God and Politics: Like Peanut Butter and Chocolate, Except Horrible

The United States of America was created for two reasons: King George III was a dick, and we didn't like paying taxes on tea. But once that was over, our Founding Fathers realized that we could get something good out of this country. Then we got our constitution on, a document I think we can all agree is pretty swell. We did not found this country on religious freedom as some would lead you to believe. The colonies founded by the pilgrims were established because English protestantism was seen as too loose by those particular uptight assholes, but most of the original colonies were founded as profit ventures for companies. Of course the Founding Fathers, or Kickass Old Guys as I like to call them, realized that England had meddled in the past with religious affairs, so they tried to ensure that politics was kept out of religion. Now in the 21st century, we are no longer concerned with politics meddling with God, we are concerned with God infiltrating politics.


Indeed, politics and religion have become like two parasites, feasting on the shit of the other. The Republican party was first to exploit the fundamentalist sects of America for political gain, resulting in a party now more concerned with stem cells and what gays do in the privacy of their own home than, you know, issues that actually matter. Yes, I'm sure in a world stricken with poverty and infested with violence, the first thing we should do is stop legitimate scientific endeavors and dudes that like it in the ass. Jesus would want it that way.

Now we have a president that sincerely believes in the Rapture. This guy believes that when the Jews start a trailer park in Palestine, America and Iran are going to have a showdown at Armageddon, resulting in carnage enough to fill a valley with blood. Then Jesus shows up saying, "whoa whoa guys, hold on. I'm back. Chill out."

Seriously. I am not making this shit up.

With people so devoutly entrenched in the gospel of crazyland, it's hard to see how this won't effect foreign and domestic policy. Hell, it already has affected policy. We've got people advocating the teaching of creationism in schools. We're balls deep in bullshit in the middle-east. We have our own propaganda network. Look at Fox News. Fox news is Al Jazeera for white people. America has a 24-hour news station dedicated to pushing a far right wing christian agenda. What the fuck. If George Washington's corpse were reanimated and armed with all the powers of the 2nd Amendment, he would put a bullet hole in the ass of American Politics so big the fucking Canadians would feel it.

I am a terrible person for laughing at this.

Church and State sleeping together does nothing but riddle American culture with the STDs of extremism. Big fat, bloated boils of fundamentalist religion are oozing off the twisted member of freedom. And within those leaking pustules resides the goo of intolerance. We already hate Muslims, and we only like the Jews for their involvement in the coming apocalypse and their aptitude in accounting. America is being corrupted by religion and those that would exploit it. America is becoming Iran for chrissake.

In the muslim world, politics and religion are the exact same. Identical. The only secularists that rule in the middle-east are dictators. When given democracy, the people vote for religious radicals. And their batshit fuck loco leaders believe in their own bullshit rapture. They believe that once Israel is a smoking crater, Iran and America fight at some other prophetic location, and the conflict is ceased by the second coming of imam, or the easter bunny, or whatever fluffy anthropomorphic deity they pray to. Then everybody comes back to life and rocks out with their cocks out for eternity in heaven. In order to achieve this aim, one must embrace our glorious leaders, then strap a bomb to our chest and blow up some fried chicken joint in the middle of bum-fuck alabama. Or maybe snag some C4 and take out your local fish n' chips stop. Either way, the taint of delicious, grease filled capitalist food must be destroyed to usher in the new age.

This is what happens when the lies of politics mix with the deceit of religion. Our favorite eateries get torn up by some guy that has never experienced the pleasure that is pork.

May we as a species escape the vice like grip of fundamentalism, lest our tastiest treats be sacrificed to the gods of absurdity.

Now I'm hungry. For Freedom.

Religion as Rebellion: God is the new Hot Topic

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

Getting Political: Fundamentalists Make Me Glad I Don't Believe in All This God Bullshit

If you didn't catch the three part CNN special God's Warriors by Christiane Amanpour, you probably missed out on the most intelligent, enlightening, and inadvertently terrifying piece of journalism that has come out of the mainstream media in the last eight years. An investigation into the fundamentalist sects of Judaism, Christianity, and Islam, the report detailed extremist groups and their unique takes on the religious crusade.

Whenever I learn something new, I feel like I have to celebrate my fresh wisdom with discourse. In honor of this, I will be posting a series of blag entries to detail my feelings about religion, both moderate and radical, in its relation to a variety of topics. This is hardly a grand undertaking, since I can talk out my ass with the pros, but I hope it will prove at least marginally interesting to all three of my readers. How did you even find this site? It's not like I'm making it easy for you.

As my first post on the topic, I feel like you should know where I'm coming from. I'm an Atheist, but certainly don't fancy these new fangled neo-atheists, or as I like to call them, Evangelical Atheists, these mother fuckers that can't stomach the idea that someone may disagree with them. Richard Dawkins can go fuck himself. Whats up with all this Meme shit anyway? And this whole "Coming Out" campaign? You mean to tell me that instead of holding my own convictions private, I should publicly proclaim my beliefs and berate those that don't agree with me? I didn't realize that being an Atheist was synonymous with being a dick. Also, if I see you wearing these shirts around town, I swear to God I will be disappointed in you.

Protip: The A stands for "Asshole"

On to my origins. My own personal experiences with religion are neither heartbreaking, nor heartwarming, nor all that exciting. When I was young my parents brought me to church for a few boring hours, I would drink my Juice brand Juice Box, and scamper between the pews to get to the bathroom in time. Not all that special. When I got home, I would tear off my stuffy clothes and dive right into Sonic the Hedgehog accompanied by delicious chicken teriyaki. I remember one day, we just stopped going to church (the same time as my parents divorce) and I was pleased as the dickens to have Sunday mornings empty and free for my own dalliances. Riding bikes around the block, surfing at the beach, playing Mechwarrior 2 until Kerensky came home. Those were good times. Although I still held a belief in God, I was not at all active in his pursuit. I knew the ten commandments in the same way I know all 150 Pokemon, less as dogma and more as trivia. As I grew older, the basic idea of a God seemed natural. It was there since I was born, and I assumed it always has been. Although me and my family were officially Presbyterian, nobody really went to church and I only read the bible between BattleTech and whatever bullshit E-Z Reader crap my parents were trying to force me into. No, I don't give a shit about Spot, nor do I give a shit about Timmy winning the fucking baseball game. I would much rather be reading over the trials of Frodo and the Fellowship as they journeyed to destroy the one ring. The precocious reader that I was, my family eventually capitulated to the fact that I really don't need to be stifled by the basics. While most kids were watching Thomas the Tank Engine and Barney the Homosexual Dinosaur, I was engaged by Jedi, the starship Enterprise, and Babylon 5.

Even so, my belief in a God never waned, in fact it was strengthened by Tolkien's none so subtle allegory. Then my mother decided it was time to go back to church. Now I could actually digest the sermon, and was struck with a nausea familiar to practitioners of seppuku. None of what this guy was saying felt right. And I don't mean to imply that through my unequivocal powers of deductive reasoning that I, as an 8 year old, managed to sort through this god bullshit. Rather, I was just unnerved by what he was saying. I need Jesus to feel loved? I need a personal connection with God to save my self from the evil's of this world? What the hell is up with all this eternal damnation stuff? Wait, everyone I know will be forever forsaken by God simply because they do not believe in this crock of shit you're spouting? I call bullshit. Being subjected to the preacher corrupted my rather benign view of God. God had changed from a good natured omnipotence with voyeuristic tendencies to a vindictive prick. But I still believed. I guess I just had it wrong. This guy knows all about this God stuff, it's like his job or something.

I stopped going to church when I learned to say "no". I naively misunderstood the implications of such an all-knowing asshole, thinking of him as just a big-ole-doody head. Then I became a teenager.

It all seemed to click for me in 2002. Some political speech was on Fox, with some guy yammering on about how God is on our side so on and so forth. But something caught my ear. He was saying that God wanted us to kill terrorists. I'm no theologian, but I distinctly remember there being something about not killing in the bible. I think it was on a big fucking stone tablet given to Moses by a burning bush. And I don't think it said, "don't kill unless..." I think it said don't kill. I think it said: Thou shalt not kill. Actually, it said: You shall not murder. But whatever, the concept seems simple, don't fucking kill. Easy enough. Yet this man makes a statement that hey, we should fucking kill.

I am noticing a contradiction.

Epiphany. Humans are fallible. God does not own a typewriter. Therefore, the Bible was written by Humans interpreting the messages of self-proclaimed prophets, who were also Human. So what we have here is not some divine doctrine from OUTER SPAAAAACE!!!! It is the voice of men that thought they could make the world better by saying hey, don't be a douche. Others said: Why? They said: ...isn't it obvious? Others said: No. They said: Ummm...an invisible man will kick the shit out of you if you don't.

And the world was saved.

Or was it?

BUM BUM BAH!

Tune in next time for another edition of: Wow what the hell is wrong with fundamentalists?

Next Episode: Religion as Rebellion, The Recruitment of the Young

Irrelevant TV Show Now A Relevant Movie

Fuck you, I laughed.

Nothing You Ever Write Will Ever Be As Bad As This

And that is why 'I suck at this' is no excuse to stop. Whenever I feel discouraged, I just look out on the sea of shit that is the literary world and think, "Wow, I kick ass by comparison." An easy esteem booster is fan fiction. However, as a connoisseur of crappy fiction, I take much delight in stumbling upon an entirely new incarnation of incompetence.

Having recently returned from an Airplane Adventure, I had the dear fortune of being privy to a great number of titles that can turn your stomach. However, one novel (if you could call it that) grabbed my eyes by the sockets and just wouldn't let go. What you are about to see may cause nausea, vomiting, diarrhea, erectile dysfunction, blindness, diabetes, diabeetus, nympho-mania, Joementum, and the overwhelming desire to have a spike driven through your brain. You have been warned.

Now, bear witness!

BEHOLD:

MAXIMUM RIDE: SAVING THE WORLD AND OTHER EXTEME SPORTS

Did you notice the ambiguous, "...or is it?" on the cover? That is how authors build suspense.

This is how I envision the book came to pass:

Publisher: What we need now is something juvenile. What we need now is something derivative...

Writer: I have some Animorphs fan fiction. Maybe it will work.

Publisher: I don't know...that series didn't have alot of angst. And animals are too pussy. We need something that kids can connect with. Something that can reach the Fall Out Boy generation.

Writer: They're teen runaways hunted by the government.

Publisher: Good! Now, what's the gimmick?

Writer: They have wings, like angels. And they listen to generic mall punk. So, that makes them edgy, because angels are supposed to be all, "I'm a pretty angel durp a durr!" But these guys are all like, "I'm hardcore FUCK YEAH!"

Publisher: This is genius. And, we could also sell a CD of the songs the characters listen too! Kids relate to shit like that.

Writer: That is the best idea ever!

Publisher: I need this series. Get it to me right away.

Writer: Surely master, you have not neglected my payment?

Publisher: Here is a vial of tears milked from a pregnant widow, now get the fuck out of here.

Writer: We thanks you mastah, you is a good mastah you iz.

The existence of this book series is proof that not only is the Anti-Christ real, but that his agents are already deeply embedded in the publishing industry.

Suspiciously, the entire premise sounds like something Joss Whedon would think of...

One more digression (a comment on the book The Raw Shark Texts)

This guy writes exactly how I used to write when I was thirteen. That's not an insult, I just feel it is really ballsy to put something so pretentious and wordy to the asshole eyes of an editor. And to get it published...that is something of a feat. Here is an excerpt for your perusal. I bought the book just to see if he could keep it up for the course of a novel. You can tell he gets tired midway through the story, but I would be tired too after 100 pages of unbridled literary arrogance. The book is actually pretty damn good, and all of this is really just jealously manifesting itself in the form of anger. You'd be mad too if you found someone making bank in a writing style your friends called 'Taking A Shit On a Page And Pretending Its Gold'. Oh well. I guess the lesson to learn from this is: never take a critique from someone that won't write you a check if you change it.

And, on a personal note to all writers everywhere: Italics are for assholes that are too incompetent to establish emphasis through clever sentence structure. If you can't create emphasis without italics, don't. And yes, that goes for vulgarity too. I am a repeat offender on that count, but hey, we are all learning here.

Requiem for a Nightmare

On the precipice of a new era, most feel obligated to look back, reflecting on their arduous journey. I too feel a pang for reflection. But most of these recollections stem not from reality, but are instead churned from a foundry that excretes experience coated in a sugar sweet film of lies. I, however, will not indulge in dereistic diabetes. I will recall naught but the truth. As such, I must put aside my endearing grandiloquence in favor of a much more blunt, vulgar vernacular. For what I have to say can only be said one way:

High School Fucking Sucks

Now, a catalogue of bullshit I will not miss:

Getting my stuff stolen.

Teachers less interested in the subject than I am.

Overachievers that overachieve for no rational reason whatsoever.

People writing "I Suck Cock" on my binder.

14 year-olds with breast implants.

Attendance officials drunk on power.

PE teachers (all of them).

Getting called a faggot by someone I have never seen before.

Getting called nigger.

Getting called chink.

Getting called spic.

Getting called kike.

Getting called dyke.

Getting called bitch.

Getting called any combination of the above (bitch-nigger, fag-kike, etc.)

Getting called a Jew though I am not Jewish, and do not understand why that is an insult.

Getting mocked by people less popular than I am for being a conformist.

Getting mocked by people more popular than me for being different.

Slashed tires.

Jamba juice on the windshield.

"I Suck Cock" written on the hood.

Girls that act like whores but get offended when you call them on it.

Guys that act like gangstas but get offended when you remind them how rich and white they are.

Black kids that act like gangstas even though their parents moved to the suburbs so they wouldn't have to experience the soul crushing poverty and violence of the ghetto.

People who say "playa" without being ironic.

People who over use the word "laid".

Listening in on a phone conversation and realizing that the guy sitting behind you has an STD, but he doesn't know it and likes to spit on people when they walk under awnings.

Listening to girls discuss how their vaginas wear down with usage.

That mother fucker with an A in the class but can't fucking spell "momentum".

Dumbasses taking AP classes and fucking up the learning curve.

Those cunts that just won't shut up about their jeans.

Conversations about jeans that extend beyond, "they are jeans."

People so psyched about the homecoming dance football prom school event.

Those Christians that make such a big fucking deal about how they pray in school, and how no one can stop them.

Those Muslims that make such a big fucking deal about how they pray in school, and how no one can stop them.

Kids from Iran talking about how awesome Iran is and how shitty America is while the only reason their parents moved here is because Iran is really shitty.

Those fucks that talk about how important the war in Iraq is, but won't enlist because "we all have our part to play, and mine is at home giving our troops the support they need" by working the cushy middle management job his dad gave him down at the office and boning the secretary with a soft spot for young ones.

That guy that talks about how important Christian Values are in this day and age while getting blitzed on the weekends and date raping some chick in the back of his Ford Explorer.

That chick that talks about how empowering it is to dress slutty and suck dicks, then complaining about how no one treats her with respect, even though she dresses slutty and sucks lots of dicks.

That chick that will not shut the fuck up about "baka neko" and thinks everything is totemo KAWAII! Is it? Is it fucking really?

That nerdy girl that decided it was time for an identity change, and that the best way to expedite the process was to get fucked by the whole football team.

That nerdy guy that decided to start wearing contacts, smoking pot, and donning shirts with Gibson Les Pauls emblazoned on the front, then deciding he was too cool to talk to nerds anymore.

Goth kids that rebel and express their identity by wearing the exact same clothes in the exact same shade of black and listening to the exact same music.

Emo kids. You know why.

And finally, I will not miss my parents telling me about how wonderful a time I am supposed to be having.

My Elders (re: arrogant old people on the cusp on death) regaled me with stories of youth and high school, and their deviances as incorrigible whipper snappers.

Fuck that shit.

They were probably the type of people that made high school the never-ending vista of madness that it was.

The institution itself is not demonic. In all its irony, the teachers were one of the things that made high school bearable. Rather, persecution buds in hearts of children.

My hypothesis: Hell is other people. My proof: High School.

There is only one conclusion I can draw as to why humans would create a malicious and arbitrary social hierarchy whose sole purpose is to subjugate people who dare express dissent: Humans are evil little fuckers.

If a goddamn meteor rends the planet, I will take solace in knowing that my death is just one for the billions of supercilious bipeds that made purgatory from paradise.

I'm not religious, but there is something to be said for the parable of Adam and Eve. Even if you give us the world a platter, we will go behind your back and fuck your wife. I know that bitch ate an apple, but I think infidelity gives more credence to the sentiment that humans are ungrateful imps.

I escaped the labyrinth of high school broken and shattered, with but tatters of my sanity still in tow. And I can't help but thank that engine of torment. Its gears and cogs ground me into a cynical husk of a creature, lacerations decorating me with marks of distinctions. I am the monster sown together with the sinews of spite, and my muscles are strung by the threads of malice. The product of all the hate and anguish, the alienation and the subjugation, the sum of a brutal 4 year expanse comprised of paranoia, fear, and dread is something greater than all these morbid parts put together. High school equals hope.

Hope, because I know that no matter what I do, or where I go, or how far I fall, I will never go back. I will never again have to look forward to the horrors of High School.

And that is something to look forward to.

Prom Night Bites (Primadonnas Prevail)

Though I was forged in the dark recesses of the abyss long before time knew which way to flow, I have only come to take on physical form for 18 of your human years. As a sane entity of the cosmos, I was reticent to take part in the barbaric rituals native to American culture. One of these rituals, a mating dance, known in your language as "prom", is particularly vulgar, so much so that I was content in filling my Saturday night with hour long endeavors of commanding and conquering n00bs on the Xbox as opposed to prom's archaic entertainment. However, beseeched by a potent young female, I ventured deep into a lair that is nothing but a shrine to the profane and adolescent.

Despite its faults, I assumed that I could at least savor some primal pleasure from a night of juvenile delinquency and debauchery. How wrong I was.

Prom is a really boring orgy pulsing with people too pussy to just fuck in public.

The dance floor was unreasonably packed. So congested was the throbbing mass that a dude felt me up telling me how soft my hair was tiffany.

And I am so sick of grinding. My generation really needs to get a new dance move besides pretending to fuck a woman in the ass.

Here are some variations of grinding:
"The Pony"- Bend the girl over and grab her hair, as if the reins on a horse. Flail the free hand wildly above your head, shouting Yee-hah! Pound your dick against her ass.

"Sneaking a Snatch"- Grab the girl's hips and gyrate to together. When she looks back at you, glide the hand opposite the side she is looking and grab her snatch. Fiercely. This is important. She will be so surprised by the move that she will be too embarrassed to fight it off. Pound your dick against her ass.

"Moment of Clarity"- Stand befuddled in a crowd of humping teenagers and come to the terrible conclusion that this is exactly what Babylon looked like before God smote it off the face of the earth. Shed a tear. Pound your dick against her ass.

The least the DJ could do is play some music that doesn't make me wish for a hearing impairment. Now I'm not asking for Bach, or some Moonlight Sonata here. I get that there is a place for some Interpol and some Fucking Champs, and that it is not the place where people go to dance. However, I can't dance to music that sounds like it was written by an autistic child with a Casio that just learned what a double entendre was.

Some of the lyrics do seem reasonable as a double entendre. For example, the repeated refrain of "hot pocket rocket" obviously alludes to the male phallus, as opposed to a Jim Gaffigan comedy routine. He likes his Hot Pockets.

Laffy Taffy, although a tasty, sugary stretch, can indeed be perceived as a metaphor for the female buttocks.

However, what the fuck does "chicken noodle soup, with the soup on the side" mean? How is that sexual in any fucking context? Maybe if they said something like, "you got your big chicken in my soup," or, "I love it when you soup all over me." I can understand that. But they want the soup on the side…on the side…

One or two fun songs were played, but they were not enough to distract my imagination away from turning that writhing mass of polyester into a flaming hellscape with the strike of a match.

If I had not had the good company of my friends, I would have unleashed a dark carnivale on that dance floor. My ass would be all over the news, my mural of flesh, bones, and bloodshed given a gallery on every TV screen. Fortunately, my sanity is much more resilient than my impulse, and we are all spared the teenage holocaust.

Besides, who would be so pathetic as to tear up a prom? It's far too boring to dignify with a slaughter fest of that magnitude.

Now a spelling bee…that would be something of killing spree…hope they don't irritate me…or they might have to pay a mortal fee.

The fee of a Wii.

Damn I want one. I hear they provide an accurate simulation of bowling for those of us without the athleticism necessary to take part in such an intense sport.

One With the Machine

After much consternation, I have finally come to acquiesce my will to the intrawebs. For too long my realm of existence has been limited to the meaty exchanges of reality. But now, I enter the perversely expansive ambit of the internet. The machine. With a cable plugged into every orifice I find inoffensive. We live in an era of digital promiscuity, trading in privacy and intimacy for the brief satisfaction of intellecutal embrace. We are a generation of information whores, gladly putting out our most private, sensitive, tender, moist experiences to the orgy of the internet. We are voyeuristic sluts, getting our jollies out of our invasive entreaties into the lives of others. As prententious and egotistic as he was, Andy Warhol's prediction has come true, and everyone now has their 15 minutes of fame. But in the future, as conciousness homogenizes through instantaneous information exchange, we will kill for a simple 15 minutes of anonymity. To swear, to sigh, to shit without the prying eyes of the people, to keep the masses ignorant of our faults and follies, to merely maintain some semblance of individuality will be an ephemeral dream as unlikely as it is lucid.

And yet, here I am...making a little plot of the internet my own personal space to make myself public. How ironic.

For the anarchist I profess to be, this an awfully subversive act against my individuality. Too bad a public bitch box is more important to me that my own integrity.