Dead Air Church: Deity meeting, part one

Left: Buddha statue at DIVINE CONNECTION, Black Mountain, NC.





SETTING: The various major deities, saints, and other characters in Daisy's personal theology/head/belief system/etc, have decided that they should have a meeting to discuss possible layoffs and related employment issues stemming from Daisy's ongoing theological crisis.

~*~



Our Head Deity, The Blessed Mother, calls the meeting to order, and first says the Amina Christi.

Immediately, there is dissension. St Francis asks if it is appropriate, under the circumstances. Buddha rolls his eyes, but says nothing.

Blessed Mother (herein known as Maria): I beg your pardon!? (narrows eyes) *I* am in charge here! I'll say whichever prayer I please, thanks.

St Gertrude: (smugly) You'd better SHUT UP, Francis!

Francis (seemingly allowed to do anything he wants) starts singing Grateful Dead songs: Just a box of raaaainnn, I don't know who put it there...

As if summoned, Jerry Garcia enters the meeting-place, and nods at Maria and Buddha, "Hey!" he says, good-naturedly.

St Gertrude: (eyeing Jerry suspiciously) And when did YOU get out of purgatory? I don't remember signing the transfer order!

Jerry shrugs, lights joint, passes it to St Francis, who inhales deeply. They shake hands in some odd familiar way; they are obviously old friends.

St Francis: Look, me and St Stephen sprung Jerry, okay? It was a long while back and I didn't see any reason to argue with you about it.

St Gertrude: (eyes flash disturbingly) I see. (glares at the two of them) I should have known! (mutters to herself, obviously angry)

Jerry passes joint to St Gertrude, who declines with a flourish: None for ME, danke schön.

St Francis (to Jerry): She runs purgatory, which is a really shitty job. She is always in a bad mood. (pauses, exhales) They needed a German to do it.

Jerry: Well, that makes sense.

Maria: CALLING THE MEETING TO ORDER, lets settle down, peeps! (cheerfully ignores pot smoke) Is anyone else coming? Buddha? Any of your fellas? Who is this---Shanti--what?

Shantideva enters the room, does not look at anyone but Buddha.

Buddha: My friend from the 8th century, Shantideva!

The meeting-room inhabitants look Shantideva up and down, in a mix of curiosity and skepticism.

St Francis: So why is HE the big shit all of a sudden?

Maria: (sighs) I only work here.

Buddha: He has answers to her questions, Francis. Now, come on, you know the drill. You were the big shit once. Daisy still adores you, so learn to share. (rolls eyes again) Honestly, I expected more from you, Francis.

St Francis: (chastened and defensive) I just wondered. (addresses Maria) And how come you always get to stay in charge, no matter what shake-ups happen in management?

Maria: Daisy and I go way back, further than the rest of you. (primly) And besides that, I always ANSWER HER PROMPTLY. (looks at Shantideva) And in... may I say it?... understandable language!

Shantideva: (stoically) She is ready to move on. She needs more than the Christian tradition can provide.

Maria: Oh, well, aren't WE special?!? (sniffs in superior fashion) Actually, I am also the High Priestess of the Tarot, Saraswati, Guanyin, Isis, Spider Grandmother and closely related to Maya, Buddha's mother; as you can see, our names are almost the same. Maria is merely my most recent, Latin name. I cover a LOT of ground. (to Buddha) Isn't that right, Siddhartha?

Buddha: (sighs) I'm afraid so.

Shantideva: (thoughtful) Oh well, in that case... I had no idea. (smiles at Maria, then bows deeply)

Maria smiles beneficently.

At this juncture, a conservative-appearing, slightly-spooked New Englander with a bow-tie enters, looks around nervously and sits, uncomfortably.

Maria: HOWARD! I am so glad to see you! It's been ages.

Howard: Oh well, you know how it is... (mumbles)

St Francis: Oh, not HIM again. He gives me the major creeps.

Jerry: Who is that guy?

Maria introduces Howard Phillips Lovecraft to the group. Buddha keeps his distance. Shantideva appears fascinated.

Howard: Sorry to be late. (takes out notepad) What did I miss?

St Francis: Where is JG Ballard? Now, him, I could get along with!

St Gertrude: Ballard will be in purgatory for QUITE A WHILE! (sneers for emphasis) It will take longer than a couple of Earth-years to get him out of there!

Howard suddenly recognizes St Gertrude, lets out a scared squeak.

St Gertrude: You disgusting, ungrateful, repellent, sick-ass little WORM! (torrent of Teutonic invective follows)

Maria: Gertie, careful, he served his time! Go easy on him! (unrecognizable cuss words, probably Middle German, flow unbidden from the mouth of St Gertrude) Gertie! Easy!

St Gertrude stands up, dramatically: You know, this is serious business! We may be out of a job, here! THOSE TWO! (points accusingly at Buddha and Shantideva) They are going to mess up OUR JOBS! They are DISPLACING US!

St Francis: Nah, not me, my job is safe. Like Maria says, me and Daisy go way back. Remember that time I called in that miracle and told her that her kid was safe? That was great magic, no? (chuckles proudly) She told everybody about it.

Maria: (indulgently) Yes, Francis, we know... you and Daisy have talked about it hundreds of times...

St Francis: Well, it was some of my BEST WORK.

Jerry: (nods vigorously) The really good part was when Daisy's customer asked her about the prayer of St Francis, so Daisy KNEW the miracle was straight from YOU ... dude! That was some awesome shit! It was like the icing on the cake of the miracle, just in case there was ANY doubt. (Jerry high-fives St Francis) Freaking awesome! (takes out second joint, lights it, passes joint to St Francis)

St Francis beams in satisfaction: Yeah, that last part was a nice touch. Daisy appreciates that stuff. (inhales deeply, passes to Howard, who pauses... then, looking fearfully at St Gertrude, inhales and coughs)

St Gertrude, glaring at Howard: You are responsible for most of Daisy's nihilism, you know! You and Ballard! I intend to SQUEEZE Ballard for that.

Howard pales, gulps, visibly quivers, brushes invisible dust off his black suit.

Jerry: (smiles beatifically from cannabis intake) Lighten up, Gertie!

St Gertrude: (livid) SHUT UP! (points at Jerry) YOU are the reason she picked up THAT--- (points at joint) after abstaining for 23 years! You should be ashamed of yourself!

Jerry: Me? What? I just play music, okay?

St Gertrude sputters in righteous indignation, once again lapsing into Middle German. James Dean enters, dressed exactly as he was when he struck oil in GIANT.

Shantideva: Wow, cool. I had no idea HE was gonna be here.

James Dean: How's it going? (waves at Buddha) Wow, its been awhile!

Buddha: Hasn't it? (the two embrace warmly)

And finally, St Jude and Elizabeth Taylor enter; Liz gives note to Maria from Jimi Hendrix, explaining that he couldn't make it. Liz immediately asks if there is caviar.

Shantideva: (visibly shaken) I thought this was a VEGAN meeting?

Liz: Ohhh, sorry! (giggles) No cheese either?! But DAISY--?!

Maria: Yes, Liz, I know... Daisy loves cheese, but we are being polite for the sake of Shantideva.

St Francis: (rolling eyes heavenward) Who is THE BIG SHIT with Daisy right now.

Liz (covers mouth in her famous naughty-little-girl manner, notably used to excellent effect in Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf): Uh-oh! Somebody is jealous! (giggles again) Is there any... wait, no alcohol, right?

All meeting participants shake their heads in unison. St Gertrude is suddenly indignant again and snaps at Elizabeth: I can't believe you don't KNOW this stuff!

Liz: Excuse me, ladies, but I go to a lot of these things, you know? Just like Jerry does. (waves at Jerry) It's hard to keep up.

St Gertrude: You should have stayed in purgatory LONGER, but like HIM (points at Jerry), you had friends in high places to spring you early. (glares at Liz)

Liz: (winks at Gertrude) Deal with it, sister! (sits beside St Jude, who appears to be an old friend) I paid my dues!

St Jude: Yea, O dearest Gertrude, verily I say unto you, she hath paid the ransom.

St Gertrude: Oh so now you are going to go all King James on my ass?

Maria: ORDER PLEASE! Let's try to get along!

St Gertrude: That's easy to say when your job isn't in jeopardy!

Buddha: Oh--stop being so histrionic, Gertie. That melodrama might work on those desperate burning souls in purgatory, er, uh, I mean samsara, but it doesn't go over so well with the rest of us.

Howard nods emphatically.

Liz: Purgatory is a DUMP, I couldn't WAIT to get out of there.

James Dean: I'd have to agree with you on that.

Liz: Jimmy! (squeals delightedly) Haven't seen you since we filmed GIANT! (the two hug and start a long catch-up session, as the other deities start chatting with each other.)

Maria sighs, and realizes this meeting has been mostly a waste. Too much socializing.

AND she will have to manage Gertrude better next time.

~*~

And so, our very first DEAD AIR Deity meeting gets off to a rocky start. Thus, we will have to revisit our deities at a later date.

This post was inspired in part by the good Doctor Jay's post. Thanks for inspiring me to write about these things, instead of simply wringing my hands over them.

Dead Air Church: Ex-fundies rock!

At left: A mere fraction of the copious religious propaganda that has been foisted on me here in fundamentalist Bob Jones University-land. My favorite is in the lower left of the frame, the million dollar bill with Charles Spurgeon on it. (Accept no substitutes!)





I recently discovered Stuff Fundies Like, when my blog was linked on one of their threads. Yow, thought Daisy, what kind of fundies quote ME? I was surprised, to say the least.

And now I know: These are the kind of fundies that quote me!

These are the EX-fundies. And it turns out, there are droves of them! Who knew? (Well, of course, the eager-beaver tract-distributors don't tell you about THEM, now do they?)

And... let me tell you: they are beautiful people.

Stuff Fundies Like (SFL) routinely gets hundreds of comments... and it is the comments and participation that drives the community. They are all over the lot, furious ex-fundies, funny ex-fundies (they are often quite hilarious in describing the lifestyle, creed, expectations), as well as those who desperately want to exit fundamentalism, but can't seem to figure out how to do it. Fundamentalist Christianity (and ALL fundamentalism, by extension) traps people; if they were raised in it, they don't understand the ways of the world. Everyone they know is like them. They have been told the world is evil and wicked, and they don't know which outsiders to trust. As a result, Stuff Fundies Like has become a warm and friendly surrogate family, extremely crucial and sorely needed.

Through this blog, I found a treasure trove of information... the next Bob Jonesoid that approaches me, will be sorry sorry sorry. On the other hand, I realize, I will likely be a whole lot nicer to them, too... I think I get it, now. It doesn't make the harassment any easier to take, but it does make me more compassionate. Buddha said if you want to understand your own suffering, focus on the suffering of those who make YOU suffer. (Something like that.) I often fail miserably at this, since when my enemies suffer, I usually giggle with glee, "Yeah, take that, bitch!" In so many ways, I am not the most spiritually-enlightened person, as DEAD AIR regulars have likely figured out by now.

However, I now know (for example), that the kids at Bob Jones are FORCED to meet "soul-winning quotas" (!) and the tract-foisting harassment is therefore required. They have "prayer captains" in every dorm room (does that give anybody else a flash of Grand Funk Railroad's "I'm your Captain"--conjuring up images of now-born-again Mark Farner with a Bible-shaped guitar in his hands?). The prayer captains tattle on you all the time, if you should stray from the Bob Jones path. And straying is inevitable, because the demands placed on these young people are incredible.

You are not allowed to face your accusers. The place runs on the gossip and whims of "prayer captains"--imagine your college if the goody-two-shoes were allowed to run the joint. Some of the ex-fundies were bounced out, in just this arbitrary fashion. Busted with AC/DC, there is nothing to do but plead guilty. You did the crime, you serve the time... and they first put people in lock-down, almost like prison. (To me, it sounds like a prison.) Demerits are given for all kinds of bizarre things, and the SFL commentariat like to give each other demerits in humorous fashion.

The blog and forum include everybody--the ex-fundies are best-represented, but the curious never-fundie and the fundie-victim (me) are also present and accounted for. Folks are diverse; some are still pretty strict Christians (notably, nobody cusses) and some are now atheists and agnostics. And they accept and tolerate each other, wherever they are. The tolerance is more than mere tolerance: it is 'capital t' Tolerance. Their tolerance is obviously a secular value that they have agreed upon; an explicit goal that they strive for, as part of their journey to find their own way.

As a result, they are far more tolerant than many liberals who pride themselves on "tolerance." No people truly grasp the whole meaning of tolerance more than someone who was never granted ANY, and fully understands what that means.

Learning the lingo of the blog/forum is somewhat daunting; they have more acronyms than the old Alphabet Soup of the Left. Some of these stand for the main colleges of fundamentalism--besides BJU, there is Pensacola Christian College (PCC), Hyles-Anderson College (HAC), and Ambassador Baptist College (ABC) among many others. They have their own culture, their own publications and their own entertainment, if you can call it that.

At left: BJU's Jonathan Edwards-themed coffee shop, Great Awakenings. (photo lifted from Mother Jones)






One of the most important terms necessary to understand is IFB, Independent Fundamentalist Baptist. This is the core "cell" of the movement. These are also known as "Bible Churches"--for whatever reason. (Implication: other Christian denominations don't really use the Bible, or in any case, don't truly understand it.) And "KJVO" stands for King James Version Only. (You wondered where the Catholic-hating would start, didn't you?) Sometimes they call this "King James Version Onlyism"--since it isn't just a preference, but a doctrinal point that has been stoked to a fever pitch.

I have been introduced to some amazing bloggers and some amazing Christians... some have courageously dedicated themselves to fighting for the victims of abuse. And the extensive abuse has only recently been publicly documented.

After 20/20 blew the IFB movement out of the water back in April, various websites and instructional videos (that make similar allegations look substantial) have been suddenly pulled in the dead of night.

[Warnings, triggers and so forth.]

Compassion or Cover-Up? Teen Victim Claims Rape; Forced Confession in Church

[Tina] Anderson was only 16 when she said she was forced to stand terrified before her entire church congregation to confess her "sin" -- she had become pregnant. She says she wasn't allowed to tell the group that the pregnancy was the result of being allegedly raped by a fellow congregant, a man twice her age.

She says her New Hampshire pastor, Chuck Phelps, told her she was lucky not to have been born during Old Testament times when she would have been stoned to death.

Phelps says that Anderson voluntarily stood in front of the church, but Tina says it was the first step of "church discipline" at her Independent Fundamental Baptist Church (IFB).

...

Her mother sought help from the pastor and they agreed to send her thousands of miles away to Colorado to live with another IFB family.

There, she said she was homeschooled and restricted from seeing others her age until she gave her child up for adoption.

And that was 13 years ago.

How did this come to light? Let's hear it for the INTERNET!

Thirteen years after the alleged crime, Matt Barnhart, a former member of Anderson's church, decided to write a post referencing Anderson's story on a Facebook page for ex-members of IFB churches.

The site supervisor, who runs an advocacy group for former IFB members, Freedom from Abuse, alerted Concord police.

Anderson, who at the time was teaching voice at the International Baptist College in Chandler, Ariz., got the police call out of the blue.

"Right now I feel completely overwhelmed," said Anderson. "It's been tough. In my mind, I didn't think he'd be arrested, and when I got the phone call I was completely shocked. My whole world has changed."

And that last sentence sums up the experience for all the fundies... all of whom have dealt with emotional and spiritual abuse; some have been beaten, and some have been raped. (And at least one, murdered.)

They are leaving, one by one... they take a look around, they decide to take in a movie or listen to music of their own choosing. They talk to the non-fundies around them. They take a deep breath, emerging from lies and subterfuge.

And in so doing, they decide to find out the truth... which as we know, will set us free.

Thank you for sharing your amazing journeys with me, and with all of us. You have shown us courage, justice and true Christian love.

Nine of Wands

Nine of Wands in the HELLO KITTY TAROT, which is simply too amazing for words.









Mysteriously, while cleaning my house (okay, not really), I find Money House Blessing, strawberry incense cones: Special Pack 45 cones.



Where does such hippie detritus come from, and why does it invariably end up in my bureaus and cabinets? In this case, Money House Blessing was included in a long-lost purple plastic bag of freebie incense, given to me by one whose new live-in girlfriend strongly disliked and disapproved of the stench (her words) of incense. Many Baptists (and other Calvinist-based Protestants) have an almost involuntary negative reaction to incense as pagan idolatry, while virtually every other religion in the world is at home with incense used in religious devotional practices. (I'm sure if new-girlfriend had ever seen Money House Blessing, she would have had a minor nervous breakdown.)



Hoodoo is uniquely southern, and Money House Blessing is a Hoodoo practice. It is obscure enough that Wikipedia has no listing for the blessing and I can find no description of its specific components. And yet, I am told you can find it at Walgreen's. (I am fascinated when something is simultaneously culturally obscure and yet is being sold right under our noses.)



Is strawberry as good as the others?



From Money House Blessing:

An important part of African-American hoodoo tradition concerns itself with the undoing of "tricks," jinxes, or "crossed conditions" -- and one of the standard ways to do this is through ritual house cleaning, which may include sweeping, floor washing, burning incense, sprinkling sachet powders, and using spiritual air fresheners. From apotropaic cleaning has developed the concept of "lucky" cleaning, and since the 1930s, the two types of cleaning products, "uncrossing" and "luck drawing," have existed side by side.



"Money House Blessing" is a popular brand name for floor wash, air freshener, hand soap, anointing oil, and sachet powder. It seems to combine the characteristics of two other well-known brand names, "Peaceful Home" and "Money Drawing." The idea is that with a steady income, peace will reign in the home.

...

The inclusion of Native American imagery is an old hoodoo tradition that seems to date back to the early days of slavery, when Africans first met and admired Indians for their independence and herb lore. Remnants of such cross-cultural goodwill abound to this day. For instance, in New Orleans, a famous black Mardi Gras Krewe dresses as Wild Tchiapatoulas Indians. Likewise, the Sonny Boy Products line of religious supplies contains several "Alleged Indian Grandma" and "Old Indian" brands.



The "Indian Fruit Oil" mentioned on the label is Indian by courtesy only, for the fruits depicted are a lemon, a bunch of grapes, and some strawberries, emerging from a cornucopia. The number nine in the "Nine Indian Fruit[s] designation is a significator of spirituality and completion, a number believed to evoke peace in the home.

Strawberry, yeah!



Okay, I guess I get filthy rich right after I burn this strawberry-smellin stuff, then. :)



And very interesting about Number Nine, which also signifies completion in the Tarot. (At left, the Nine of Wands from the beautiful Colman-Smith Tarot, a newer, colorful-psychedelic version of Pamela Colman Smith's traditional Rider-Waite Tarot.)



It is always interesting how these old legends inevitably tie together. The Countercultural Tarot describes the Nine of Wands (above) -- which I have drawn this week:

Fire loves a fight. And the urge to fight may trap Wands in conflicts that move quickly and grow out of control. Yet change provides its own kind of stability in the Nine of Wands, portrayed in the traditional Rider-Waite card as a bandaged warrior leaning against one upright wand while appearing to protect eight others. The card is a show of strength, an evolving integration of intellectual goals with the physical expression of desire. But wounds are inevitable.

So much is going on, and apparently, I am going on local talk radio soon to jabber about politics for the local Green Party. When I drew a card regarding these matters, this is the one I got.



Will Daisy manage to carve out a real job in the world of talk-radio brawlathons, or will her nascent radio career simply end up as a pleasant distraction while unemployed? The tarot suggests that whatever happens, this will be a good thing for me overall... but alas, if I try hard enough, I could STILL get banged on the head real good.



Stay tuned, sports fans.

One man gathers what another man spills

Hey you crazy kidz! I shall now explain another way the Tarot works, in addition to those ways we have already discussed.

I drew The Star today! Yeah! And now I am ready to rock and roll, recite the Chaplet of Divine Mercy, hike my beloved Swamp Rabbit Trail to a fare-thee-well and then go chow down at the Pita House. Exercise and healthy food! This is all because I drew the right card. If I had drawn this one, or this one, or God forbid, this one, I would just stay home and watch Turner Classic Movies, eating popcorn and fiddling on Facebook.

See how it works now?

To the skeptics who bray in unison (squawk!) self-fulfilling prophecy, I answer: well, no shit Sherlock! Whoever said that didn't count or wasn't a factor? You say this triumphantly, as if it nullifies everything, whereas to me, that is just more proof of how it works.

If all of these millions of people can express happiness with their very expensive placebos put out by pharmaceutical companies (some of which I subsidize with my taxes), then I guess I can blog about my placebos, which are just as good as theirs.

~*~

Going on record as very happy with the gay marriage decision in New York. Here is a cool article about the changes in the culture regarding gay couples and acceptance; those who seem to be unlikely supporters of same-sex marriage have had their opinions influenced by knowing someone who is gay: To Know Us Is to Let Us Love (New York Times)

I should be back to trashing Nikki Haley in the next week... what with murdering mommies taking center stage in our national consciousness, I all-but-forgot about the right wing governor attempting to gut our state economy even further... but rest assured, I shall be back on the case soon. (One wonders what ELSE she can find to destroy, but I'm sure she'll find something.)

~*~

I have been reading an amazing Buddhist text titled An Unentangled Knowing, written by the late Thai Buddhist lay woman Upasika Kee Nanayon (aka K. Khao-suan-luang). This text is part of the Thai Forest Tradition --which I think sounds as cool as the Catholic term "The Desert Fathers"--conjuring up visions of mystics who have left civilization to find their own way.

I had attempted the book many years ago and ended up tucking it away in profound spiritual confusion, because I found it unaccountably disturbing and weird. When I found the book again, I was finally ready, even hungry, for it.

It is, quite simply, the Buddhist book I've needed and have been waiting for. Many years ago, I had not studied the texts necessary to get to this point and hence, didn't understand a word. The concept of "emptiness"--in the West--tends to translate to NIHILISM, and no, it isn't the same thing at all. But I didn't truly understand this until last year. I am now ready to fully engage the text, and I have. I have carried the book with me for about two months, reading and re-reading, studying carefully at every available moment and applying what I have learned to my meditations... and...

It has made me very happy!

Not sure why.

But isn't that what we are really doing all this for, when its all said and done?

(The whole text is online here.)

~*~

Your fun Saturday afternoon tune--I've discovered this one goes really good with the Swamp Rabbit Trail--

Exodus (original) - Bob Marley and the Wailers



Movement of Jah people! (Is that the greatest thing you ever heard or what?)

Have a fabulous weekend and hope you find a little bit of The Star for yourself, too. See you on the Swamp Rabbit Trail!

~*~

*derivation of blog post title is HERE. I always assume people know this stuff, then they email me and ask! Sorry about that!

Odds and Sods: End of 2010 Edition

Hey you crazy kidz, hope you all have a great New Years celebration planned. And resolutions, lots and lots of good-hearted resolutions, that make us feel all warm and fuzzy (at least until we break them).

This year has seen DEAD AIR's lowest number of blog posts ever, and one of my resolutions is to post more, even if the posts are short. I don't have to turn everything into a damn epistle! But alas, old habits die hard.

The important thing is the HABIT, I have discovered. If you let a few days go by without writing, well... it's easier to let a few MORE days go by... and finally, you aren't writing at all. That's how it initially happened to me some years ago, when I went long periods (like, years) without writing. I missed chronicling some very important, earth-shattering events, and I now greatly mourn the loss. (We can't remember everything we were thinking/doing ten years ago, even if we believe we do; I re-read parts of this blog from only three years ago and I am astounded at the details I have forgotten already.) I decided I wouldn't let that happen again, but this year, I nearly did.

As many of you know, my spiritual center (so to speak) was re-centered (so to speak), and I found it hard to adequately convey my thoughts and feelings around the shift in sensibility. I still find it very difficult, and I am largely unable to write sensibly about leaving the Church. It remains a jumble of emotions and I need to let it all settle, before I attempt to go there. I have about a half-dozen unfinished posts regarding sudden realizations I have had, re: Christianity and identifying as Christian. For one thing, a loss of respectability, that 1) I didn't know I had and 2) didn't know I valued. Some of this respectability is social, some political, and some is self-respect, and that last one is the one that caught me off guard.

I still identify as a Catholic in a social/ethnic way, and that is also very hard to quantify. I am not sure I even understand what it means, but it is simply true.

And so, forward into another year...

~*~

Two of Cravin Melon, but not sure which two! (They introduced themselves as "2/5 of Cravin Melon" at the Earth Fare benefit for Harvest Hope Food Bank, Thanksgiving Eve.)

~*~

DEAD AIR almost got through a whole year without a troll invasion, but last night, there they were, scurrying out from under all kinds of rocks. (((screams)))

I am currently waiting for the cops to arrive to arrest me for not deleting the troll's angry posts (!), as I have been assured they are on the way.

Today, I drove home at breakneck pace and the only thing I found was two florescent light bulbs outside my door, to install in the kitchen. *sigh* No cops. No subpoena. No indictment. Galdurnit! (as my late uncle liked to say) It appears I got all my hopes up for nothing.

I was planning a really JAZZY end-of-year post about Freedom of Speech and blogging, complete with trolls sending me to jail after posting their addresses on my blog (seriously, read the link)... but nah. I was also hopeful that this would be a big First Amendment case, endearing me to all of Blogdonia (and bringing me thousands of hits, of course), but it all turned out to be just another annoying pain in the ass.

~*~

Tyler Ramsey at the Bohemian Cafe in Greenville, December 4th. His musical compatriots, BAND OF HORSES, have just been nominated for a Grammy award, which he called "Some crazy news!" It certainly is!

Congrats on the nomination, Tyler, and good luck. (Apologies for the blurry photo, but it was kinda dark in there.)

~*~

I did want to link a few people who posted especially interesting, fun and/or very readable stuff that I didn't get to highlight previously:

:: How do I feel about the recent lift of the ban on openly gay soldiers (i.e. Don't ask, don't tell)? Truthfully? I hate when still another group gets turned into cannon fodder. Suzan sums up my feelings perfectly in the title of her piece: To the Gay Community: Now That You Can Join the Military, Please Don’t!

:: Renegade Evolution meets the Furries... great stuff: You’re going to Baltimore? You might need…

:: Jon shared this one with me: The Professional Left Versus The Left of Us. Money quote:

But to some the fascism warned of in all those faint allusions to totalitarian horrors already exists and the death camp trains have been running for decades with barely a peep from the professional liberals. Should we care about Obama’s failure to close Guantanamo when he never felt pressure enough to even lie about wanting to shut down the Corrections Corporation of America? Prisons and the racist legislation, hyper-policing, brutality and fraudulent judicial system that keep them filled are among the nation’s biggest businesses. Joblessness and poverty continue to worsen and even the tens of thousands dying from war abroad are more than matched by the deaths in this country resulting from public policies which deny adequate housing, food and health care to millions.

Preach it, preach it!

:: Skepchick: Eating Disorders, the Media, and Skepticism.

:: AMERICA: Y UR PEEPS B SO DUM? Ignorance and courage in the age of Lady Gaga by Joe Bageant. Required reading for every culture warrior!

Yellowdog Granny's recent funnies! It's where I found the comic on the left.



Speaking of which, I've been a loyal REAL HOUSEWIVES fan since day one, but this year, I was pretty disappointed in the newest incarnation: The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills. Boring, predictable, with no authentic or amusingly-outrageous neurosis at all, just garden-variety, high-tax-bracket narcissism. Narcissism without neurosis is just... narcissism. Neurosis, however, is what makes the world go round! (We crave copious tearful, self-centered confessions about how no one understands what they go through!!!!) The Bev Hills gang doesn't have enough self-pity to suit me... or it could be that they've had SO MUCH BOTOX they are totally unable to move their faces (the husbands too!) and as a result, cry with their eyes wide open. And that just doesn't pull at my heartstrings in the same way.

If you can't even scrunch up your face and cry like the rest of us, fuck you.

:: Media Matters: 15 Whoppers [Glenn] Beck did not get fired for in 2010. (My first thought: What?! ONLY 15?)

:: Sheila instructs us in Relearning how to breathe. As a customer service rep, I would often notice that my breathing would get all raggedy and strange, after an hour or so of getting my ass chewed out non-stop. I would take a few seconds and concentrate on breathing in and out, and I was amazed at the difference in my state of mind, my countenance, my inner calm.

:: Mia Mingus shares her feelings about November 6, the anniversary of her adoption. This is her recorded birthday, but of course, not really her birthday. I had never really stopped to consider the fact that most adoptees do not know their actual birthdays:

I hate the confusion that surrounds my birthday now. People constantly getting confused, “so which birthday do you celebrate?” “When is your real birthday?” Since finding out the truth, I would rather deny my birthday all together, no celebrations, no worries about what or how birthdays are supposed to feel to someone who does not even know how to think of her own birth. It only marks another year that I have spent separated from pieces of myself that may or may not even exist; pieces of my self that made me, created me, but don’t know me now. It only marks a deep sadness at having celebrated something that was so wrong for so long, something that wasn’t real, the way sometimes entire decades of my life have felt.

Beautiful, expressive writing.

:: My always-embarrassing senator, Tea Party busybody Jim DeMint, has just revealed himself to be a starstruck fanboy, gushing to Politico that Sarah Palin has "done more for the Republican Party than anyone since Ronald Reagan," -- apparently with a straight face, too.

As they say, those two need to get a room.

~*~

And now (((drum roll))) DEAD AIR VIDEO OF THE YEAR... as always, my criteria is the same: Which one did I listen to the most after I initially posted it?

Ohhh, that's an easy call. I must have listened to this five thousand times by now. (As I said back in April, all due to the wonders of modern technology!)

Cleo's Mood - Junior Walker and the All Stars



HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE! Have a fabulous 2011!

*Photos from my FLICKR page*