LETTERS FROM HENRY
[from The Henry Rollins Show, IFC, April 15, 2006]
Dear Ann Coulter,
You used to be fun, at least funny, at least gently and amusingly insane. But girlfriend, you've changed.
The 1,000-yard stare you've acquired in the last couple of years says lonely nights, too much wine, and insecurity about the future of your career. Where to now, my sweet fascist? Another one of your silly books? More hilarious appearances on "Hannity & Colmes"? Bill Maher has to be tired of you by now.
You're anything but stupid, and by now you must see the writing on the wall. You'll never have a real place with the Beltway in-crowd, as they see you as a Northeastern hickoid pro-wrestler type with a degree from Cornell. I mean, really, Ann, where can it go from here?
Ann, I think I have the answer. In fact, I know I do. I want to hire you, Ann. I want you to come and work for me. I want you to be my Ann Friday; my housekeeper; beekeeper; floor, chimney, and mine sweeper; my window-washing, grocery-buying, dinner-cooking, obsequious, submissive concubine-domestic.
You will laugh at my jokes, celebrate my victories, and lament my failures. You will praise my friends, and vow great harm on all who oppose me. You will treat me like a god, a guru, a mentor, and the best night in the sack you've ever had. You will carry my bags, wash my cars, walk my dogs, and turn your savings over to me. You will massage Susan Sarandon's aching shoulders, whip up vegan delights for "Hanoi Jane" Fonda, and loofah Barbra Streisand's stretch marks. But most of all, Ann, you will just shut the fuck up.
I can offer you a life of obedient servitude on my compound. In your time with me, you will learn much. You will learn that America is made up of people from all races, walks of life, and sexual orientation, and that it's all okay. You will learn to be patient and kind. You will learn the meaning of the word 'respect' and memorize every line of "Caddyshack". You will listen to the Ramones, Black Sabbath, and the Brides of Funkenstein. You're a figure of fun, and I plan on having fun with that figure. You will learn who your daddy is, that's for sure. But mostly, Ann, you will just shut the fuck up.
Come on, Ann, you fucking psycho. Let's do this.
--Henry
Wednesday, April 19, 2006
LETTERS FROM HENRY
[from The Henry Rollins Show, IFC, April 1, 2006]
Dear Laura Bush,
I'm writing you today out of a genuine concern for you and your wonderful daughters.
First of all, please allow me to compliment you on standing by your man. I know how unbelievably trying, embarrassing, and infuriating it must be for you at times. I know you're college-educated, literate--a librarian, no less--and that conversations with George W. Bush may be reminiscent of the time you waved and said hello to the gorillas at the San Diego Zoo a few years ago, or trying to establish a meaningful dialogue with a bowl of wax fruit.
Your patience is only matched by the perpetual frozen expression of fear, heartbreak, and startled surprise that cries out, "I self-medicate. I'm on half a bottle of Stoli and a fistful of Zoloft before noon." I see you at his side as he visits Louisiana and dodges questions about FEMA and the lack of aid going to people in that region. You are with him every step of the way as his approval ratings continually sink.
Your wonderful monologue at the Correspondents Dinner a few months ago had me in stitches! They should rename you the First Lady of Comedy! You know, you and I have a lot in common. Neither of us feel any safer since the invasion of Iraq, and both of us read. We both have an attention span that lasts longer than half an hour, and we both have a sense of humor.
That being said, I'm going to go out on a limb here and offer my friendship to you. I have to think we could have a better time than what you're used to. I mean, come on. How many hours of a drunken Lynne Cheney reading aloud from "Mein Kampf" can anyone stand?
If you do want to hang out, think of all the fun we could have. WE could go to one of the many American seaports and watch weapons of mass destruction get waved in by Dubai nationals. We could light bags of dog doo on fire at Hillary Clinton's doorstep, ring the buzzer and run like hell!
All I'm saying, Ms. Bush, is I know you're suffering your husband as much as I am, and we might as well get our kicks before the whole shithouse goes up in flames. What do you say?
--Henry
[from The Henry Rollins Show, IFC, April 1, 2006]
Dear Laura Bush,
I'm writing you today out of a genuine concern for you and your wonderful daughters.
First of all, please allow me to compliment you on standing by your man. I know how unbelievably trying, embarrassing, and infuriating it must be for you at times. I know you're college-educated, literate--a librarian, no less--and that conversations with George W. Bush may be reminiscent of the time you waved and said hello to the gorillas at the San Diego Zoo a few years ago, or trying to establish a meaningful dialogue with a bowl of wax fruit.
Your patience is only matched by the perpetual frozen expression of fear, heartbreak, and startled surprise that cries out, "I self-medicate. I'm on half a bottle of Stoli and a fistful of Zoloft before noon." I see you at his side as he visits Louisiana and dodges questions about FEMA and the lack of aid going to people in that region. You are with him every step of the way as his approval ratings continually sink.
Your wonderful monologue at the Correspondents Dinner a few months ago had me in stitches! They should rename you the First Lady of Comedy! You know, you and I have a lot in common. Neither of us feel any safer since the invasion of Iraq, and both of us read. We both have an attention span that lasts longer than half an hour, and we both have a sense of humor.
That being said, I'm going to go out on a limb here and offer my friendship to you. I have to think we could have a better time than what you're used to. I mean, come on. How many hours of a drunken Lynne Cheney reading aloud from "Mein Kampf" can anyone stand?
If you do want to hang out, think of all the fun we could have. WE could go to one of the many American seaports and watch weapons of mass destruction get waved in by Dubai nationals. We could light bags of dog doo on fire at Hillary Clinton's doorstep, ring the buzzer and run like hell!
All I'm saying, Ms. Bush, is I know you're suffering your husband as much as I am, and we might as well get our kicks before the whole shithouse goes up in flames. What do you say?
--Henry
Sunday, April 16, 2006
Monday, April 10, 2006
GOGOL BORDELLO IN DETROIT...PARTY!!!
Monday, April 10, 2006, 3:20am--Just returned home from seeing Gogol Bordello at the Magic Stick in Detroit. My ears are still ringing, and I'm taking in liquids like a sponge. Hard to believe my shirt is dry again after all the sweating.
Right off the bat, I must give props to my newly-knighted karaoke buddy, Sir ProZak, for getting me there and back. We had a multi-goal mission, and we accomplished it and then some. I got the EP I didn't yet have, "East Infection", plus both t-shirts I wanted, which I will soon take to a tailor to have converted to 4XLT size.
Opening act was Zox. Pretty good. The violinist, Spencer, was amazing. Sort of like Eddie Van Halen with a Stradivarius. As for the second act, Dub Trio, they were all over the place. Self-indulgent and overly-long jam session.
Now, when I saw Pansy Division a couple of years ago, it was a good-size crowd but I was still able to stand in one spot more or less and rock out and enjoy the show. But when Gogol Bordello took the stage, the mosh pit formed in about one second, and yours truly was caught in the middle. Hey, I'm 41, I didn't start going to concerts until a couple of years ago, and frankly this was my first time in the meat grinder. I've never been squashed in a crowd like that before, all lurching in unison, and hopefully never will again. By the end of the show, I was feeling my advanced age. Best to leave this shit to the kids. But Gogol B was kicking ass, so I went with the flow as long as I could stand.
Lost track of Zak after a couple of songs. Accidentally tit-groped some poor squashed gal in front of me at one point, but I was stuck in place, as was my arm, and was getting cooked alive by all the body heat. About halfway through, I finally managed to get some leverage, and slowly pushed my way to the side, all the while staying within 5-6 feet of the stage. My weight actually did me some good for once. Stayed right up front at stage right the rest of the show, and enjoyed it as much as I could despite my exhaustion.
Once the encore began, I almost snagged a copy of the set list, which has become a personal tradition. But the bitch in front of me snatched it away from me. Thankfully the violinist, Sergey, was kind enough to snag another one for me. Serg, you are a sweetheart!
After the show, I was able to get all 9 members of the band to sign my Gypsy Punks CD case. And I can honestly say every one of them was approachable and personable, which is good because Pansy Div and Dirty Power both spoiled me in that regard.
And best of all, the band's lead singer/lyricist/visionary, Eugene Hutz, agreed to sit down for an interview with me for the Pond. So after the show, when things had queited down a bit, we sat in the tour bus and I recorded our chat.
It's now 2:24 pm, I woke up a while ago and finished transcribing the interview to the best of my abilities, and you can read the results in my newly-contructed Duck Pond Interview Loft!
Monday, April 10, 2006, 3:20am--Just returned home from seeing Gogol Bordello at the Magic Stick in Detroit. My ears are still ringing, and I'm taking in liquids like a sponge. Hard to believe my shirt is dry again after all the sweating.
Right off the bat, I must give props to my newly-knighted karaoke buddy, Sir ProZak, for getting me there and back. We had a multi-goal mission, and we accomplished it and then some. I got the EP I didn't yet have, "East Infection", plus both t-shirts I wanted, which I will soon take to a tailor to have converted to 4XLT size.
Opening act was Zox. Pretty good. The violinist, Spencer, was amazing. Sort of like Eddie Van Halen with a Stradivarius. As for the second act, Dub Trio, they were all over the place. Self-indulgent and overly-long jam session.
Now, when I saw Pansy Division a couple of years ago, it was a good-size crowd but I was still able to stand in one spot more or less and rock out and enjoy the show. But when Gogol Bordello took the stage, the mosh pit formed in about one second, and yours truly was caught in the middle. Hey, I'm 41, I didn't start going to concerts until a couple of years ago, and frankly this was my first time in the meat grinder. I've never been squashed in a crowd like that before, all lurching in unison, and hopefully never will again. By the end of the show, I was feeling my advanced age. Best to leave this shit to the kids. But Gogol B was kicking ass, so I went with the flow as long as I could stand.
Lost track of Zak after a couple of songs. Accidentally tit-groped some poor squashed gal in front of me at one point, but I was stuck in place, as was my arm, and was getting cooked alive by all the body heat. About halfway through, I finally managed to get some leverage, and slowly pushed my way to the side, all the while staying within 5-6 feet of the stage. My weight actually did me some good for once. Stayed right up front at stage right the rest of the show, and enjoyed it as much as I could despite my exhaustion.
Once the encore began, I almost snagged a copy of the set list, which has become a personal tradition. But the bitch in front of me snatched it away from me. Thankfully the violinist, Sergey, was kind enough to snag another one for me. Serg, you are a sweetheart!
After the show, I was able to get all 9 members of the band to sign my Gypsy Punks CD case. And I can honestly say every one of them was approachable and personable, which is good because Pansy Div and Dirty Power both spoiled me in that regard.
And best of all, the band's lead singer/lyricist/visionary, Eugene Hutz, agreed to sit down for an interview with me for the Pond. So after the show, when things had queited down a bit, we sat in the tour bus and I recorded our chat.
It's now 2:24 pm, I woke up a while ago and finished transcribing the interview to the best of my abilities, and you can read the results in my newly-contructed Duck Pond Interview Loft!
Sunday, April 09, 2006
WHAT MY MUSIC SAYS ABOUT ME
Ripped this idea from Noel, who ripped it from someone else: "Put your music library on shuffle and answer the questions with songs in the order they come up."
You won't believe how well mine turned out (and of course it helps that I have a really eclectic and f'd-up playlist)...
1. What's my mood like right now?
Torn--Natalie Imbruglia
2. How's tomorrow going to be for me?
Walking On Sunshine--Katrina And The Waves
3. What kind of person am I?
Sober--Tool
4. Am I loved?
Alan Parsons In A Winter Wonderland--Grandaddy
5. How can I achieve my highest potential?
Drinkin' Bone--Tracy Byrd
6. What should I do with my life?
Rush--Big Audio Dynamite II
7. Is everything really going to be alright in the end?
All Things (Just Keep Getting Better)--Widelife
8. What is my best quality?
She's A Rebel--Green Day
9. How does my sex life look?
Tonight I'm Gonna Rock You Tonight--Spinal Tap
10. What's the meaning of life?
Start Wearing Purple--Gogol Bordello
11. What do people think of me?
My Cellmate Thinks I'm Sexy--Cledus T. Judd
12. Would I make a good catch?
Are You Lonesome Tonight--Sam Kinison
13. How crazy am I?
I Wish I Was Queer So I Could Get Chicks--Bloodhound Gang
14. Will I have a good life in general?
If I Ever Leave This World Alive--Flogging Molly
15. Can (insert YOUR name here) ever really love me?
Living In Hope--The Rutles
16. Can me and (insert YOUR name here) ever be more than friends?
Writing On The Wall--Lowen And Navarro
17. What's going to happen to me this week?
Eat, Bite, Fuck, Suck--John Valby
18. Where will I be a year from now?
Downtown--Neil Young & Pearl Jam
19. What is my biggest wish?
I Need A Jew--Family Guy
20. What is the love of my life doing at this very moment?
What Would Mountain Do--Dirty Power
21. How will I die?
Unhappy Birthday--The Smiths
22. What will happen after I die?
Across The Universe--Rufus Wainwright
23. How do my friends feel about me?
It's The End Of The World As We Know It--R.E.M.
Ripped this idea from Noel, who ripped it from someone else: "Put your music library on shuffle and answer the questions with songs in the order they come up."
You won't believe how well mine turned out (and of course it helps that I have a really eclectic and f'd-up playlist)...
1. What's my mood like right now?
Torn--Natalie Imbruglia
2. How's tomorrow going to be for me?
Walking On Sunshine--Katrina And The Waves
3. What kind of person am I?
Sober--Tool
4. Am I loved?
Alan Parsons In A Winter Wonderland--Grandaddy
5. How can I achieve my highest potential?
Drinkin' Bone--Tracy Byrd
6. What should I do with my life?
Rush--Big Audio Dynamite II
7. Is everything really going to be alright in the end?
All Things (Just Keep Getting Better)--Widelife
8. What is my best quality?
She's A Rebel--Green Day
9. How does my sex life look?
Tonight I'm Gonna Rock You Tonight--Spinal Tap
10. What's the meaning of life?
Start Wearing Purple--Gogol Bordello
11. What do people think of me?
My Cellmate Thinks I'm Sexy--Cledus T. Judd
12. Would I make a good catch?
Are You Lonesome Tonight--Sam Kinison
13. How crazy am I?
I Wish I Was Queer So I Could Get Chicks--Bloodhound Gang
14. Will I have a good life in general?
If I Ever Leave This World Alive--Flogging Molly
15. Can (insert YOUR name here) ever really love me?
Living In Hope--The Rutles
16. Can me and (insert YOUR name here) ever be more than friends?
Writing On The Wall--Lowen And Navarro
17. What's going to happen to me this week?
Eat, Bite, Fuck, Suck--John Valby
18. Where will I be a year from now?
Downtown--Neil Young & Pearl Jam
19. What is my biggest wish?
I Need A Jew--Family Guy
20. What is the love of my life doing at this very moment?
What Would Mountain Do--Dirty Power
21. How will I die?
Unhappy Birthday--The Smiths
22. What will happen after I die?
Across The Universe--Rufus Wainwright
23. How do my friends feel about me?
It's The End Of The World As We Know It--R.E.M.
Sunday, April 02, 2006
Monday, March 20, 2006
THE DREAM MATCHUP IS HERE AT LAST!
We've waited years to see this ALF Cup final. We've been on pace for it all season. And now, finally, this Sunday, it's the ultimate battle for ALF Cup supremacy...
1-THE SHIELD
"I'm a different kind of cop"
VS.
2-FAMILY GUY
"For every sprinkle I find, I shall kill you"
...FOR ALL THE MARBLES!
Will Vic and the Strike Team take home their 3rd title in 4 years? Or will the Griffins finally shed the label of 'best show to never win the ALF Cup'?
This promises to be the greatest final in the 20-year history of ALF Cup competition. Stay tuned for the results!
We've waited years to see this ALF Cup final. We've been on pace for it all season. And now, finally, this Sunday, it's the ultimate battle for ALF Cup supremacy...
1-THE SHIELD
"I'm a different kind of cop"
VS.
2-FAMILY GUY
"For every sprinkle I find, I shall kill you"
...FOR ALL THE MARBLES!
Will Vic and the Strike Team take home their 3rd title in 4 years? Or will the Griffins finally shed the label of 'best show to never win the ALF Cup'?
This promises to be the greatest final in the 20-year history of ALF Cup competition. Stay tuned for the results!
Wednesday, March 08, 2006
IT'S OCHO DE MARZO!
And yes, I am wearing the exact same outfit as ALF!
I'm sick and tired of having birthdays, and keeping count of how many orbits I've made around the sun. Fuck that noise. Meaningless!
My friend Kay was born May 5th...I figure if she can have Cinco De Mayo, I can have OCHO DE MARZO! It just sounds so much more festive! OLE!
No more birthday cake or pie (though, I like pie), from now on it's El Tipico tacos! Pointy party hats? Fuck 'em...slap a sombrero on my melon! Never mind singing "Happy Birthday" to me, fire up the mariachi band! IYIYIYIYIYIYIYIY!!!
And yes, I am wearing the exact same outfit as ALF!
I'm sick and tired of having birthdays, and keeping count of how many orbits I've made around the sun. Fuck that noise. Meaningless!
My friend Kay was born May 5th...I figure if she can have Cinco De Mayo, I can have OCHO DE MARZO! It just sounds so much more festive! OLE!
No more birthday cake or pie (though, I like pie), from now on it's El Tipico tacos! Pointy party hats? Fuck 'em...slap a sombrero on my melon! Never mind singing "Happy Birthday" to me, fire up the mariachi band! IYIYIYIYIYIYIYIY!!!
Saturday, February 25, 2006
ABYSSINIA, LUCKY
Lt. Col. Lucky The Cat's plane was shot down over the sea of Japan. It spun in...there were no survivors.
Lucky The Cat
19??-2006
(Okay, you got me. That's not a picture of Lucky. I have no pic of him to post, so I had to Google a suitable lookalike. What can I say? His luck ran out.)
***
P.S.: I thot I'd post this classic article from the very first issue of AG! The Geak Newsletter, January 1994:
ALVA PRIBE ADOPTS CAT!!!
Entire family shocked, stunned
by Douglas J. Pribe, your humble ass. editor
"I'm shocked," said Lynne Pribe.
"I'm stunned," said Stewart Pribe.
"I'm shocked, and stunned," said Cindy O'Neal (nee Pribe).
"I'm tired and cranky," said Louis Pribe.
"I always said she should get a pet," said Mark Pribe.
This reporter was shocked (yes, and stunned) to learn that Alva Pribe, long opposed to having any furry animals living in her house (including yours truly), has indeed opened her home (but not quite her heart) to a cat which was seen being hit by a truck in front of the house by her son Mark (I mean Mark saw the cat being hit by a truck, I didn't mean that Mark hit the cat with a truck, or that a truck saw Mark hitting the cat, nor do I mean that Mark is the son of the cat [or of the truck], because the cat isn't a 'her, it's a 'his', anyway, I mean that he is the son of Alva Pribe whom I mentioned earlier in this sentence [Mark, that is, not the cat {and not the truck, either...I don't even know the gender of the truck anyway ((and I'm not about to find out either because there's no way I could lift the truck and look underneath it to see which set of genitals it has [[unless I owned a jack {{which I don't (((heck, I don't even own a car [[[heck, I don't even have a license yet {{{a driver's license, that is}}} ]]] ))) }} ]] )) } ] ).
(Do you think maybe I should join Parentheses Anonymous?)
Anyhoo, he (Mark, that is [don't get me started again]) wanted to keep the cat (I must say he's very well-behaved and trained [the cat, I mean, not Mark, shit, no!]), so he (Mark) took him (the cat) to the vet and had his (the cat's, not Mark's [and not the vet's, either {shit, I'm getting dizzy}]) injuries tended to, but he (Mark) can't keep him (the cat) on the naval base so he (Mark) had to leave him (the cat) here with us (me and Mom [or Mom and me {or maybe Mom and I ((or maybe even I and Mom [[oh my lack of god, I think I'm going to pass out]] )) } ] ).
Artist's rendering of Alva Pribe's new cat
Anyway, I (me) named him (the cat) Lucky, after the cat on ALF, of course (on ALF's show, that is), plus the fact that he (Lucky [our Lucky, that is, not the Lucky on ALF {on ALF's show, that is}]) is lucky (the word 'lucky', not the name 'Lucky' [though that would be right also]) to be alive (not dead, that is [living, I mean {you know, like, breathing and stuff}]). I have to go lie down now. Whoa...wha...ohh...
Lt. Col. Lucky The Cat's plane was shot down over the sea of Japan. It spun in...there were no survivors.
Lucky The Cat
19??-2006
(Okay, you got me. That's not a picture of Lucky. I have no pic of him to post, so I had to Google a suitable lookalike. What can I say? His luck ran out.)
***
P.S.: I thot I'd post this classic article from the very first issue of AG! The Geak Newsletter, January 1994:
ALVA PRIBE ADOPTS CAT!!!
Entire family shocked, stunned
by Douglas J. Pribe, your humble ass. editor
"I'm shocked," said Lynne Pribe.
"I'm stunned," said Stewart Pribe.
"I'm shocked, and stunned," said Cindy O'Neal (nee Pribe).
"I'm tired and cranky," said Louis Pribe.
"I always said she should get a pet," said Mark Pribe.
This reporter was shocked (yes, and stunned) to learn that Alva Pribe, long opposed to having any furry animals living in her house (including yours truly), has indeed opened her home (but not quite her heart) to a cat which was seen being hit by a truck in front of the house by her son Mark (I mean Mark saw the cat being hit by a truck, I didn't mean that Mark hit the cat with a truck, or that a truck saw Mark hitting the cat, nor do I mean that Mark is the son of the cat [or of the truck], because the cat isn't a 'her, it's a 'his', anyway, I mean that he is the son of Alva Pribe whom I mentioned earlier in this sentence [Mark, that is, not the cat {and not the truck, either...I don't even know the gender of the truck anyway ((and I'm not about to find out either because there's no way I could lift the truck and look underneath it to see which set of genitals it has [[unless I owned a jack {{which I don't (((heck, I don't even own a car [[[heck, I don't even have a license yet {{{a driver's license, that is}}} ]]] ))) }} ]] )) } ] ).
(Do you think maybe I should join Parentheses Anonymous?)
Anyhoo, he (Mark, that is [don't get me started again]) wanted to keep the cat (I must say he's very well-behaved and trained [the cat, I mean, not Mark, shit, no!]), so he (Mark) took him (the cat) to the vet and had his (the cat's, not Mark's [and not the vet's, either {shit, I'm getting dizzy}]) injuries tended to, but he (Mark) can't keep him (the cat) on the naval base so he (Mark) had to leave him (the cat) here with us (me and Mom [or Mom and me {or maybe Mom and I ((or maybe even I and Mom [[oh my lack of god, I think I'm going to pass out]] )) } ] ).
Artist's rendering of Alva Pribe's new cat
Anyway, I (me) named him (the cat) Lucky, after the cat on ALF, of course (on ALF's show, that is), plus the fact that he (Lucky [our Lucky, that is, not the Lucky on ALF {on ALF's show, that is}]) is lucky (the word 'lucky', not the name 'Lucky' [though that would be right also]) to be alive (not dead, that is [living, I mean {you know, like, breathing and stuff}]). I have to go lie down now. Whoa...wha...ohh...
Monday, January 23, 2006
THIS JUST IN: MIKE FERNER TO STAR IN REMAKE OF "AMERICAN GRAFFITI"
I'm going to let Mike himself have the last word on the subject, for now.
***
THE HARM OF CIVIL 'OBEDIENCE'
by Mike Ferner
(Article published in the Blade, Saturday, January 21, 2006)
The Blade's Jan. 6 editorial, "Defacing a Reputation," helps us think about the war on Iraq and how citizens should respond.
I appreciate this opportunity to add to that discussion.
First, a point The Blade and others have mentioned - comparing my "Troops Out Now!" message spray-painted on a highway overpass to a high schooler writing "Debbie loves Jordan."
Would Debbie have been stopped by no fewer than four patrol cars, handcuffed, booked into jail on felony charges, and held on $3,000 bond (with no 10 percent and out), and appear before a judge the next day in shackles?
ODOT painted over my anti-war sign within 48 hours. Debbie's testimonial has been up there for about 10 years the last I looked.
Don't get me wrong. If someone is a dangerous felon, they should be treated as one. I just hope Debbie and Jordan aren't given the same treatment.
The Blade was gracious enough to list me in the company of some civilly disobedient heroes, but suggested my behavior fell woefully short of those individuals' honorable standards.
Spray paints weren't invented in Gandhi's day, but might he at some point have scrawled "Brits Out Now" with whitewash and a brush?
"Why resort to illegal protest?" people ask.
What about this war troubles me enough to prompt an illegal response?
Images. Images that never leave me.
Images of young soldiers and marines lying in row upon row of hospital beds.
Images of picking shrapnel out of Mike Ramsack's backside … dressing Bob Butikofer's wounds every day and trying not to make him scream … changing colostomy bags on guys hoping they won't defecate out the hole in their guts caused by a gunshot wound to the abdomen … trying to give a brain scan to a young soldier missing his entire left temporal lobe…
Images of eating in the chow hall as dozens of patients in wheelchairs, on crutches, missing arms and legs and eyes line up for dinner …
Images of a young man sitting silent and broken in a corner of the psych ward.
And there are other, more recent images from my trips to Iraq that I cannot forget.
Images of the kids I met on the streets of Baghdad, and the ones in Abu Siffa who shared their chicken and rice dinner with an American journalist two days after a cruise missile blew their orange grove to bits.
Images of Fatima in the Sa'adoon Street copy shop who told me how beautiful she thought her country was and how she hoped there would be no war.
Images of the young U.S. Army sergeant from West Virginia I accompanied on patrol one night near Balad, who answered my question, "why are you in Iraq?" with a tired shrug saying, "I really don't know." And his partner, just as bone tired, who answered simply, "oil."
I see these images every day. And I know that the young men in that Navy hospital 35 years ago, just like the ones I met last year in Iraq, are getting killed and maimed for a preposterous lie.
As my blood boils I tell my government to "BRING THEM HOME NOW!" by writing letters, signing petitions, speaking, and yes, painting highway overpasses.
Our government is not only causing great suffering by this war, it is also violating dozens of international and domestic laws.
See the Veterans For Peace "Case for Impeachment" for a partial list at www.veteransforpeace.org.
As American citizens we are complicit in these crimes and suffering.
That is why historian Howard Zinn's words make more sense to me each day this war continues:
"Civil disobedience is not our problem. Our problem is civil obedience. Our problem is that people all over the world have obeyed the dictates of the leaders of their government and have gone to war, and millions have been killed because of this obedience ... Our problem is that people are obedient all over the world in the face of poverty and starvation and stupidity, and war, and cruelty. Our problem is that people are obedient while the jails are full of petty thieves, and all the while the grand thieves are running the country. That's our problem."
The most important mistake I made on New Year's Day was not that I painted "Troops Out Now" on overpasses. It was choosing a form of civil disobedience not many people are comfortable adopting.
If you believe we must end this war, what kind of civil disobedience would you choose?
Refuse to pay part of your taxes this April? Sit in at a congressional office? Organize a strike?
Or will we be content to speak quietly, watching the petty criminals go to jail while the grand criminals continue the slaughter in our name?
***
Mike Ferner is a former Toledo City Councilman. He is a member of Veterans For Peace.
I'm going to let Mike himself have the last word on the subject, for now.
***
THE HARM OF CIVIL 'OBEDIENCE'
by Mike Ferner
(Article published in the Blade, Saturday, January 21, 2006)
The Blade's Jan. 6 editorial, "Defacing a Reputation," helps us think about the war on Iraq and how citizens should respond.
I appreciate this opportunity to add to that discussion.
First, a point The Blade and others have mentioned - comparing my "Troops Out Now!" message spray-painted on a highway overpass to a high schooler writing "Debbie loves Jordan."
Would Debbie have been stopped by no fewer than four patrol cars, handcuffed, booked into jail on felony charges, and held on $3,000 bond (with no 10 percent and out), and appear before a judge the next day in shackles?
ODOT painted over my anti-war sign within 48 hours. Debbie's testimonial has been up there for about 10 years the last I looked.
Don't get me wrong. If someone is a dangerous felon, they should be treated as one. I just hope Debbie and Jordan aren't given the same treatment.
The Blade was gracious enough to list me in the company of some civilly disobedient heroes, but suggested my behavior fell woefully short of those individuals' honorable standards.
Spray paints weren't invented in Gandhi's day, but might he at some point have scrawled "Brits Out Now" with whitewash and a brush?
"Why resort to illegal protest?" people ask.
What about this war troubles me enough to prompt an illegal response?
Images. Images that never leave me.
Images of young soldiers and marines lying in row upon row of hospital beds.
Images of picking shrapnel out of Mike Ramsack's backside … dressing Bob Butikofer's wounds every day and trying not to make him scream … changing colostomy bags on guys hoping they won't defecate out the hole in their guts caused by a gunshot wound to the abdomen … trying to give a brain scan to a young soldier missing his entire left temporal lobe…
Images of eating in the chow hall as dozens of patients in wheelchairs, on crutches, missing arms and legs and eyes line up for dinner …
Images of a young man sitting silent and broken in a corner of the psych ward.
And there are other, more recent images from my trips to Iraq that I cannot forget.
Images of the kids I met on the streets of Baghdad, and the ones in Abu Siffa who shared their chicken and rice dinner with an American journalist two days after a cruise missile blew their orange grove to bits.
Images of Fatima in the Sa'adoon Street copy shop who told me how beautiful she thought her country was and how she hoped there would be no war.
Images of the young U.S. Army sergeant from West Virginia I accompanied on patrol one night near Balad, who answered my question, "why are you in Iraq?" with a tired shrug saying, "I really don't know." And his partner, just as bone tired, who answered simply, "oil."
I see these images every day. And I know that the young men in that Navy hospital 35 years ago, just like the ones I met last year in Iraq, are getting killed and maimed for a preposterous lie.
As my blood boils I tell my government to "BRING THEM HOME NOW!" by writing letters, signing petitions, speaking, and yes, painting highway overpasses.
Our government is not only causing great suffering by this war, it is also violating dozens of international and domestic laws.
See the Veterans For Peace "Case for Impeachment" for a partial list at www.veteransforpeace.org.
As American citizens we are complicit in these crimes and suffering.
That is why historian Howard Zinn's words make more sense to me each day this war continues:
"Civil disobedience is not our problem. Our problem is civil obedience. Our problem is that people all over the world have obeyed the dictates of the leaders of their government and have gone to war, and millions have been killed because of this obedience ... Our problem is that people are obedient all over the world in the face of poverty and starvation and stupidity, and war, and cruelty. Our problem is that people are obedient while the jails are full of petty thieves, and all the while the grand thieves are running the country. That's our problem."
The most important mistake I made on New Year's Day was not that I painted "Troops Out Now" on overpasses. It was choosing a form of civil disobedience not many people are comfortable adopting.
If you believe we must end this war, what kind of civil disobedience would you choose?
Refuse to pay part of your taxes this April? Sit in at a congressional office? Organize a strike?
Or will we be content to speak quietly, watching the petty criminals go to jail while the grand criminals continue the slaughter in our name?
***
Mike Ferner is a former Toledo City Councilman. He is a member of Veterans For Peace.
Thursday, January 19, 2006
Saturday, January 14, 2006
IN RESPONSE TO NOELOMITE'S BLOG
RE: The quote "When I play with myself, I always win"
Not far off from the best song lyric I ever wrote: "If you can't find someone to play the game with you then go home and play with yourself", which was based on the fact that I used to play MFL games by myself. (No, MFL is not a typo. As a kid I made up the Martian Football League, mostly based on maps of Mars. Lots of history in the MFL...the Phobos-Deimos rivalry was especially intense.)
BTW dude, love the Warshington Monument pic (intentional typo). Surreal.
RE: The quote "When I play with myself, I always win"
Not far off from the best song lyric I ever wrote: "If you can't find someone to play the game with you then go home and play with yourself", which was based on the fact that I used to play MFL games by myself. (No, MFL is not a typo. As a kid I made up the Martian Football League, mostly based on maps of Mars. Lots of history in the MFL...the Phobos-Deimos rivalry was especially intense.)
BTW dude, love the Warshington Monument pic (intentional typo). Surreal.
Friday, January 13, 2006
REBUTTAL
(The following letter was published in the Blade this week by one of my NWOPC comrades. He makes a good point, and I would be remiss not to run it here.)
Put Ferner's 'crime' in perspective
Mike Ferner spray-paints an anti-war message on an overpass, defacing public property. There are vilifications, indignation, shock, and awe. The public order is disturbed. Protest is one thing, but he defaced public property. How sophomoric. How inappropriate!
The Bush Administration pre-emptively attacks the sovereign nation of Iraq based upon selective and equivocal intelligence. Some 160,000 American soldiers are mired in a bloody political and factional quagmire. The liberators have become occupiers.
The United States has gained the enmity of almost a third of the planet.
Almost 2,200 American soldiers have been killed in armed conflict. Depending upon whose figures you use, 30,000 to 100,000 Iraqis have been killed. The conflict has resulted in the destruction of a considerable amount of private and public property.
Placing these crimes on the grand scale of propriety, which one tips the balance?
Which crime defaces public property, which crime defiles human beings? Which crime messes up public property, which crime destroys people's lives? Which crime deserves our attention? Which crime deserves our indignation?
You tell me. You be the judge.
STEVEN R. MILLER
(The following letter was published in the Blade this week by one of my NWOPC comrades. He makes a good point, and I would be remiss not to run it here.)
Put Ferner's 'crime' in perspective
Mike Ferner spray-paints an anti-war message on an overpass, defacing public property. There are vilifications, indignation, shock, and awe. The public order is disturbed. Protest is one thing, but he defaced public property. How sophomoric. How inappropriate!
The Bush Administration pre-emptively attacks the sovereign nation of Iraq based upon selective and equivocal intelligence. Some 160,000 American soldiers are mired in a bloody political and factional quagmire. The liberators have become occupiers.
The United States has gained the enmity of almost a third of the planet.
Almost 2,200 American soldiers have been killed in armed conflict. Depending upon whose figures you use, 30,000 to 100,000 Iraqis have been killed. The conflict has resulted in the destruction of a considerable amount of private and public property.
Placing these crimes on the grand scale of propriety, which one tips the balance?
Which crime defaces public property, which crime defiles human beings? Which crime messes up public property, which crime destroys people's lives? Which crime deserves our attention? Which crime deserves our indignation?
You tell me. You be the judge.
STEVEN R. MILLER
Tuesday, January 10, 2006
Monday, January 09, 2006
ELITE...SEVEN?
Well actually it's the Elite Eight, but Song Of The Year will take some time to decide. The other 7 have all been awarded. So without further a-doo-doo...
WEBSITE OF THE YEAR
Two-time defending champ dahl.com lost a shot at a 3-peat when the podcasts were shot down in May. Modesty forbids me from picking the Pond again. Rookie sensation Noelomite is off to a good start with Platypus Nerd/Nerdy Platypus, and FGMMA is an absolute treasure chest. But based on its sheer addictiveness and user-friendly interface, this year's champ has to be:
WINNER: Websudoku
MUSIC VIDEO OF THE YEAR
Since TISM's "Everyone Else Has Had More Sex Than Me" was named the 2004 winner, we go with those good ol' Ukrainian gypsy punks:
WINNER: "Start Wearing Purple"--Gogol Bordello
THE TRIO AWARD (COMMERCIAL OF THE YEAR)
The competition was kind of light. Only one ad really stood out, one that could easily be shown as a PSA in every junior high, high school, college, etc.:
WINNER: Zazoo Condoms--"I Want Those Sweeties!"
THE CARL SAGAN AWARD (MOVIE OF THE YEAR)
Star Wars Ep 3 almost achieved the impossible: making the first two eps worth suffering through. Hitchhiker's Guide To The Galaxy deserved a bigger budget. Napoleon Dynamite (new to me) was, if nothing else, highly quotable. And the joyously offensive The Aristocrats had a lock on this award until the last week of the year. The movie that stole it away made me do something I never do: as soon as it was over I bought another ticket and saw it again immediately. Fuck the elitist critics who knock it for being a filmed version of the Broadway version. Many of us out here in the 'flyover states' don't have the time or the means to go see it on Broadway. Thank you, Mel Brooks, for allowing me to see it for $6.50 a pop plus bus fare:
WINNER: The Producers
(PS: My only minor quibble is that the L.S.D. character, originally played by Dick Shawn, was omitted. But then, Dick Shawn was inimitable, so that's understandable.)
CATCH PHRASE OF THE YEAR
The aforementioned Napoleon Dynamite had several worthy candidates, the Noelomite gave us "Rock out with your cock out!", and Mythbusters made me realize that, when you think about it, the seemingly benign phrase "ping-pong balls" is inherently funny. In any language. Case in point: "Las bolas del ping-pong!" But for all-out catchiness, it's hard to deny a 2nd win for the gypsy punks:
WINNER: "Start Wearing Purple"--Gogol Bordello
ALBUM OF THE YEAR
Plenty of honorable mentions: "American Idiot"--Green Day, "The Complete Conception"--The Conception Corporation, "Multi Kontra Culti vs. Irony"--Gogol Bordello, "Voila Intruder"--Gogol Bordello, "Want Two"--Rufus Wainwright, "X&Y"--Coldplay. But one look up top and this one's a dead giveaway. Taking the place of "Complete Madness", which stood as my all-time favorite album for over two decades:
WINNER: "Gypsy Punks"--Gogol Bordello
GEAK ROOKIE OF THE YEAR
Ah, the ever-prestigious GROTY award. Mythbusters leads the TV rookies, Websudoku will not release me from its vise-like grip, TISM has some of the best song titles since Pop Will Eat Itself (i.e. "I Might Be A Cunt But I'm Not A Fucking Cunt", "If You're Ugly, Forget It", "I'm On The Drug That Killed River Phoenix", and of course "Everyone Else Has Had More Sex Than Me"), and as fabulous babes go, Mo'Nique's curves make the inane "The Parkers" watchable. But down the stretch, this was clearly a two-horse race right down to the wire. And in the end, I had no choice but to declare that the first-ever deadlock in Elite 8 history...would go into OT and ultimately be broken in early April of 2006, when one team was set to rock Detroit, while the other team reacted to a harmless joke with a lot of bad 'tude:
WINNER: Gogol Bordello
The SOTY will take a while. Of the 128 SOTY entries, an unbelievable 37 are by Gogol Bordello, giving them a real shot at taking home 5 of the Elite 8, breaking the record of 4 by Taco The Wonder Dog in 2001.
Well actually it's the Elite Eight, but Song Of The Year will take some time to decide. The other 7 have all been awarded. So without further a-doo-doo...
WEBSITE OF THE YEAR
Two-time defending champ dahl.com lost a shot at a 3-peat when the podcasts were shot down in May. Modesty forbids me from picking the Pond again. Rookie sensation Noelomite is off to a good start with Platypus Nerd/Nerdy Platypus, and FGMMA is an absolute treasure chest. But based on its sheer addictiveness and user-friendly interface, this year's champ has to be:
WINNER: Websudoku
MUSIC VIDEO OF THE YEAR
Since TISM's "Everyone Else Has Had More Sex Than Me" was named the 2004 winner, we go with those good ol' Ukrainian gypsy punks:
WINNER: "Start Wearing Purple"--Gogol Bordello
THE TRIO AWARD (COMMERCIAL OF THE YEAR)
The competition was kind of light. Only one ad really stood out, one that could easily be shown as a PSA in every junior high, high school, college, etc.:
WINNER: Zazoo Condoms--"I Want Those Sweeties!"
THE CARL SAGAN AWARD (MOVIE OF THE YEAR)
Star Wars Ep 3 almost achieved the impossible: making the first two eps worth suffering through. Hitchhiker's Guide To The Galaxy deserved a bigger budget. Napoleon Dynamite (new to me) was, if nothing else, highly quotable. And the joyously offensive The Aristocrats had a lock on this award until the last week of the year. The movie that stole it away made me do something I never do: as soon as it was over I bought another ticket and saw it again immediately. Fuck the elitist critics who knock it for being a filmed version of the Broadway version. Many of us out here in the 'flyover states' don't have the time or the means to go see it on Broadway. Thank you, Mel Brooks, for allowing me to see it for $6.50 a pop plus bus fare:
WINNER: The Producers
(PS: My only minor quibble is that the L.S.D. character, originally played by Dick Shawn, was omitted. But then, Dick Shawn was inimitable, so that's understandable.)
CATCH PHRASE OF THE YEAR
The aforementioned Napoleon Dynamite had several worthy candidates, the Noelomite gave us "Rock out with your cock out!", and Mythbusters made me realize that, when you think about it, the seemingly benign phrase "ping-pong balls" is inherently funny. In any language. Case in point: "Las bolas del ping-pong!" But for all-out catchiness, it's hard to deny a 2nd win for the gypsy punks:
WINNER: "Start Wearing Purple"--Gogol Bordello
ALBUM OF THE YEAR
Plenty of honorable mentions: "American Idiot"--Green Day, "The Complete Conception"--The Conception Corporation, "Multi Kontra Culti vs. Irony"--Gogol Bordello, "Voila Intruder"--Gogol Bordello, "Want Two"--Rufus Wainwright, "X&Y"--Coldplay. But one look up top and this one's a dead giveaway. Taking the place of "Complete Madness", which stood as my all-time favorite album for over two decades:
WINNER: "Gypsy Punks"--Gogol Bordello
GEAK ROOKIE OF THE YEAR
Ah, the ever-prestigious GROTY award. Mythbusters leads the TV rookies, Websudoku will not release me from its vise-like grip, TISM has some of the best song titles since Pop Will Eat Itself (i.e. "I Might Be A Cunt But I'm Not A Fucking Cunt", "If You're Ugly, Forget It", "I'm On The Drug That Killed River Phoenix", and of course "Everyone Else Has Had More Sex Than Me"), and as fabulous babes go, Mo'Nique's curves make the inane "The Parkers" watchable. But down the stretch, this was clearly a two-horse race right down to the wire. And in the end, I had no choice but to declare that the first-ever deadlock in Elite 8 history...would go into OT and ultimately be broken in early April of 2006, when one team was set to rock Detroit, while the other team reacted to a harmless joke with a lot of bad 'tude:
WINNER: Gogol Bordello
The SOTY will take a while. Of the 128 SOTY entries, an unbelievable 37 are by Gogol Bordello, giving them a real shot at taking home 5 of the Elite 8, breaking the record of 4 by Taco The Wonder Dog in 2001.
Friday, January 06, 2006
FROM THE DESK OF DUCKSOUP
Memo to Mo Clarett: Well, okay, at least it wasn't a Bronco. But then again, neither are you! (Ouch! Look out! Kitty has claws!)
Memo to all Pond readers: So, where I work we have a "Fun Friday" activity the 2nd Friday of every month. This month's idea was mine: I am having everyone bring in a baby/childhood/younger pic of themselves so we can all try to identify them. One co-worker submitted something like this:
A bit too young, I'm thinking.
Memo to Pat Robertson: JUST SHUT YOUR FUCKING MOUTH ALREADY.
Sunday, December 25, 2005
(NOTE: Boy, will I be glad when this day is over and all the mindless Xmas zombies snap out of their annoying annual trance. In the meantime, I'd like to share with you George Carlin's bit on the ten commandments that pretty much echoes my thoughts on the subject.)
GEORGE CARLIN ON THE TEN COMMANDMENTS
(excerpted from the book "When Will Jesus Bring The Pork Chops?")
I have a problem with the ten commandments. Here it is:
Why are there ten? You don't need ten. I think the list of commandments was deliberately and artificially inflated to get it up to ten. It's clearly a padded list. Here's how it happened:
About five thousand years ago, a bunch of religious and political hustlers got together to figure out how they could control people, and keep them in line. They knew people were basically stupid and would believe anything they were told, so these guys announced that God -- God personally -- had given one of them a list of ten commandments that he wanted everyone to follow. They claimed the whole thing took place on a mountaintop, when no one else was around.
Well let me ask you something...when these guys were sitting around the tent making all this stuff up, why did they pick ten? Why ten? Why not nine, or eleven? I'll tell you why: because ten sounds important. Ten sounds official! They knew if they tried eleven, people wouldn't take them seriously. People'd say, "What, are you kidding me? The eleven commandments? Get the fuck outta here!" But ten...ten sounds important. Ten is the basis for the decimal system. It's a decade. It's a psychologically satisfying number: the top ten, the ten most wanted, the ten best dressed. So deciding on ten commandments was clearly a marketing decision! And it's obviously a bullshit list. It's a political document, artificially inflated to sell better. I'm gonna show you how you can reduce the number of commandments, and come up with a list that's a little more logical and realistic.
We'll start with the first three (and I'll use the Roman Catholic version because those were the ones I was fed as a little boy):
I AM THE LORD THY GOD THOU SHALT NOT HAVE STRANGE GODS BEFORE ME
THOU SHALT NOT TAKE THE NAME OF THE LORD THY GOD IN VAIN
THOU SHALT KEEP HOLY THE SABBATH
Okay, right off the bat, the first three commandments: pure bullshit. Sabbath day, Lord's name, strange gods...spooky language. Spooky language designed to scare and control primitive people. In no way does superstitious mumbo-jumbo like this apply to the lives of intelligent, civilized humans in the 21st century. So you throw out the first three commandments, and you're down to seven.
HONOR THY FATHER AND MOTHER
This commandment is about obedience, and respect for authority. In other words, it's simply a device for controlling people. The truth is, obedience and respect should not be granted automatically. They should be earned. They should be based on the parent's (or the authority figure's) performance. Some parents deserve respect; most of them don't. Period. We're down to six.
Now, in the interest of logic, something religion has a REALLY hard time with, I'm gonna skip around the list a little bit...
THOU SHALT NOT STEAL
THOU SHALT NOT BEAR FALSE WITNESS
Stealing and lying. Actually, when you think about it, these two commandments cover the same sort of behavior: dishonesty -- stealing, and lying. So we don't need two of them! Instead we combine these two and call it "THOU SHALT NOT BE DISHONEST." And suddenly we're down to five.
And as long as we're combining commandments, I have two others that belong together:
THOU SHALT NOT COMMIT ADULTERY
THOU SHALT NOT COVET THY NEIGHBOR'S WIFE
Once again, these two prohibit the same sort of behavior. In this case, marital infidelity. The difference between them is that coveting takes place in the mind, and I don't think you should outlaw fantasizing about someone else's wife. Otherwise what's a guy gonna think about when he's waxing his carrot? But marital fidelity is a good idea. So I suggest we keep the idea and call this commandment "THOU SHALT NOT BE UNFAITHFUL." And suddenly, we're down to four.
And when you think about it further, honesty and fidelity are actually part of the same overall value. So in truth we could combine the two honesty commandments with the two fidelity commandments, and, using positive language instead of negative, call the whole thing "THOU SHALT ALWAYS BE HONEST AND FAITHFUL." And now we're down to three.
THOU SHALT NOT COVET THY NEIGHBOR"S GOODS
This one is just plain stupid. Coveting your neighbor's goods is what keeps the economy going! Your neighbor gets a vibrator that plays "O Come All Ye Faithful"...you wanna get one too. Coveting creates jobs. Leave it alone. You throw out coveting, and you're down to two now: the big combined honesty/fidelity commandment, and the one we haven't mentioned yet:
THOU SHALT NOT KILL
Murder. The fifth commandment. But if you give it a little thought, you realize that religion has never really had a problem with murder. Not really. More people have been killed in the name of God than for any other reason. To cite a few examples, think about Irish history, the Middle East, the Crusades, the Inquisition, our own abortion doctor killings, and the World Trade Center, and you'll see how seriously religious people take "THOU SHALT NOT KILL." Apparently, to religious folks, especially the truly devout, murder is...negotiable. It just depends on who's doing the killing, and who's getting killed.
And so, with all this in mind folks, I offer you my revised list of the two commandments. First:
THOU SHALT ALWAYS BE HONEST AND FAITHFUL, ESPECIALLY TO THE PROVIDER OF THY NOOKIE
And second:
THOU SHALT TRY REAL HARD NOT TO KILL ANYONE, UNLESS OF COURSE THEY PRAY TO A DIFFERENT INVISIBLE AVENGER THAN THE ONE YOU PRAY TO
Two is all you need, folks. Moses could have carried them down the hill in his fuckin' pocket. And if we had a list like that, I wouldn't mind that brilliant judge in Alabama displaying it prominently in his courthouse lobby, as long as he included one additional commandment:
THOU SHALT KEEP THY RELIGION TO THYSELF!
GEORGE CARLIN ON THE TEN COMMANDMENTS
(excerpted from the book "When Will Jesus Bring The Pork Chops?")
I have a problem with the ten commandments. Here it is:
Why are there ten? You don't need ten. I think the list of commandments was deliberately and artificially inflated to get it up to ten. It's clearly a padded list. Here's how it happened:
About five thousand years ago, a bunch of religious and political hustlers got together to figure out how they could control people, and keep them in line. They knew people were basically stupid and would believe anything they were told, so these guys announced that God -- God personally -- had given one of them a list of ten commandments that he wanted everyone to follow. They claimed the whole thing took place on a mountaintop, when no one else was around.
Well let me ask you something...when these guys were sitting around the tent making all this stuff up, why did they pick ten? Why ten? Why not nine, or eleven? I'll tell you why: because ten sounds important. Ten sounds official! They knew if they tried eleven, people wouldn't take them seriously. People'd say, "What, are you kidding me? The eleven commandments? Get the fuck outta here!" But ten...ten sounds important. Ten is the basis for the decimal system. It's a decade. It's a psychologically satisfying number: the top ten, the ten most wanted, the ten best dressed. So deciding on ten commandments was clearly a marketing decision! And it's obviously a bullshit list. It's a political document, artificially inflated to sell better. I'm gonna show you how you can reduce the number of commandments, and come up with a list that's a little more logical and realistic.
We'll start with the first three (and I'll use the Roman Catholic version because those were the ones I was fed as a little boy):
I AM THE LORD THY GOD THOU SHALT NOT HAVE STRANGE GODS BEFORE ME
THOU SHALT NOT TAKE THE NAME OF THE LORD THY GOD IN VAIN
THOU SHALT KEEP HOLY THE SABBATH
Okay, right off the bat, the first three commandments: pure bullshit. Sabbath day, Lord's name, strange gods...spooky language. Spooky language designed to scare and control primitive people. In no way does superstitious mumbo-jumbo like this apply to the lives of intelligent, civilized humans in the 21st century. So you throw out the first three commandments, and you're down to seven.
HONOR THY FATHER AND MOTHER
This commandment is about obedience, and respect for authority. In other words, it's simply a device for controlling people. The truth is, obedience and respect should not be granted automatically. They should be earned. They should be based on the parent's (or the authority figure's) performance. Some parents deserve respect; most of them don't. Period. We're down to six.
Now, in the interest of logic, something religion has a REALLY hard time with, I'm gonna skip around the list a little bit...
THOU SHALT NOT STEAL
THOU SHALT NOT BEAR FALSE WITNESS
Stealing and lying. Actually, when you think about it, these two commandments cover the same sort of behavior: dishonesty -- stealing, and lying. So we don't need two of them! Instead we combine these two and call it "THOU SHALT NOT BE DISHONEST." And suddenly we're down to five.
And as long as we're combining commandments, I have two others that belong together:
THOU SHALT NOT COMMIT ADULTERY
THOU SHALT NOT COVET THY NEIGHBOR'S WIFE
Once again, these two prohibit the same sort of behavior. In this case, marital infidelity. The difference between them is that coveting takes place in the mind, and I don't think you should outlaw fantasizing about someone else's wife. Otherwise what's a guy gonna think about when he's waxing his carrot? But marital fidelity is a good idea. So I suggest we keep the idea and call this commandment "THOU SHALT NOT BE UNFAITHFUL." And suddenly, we're down to four.
And when you think about it further, honesty and fidelity are actually part of the same overall value. So in truth we could combine the two honesty commandments with the two fidelity commandments, and, using positive language instead of negative, call the whole thing "THOU SHALT ALWAYS BE HONEST AND FAITHFUL." And now we're down to three.
THOU SHALT NOT COVET THY NEIGHBOR"S GOODS
This one is just plain stupid. Coveting your neighbor's goods is what keeps the economy going! Your neighbor gets a vibrator that plays "O Come All Ye Faithful"...you wanna get one too. Coveting creates jobs. Leave it alone. You throw out coveting, and you're down to two now: the big combined honesty/fidelity commandment, and the one we haven't mentioned yet:
THOU SHALT NOT KILL
Murder. The fifth commandment. But if you give it a little thought, you realize that religion has never really had a problem with murder. Not really. More people have been killed in the name of God than for any other reason. To cite a few examples, think about Irish history, the Middle East, the Crusades, the Inquisition, our own abortion doctor killings, and the World Trade Center, and you'll see how seriously religious people take "THOU SHALT NOT KILL." Apparently, to religious folks, especially the truly devout, murder is...negotiable. It just depends on who's doing the killing, and who's getting killed.
And so, with all this in mind folks, I offer you my revised list of the two commandments. First:
THOU SHALT ALWAYS BE HONEST AND FAITHFUL, ESPECIALLY TO THE PROVIDER OF THY NOOKIE
And second:
THOU SHALT TRY REAL HARD NOT TO KILL ANYONE, UNLESS OF COURSE THEY PRAY TO A DIFFERENT INVISIBLE AVENGER THAN THE ONE YOU PRAY TO
Two is all you need, folks. Moses could have carried them down the hill in his fuckin' pocket. And if we had a list like that, I wouldn't mind that brilliant judge in Alabama displaying it prominently in his courthouse lobby, as long as he included one additional commandment:
THOU SHALT KEEP THY RELIGION TO THYSELF!
Thursday, December 08, 2005
QUOTE DU JOUR
"You know what sucks? They shot JFK in a moving car from the top of a building...Ronald Reagan was standing right next to Hinckley and he missed him! I only wish Hinckley would have gone after John Lennon. He would have missed Lennon, killed Yoko and been a fuckin' hero!"
--Otto & George
"You know what sucks? They shot JFK in a moving car from the top of a building...Ronald Reagan was standing right next to Hinckley and he missed him! I only wish Hinckley would have gone after John Lennon. He would have missed Lennon, killed Yoko and been a fuckin' hero!"
--Otto & George
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