Its dying."

"Is there any place open?"

"Hm." I called 411 and asked for a 24 hour animal hospital. I was put in touch with Broadway Animal Hospital's answering service, and they asked me for a number I could be reached at and said they would call back.

While we waited, my husband and I loaded the cat into our Jeep and we started driving towards Broadway Animal Hospital. "Ooooh. Ooooh. Oooh."

"I think he peed in the carrier."

Finally, the phone rang and there was a very terse, irritated woman on the other end who acted like I was wasting her time. "Well, didn't you call the police??" she asked. I explained they wouldn't come for a cat. "Well, didn't you call the local SPCA?" I explained they were closed. "We'll, if you want to take full financial responsibility for the cat, we can contact a local on-call vet, who will meet you at the Corning Animal Hospital..."

All the way to Corning?

"...and the emergency room fee will cost $200. That's before the cost of the examination, medication, x-rays and treatment."

Fuckberries! Twatmuffins!

My phone began to chime. It signaled by battery was about to go dead. No time to think.

"Ok. I'll take full responsibility for the cat. Now how do I get to Corning Animal Hospital?"

We turned around the drove towards Corning. At this time, the cat had stopped making noise. "Kitty?" I reached into the back seat and rubbed its head through the bars. The cat's head dropped limply, without a sound. "Honey, I think the cat's dead." I shined a flashlight through the bars. Amazingly, that little chest was rising and falling. "Nevermind. He's breathing. Keep going."

We couldn't find Corning Animal Hospital. With my phone dead, we couldn't call anyone for directions. We drove back and forth along the road the vet was supposedly on. None of the businesses had any lights on. We were looking for ghost landmarks. Goff Road. A fire station.

Joel pulled over at a closed convenience store where we saw a car in the parking lot with the headlights on. A manager leaving for the evening? Maybe they knew where the animal hospital was.

"Its an ugly sign you can't read," said the dumpy lady mopping the floor inside. "It looks like Chinese lettering."

"I remember that sign!" Joel said, and away we went. And it was: the sign was hideous, well illuminated, but you couldn't read it. It was the initials of the hospital shaped to look like a dog, except that it didn't look like a dog OR initials. It looked like "Lunch Special" to me.

We waited in the parkinglot for the Vet to come, and she arrived a few minutes later in full vet scrubs and a happy handshake. "Thank you for agreeing to meet us," I said, really thinking "Thank you for making this, what I imagine will be, the most expensive night of my life." We went inside and put the eerily silent cat on an metal examination table. We agreed to take apart the carrier rather then drag the injured cat out.

Inside was a warm gray cat with a white bib, blinking at us. "Mew." And then, as if he knew we were there to help, he began to purr and knead the blanket with his good paw.

The vet began to examine him. He didn't resist. When the vet felt up his bloody paw, he doesn't yelp or struggle as if it hurt. She felt his back and belly and legs and face. She allowed the cat to stand up. He walked in a circle. He sat down. He walked in a circle. He sat down.

"Is his brain scrambled?"

"Could be neurological," the vet answered. "Or he may just have a concussion. But the good news is--he seems to be ok. His leg is twisted, but it doesn't feel broken. He's putting a little weight on it. And there's very little blood coming out of his nose now. I don't think there's any internal injuries--he might have just bit his own tongue. I'd like to keep him over night and see if his condition worsens or improves." We agreed and made our way out the door. "You should name him 'Lucky'" the vet suggested as we left.

On the drive back, it started.

"Dr. Jones."

"No. Mr. President."

"President Bartlett."

"J.D....or Scrub."

"Lebowski."

"Yeah, I like that. The Dude. The Dude abides."

"Yeah. He just wanted his old rug back. It really tied the room together."

"Mister Lebowski."

This morning, I called Corning Animal Hospital to check up on Mr. Lebowski. "He's doing fine. His foot looks much better. His sinuses have cleared up. He's purring and giving kisses and making cookies and showing his belly. He's a real friendly, submissive cat."

That's good. Because if he was an asshole, I'd be pissed.

They gave him his shots, some pain meds, flushed his ears and said I could pick him up any time.

$600 later, I took him home. Within 24 hours, Mr. Lebowski was romping around the house with my two girl kitties, Neko and Peanut, like he's always known them. He had picked out his territory and found a warm spot to sleep on (me.). He claimed his own litter pan. He told me he preferred wet food, thank you, and he would like his wake-up call at 7:00pm, sharp.

And he liked his White Russians with extra cream.

THERE'S A FUCKING SPIDER IN MY CAR!!!

It left a GIANT spider web on my console. Not a cobweb--cobwebs don't have that distinct circular pattern. This one DID.

I get in my car and THERE IT IS. The web. But no. Sign. Of. The. Spider.

I looked EVERYWHERE. I can't find it. Its hiding. Waiting. Waiting for we to start driving--then it will appear, when I'm doing 55, and then I'll freak out, hit a guard rail and die.

I know that's what's going to happen, because its happened already before. Except for the death part.

Driving. Minding my own business. Then a white spider dangled down from my rear-view mirror, inches from my face, and said quite distinctly, "Greetings. I have decided to crawl in your ear and lay my eggs in your brain."

And I went, "No!!!" and lost control of the car and drove into someone's West Elmira lawn. I jumped out of my car, which wasn't even in park, and did a little "there's a spider on me, get it off, get it off," dance, expect the spider was still in the car, laughing at me.

So this middle aged man in a bath robe comes out of his house with a butter knife, intent on chasing me away. "I'm calling the police!" He shouted.

I had no choice. Either get back into the car before authorities arrived, determined I was a NUT and send me to St. Joe's, or get back in the car and drive away and maybe seek assistance with my spider problem. And away I went, back into the spider-possessed car to my DOOM. I drove all the way to West Elmira convenient. The whole time, I had no idea where the spider had gone. My knuckles were white, gripping the steering wheel. My whole body was sweating. I tried to focus straight ahead like a horse wearing blinders. If the spider crawled up from the darkness, I couldn't risk seeing it.

Little did I know, the spider was contently watching me, upside down directly above my head.

A few minutes later, I arrived at the West Elmira Convent, where my boyfriend and future husband was working part-time. I parked my car and ran out, doing my spider dance.

Joel saw my little dance in the parking lot and came outside to investigate. I explained the situation, and the spider was dead in a tissue 60 seconds later.

And so goes the Ballad of the Brain Eating Spider, and that's how Joel became my hero. But there are spiders still out there, waiting, watching, planning ahead. And as a future kamikaze, suicide bomber spider waits in my car, he's assures himself: Hello. My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die.

Open letter to FLDS

Generally, I only blog when:

a) I'm REALLY impressed by something

or

b) Douchetwat strikes again.

And, oh, oh, the season of douchbagery has commenced with a summer-time, margarita-flavored vengeance. And this time, it came from an unexpected place--Texas. Usually, this time of year, I would be focused on hating something productive; McCain or Hillary Clinton for example, or those anti-gay protesters in the park every Thursday with the signs proclaiming, "I never graduated from high school." I mean, my time is precious. I have a strict HATE schedule, so all the ills in the universe can have my due attention in time--but something happened a few weeks ago, and all the paperwork just flew out the window: FLDS happened.

I am addicted to this story like E! was addicted to Anna Nicole Smith. I mean, I used to drink coffee like crazy. No more. All I have to do now is YouTube a video of the FLDS mothers crying to have their children returned, and it keeps me happy all day long. I wallow in their collective misery, just like I do when I watch the Nazi get hanged at the end of Schindler's List.

Watching real-life, Hannibal-Lecter level psycho-paths getting their just deserts is better then Hilliary Clinton losing, like, ALL the primaries. No! It's better then that! It's like Hillary Clinton losing all the primaries at once, then getting herpes, falling off stage on live television and then catching on fire.

Then CNN did something that made my life: they posted a link to the FLDS site where people can send letters of support and donate money towards their legal fees.

Oh. My. God.

I can send letters to the polygamous ranch?? Sweet baby Jesus, jackpot!

They never should have made a website like this. Why? Because they're going to get letters from people like me--the collective fruit cakes of the internet--and we're going to say AWFUL things.

So, for our mutual enjoyment, I'm going to post the very letter I wrote to FLDS. But before you read it, I want to acknowledge that yes, I understand the initial phone call that began the investigation was a hoax. I don't care. If police respond to a 911 call from some 9 year olds pulling a prank, and then find a dead body in the house the call came from, they don't ignore reality.

With that being said, without further delay:


Dear YFZ Ranch Members,

I understand that the members of your ranch have made a plea through the media with the "outside world" to have your children returned to your custody. I understand the argument that your religious freedoms have been tromped on by a public who misunderstands your values and your way of life. I also understand you are concerned about what life styles and values your children may be exposed to while in state custody, and that you fear your children will eventually be returned to you traumatized.

Have no fear. Your children will not be returned to you period. The girls were sex slaves in your compound-- lied to, taught to be submissive, subservient, sub-human, unable to choose their own destinies, bred for the sole purpose of making more babies for further sex abuse. Your young girls were taught they were inferior to men--and they were expected to enter arranged, polygamous marriages as soon as they hit puberty--maybe even before puberty. Furthermore, your young boys were taught that this was acceptable, expected, and worse--excess boys were abandoned in the desert to die when competition for wives arose.

Its time for you to realize the "outside world" is the only world and your 18th century fantasy is over. You live in the United States of America, and as long as you do, you are subject its laws--especially those about the rape, sexual and mental abuse, neglect and abandonment of children and minors.
If we're all very lucky, ALL of your children will be taken into custody and out of your evil, evil ranch forever. If we're very, very lucky--anyone who had knowledge of child abuse or child polygamy at YFZ and didn't take steps to end it will spend the rest of their lives in jail. And if we are exceptionally lucky, years of intense therapy will allow your children to grow up into normal people. Hey, let's be optimistic. Maybe in five or ten years, one former member of FLDS who's been rescued from your lifestyle can get her eyebrow pierced without fear of eternal damnation. Maybe she's can even grow up to be successful CEO or doctor or lawyer or maybe even President--all futures denied to her as a consequence of growing up in your ranch.

Hope you cry everyday,
Emily Coletta

Let's Have A Teen Pregnancy Show

I classify myself as a hard-core liberal, so if I'm alarmed at the idea of 16 year old Jamie Lynn Spears having a show on Nickelodeon about her pregnancy, something must be way wrong.

Jamie Spears, younger sister of Brittney Spears, is the star of Nickelodeon's "Zoey 101." She recently announced she's unexpectedly (you think?) pregnant by her 18 year old boyfriend. She's "bravely" decided to keep the baby and take responsibility for what she's done.

Nickelodeon has kept all comments about the situation limited and positive. Then CNN announced Nickelodeon is considering airing a television show about the pregnancy.

This is a quote from Lowell Sun Online; "Kathy Stein said her two daughters, ages 12 and 14, were not at all shocked by the revelation. They watch the show but say Jamie Lynn's image has been tainted by her older sister's reputation. Stein believes Nickelodeon has a golden opportunity to turn this into an educational experience. "

"It happens. I don't want to sit here and pretend that no young girl ever becomes pregnant," Stein said. "If they do it right, then it becomes a fabulous family lesson."

Whatever. I also don't want to pretend young girls don't ever get pregnant. I'm all about advocating a woman's right to choose, access to contraception and real sex education in schools.

However, I also don't pretend that genocide never happens, either, but I don't want "Hotel Rowanda" airing on Nickelodeon. So I don't think Nickelodeon is an appropriate place to promote this under-age star's pregnancy. And it is promotion, no matter how you spin it. This girl, Jamie, is a role model and an authority to her pre-teen fans--on lip gloss, shoes and dating tips. This isn't the example a role model should be making. Now, I'm not saying that pregnant teenage girls everywhere should be sequestered in shame from public view. I'm saying that this role model has a duty to step down because her behavior is not one we want young girls emulating.

On the bright side, the Spears mom's book on parenting has been put on hold because she's a sucky, sucky mother and her daughters are now sucky, sucky mothers and they shouldn't be giving advice to anyone. Give me a break. A Spears book on parenting is like Ted Haggard on a gay prostitute--a gross and funny reality, but not one I'd voluntarily stare at.

---

EFA and the Mickey Mouse Club

Elmira's schools are in the spotlight after students from Elmira Free Academy were arrested for brawling in the hallways. Its not the first time Elmira City School's have been in the news for violent student behavior. Over the years, news of fights have been streaming steadily out of the school system--even in Ernie Davis and various Elementary schools.

I think many teachers were floored by the attitudes of the students and had no idea how to handle defiant, violent students. But why? Why are kids so defiant, and why are teachers so reluctant to get involved?

I have an interesting theory.

Spin and Marty was a popular series of TV shorts that aired as part of the Mickey Mouse Club. They spawned a successful franchise and many books, one of which I own. It is the most disturbing book I've ever read. I think the attitudes of the book reflect the attitudes of the time--and the attitudes many of today's teachers grew up with.

Let me explain. Spin and Marty were two boys who went to a summer camp. Spin was a popular, athletic boy and Marty was a wealthy orphan who wasn't "well-adjusted" like other boys. When Marty got into confrontations with other boys, he threatened to sue them, which earned their contempt. Marty was teased and bullied because he didn't know how to play sports or ride a horse. Spin in particular was a thorn in Marty's side, always rubbing in his superior skills.

After the boys in the camp put hot pepper in Marty's sleeping bag, Marty gets really upset and wants to leave the camp. But one older camp counselor suggests that Marty is the problem, not the other boys. Marty doesnt know how to behave like a man, and he needed to learn to work out his problems in a mature way. Marty agrees that maybe he should stay, but isn't sure how he can work things out with Spin.

The camp counselor has the solution: a boxing match.

And so, the climax of the book is Marty and Spin beat the ever living SHIT out of each other in a boxing ring. And the end they become friends.

. . .

Fast forward to reality. Let me tell you a contemporary story.

Marty is a boy in 7th grade who isn't adjusting in school. He's picked on because he can't play sports very well. A kid named Spin is particularly vicious towards Marty. The teachers take note of it and suggest to Marty that he try harder to get along with Spin. Marty just wants to leave school--but the teachers brush him off. Teachers tell him he needs to work out his problems with Spin, like a mature adult.

Marty takes that suggestion to heart. So the next day, he comes to school with a pipe bomb and kills everyone in his class and himself.

I think today's teachers are wildly out of touch with the reality of kid's lives. There is a heightened sense of desperation in schools. More and more kids are having sex early and dealing with the consequences of early sex like STDs and unwanted pregnancies. Rumors, once that spread rabidly by word of mouth, move at lightening speed over text messages. Kids carry concealed weapons to school to protect themselves.

On top of that, the state is ever forcing kids to perform under crushing standardized tests. Now graduation isn't just a first step towards a successful adult-hood; its a race to get the hell out of school before some distraught teen brings an uzi to class to escape the ever-escalating pressure. But with a standardized test making it even more difficult to stick it out, some kids see no end in sight. They have no hope.

Teen angst is oppressive enough. But in this environment, some students feel as if their lives are in danger. So when one student challenges another to a fight--it isn't a friendly boxing match that ends with a hand shake.

I have no solution to offer, only a perspective.

We are a society obsessed with blame. More folks are more interested at finding out who's at fault for allowing this situation to get out of hand. Is it the administration, who ignores discipline problems until they erupt? Is it teachers, who don't have the skills to confront disruptive students? Is it parents, for raising unruly children? Is it State Laws, which did away with corporal punishment? Is it the PC Squad, who reports parents to Child Services for spanking their kids? Is it the Conservative Gun Club, who makes high-powered guns accessible to teens? Is it the Justice System, which perpetually treats violent students like children and not as adult criminals?

The answer is, yes.

We need to radically re-think how we raise, treat and teach young people, as they have radically changed.