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This is actually the second column Ah've written; th' firs' one got eaten by the damn computer. That one was a rant `bout therps an' pshrinks not belivin' in the likes of me. But Ah'm bored with that, got it outta mah system an' Ah've got a new pet rant.
Funnymentalists! Ah meah, Ah'm a Catholic an' Ah'm really purty conservative `bout mah faith, though Ah don't pay much `tention to Popes, Mosigneurs an' Cardinals `bout things that may ohah may not pass `twixt mah thighs. Thas' because Ah'm a Marionist Catholic. Not th' one in the Rosary, th' othah one.
When Ah hear those o'l nearly dead white males yammerin' Ah jus' close mah eyes an' think of what St. Mary Magdeline prolly said to St. Paul `bout whatever `tis. Th' fact that Paul didn't see fit to pass on those li'l nuggets of Motherwit says a lot about his sense of humor, don't it?
A'course, some Official Sorts will say that St. Mary Magdeline didn't have anythin' to say `cause St. Paul an' the rest of th' men didn't record `em. But St. Mary was a woman, a Jewish woman, an' a foahmah whoah*, to boot. So what do you think?
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Anyhoo, here we have Pat Boone who, whatevah you think of his singin', is a sho-nuff Christian, done moah foah th' cause than any numbah of cheap suits an' bad toupees. But he do have a sense of humah, thas' obvious, `cause he's gone out an' recorded an album of heavy metal music.
But some folks jus' don' have no sense of humor atal, dispite the example of God Themself and Their creations, like the platypus, the kangaroo an' the' external genitailia of your average male human.
Acourse, mebby thas why they don' have no sense of humor! They'd have to laugh at themselves an' that would nevah do, them grim old white-haired patriarchal sorts jus' might not measure up stark nekkid in front of a full-length mirror, under flourescent lights an' all.
Ah bet Ralph Reed is hung laik a stallion mouse.
But anyway, the story is that because ol' Pat went and had some fun, recorded an album of Metal classics laik Smoke on the Water an Stairway to Heaven his contract with some Christian broadcastin' network has been pulled an' folks is talkin' in hushed whispahs about him sellin' out to the Other Side. Oooh!
Well, anybody dumb enough to think that Genisis 1:1 through 1:7 is supposed to be interpreted absolutely literally prolly can't get their haid `round the idea that Rock & Roll ain't the devil's music jus' because Jimmy Swaggart said it is. Any more than disco sucked entirely oah that all Rap is crap jus' because mos' white folks cain't follow th' words.
C'mon, folks, this is Pat Boone! Get a friggin' grip!
Ah have a bone to pick with Jerry Fallwell an' his pin-headed patriarchal ilk when they start pontificatin' `bout "Family Values."
You would think that someone who valued families would value the whole general idea of "family," but of coase, they don't.
They only value families in which both parents are heterosexual an' members of complementary genders. An' they speak out `gainst the whole idea of families that are formed around single parents oah homosexual partnerships or families in which one oah another of the partners is transgenderd an' has had theah wabbly bits fiddled with to fit theah self-image.
Well, now, coase, all of that's pretty much accordin' to the general biases of Western Civilization. But thas' jus' the spoken position. Th' unspoken position can be read from lots of othah stuff the same folks say is good oah bad. It's far moah frightnin' than wheather oah not you are gonna run into some dyke at a Father-Son Little League weenie roast.
Sex Education: Absolutely against it. Courses aimed at creatin' tolerance an' acceptance of Gays: Absolutely against it. Evolution bein' taught in schools: Nope; they want "Creation Science" taught instead. They are against any courses that show girls that they can grow up to be women without havin' to be granted the title by some man. An' they are `gainst "creepin' Libralism", which always talks about that pesky concept, "tolerance." They are againt any entertainment that might show cursin', neckin' oah shootin', lessn' it's real clear that These Things are Evil, or th' things gettin' shot are.
Remember Dragnet?
Ah see a pattern here. It ain't that they are `gainst homosexual families - it's that they are `gainst anythin' that ain't jus' laik them. It's an issue of social control.
It's laik that ol' WWI song: "How ya gonna keep `em down on the farm, after they've seen Paree?"
This whole thing is `bout choices an' options. They laik to say that bein' gay is a bad option. Might could be they are right, too, for some folk. Cain't say Ah reccomend it, truly. Ah sure ain't gonna recruit nobody foah it; too damn many dead an' dyin gay friends. Kinda laik recruitin' folks foah war, `tis. Some of `em gonna die, prolly foah no ver' good reason. Way Ah see it, Ah want an' All-Volunteer Army of the Night!
But then, there's always those of us that jus' had a choice between bein' queer an' jus' not havin' any sorta human contact at all.
Thing Jerry don' realize is that bein' queer ain't even mainly `bout who you shtup. It's as much an outlook as anythin', one that's a lot moah open to ideas, people, causes that are a lil' bit offn't the beaten path. Hm. Might could be Jerry understan's all too well!
Thing is, folks laik us don' fit in the blue-rinsed polyestered universe that the laiks of Falwell wants to cram ever'one in.
Jus' by existin' we demonstrate that you don' have to live the same way, think the same things, make the same choices.
Used to be they could jus' burn us at the stake. Then they had to settle foah throwin' us in jail oah committin' us to institutions. But that hasn't worked foah `long time. Hell, now they's fruits, faggots an' queers sittin' in official positions! They's openly gay priests and pastors! So since they cain't pick on grown-ups any moah, they gonna try an' make damn sure that the usual brainwashin' and beatin's that happen in school continue unabated, jus' so ever'one knows raight upfront what's waitin' foah them if'n they's misguided `nuff to ignore Cousin Jerry an' think foah themselves.
Ain't that they hate us moah than othah kinds of different; they hate all kinds `bout equal. But they can get dumb folks to bash faggots real easy. Usta be Commies an' hippies an "uppity niggers." It's not what we is, it's what we ain't. An' the good ol' shot o' feah the picture of a bleedin' body puts into the hearts of those who might be contemplatin' unrightiousness.
An' that `splains why such folks would actually go on record opposin' the ver' idea of teachin' kids that it's Not Okay to bust up an'one who looks laik "queerbait."
Although, mah view is, `till we teach th' teachers, ain't no point in yakkin' at kids who will see it jus' moah noise from the lyin' bastards.
But tha's jus' mah humble opinion.
Ah don' know if you've evah noticed but Ah've found that ever extrovert
Ah have evah known thought that introverts were jus' lackin' in the motivation
needed to be jus' laik them.
It nevah seems to occur to th' poor, dumb
creatures that introverts are jus' not ver' interested in bein' anythin'
laik them. Wouldn't be caught dead bein' mistaken foah them, actually.
So, jus' to clear up some misconceptions:
Ah am not hidin' behind mah computer oah mah book.
I'm doin' somethin'
productive oah excercisn' mah mind. Now get the hell outta mah light and cease
pesterin' me!
Ah don' want to get outta the house an' get some sun.
Ah don' laik th' sun an' ifn' Ah have to go out in the daytime, Ah weah a big hat an' white gloves foah the sake of mah complection. We'll see who looks bettah at th' age of 60, me an' mah porcelain skin oah you an' youah melanomas.
Youah football game don't interest me none an' no, it won' help to `splain
the rules.
Ah know the rules. It's a dumb game.
Sides, If'n Ah want to see tight butts, Ah'll buy a Playgirl.
Ah'm not int'rested in the soap opera you call youah life.
Ah purely don'
care whether youah friend Tammi is hittin' on Marsha's Duane. Likely they
is both ugly anyhow and no doubt Tammi is dumber than a box o' hair oah she
would know damn well you'd tell Marsha and ever'dambody else. So don't confuse
me foah somebody who cares, `bout that at least.
Less'n you got photos of all three of `em an' Duane's only wearin' a cowboy
hat an' a look of grim determination!
Ah laik gossip much as the next gal, but foah Heaven's sake, come up with somethin' `bout somethin' interestin'! Tell me that Bill Proxmier done got killed by a falling satallite, oah that William F. Buckley is havin' a passionate affair with Gloria Stienham an' I'll perk up mah eahs.
Most `specially, Ah don't need to "get a life."
Ah have `zactly the life Ah want. Yoah life don' in'trest me none. Ah'm happy
you are enjoyin' yo'self an' all, but Ah'd rather visit the dentist than meet all yoah perky friends.
Bob bein' multiple an' all, if'n there was any in'trest at all in bein'
an extrovert, there'd be one sittin' in the livin' room swillin' beah an'
watchin' a football game! Ah'd be off in a coahner, trin' to ovahcome the shame of
it all, a'course, but if theah was any point to it, it would happen.
Mah point is that theah ain't no point, save to shine some extrovert on an' this here
etherial family has damn well had it with tryin' to be ever'body's favorite lil' buddy.
So, if'n you happen to be an extrovert an' you see someone sittn' by themselves
in a coahner, readin' a book and chucklin' happily to themselves, they ain't jus'
puttin' on a brave front `cause ever'body's ignorin' `em. B'leve it oah not, mos'
likely they is ignorin' you!
Ah find mahself in a strange position. Ah ain't honked off at nobody today an cain't think of a thing to complain `bout.
Weal, since Ah'm a woman, don' matter how long mah column is, do it? So Ah'll jus' leave it `lone foah now; if'n Ah get excercised `bout somethin' later in th' month, laikly it'll grow some.
Ah'll stop now, foah Ah get carried away to Entendreville.
Toldja!
Ah'm rather dismayed at all th' folks what jus' wants people with colourful backgrounds laik yours truly to jus' shut up an' go `way.
Weel, actchully, Ah'm more thinkin' bout Bob, mah Visible Twin, but theah's a heap of me in theah too, since Ah had to haul his nuts outtah the fiah more'n oncet. An' when ah'd come out, do mah stuff, keep the old man pacified so he woudn't kill the body oah the mothah, he'd somehow sense me, oah somethin' of me an' get all... words fail. Smarmy an' greasy an' sniggerful.
Ah'm jus' purely glad he nevah realized Ah was 'round, `cause there woldn't have been a square inch of me without a thumbprint on it. Oah somthin' roughly that size. `Cause if he'd realized - anatomy woudn't have stopped that bastard... no, calling him that's an insult to every FitzRoy and FitzWilliam out theah.
Ouah fathah was a livin' example of the dangers of insufficiant masterbation; it's jus' purely obvious that sperm goes bad ifn' you keep it `round too long.
This is the father that said that he only married th' mothah foah three cooked meals a day an' an occasional piece o' tail. Think we was `bout ten oah `leven when we heard that gem.
Ah personally was very glad mah tail didn't wag nowhere he could see - he'duv had it more'n occasional, laik.
Acorse it did `splain lots bout why he settled foah her. Foah the life of me, can't figger out why she settled foah him. Anyhow, ah'm not gonna botha you with the gory details, ceptn' to mention that they was, occasionally, an' the body has the busted nose an' facial scars to prove it.
But that was long ago an' far away, so the thinkin' goes, an' Ah'm s'pos to get ovah it. Nevah mind that Ah got pressed into service ridin' shotgun foah Clueless way back when, instead of jus' gradually realizin' Ah was dead an' gettin on with mah afterlife.
Mind you, ain't nobody to compare notes with, mebby would have stuck `round anyhow; seems laik twins do that from what Ah read, but Ah nevah run into a noncorporial counterpart to compare notes with so Ah dunno.
Anyhow, everthin' Ah had to put up with, Bob had twice as much of an' moah, not jus' from family, neither; school was the worse; kids is lil' savages an' havin' the teachers point you out as the designated pink monkey don' help none.
But thas' all long ago an' far away, raight? Wrong! Nof foah some in heah; foah some, some things jus' happened, oah jus' happened yesterday. That's not a complaint, it's jus' a fact.
Even if Bob wasn't multiple an' Ah wasn't `round, Ah bet that theah'd still be this problem. `S'called repression. Wasn't laik Ah forgot stuff. Oh, Bob foahgot tons o' stuff, raigh enough, mebby he'll remember, mebby he won't but he remembers plenty an' so do I.
But we got ovah it. It was long ago an' far away an' we didn't live theah no more nohow. We got on with life - an' not to put too fine a point to it, we made a dog's breakfast of it, because we was in denial.
An' thas' jus all "get ovah it" is. Denial, imposed from outside, `cause somebody doesn't want to heah `bout how bein' a natural-born sadistic jerk oah an ovahcontrollin mommie dearest oah a burnt-out bitter twisted pitiful excuse foah a bitch of a teachah takin' out theah lack o' tenure on a seven-yeah old can purely ruin a body oah leastwise bend `em in interestin'ly baroque ways.
"Get ovah it" means yoah pain don' mattah none.
An' mebby it don't, to you. But don't `spect it not to affect me. Made me waht Ah am today - and damn, Ah laik me!
Get ovah it? Hell, honey, if'n you could get ovah it that easy, wouldn't be any point in doin' it!
"That what does not kill us makes us stronger." You notice, Ah ain't dead - an' Ah started out that way! So y'unnerstan'; Ah ain't complainin', Ah'm bitchin'!
Th' topic foah today is lyin' bastards.
Ah'm not much taken with the critters, as you maight `magine. Actually, specificly stupid bastards that is lyin' to themselves an' `spectetin' ever'body else to go `long with it. Well, lemmie jus' show you what Ah'm excercised `bout. This is from the Concerned Counseling email newsletter. You jus' read it an' then Ah'll ask a few rhetorical questions.
CHILDREN LED TO BELIEVE IMAGINARY EVENTS
Many preschoolers can be easily coaxed into believing that imaginary events are true, according to a new study that has troubling implications for the reliability of testimony given by young children in sexual abuse cases.
Complicating matters are additional study results revealing that psychiatrists and psychologists have only a 50-50 chance of discerning between children who are recounting true and false events, raising questions about the ability of the professionals to confirm or dismiss the accounts given by young children in court.
In the study, children mistakenly recalled events involving their bodies during routine visits to a doctor — such as shots and being touched on the genitals. They even demonstrated the false events using anatomically correct dolls similar to the ones often used in investigating sexual abuse cases, reported study author Stephen J. Ceci of the department of human development and family studies at Cornell University in Ithaca, N.Y.
"The most surprising result was not that the children remembered the false events as true, but rather their ability to provide a detailed and coherent narrative about these false events," the Cornell researcher said.
More details on this story at: http://concernedcounseling.com/ccijournal/page2.htm Also see "The Single Dad's" column on what it's like to be falsely accused. http://concernedcounseling.com/ccijournal/mofalselyaccused.htm
Ok. Y'all think a body would be unreasonable to come to the conclusion that these folks ain't too sympathetic to th' idea of kid's memories bein' believed?
Foah me, `twas the reference to the "false accusation" link. Y'all go read those two links; Ah'll be heah when you get back.
Funny thing, though, `fore you go, th' article is about a Cornell University study. Y' gotta read th' article careful, cause it's spun harder than a Republican announcin' an increase in Welfare benifits, but you'll find out that they found out that while it was possible to "lead" kids into false reccolections, you kinda had to work at it and if kids weren't led, they could remember jus' as good as taller folk; weren't any likelier to misremember or get things wrong. "Surprisingly accurate" was the term used.
But you sure wouldn't get that impression from this excerpt, wouldja? Lyin' bastards.
An' it gets worse. Bob freaked on `em, `cause he had a banner referrin' folks to Concerned Counselling. Well, he cain't be referrin' folks rememberin' stuff ifn' theys gonna be patted on their haids an' told that it's all jus' a product of their ovahactive `magination.
Now, th' honest response would be to say, "Yes, we are very skeptical of early childhood memories, we think they are very likely to be contaminated and one should not put very great weight on them." That's a respectable position in the thereputic community - which shows that damnfools are ever'where, but that's a whole `nother rant. It's at least respectable damfoolishness.
But no, th' twit tells us that they is very supportive of survivor's memories - an' then goes on to dribble on `bout the terrible abuse suffered by falsely accused men and ain't Ah concerned `bout that too?
It was laik bein' dropped into a Monty Python sketch. "You did!" "Did not." "Bloody right you did." "Wasn't me." "It WAS!" "Was not..."
Laik Ah said, lyin' bastards. An' worse, they is lyin' to themselves. Ah kin respect an honest rogue but Ah've no tolerance foah stupidity an' theah ain't nothin' stupider than bein caught an' lyin' `bout it, `cause the only one bein' fooled is the fool flappin' his gums.
Ah think the think that got up mah nose th' mos' was the suggestion that Bob (an' acourse me since Ah was peekin') was jus' lettin' his `motions carry him away; bein' irrational about it an' that the article was really a fair an' balanced treatment of the subject. Well, Ah nevah much liked bein' patted on the haid an' tol' to run `long. `Twixt the two of us we gave him an introduction to responsible journalism. Ah don' know ifn' it will help any much but you gotta try.
So ifn' you was lookin foah some place to dump a load `o troubles, you might jus' want to pass them on by, `lessn' you want to be patted on the haid too. Ah cain't say foah sure that this stupidity permiates th' whole organization, but Ah cain't say that it don't and Ah don't know who's sensible an' who ain't worth a bucket of warm spit. So Ah gotta say pass on the bunch of `em.
Ah've been sittin' in th' background jus' waitin' foah some fingah time to get mah column done; here `tis, two weeks late, but Ah cain't complain much `cause Ah've been duckin' a bunch `o stuff that's been keepin' the body busier than a one-armed paperhanger.
Today's rant is `bout civics.
Ain't no secret that the gumment down theah in' the Newnited States done gon gotten pretty damn facist. All them black helocopters flittin' `bout, people bein' shot an' blown up foah trivial firearms violations. Why, theahs some folks wantin' to blow up federal emplyees indiscriminate-like just to make a comment.
Damn silly, aside from bein' plain evil; sides, jus' gives the bastritches a good excuse to buy moah black helocopters an' recruit moah "Hostage Rescue Teams."
Funny name foah storm troopers, but it makes a kind of Orwellian sense.
Notice how few hostages got rescued at Waco an' Ruby Ridge.
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| Picture courtesy of: Waco Holocaust Electronic Museum http://www.Public-Action.com/SkyWriter/WacoMuseum or http://206.55.8.10/SkyWriter/WacoMuseum Curator@Public-Action.com All original material is copyright 1996-1997 by Carol A. Valentine, on loan to Public Action, Inc. Postal Address: Carol A. Valentine, PO Box 10933, Burke, VA 22009 |
Now, the part about all this that provokes me to hilarity is that the folks gettin' picked on are the ver' sort that voted for Ronnie Raygun, way back when. They was all foah keepin us long haired men an' shoat haired wimmin in line, y'see. Wanted a real lawr-n-oahdah democracy. An' so, all them rugged individualists who coudn't stand sein' any othah brand of individualism abound - specially if there was a wee tinge of pot smoke in th' air - done shot themselves in the foot.
Now, Auntie Maude is gonna make some prognostications. You-all see ifn' this is gonna all work out. Ah said way back when that Ronnie would get y'all into this an' Ah'm pretty sure Ah'll be raight `bout this, too.
Firs' thing; the war on drugs gonna get real mean, meanah than `tis now.
Now, they won' be really havin' a war on drugs, they will be havin' a war on citizens that say an' do inconvenient things. Some of them will possess illegal drugs afore the raid, some of `em won't, but I guarendamntee you that ever' one of `em will have `least a kilo of crack in their possession afore their body starts coolin.' That, oah more unregistered automatic weapons than they could have evah afforded, even movin' crack by the wheelbarrow load. Ah've noticed that Uncle Sammy ain't been real subtle lately.
Ever ask yoahself howcome there's so damn many prisons in the Disunited States an' not `nuff beds in `em? Could it be that there's a definite plan to fill `em up with particular sorts of people as quick as they build `em? Oh, Ah'm not sayin' that these places are filled with angels; ah'm sayin' that a whack of `em are in theah cause they was pushin' crack an' that theah's some damn good evidence to tie the crack epidemic raight back to the CIA. You couple that with housin' and mortgage an' zonin' policies that keep jobs out of the inner cities an' you have youahself a gurandamteed drug epidemic.
And now, of coahse, you jus' have to have a war on drugs to deal with it, don' you? An' that gives you all kinds of lovely money to spend and apply in clandestine ways, undah Executive Oahdahs that don' need no Congressional scrutany. Of course, if you have Jesse Helms in the senate, you can pretty much do what you like, leastwise by him. Specially if'n you is mainly pickin' on black folk an' nevah-married single mothahs.
So Ah predict that them jails are gonna get fuller an' that moah an' moah citizens gonna get shot up by "Hostage Rescue Teams" until folks is jus' sick of it an' anybody wearin' a cop outfit gonna have to look right sharp to `void snipers. Ain't fair, acourse; most lawmen are fair to middlin' honest folk - but to lots of people, they ain't police, they's an occupyin' army.
What's gonna happen is that the bedfellowships are gonna get strange. First, theys gonna be a lot of domestic terrorism, `cause there's always a nut that thinks that a bomb will solve ever'thing. Ireland and Palestine should prove differnt to anyone with two brain cells to rub together but there's always some fool that wants to be the next Che.
The war on drugs is gonna get nasty enough that the folks that make and run it are gonna put some serious bread into fightin' back, and they do have the bread to spend. They have the connections to get some pretty damn serious hardware, too. An' I predict that they will hook up with some militant folks, maybe based round a militia, or round the Hell's Angels or the Nation of Islam or mebbie a bunch of different folks who will guarentee safe shipments in theah area in return foah guns, ammo and intelligence. An' then the whole things gonna drop in the pot an' the United States won't be.
I give it ten yeahs, fifteen at the outside, afore it's broke up into a bunch of little countries with a "federal government" that's at war with all of `em an' loosin' fast.
Now, none of these little principalities is gonna likely be bettah to live in that the ole U S of A; gonna be grubby little dictatorships and theocracies and kleptocracies, even nastier-minded and moah suspicious of theah citizens than the current gumment is. Aftah all, theys' likely a bunch of spies.
An' there's likely gonna be a whole bunch o' ethnic cleansin' goin' on, so ifn' you is dusky of hue oah of the Jewish persuasion, you might want to think `bout relocatin' afore there's foah orah five dozen borders an' checkpoints between heah an' theah. Me, I'd suggest South Africa. Ah suspect they ain't likely to feel much like fussin' and feudin' foah `least a generation an' they can use the talent. Come to think of it, if you is pasty white, sounds laik a plan too, lesn' you _like_ the smell of napalm in the mornin'!
Of course a "true patriot" would stay an' fight. Trick is to figure out which side, if any, is the side a true patriot should be on! Lessee, one side a corrupt federal facism, the other side(s) corrupt warlords funded by drug money. Canada do look good these days!
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Copyright 1997, Bob King
