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This “No mosque at ground zero” backlash has spiraled out of control. Not until all the erroneous, exaggerated and / or hypocritical hype swirling around the issue ceases will anyone be able to have a reasonable debate about the issue. For instance: Read the rest of this entry »
This is not a column about Proposition 8. It’s about the towering stupidity of its proponents.
In the days after Judge Vaughn R. Walker ruled that Prop. 8 is unconstitutional, I futilely scoured the Internet, print, TV and radio to locate just one anti-gay-marriage argument that did not, at some point, display colossal ignorance of our laws and government.
I’m not just talking about those random, dumbass-on-the-street interviewees, but also government leaders, journalists and spokespersons of powerful, national organizations—such as Wendy Wright of Concerned Women for America (CWA), who said Judge Walker has “declared his opinion to be supreme and ‘We the People’ are no longer free to govern ourselves”; such as Mascara Palin telling Sean Inanity of Fox News that it was “frustrating to see the third branch of government undoing the will of the people”; such as the dumbass-on-the-street CNN interviewee who claimed that, by ignoring California voters, Walker had turned America into a “dictatorship.”
Frustrating? I’ll tell you what’s frustrating. It’s frickin’ frustrating that so many people—including a frickin’ former vice presidential candidate and potential 2012 Republican nominee—doesn’t understand the most elementary principles of our system. Read the rest of this entry »
There’s been much controversy about a Pentagon survey that was sent recently to enlisted men and women, seeking their views on the repeal of Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell (DADT).
The survey asks such questions as how unit morale might be affected under a gay commander and how a repeal might affect willingness to serve in the military. One multiple-choice query asks, “If a gay or lesbian service member was living with a same sex partner on base, what would you most likely do?” with the answer options ranging from “I would get to know them” to “I would probably move off base” to “I would key their car and write ‘F.A.G.’ on their footlocker.” OK, the last one was not an actual option, but it might as well have been. The question is every bit as bigoted as if it had asked, “How would you feel if a couple of Jews moved next door?” Read the rest of this entry »
I’m having an afternoon meal with a small group of female friends, enjoying a lighthearted conversation about such lunch-appropriate topics as celebrity marriages, gardening tips and organic pet food, when the discussion takes a perilous turn toward a lunch-inappropriate topic: abortion.
At first, things are going smoothly, and it actually seems as though we’re going to discuss it without ruining any friendships or appetites—until, I make the mistake of revealing my position on the issue. Read the rest of this entry »
It was 11 p.m., and I was jonesing for some buffalo wings. So I strolled over to my favorite neighborhood bar, The Tilted Stick. Once there, I ran into an old bartender friend, Teddy Ballgame. I hadn’t seen Teddy in a long time, so I delayed ordering the wings, bought a round and started chatting. At one point in the conversation, I joked about a poster that hangs on the wall titled “Tilted Stick Rules,” which I began reading out loud to Teddy and doing a little comedy shtick on the rules I thought were silly. That’s when a stranger interrupted and said, “If you don’t like the rules, you can get out.”
Naturally, this took me by surprise. I was just joking around with Teddy and hadn’t intended to offend anyone, so I pondered his statement, then informed the guy—whose name (I later learned) rhymes with “snotty”—that we were having a private conversation, but “thanks for the advice anyway.”
“This is a locals bar,” Snotty insisted. “You need to leave,” at which point I thought I was at the Improv because this guy—this apparent victim of fetal-alcohol syndrome—was delivering what I considered to be pure comedy gold. Read the rest of this entry »
First, let’s get the disclaimer out of the way. Fred Phelps is, in fact, a toadfucker. Ditto his family, his friends and all the assphibian followers of his Westboro Baptist Church, who deserve to be repeatedly dunked in the deepest, scaldingest lava pit in Hell if Hell actually existed.
You’ve heard of Phelps and his Westboro Baptist Church (WBC), right? This is the organization that despises homosexuality so much that the URL to its website is GodHatesFags.com. They believe The Lord is punishing America because we “enable” homosexual behavior. They’ve made a name for themselves picketing the funerals of people like Coretta Scott King (a revolting effort), Mathew Shepard (sickening), the victims of the Sago mine disaster (sickening and silly), Mr. Rogers (WTF?!), Ronnie James Dio (well, that makes sense) and Marine Lance Cpl. Matthew Snyder—not because he was gay (he wasn’t), but because the WBC believes soldiers, by virtue of their enlistment, further enable America’s enabling of homosexuality, so God smite him.
With picket signs like “U.S. Fag Army” and “Thank God for Dead Soldiers,” WBC has really proven itself to be out of its mother-lovin’ skull! But get this: As gnat-shit crazy as Westboro Baptist Church is, it isn’t one iota more deranged than any other church—certainly not more so than the Roman Catholic Church, nor the United Methodists, the Evangelical Lutherans, the Mormons, Muslims, Buddhists, Hindus and the rest. Read the rest of this entry »
This is the first segment from my spoken word performance at San Diego IndieFest 6
The first piece is titled, “Do you Accept Jesus Christ as your Personal Trainer.”
I have to admit, I enjoy surfing all those kooky fan pages and groups on Facebook. Some are hokey, like the “Powerful Blood of Jesus Christ” group (which displays a picture of a dove whose wings have been dipped in Christ’s blood). Some are hokie, like the “Happy Muslim Husband and Wife” fan page . And some are just plain stupid, like “Can This Goat Get More Fans than Barack Obama?”
The types of groups and pages are wide-ranging, but one thing they all have in common is that they crack me the hell up, usually unintentionally. Take the hilarious, “Dear Lord, Kill Obama” page. The real title is much longer and more laughable, but, yes, there actually is a Facebook page that prays for God to kill President Obama, and it has 1,185,299 fans—my sister being one of them! Well, I shouldn’t be surprised. During the campaign, she totally bought into all that “Obama the America-hating, Muslim, socialist, grandmother-murdering, turban-wearing Kenyan” business. Ah, don’t sweat it, Sis. It’s not your fault Mom accidentally put you in the microwave when you were a baby. Read the rest of this entry »
Look, I don’t like this new Arizona immigration law anymore than you do, but it’s really starting to bug me that so many people—who haven’t even read it—are howling to holy Hell on Earth about it being racist.
Sorry, folks. I’ve read SB 1070 and I can say with confidence that, as of today, May 7, 2010, there is nothing racist about it.
For one thing, there is an entire passage (lines 30 to 34 of Section 2) that explicitly prohibits law enforcement from using “race, color or national origin” as a determining factor. The only other part of the bill that identifies when law enforcement is required to investigate the status of a person’s citizenship is this:
“WHERE REASONABLE SUSPICION EXISTS THAT THE PERSON IS AN ALIEN WHO IS UNLAWFULLY PRESENT IN THE UNITED STATES, A REASONABLE ATTEMPT SHALL BE MADE, WHEN PRACTICABLE, TO DETERMINE THE IMMIGRATION STATUS OF THE PERSON.”
Jesus Cristo, I hate legal-speak! It’s almost as though all our laws have to get approved by Jenny Gibberish over at the Office of Redundancies and Gobbledygook to ensure the text and words confusing to people and humans it is. Allow me to rewrite:
“Law enforcement shall attempt to determine a person’s immigration status, where reasonable suspicion exists that he or she is unlawfully present in the U.S.”
The key phrase here is “Where reasonable suspicion exists.” It’s the phrase that proves it’s not a racist law. Read the rest of this entry »
Mr. and Mrs. Styles
Read all about the evening at the ever exciting, ever controversial judge’s blog (that’s me).
Because the decriminalization of marijuana will be on the California ballot this November, there’s been much debate regarding its health risks. And you know what? I’m actually beginning to think the anti-pot activists are right—legalization will have a grave effect on public health. Well, at least, the discussion of it will, because every time I hear a debate on the subject, my heart bursts open and blood spurts out my ears.
It’s the same setting every time. On one side of the table, you get a rabid, anti-pot conservative making ridiculously inflated, Reefer Madnessian claims about the harmful effects of marijuana, and on the other side, a mild-mannered, though ill-equipped, pro-pot liberal who never gets around to saying the one thing that will obliterate the conservative argument.
This time it was a debate/interview between Fox News commentator Laura Ingraham and Steve Fox, author of the book Marijuana is Safer: So Why Are We Driving People to Drink?
“Would you smoke pot before a TV appearance like this?” Ingraham smugly asked at the beginning of the interview. Read the rest of this entry »
Phobophobia n. (fo-bo-fo-bee-uh) The fear of fear
Of all the results of Super Tuesday 2004, none so sickening as the overwhelming majority to strike down gay marriage. Of course, a lot of people don’t agree with this thesis. They say gay marriage wasn’t an important issue at all. That during a time when war is waging, the economy is teetering, our health care system is diseased, and The View is still on the air — that it was a huge waste of time arguing over such a silly non-issue as gay marriage.
Bullshit. Read the rest of this entry »
Well, it happened again. I went out and spent 55 bucks on three new CD’s — and got screwed! I bought the new Stereolab CD called Margerine Eclipse because they are usually great. I bought Best of Iggy Pop CD to sate a nagging Stooges Jones I’ve been having lately. And I also procured Get Born, the debut album by Jet, because “Are You Gonna Be My Girl,” is a kick-ass rock song.
I was very excited. The minute I got home, inserted the Get Born disc into the player, turned up the volume, was all ready to rock out with my socks out . . . only to be slammed in the face with the Pickaxe of Mediocrity.
Ditto Stereolab. Ditto Iggy.
You know what irks me most about being an audiophile? Music CD’s are the only product I know of which you can’t return when they’re broken. Now, by “broken” I don’t mean if it skips or something. Of course they let you return CD’s for that. I mean the other definition of broken.
If you’re like me, you buy new music CDs because you’re looking for that certain, special feeling when you listen to them. An internal response that is greater than the sum of its musical parts. Such as the first time you heard Zach De La Rocha blaring, “Fuck you I won’t do what you tell me!” and you felt like you just got whacked in the head with a bat so hard that blood ran under your fingernails and every cell, every vein, every single pore in your body shut down causing you to fall on your back and gasp and convulse on the living room floor as foam spewed from your maw. That’s what a new music CD is supposed to do and if it doesn’t, then as far as I’m concerned, it’s broken.
55 bucks and not one of these CD’s worked properly. Not the Stereolab (which was stale as a Bill Clinton zipper joke). Not the Stooges (which was obviously mixed and mastered by a team of lobotomized baboons). And certainly not the Jet album (which was just brutally average rock music). Nothing against Jet I suppose. Being average is what most of us are anyway; but then – I’m not paying 20 bucks for averageness. Nor am I paying 20 bucks for cover art, or liner notes, or shrink wrap, or crappy plastic jewel cases.
I’m paying 20 bucks to be stabbed in the stomach and left for dead.
So I decided it was time to fight the power. The next day I went back to the music store, walked right up to the cashier, set the disc and receipt on the counter, and said, “I’d like to return this CD please.”
“What’s wrong with it,” asked the clerk
“It’s broken,” I said.
“You mean it skips?”
“No, I mean, it doesn’t work.”
“It doesn’t work how?” he asked.
“Ok, well, you know when you first play a new rock and roll CD, and this guitar thing starts grinding out your speakers, and the bass thunders in, and the drummer goes slam bang boom-bang, then out of nowhere some ghoul from the bowels of hell starts shrieking — and the whole thing is rocking so hard you have no choice but to carve the heart right out of your chest and swing it by the aorta over your head grunting like an aboriginal in a sacrificial ritual? Well this CD doesn’t do that.”
“You mean you don’t like it?” he snipped.
“No, I like it just fine,” I said. “But I didn’t pay 20 bucks to like it.”
“I can’t help you sir,” he said.
You know how the rest goes: Harsh words were exchanged, and once again my dignified insurgence against the powers that be was mistaken for a psychosis of some sort and was escorted off the premises by the manager’s gentle hand on my elbow, saying in his contemptible, patronizing, shitty-little-record-store-manager’s tone, “Yes sir, we understand your frustration, but this is an issue you have to take up with the record company,” and me snapping back, “But you lie in the same grub-infested bed as them!” as he gently closed door in my face and waved goodbye through the plate glass windows which, too my shame, I considered putting a bench through.
Where are you Chuck D. when I need you most!?
You know, I don’t think the record companies take into account the buyer’s risk when they price music CD’s. If they are selling their product “as is” then the price needs to drop considerably. Maybe, if the record companies hadn’t sold out their customer’s interests for the bottomless bottom line, they might not be losing their asses right now. Because not only did they not nurture us as customers — we who paid for their palaces and Hummers — but they blatantly gouged us, and short-changed us, and when things weren’t going so well for them, they even sued our broke asses.
Anyway, I came home and placed my 3 new discs into The Stack. The Stack is a pile of unlistenable CD’s that I have set aside to resell. When The Stack is big enough, say twenty CD’s or so, I’ll bring them to Cow Records on Newport Ave. The clerk will thumb through to see which ones he wants to purchase and, if I’m lucky, I’ll make enough money to buy this pack of gum I’ve had my eyes on for awhile. Or maybe, I’ll buy a handkerchief for all the tears I’m about to shed for the poor, ravaged record industry.
From the mailbag:
“Dearest Decker: In your article “Thou shalt not kill,” you said it was impossible to know what were the intentions of the Founding Fathers regarding separation of church and state. That is wrong. Their intentions were obvious…. They intended to keep God in the mix. They mention and praise him in almost all of their documents, including the Declaration of Independence….”
-J.B.L.
J.B.L. is correct. The Founding Fathers did mention God in the Declaration of Independence, and their intention was to keep him in the mix. But get this: It doesn’t matter what the Founding Fathers intended. They were so awash in the hypocrisies and ironies of their own, they can hardly be considered as the last word on anything.
Consider Thomas Jefferson, the man who scribed the Declaration of Independence. Jefferson was covetous and cruel. He was a spoiled aristocrat who whipped and tortured and sold his 200-plus slaves to satisfy his thirst for imported luxuries. Jefferson was a hypocrite. Jefferson was a blatant racist. He opposed emancipation at every turn, not only because he needed slaves to maintain a privileged quality of life, but also because he thought–as he wrote in his Notes on the State of Virginia–that blacks were inferior to whites. Jefferson was a devout Christian. Jefferson was also a pedophile, since his scandalous affair with slave Sally Hemings began when she was only 14 years old.
In summary, Thomas Jefferson was a douchebag.
He was not alone. The flaws and fouls of the Floundering Fathers abound. Most were adulterers. Many were misogynists. Many were freemasons. A few were bad spellers. Some were smugglers. All were scandalous. One was a bore. All were treasonous (against the crown). Many were drunkards. A few had pimply bottoms. Most were terrorists. Some were inept. Many held slaves.
Oh, the glaring hypocrisies of the Founding Fathers. They demanded separation of church and state (except their church, naturally). They demanded equality for all (except women, silly). They wanted government of, by and for the people (as long as you don’t count blacks as actual people–what, are you on crack or something?).
So who cares what their intentions were? Do you believe everything the Founding Fathers tell you? Who died and left the Founding Fathers boss? If the Founding Fathers jumped off a bridge, would you follow? How many Founding Fathers does it take to screw in a light bulb? (None! They made their slaves do it.) The Founding Fathers were so wrong about so many things it really shouldn’t factor, frankly, what the Founding Fathers fomented when they founded the fatherland more than 200 years ago.
All that matters is what is right and what is good for right now.
Abraham Lincoln understood this. He certainly understood that Jefferson was a douchebag on the issue of slavery. Abraham Lincoln refuted Jefferson’s position–that blacks should not receive the liberties bestowed by the creator–and lobbied for their emancipation, because Abraham Lincoln didn’t give a flying eagle fart about Jefferson’s intent 50 freaking years earlier. All he cared about was what was right and what was good for right then.
Speaking of douching.
For some reason, people become enraged when you compare a Founding Father to a feminine hygiene product. People would rather believe the Founding Fathers were perfect beings. This country was built around their beautiful prose, and to admit they are flawed is to admit America is flawed. Therefore any criticism of the Founding Fathers is immediately quashed. Just as any attempt to portray Jesus Christ as a flawed human is met with ferocious opposition, so does mainstream history continue to paint the Floundering Fathers as irreproachable authorities on the subject of liberty and government.
But they weren’t all that. They did not foresee the inherent tyranny of power–it was hindsight. They didn’t invent democracy–they emulated it. They didn’t compose the Declaration of Independence–they borrowed it, took it directly from the 1690 writings of John Locke, who maintained that the purpose of government was to protect every man’s inherent right to “property, life and liberty.” Locke didn’t philosophize in a vacuum, either. He probably learnt a thing or two from Pierre Bayle (1674-1706) of the then blossoming European Age of Enlightenment, which really began with the 13th-century writings of Thomas Aquinas, who borrowed from the ancient Greeks, who coined the word “democracy.” The word is derived from the Greek “demos,” which means people, and “crate,” which means “power.”
Hell yeah! Even as far back as 300 or so B.C., Plato and Aristotle were sitting in their little hippie circles, wearing tunics, strumming lyres and singing, “Pow-wer to the pee-pul. Power to the people, right on!”
In summary: Each new libercracy builds on the one before. The new philosophy retains the ideas that are right and good and discards that which isn’t. Democracy is a smelting pot we keep stirring and culling, and it don’t make a good goddamn bit of difference what the Foundering Fathers had to say about it more than 200 years ago.
I recently found myself stranded in Rosarito, Mexico, for three days. It was no big deal, really-there are a lot worse towns to be stranded in. I spent the days working on my laptop and the evenings drinking in the various saloons along the boulevard.
On one particular night, ambitious-drunk blood coursing through my veins, I thought I’d go and get me a lap dance.
Not that I’m some sort of lap-dance addict. It’s just that, well, Mexico is the land of the permissive lap dances. Couple that with the fact that you just can’t get a proper lap dance in San Diego-what with all the bullshit restrictions and that confounded no-touch law, a lap dance that actually occurs on the lap is difficult to find. So I figured I’d treat myself. Read the rest of this entry »
As the country rages over whether homosexuals should be permitted to marry, I feel a need to weep. There is so much name calling and finger pointing on both sides that it seems there can be no answer to which everyone will agree.
Or is there?
It just so happens that we here at the Sordid Tales Department of Social Engineering have the solution to this controversial cultural conflict. It’s called Marriage with an Asterisk. Problem solved. Read the rest of this entry »
“I don’t know of any society that has embraced sodomy and survived.”
Pat Robertson
Armageddon of Queer is a dark, frightening doculogue of what the country would look like if gay marriage were ever legalized.
Originally published as a column in San Diego CityBeat, the Armageddon video was taken from my March 27 spoken word performance at San Diego IndieFest 6, which was filmed and edited by renowned filmmaker, Michael Steven Gregory (most known for his industry documentary, We The Screenwriter). The remaining IndieFest clips to follow shortly.
Drunk Thoughts was a recurring bit I did for a radio show called The Binge on 103.7 Free Fm. Drunk Thoughts is, in a nutshell, the depraved inner dialogue you have with yourself when sitting at the bar, drunk.
Drunk Thoughts — March 2, 2007: I Like Breasts
Drunk Thoughts — April 6, 2007: Where’s My Beer
Drunk Thoughts — May 4, 2007: I Am a Good Drunk
Drunk Thoughts (LIVE AND SLOPPY)– June 1, 2007: My Blackout
I love being an uncle. This may come as a surprise to some readers, but as long as I don’t have to feed, clothe or—Christ forefend—cohabitate with them, I get along with kids famously.
One reason is because I don’t have any kids of my own. I’m not a parent and, therefore, don’t issue many of those annoying, parental-type demands, such as “Don’t say this” or “Don’t drink that.” I have only one rule: No secreting! Keep your disease-addled puddles of snot, spit, poop or pee away from me and my belongings. Other than that, it’s an open game. You want to run with scissors? Absolutely! Just keep them pointed inward. Feel like another Red Bull? Sure! Will that be with or without vodka?
Yes, I’m a fantastic uncle. It just comes naturally. However, there are many who struggle with the role. No worries, because today, I’m going to share my Theories on Uncle-ing—you’ll want to pay attention. Read the rest of this entry »
