Get your Bible off my neck!

This weeks news has been slathered by the reports of a local minister, one Pastor Ken Hutcherson of the Antioch Bible Church, who has attempted to pressure Bill Gates into pulling Microsoft's support for an anti-discrimination law against homosexuals in the workplace here in Washington. See, right now you can be fired for being queer, which is frankly, stupid. Our lawmakers pulled their collective heads out of their asses long enough to pen the bill, but then POOF! it died in the voting by one lowsy vote. Staunch conservatives in the state capital were trying to say this bill would 'open the floodgates to legalizing gay marriage'. You know what, screw off, it's one thing to say that gay folk can't get married, but in these scary economic times we're also going to ensure they can lose their jobs freely? Thanks a fucking bunch. Now, one would ask "What does Microsoft have to do with a discrimination law?" Well, being the huge global conglomerate/monopoly/great kingdom of evil that they be, they have quite a few lobbyists on standby and their hand in a bit of the political bucket. Being such a major employer here in the NW, it was a boon to the pro-civil-liberties front to have them saying "Yes, we agree, queers should be allowed to work too!".
No one's really sure why Microsoft suddenly pulled support (mind you, they aren't going proactively against the bill, they are just no longer saying "Go Gays!"). Press releases state they pulled support before Pastor Fucktardo started rallying the forces. Now, why am I pissed at all this? It's choosing a greater threat to the cause (cause being equality). Microsoft not supporting it is frustrating. Activists are definitely rallying to regain the support as I type. I'll leave that to them for now. They are better at playing Nicey-nice than I am. What I am good at is being a PISSED OFF BITCH WITH A SCORE TO SETTLE!
Pastor Ken Hutcherson tried to inflame the masses, stating he would urge an evangelical christian protest against Microsoft if they didn't immediately pull their support for the measure. Excuse me? So, you and your pathetically numbered flock of less than 4,000 are going to push the world's largest technological giant into supporting your hate-oriented, biblical toned idealogy? You are going to threaten a company that does so much good for the world (Hello, Gates foundation!) because they are okay with Gay? Oh, go fuck yourself. Hard.
I went in search of a mode of contact to the Disciple of Ignorance, but he hasn't apparently caught up with teh new era of email. I did, however, find a lovely little address page.
Pastor Ken Hutcherson
c/ Antioch Bible Church
8434 154th Avenue NE
Redmond, Wa 98052
you can also fax them at (425) 556-1333.
I would suggest sending them the following postcard, which you can print off of your computer.
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webmasta!

Just a heads up kiddies, momma is getting a whole new digs very soon. As soonas I can figure out the @!#*& webhosting service, and @#&*^@# Dreamweaver, and @^%!@! HTML programming. HA! should be a fun experience, I've already dented the computer desk twice.
Anyhoot, it will have a blog, just like this one, my artwork, my list of coolzie links, and an actual store front to purchase purses, shirts, and iron-ons with some interesting Hoodisms.
Stay tuned, I'll have the switch marked everywhere.

Media for the Masses

Well, we're a TV watchin' household, and I will tout the wonders of the evil brain-draining device. After all, with DirectTV and Tivo, I can watch all the HGTV programming I want, not to mention log in oodles of mindless food network shows. Not that honestly I pay attention to television all that much. I could hardly tell you what is actually on network crapola, beyond my few favourites. I am a big fan of NUMB3RS, although probably because I think David Krumholtz is one hot Hebrew hunk of deliciousness (and that's sayin' something, because I swore off ever being remotely attracted to another Jewish man after one poor representative of the whole culture made me want to declare a Jihad). And I like Angel, because Shawntay sucked me into it and now I watch it obsessively like the whore for all things vampy that I am. Other than those and my compulsion to watch Law & Order, that's about as far into regular programming as I care to venture. I tivo my foodie stuff, and all the oodles of crafting/home decorating/DIY programs to watch whenever I chose. Usually in the evening, or when I know Anthony can be torn from his daily dose of Disney. And so this blogging expedition enters the horrifying realm of Children's Television Programming...
I originally exposed Anthony to television by mere happenstance. I am a busybody who must have multiple things going at all times. Background noise, like a television set, calms me. So Anthony grew up with it on, although probably never really clicking in that people actually watch the dang thing. Up until about four months ago he could care less what was on, and only really perk up when a particular commercial came on with an interesting song to it (which would send him into his toddler dancing frenzy). I felt guilty just having on Court TV in the background, though, in case he ever did start paying attention, so I would actually tune in the Disney Channel. Now, for however mortifyingly they butcher original stories, or over songify everything, or dessimate all things that made the Muppets special, their kids programming ain't half bad. I refuse to tune in PBS because Sesame Street turned to crap the moment Jim Hensen died, and they put that mindless drivvel on like Boohbah and the Teletubbies. I mean, what the FUCK are those shows supposed to be? They don't actually put forth a message, just weird blobby things and bright colours and screwy noises. Hell, each teletubby has a uniquely bizarre speech impediment, why the hell would I want my language developing child to pick that crap up? And the baby in the sun thing is just not right. My brain screamed the first time I attempted to sit through a mind numbing episode. By the time Boohbah was over, I was almost to the point of huddling in a corner whimpering that my soul hurt.
SO...I leave it to the Disney channel to help me through my morning. Mind you, we only watch this shit in the morning, or mommy would go completely cout of her gourd having to watch children's television all day. I have it on while I drink my cup of coffee to become concious, and Anthony toodles around the living room. Stanley is a cool show because not only does it teach kids about a different animal each episode (and thus imports a compassion for our animal friends), but the parental unit there is made up of a working mom and a stay at home dad who is a comic book artist. How friggin' cool is that?! And there's Out of the Box, where they talk about sharing and kindness and all that crap. It's very ethno-unified, too, although to an overly conspicuous level. Tony is a black man, Viv is a Chinese lady, and each child in the group of three or four that is visiting also MUST be of a different race. I think they've even got an eskimo kid. Let's join hands and all that junk.
Anyhoo, the Wiggles are tolerable (although their songs will get stuck in your head for a whole friggin' day, damn them), and Anthony actually pays attention for that one. I still like to play the Which Wiggle is a Figgle game in my head (for those of you also playing this homegame, the blue wiggle is officially out of the running, he recently had a kid).
Recently Disney just put up a complete nightmare, though. The Doodlebops. There's these three clown-lookin' morons that are called the "Doodlebops", and they are apparently in a 'rock band'. This is exemplified by the fact that they are constantly talking about the 'next show', and there's musical equipment in their psychedelic house. They break into song all too frequently. Actually, I think they may more accurately be a Branch Dividian-esque Cult, because they start their day by lining up in Hitler Youth form and reciting the Doodlebop pledge. The freakish attire on them looks like a disco train wreck on an acid flashback. Seriously, think an early ScoobyDoo band episode (replete with bellbottoms), and then puke up the rainbow on top of that. Mo has a serious issue with his hair, and is bright yellow, while Roody (or Randy, or Robert the Retard for all I can put together) is blue and has something I think is supposed to be a rastafarian explosion of dreadlocks. I forgot what the chick's name is, although since I have no idea the relation of the three (there's no mention of siblingness), I can only assume she's getting DP on a nightly basis. All three of these atrocities have mishapen hands with lumpy 'cartoon' fingers, which I cannot fathom how they play instruments with. Their best friend and mentor is this poor scat-singing black woman named Maz who comes along (out of a bookshelf) and imparts words of obviousness to them in rhyme. Then they sing another dumb song. Then mommy wants to vomit and she can hear her soul being torn from her body. I swear, these things friggin scare me.
Thank god Anthony is amused with my FoodNetwork obsession, or completely disinterested with television entirely by the time the bile comes on, or I think I would seriously hang myself if I had to stomach this shit for any extended length of time.


Dear GOD WHY?!?!?!?!?!

Whoopsy, lost another 419 billion...

Since I want every one who reads this to get involved, the moral of this whole diatribe will be placed front and center...GET INVOLVED, DAMMIT!!!
How? Start here--> Find & Write to your Senator
Need a hint on why you should be writing? Well, other than the obvious fact that you should be staying informed and included as a constituent of the person you voted in, here's two major topics to stir anyone's ire...

• Pentagon and DoD cannot account for it's spending of tens of millions of dollars in Iraq
• Actual 2005 Revisionary Summary of Fiscal Budget

There's a start to get you going. Why am I, the lambasting liberal, so outraged? Well, let me dumb it all down: Our holier than thou, can do no wrong, "let's feed it like an overstuffed Christmas Pig", ginormous and all encompassing Department of Defense appropriates a freakish amount of the budget (ie, our tax dollars). Appropriates means gobbles up like a hungry hippo, since I don't want a dismall vocabulary to lose anyone in reading this message. Now, since I cannot seem to find the actual numbers, I can say that 106 billion dollars in addition to whatever we gave them in the first place means there's a heck of a lot of money in that warchest. Now, if you read the dilluted crap of a budget posted, you can see that there's more money being poured into the DoD, and it's little evil brother, the Homeland Security Derpartment, than any other department. By any other department I am lumping in such minor nuisance spendings as say, Education, Agriculture, and Commerce. If you go down a few obviously exagerated graphs, you'll even see that Foreign Relations gtes more money than Ed. Spending for Veteran's Affairs is barely a blip on the radar.

So, we pour billions upon billions of dollars into these two departments, and they can't even tell the independent accounting group where the HELL the money went? We're being told there's not enough, I think it's about time we make our govt' pony up some fucking answers. They tell us our soldiers need more armour, which they DO, but they can't explain why all the other money we've thrown at them hasn't bought it already. You want more, but you can't tell us where the last 419 billion went. Well, I am not going to let my representative take this one without taxpayers fighting beside her.

Write to your representatives, PLEASE people. Tell them we as the American people DEMAND answers. And you know what, I am not getting off this soapbox until I get them!

Drunks and Debauchery

My friend Jessi called me up and invited me along to a hip shindig down at the ol' Fenix. Her friend, Erin, is part of the Burning Hearts Burlesque group, and they were putting on a show at the In the Bedroom night there. Me, Jessi, and whoever else she could round up were to be potential 'Pin-up Girls' for their photoshoots. To me, it sounded like a great excuse to get all kinds of gussied up and have a nice little time with some chicks I completely dig.
So, I put on my swankiest negligee, the preferred attire for the evening, and even curled my hair. I know, a rare moment indeed for this shlep-happy momma. Jess looked just ridiculously cute, as did our friends Annie and Sabrina. I swear, Annie can look damn hot for a pregnant gal, it is just soooo not fair. As I shook off my jealousy (remember, I was akin to a water buffalo at only three months), I delighted in Sabrina's naughty school-girl/punky princess attire. Now these are my kinda people!
We did our photo thang, which I am telling you, can make any woman feel like hot shit! I can't remember the last time a photographer was smiling at me, and it felt goooooooood. The show was awesome, too, if you are a towny I highly suggest you check it out. They actually go with the old school homage, which is quite refreshing. It's not just a bunch of skinny goth chicks in corsets shaking it to modern tunes. These women are curvy, with a capital C, and are every inch beautiful for it. They are the real sexy, in my opinion. And they have obviously done their homework, and their act harkens back to the Betty Page era, complete with singers and group choreography. The best part, by far, was their Belly Dancer. Not only is she perfectly soft in ALL the right places, she has definitely got the skills.
Anyhoot, that's the debauchery part. I know, not that naughty by my former standards, but hey, I was wearing fishnets! Onto the drunks...and of course, my recquired dosage of ranting...
We were off in the corner near the photographers, for the most part, which was fine with me. Honestly, the club is a mix of all walks, and half of them are not shoes I wanna be near. There were a few goths, albeit only there for the show. This skinny greaseball who was sporting the wanna-be Gavin Rosedale look (and a very cheap black suit with a red shirt, tacky!), kept giving me the eyeball, which I promptly dodged. He eventually found me, and asked me to dance, while putting his letchy little hand on my shoulder. I shuddered away from him and shook my head, pointing to the photography area, hoping he'd assume I'd me tied up the rest of the night. He bowed away in that stupid, "I am such a gothy gentleman" act, and I quickly skittered off for cover in the group of gals who were waiting for a spot in line. I finished the whole shoot thing, and confined myself to the back hallway shortly after Annie and Sabrina had left for the night. Jessi was my ride, and we wanted to watch the rest of the show, and still mingle a bit more. She was pulled off by one of the roller-derby folks (more on that later), so I contented myself during the intermission by chatting up a few of the other models and photo-folk. It felt nice being social again! Unfortunately, I was left alone for all of two seconds when the drunken twerp returned. I could almost hear the bell sound DING! Round Two! He introduced himself, sticking out that dirty little paw of his again. I didn't take it, and gave him a fake name and the cold shoulder. Undeterred, our Hero of the Hideous began waxing poetic about my looking "On the edge...kinda fifties-like, yet modern" Oh, be still my tender heart at his eloquence...what, pretell, will this genius assualt my delicate being with next? Apparently, he was finally picking up on my complete and utter lack of interest, which I displayed by staring off blankly into the distance. This was of course, only punctuated by an icey stare of horror if his body got too close to breaking my personal bubble of space. As he stumbled off, he turned back around, and delivered what was obviously his best line...
"I saw you from a thousand miles away, baby!" With a bizarre disco point to the heavens. I held up my left hand, wriggling my ring finger, and responded "Yeah, so did my husband". I know, not the best delivery I've ever had, but I was a bit flustered at his weirdness. Even the two gentlemen standing between us during that little witty repartee had to burst into laughter. They turned and repeated "a thousand miles, baby!" obviously delighting in their fellow gents poor taste in pickup lines. One mentioned, "I bet he was saving that one all night for ya".
So, I do ask myself, and you readers, why do men think these types of encounters could possibly result in anything? If I get an I saw U for this one, I will fall onto myself.
Anyhoo, since I am a photo-luvin' kinda whore, I will leave you with the evidence of our escapades. Enjoy!

Me and my long time friend, Cecilia. We worked on the web together, she is a complete DOLL!

Annie, myself, Jessi, and Sabrina. HAWT MOMMAS!

A moment between photos, and an excuse to stick my tongue out at someone...

Me, hopin' I still got it...