Don't Get Me Started with Linda Sharp

American Highdol: The Fix Is Back!

Whether you breathe it in deeply, lap it up as fast as it pours forth, savor it immediately by mainlining, or hit yourself with repeated doses over the course of the day, America’s favorite legal stimulant is almost back in the distribution pipeline.

And just when I finally stopped having withdrawal symptoms…I tell you, those purple grasshoppers with lima bean for heads were scary…and the tremors? Well, let’s just say I looked like a walking Richter Scale for months after going cold turkey again last year.

And while we don’t need to stand on street corners to hook up with our supplier, or commit whorible acts to be able to pay for a hit, I daresay tens of millions of us would do just that if it was the only way to obtain the sweet, blood pumping, emotion changing, mood elevating, ego boosting rush. (Hell, I’d eat my own foot if that’s what it took.  And God knows, some radio station has probably had that contest.)

Yes dear children, it is time, once again, to gather round the virtual hookah and spark up the doobie that is…

AMERICAN IDOL.

For those of you who have filled my inbox the past month wondering, inquiring, begging, nay, pleading about whether or not I will be recapping season six, let me answer your questions with a question.

Are you high?

Of course I will be back here after each show, losing sleep, ruining manicures, and challenging my mental thesaurus so that you may wake each morn and relive the dramedy that is AI.

(And for those who asked, and those who begin lurking in my inbox within an hour of the show going off the air – I swear on my eyeballs that each recap will be posted before midnight after each show.  I’m nothing if not a giver.  Add me to your Christmas card list.)

My goals for this season are simple:

1.  Keep the laughs coming.  God knows, I wonder each week if I have it in me to construct yet another recap, and I worry that my adjective machine will run dry, but I have been training – I bought a brand new thesaurus (with 35 options for the word “awful” alone!), a comfy new computer chair (my ass logs so many hours in this thing, I deserve frequent flyer miles), and I have laid in a motherlode of caffeinated beverages (in a pinch I will gladly eat spoonfuls of coffee grounds – you’re all worth it.).

2.  Find an audition contestant who is worthy to take on the duties and delusions of Miss American Thang – and believe me ladies, Rhonetta Johnson, our retiring Miss Thang, leaves an awfully big Reynold’s Wrap tube top to fill.

3.  Predict, within 5 ounces, the poundage of fake hair Paula is balancing on her head each show.

One gentle reminder for you all – remember, I can “see” where you come into the blog from – the exact link, even the exact words you Google to find your way here – so don’t be surprised when I out you for your continued, yes, I say continued, as in AFTER-EIGHT-MONTHS-YOU-PEOPLE-ARE-STILL-ON-A-MISSION-TO-SEE-KELLIE-PICKLER-NAKED, surfing addictions.

Happy now?

And to the person who recently Googled the words “feet smell like armpits fetish”? I hate to disappoint you.  While I’m sure all those individual words are located somewhere within the hundreds of articles here, you will have to satisfy your corn-chipped-athlete's-foot aroma desires elsewhere.

Finally, since we still have over 36 hours to go until our TVs are filled with our favorite androgynous cyborg rising to virtual fame in the Barbie townhouse elevator, here is a gift from me to tide you over (See? I told you I’m a giver)

Paula, dear demented, deluded, bedraggled, bewigged, and wigged out Paula, appearing on a recent Seattle news interview.  Make up your own mind, but it appears to me that she is either as high as the Space Needle or seriously mocking Michael J Fox.

If this is any indication of what we’re in for this season? Then buckle up, kids – we’re in for a bumpy ride!  See you back here Tuesday night!

A Happy Ending...Finally

This afternoon, many hours before Wolf Blitzer and CNN picked up on the news, my sister, a resident of St. Louis, shared a miraculous story with me.

She explained to me that a 13 year old boy, abducted this past Monday, had not only been discovered in neighboring Kirkwood, but that police had also found a boy who has been missing since 2002.

Both young men were found alive.

This is not how an Amber Alert is usually resolved.

Far too often, when an abducted child is recovered, the details involve woods, decomposition, shallow graves, and hunting dogs.  Even more common are the Amber Alerts which go open ended for years, possibly forever, the children – or their remains – never to be seen again.

As a parent, I cannot imagine the hell through which the parents of these two boys have walked.  One set for five agonizing years, the other for a week which I’m sure felt like five years.

Shawn Damian Hornbeck, now 15, of Richwoods, Missouri, was last seen riding his bike to a friend's house on a sunny Sunday afternoon in October 2002. According to my sister, candlelight vigils have been held each year on the anniversary of his disappearance, and I know, having children of my own, that his parents, while mentally resigned to him being gone forever, had still held out hope in a small, secret, permanently wounded place in their hearts.

Describing their joy is not within the talents of this writer. There simply are not words in the dictionary that could ever hope to encapsulate their emotional state tonight.  “Surreal” might capture the scenario, but words like “happy”, “elated”, and “thrilled”? You simply cannot apply the same words you would use to describe a trip to Disney World to having your child returned to your arms after five years of pure, unrelenting agony.

Or five days for that matter.

Again, I am a parent.  And the anguish experienced by the parents of William Ben Ownby, 13, missing since Monday, is no less horrific.  They have walked through a hell that is typically reserved for the damned after death.

My heart is filled with joy for all of them this evening.

I know that these boys will need much support after the traumas they have experienced – and while no details have yet come forth – one can imagine what they will be. The criminals who abduct children aren’t generally looking for someone with whom to play checkers.

Which brings me to the worthless sack of shit who abducted these boys.

Michael J. Devlin, 41, was arrested, has been charged with first-degree kidnapping, and is being held on $1 million bail.

That’s too bad.

I truly wish he had resisted arrest, because then a bullet to his forehead could have saved us all the oxygen he continues to take from the rest of us.

I do not want to hear his “story”. I do not want to hear how he was “a quiet man who didn’t cause trouble”. I don’t want a backstory of how he was abused as a child, dumped by a girlfriend, or passed over for promotion at work.

There are no excuses for what he did.  And he needs to die.

Call me callous, call me medieval, but when it comes to the abuse of children?  I have no pity, no mercy, no Christian calling to forgive. These people simply need taken from the courtroom to the guillotine.

Yes, guillotine.

No easy drift off into the sleep of a lethal injection.  Uh, uh.  I want them to experience the kind of fear they have inflicted, the kind of pain they have dished out, and I want them to shit their pants on the way out.

But I digress…

Back to Michael and Shawn.

I urge all parents, aunts, uncles, grandparents, and friends – watch your children. Sit them down, especially the teenagers who think they are above any type of tragedy, and explain how these boys were abducted. One while riding a bike to a nearby friend’s. The other just after getting off the school bus with a friend.

And never assume this cannot happen to your kids or that your neighborhood or town is immune to abductions.

These worthless, predatory, pathetic sacks of flesh are everywhere. And all these inhuman creatures do is troll and wait for opportunity. Opportunity takes all of five seconds and your child can be gone forever.

I know we all hate that it cannot be the way it was when we were children.  That our kids cannot ride their bikes all day long with friends, house hopping, playing in the woods, walking to the 7-11 for an Icee.  But hating the realities of life in 2007 is not going to change them.

Upwards of two hundred children are reported missing every single day.  Do everything in your power to make sure your child does not become a statistic.

Because the only thing rarer than a day without an Amber Alert, is a day in which there is a happy ending to not one, but two of them.

God bless you Shawn and Michael. And welcome back.

 

Deep Dish For Pesos Leads To Deep Shit For Company

Have you ever traveled abroad?

There are many items which need dealt with before you leave the borders of this country and attempt to enter another.

Is your passport current?  Do you need a visa?  Do you have enough credit on your VISA?

Are any shots required?  Do you have the proper wattage converter for your blow dryer?

And have you exchanged your pretty Benjamins for the Monopoly looking currency of the country where you will be visiting?

Any savvy traveler will tell you that all but the last one are essential.

Obviously you aren’t leaving US terra firma without the proper documentation, and if you don’t think ahead about proper wattage then its your own nappy, frizzy head’s fault and you will be the reason “Ugly American” becomes even further ingrained into the collective opinion the rest of the world holds about us.

But as for exchange rates and currency conversion?  I have news for you.  Unless you are traveling to the hidden recesses of Machu Pichu or the jungled rain forests of the Amazon, you are very likely to find a multitude of establishments displaying signs welcoming your greenbacks.

Especially in Mexico.

Sure, they may screw you a tad in the conversion, but I guarantee you no merchant in Mexico, whether in an open air market selling homemade piñatas, or in a four star hotel selling you a Sealy Posturepedico for four nights, will turn down your American cheese.

So why then are so many people up in arms over the pizza chain Pizza Patron, and their recent advertising that they will accept pesos?

Seriously, some people are so hopped up over this they have sent the company death threats.

"This is the United States of America, not the United States of Mexico," one e-mail read. "Quit catering to the damn illegal Mexicans," demanded another.

Ahhhhhh, the beautiful rednecked intellect of the American public.  You know, that whole paint-an-entire-group-of-people with one prejudiced brush thing.

Come on – you know what I mean, and even if you are not guilty of this thinking, you know someone who is. 

People who believe every person who wears a turban or worships in a mosque is a terrorist.

That every person of Hispanic descent crawled here via a tunnel, or outran the coyotes, and is here illegally.

That every man who shaves, works out, knows how to cook, choose wines, and watches Queer Eye is gay.

That every person who thinks Paris Hilton, Lindsay Lohan, and Britney Spears are celebrity icons are idiots.

Well, wait.  I’ll give you that last one. 

The point is, this onslaught of emails being received by Pizza Patron’s headquarters stem from seriously misguided, ignorant prejudice.  (Then again, is there really any other kind?)

So what if they want to accept pesos?  I fail to see how them being willing to haul the Mexican dinero to the bank and make the exchange is threatening to me as an American.

Hell, if there were a Pizza Patron near me, I’d probably walk my white ass right in and be thrilled to finally get rid of the pesos I still have hanging around the back of my jewelry box from a vacation to Acapulco 20 years ago in exchange for a pepperoni with extra cheese.

For that matter, I’d love it if Walmart would let me get rid of this $36 in Canadian money I still have from a speaking engagement in Ontario three years ago because I am obviously too lazy to drag my ass to the bank and take care of the exchange myself.  Trade my Loonies for a lampshade, a bag of Tostitos, and a few loaves of Charmin - I’d be thrilled, eh?  (I would, however, avoid the irony and pay for my maple syrup with dollars.)

Pizza Patron states on its Web site that "to serve the Hispanic community is our passion." And you will find most of its restaurants are in predominantly Hispanic neighborhoods, but then menus are solidly printed in English as well as Spanish.   

Yes, the menus offer Mexican spins on pizza, with items like chorizo instead of Jimmy Dean sausage, and spicy pulled pork toppings instead of Canadian Bacon, but how is that any different than the authentic Chinese restaurant cooking up chicken feet for its authentic Chinese customers in addition to the disgusting, sickeningly sticky, red-orange sweet and sour crap we Americans believe is Chinese?

So what if my local take-out posted a sign offering to accept Yen?  How does this hurt me?

The answer is it doesn’t.  No more than Pizza Patron accepting pesos hurts the idiots behind the emails and the assholes behind the death threats.

It doesn’t encourage illegal immigration, but it certainly has served up a heaping helping of good old American ignorance with a side order of homegrown arrogance.

Brought to you piping hot by a co-op of Ugly Americans and there’s never any charge for delivery.

The Pot Calling The Kettle Fat

There is a news story out of Massachusetts which is slowing picking up steam and making its way into the national spotlight.

It has to do with fat.

And it has nothing to do with Ted Kennedy.

Yeah, I would have thought those were not mutually exclusive either…but I digress.

The story stems from an elementary school which, as a part of the normal yearly vision, hearing, height, and weight screening, also did a little arithmetic and charted out each students’ BMI, or Body Mass Index.

This is the number which is then held against the current government chart for obesity.

Those students who were charted as such, were then sent home with “obesity warnings” to give to their parents.  (In all fairness, letters were also sent home to those who were charted as “at risk” for becoming underweight.)

Of course, in our politically-correct-nothing-is-ever-anyone’s-fault society, the parents are all up in jiggly arms about the letters, saying they have stigmatized the kids and that the school has no right to say anything to them about their children’s weights.

News Flash for those parents:  Your child already knows if he/she is overweight.  YOU know if your child is overweight.  For that matter, YOU know if you, yourself, are overweight. And YOU should be the one taking the Twinkie by the horns and doing something about it.

While heredity and physiology certainly play a part in a person’s bone structure, height, and how efficiently they metabolize food intake, let’s be honest here. We are a nation of overweight adults – a full 25% of Americans are obese – and the chubby little apples don’t fall far from the big fat tree.

Now - before you get on your What-the-hell-do-you-know-you-weigh-100-pounds-Linda highhorse, STOP. I have been both.  I have been a chubby child who ate Crisco straight out of a can and have struggled with weight all my adult life. I have three children and could easily hide my fat ass behind a multitude of excuses having to do with them, how busy I am, etc, the way many, many, many of my peers do.

I choose the harder path which involves policing what I eat and exercising daily.

And believe me, there’s never much foot traffic on this path.

But back to the Massachusetts hoo haa…

School nurse Stacey Shakel said the letter was meant as an education tool, not an insult. And that the body mass index screening results have to be balanced with the student’s activity level, muscle mass, etc - a high number doesn't necessarily mean a student is overweight, she said, especially for athletes.

"It's simply a red flag, potentially, in relation to chronic diseases," Shakel said.

Yes, it is.  And unfortunately, many parents are so out of touch with their own child’s health, or in such denial about their own obesity that they look at their child through lard colored glasses, that they could use a subtle wake up call from the school.

Should they have mailed these letters home instead of relying on the none-too-private backpack mail?  Of course they should have.  But if my child found a letter like this and read it, as a parent, instead of railing against the system for being so cheap on stamps,  I would sit down and have a heart to heart with my child about the contents of the letter.  And if that included having to acknowledge, “Yes, Johnny, you are overweight. It is a threat to your health as you grow, and we should really start working together to plan better meals and do more activities.”, then so be it.

I’m an parent.  Part of my job in always having my child’s back is not just to catch them when they fall.  Rather I am also here to kick them in the ass when they need some redirection.

So, no, I do not have a problem with the school alerting parents to possible obesity issues.  What I DO have a problem with is that, considering the source is the nation’s biggest purveyor of fatty foods for children, there is the slight stench of hypocrisy in the air.

(Hypocrisy, in this case, smells suspiciously like french fry grease.)

Ever visit a school cafeteria?  Sure, most have added small sections like mini salad bars, and offer lower fat milks, but the guts of the operation have not changed much since you and I were sliding our trays along in front of the women in hair nets.

Fat, sugar, salt and grease are still the main food groups.  Why?  The same reason you can get a Happy Meal for under $3 - because they are cheap.

In addition to regular food choices like Hamburgers, pizzas, and burritos, there are a la carte sections where the schools really clean up. Chips, Little Debbies, nachos, curly fries – it’s a cornucopia of crap limited only by the amount of money a child brings to school. And there is certainly no one policing how they spend the money.

Don’t believe me?  Spend one afternoon in any elementary, middle, or high school cafeteria.

Trays are piled high with neon colored snack foods, the empty calories of a plate of cheese fries, or three pieces of cake.

And if a child brings their lunch from home?  Far too often, the food in their lunchbag is just as nutritionally void. Lunchables which are mainly salt and fat cut into miniature shapes, bags of chips big enough to share with their entire table, and soda cans.

Many children ARE overweight.  The problem is that as a nation of overweight adults, the only example being set for these kids is how to buy pants one size larger.

So don’t blame the school for being insensitive. If you need to blame them for anything, start with the food they are offering your tyke, and begin lobbying them for real, nutritional change.

Then take a long hard look at your child.  And a long hard look in the mirror.

Chances are, the bigger changes need to begin at home.

(Are you listening to me, Teddy?)

Resolve To Grow Your Vocabulary In 2007 - START HERE

We all want to better ourselves in some way each new year.  It's human nature.  We view each January as a time to start anew (well, after the hangover subsides, that is), begin with a clean slate (too bad our creditors don't take that view), and do something to better our lives or the lives of others (multiple orgasms, anyone?).

Whether you vow to increase your bank balance or decrease your ass size - one place where you can begin to better yourself immediately is your vocabulary.  Sure, Word-O-The-Day toilet paper is one way, but how often can you really incorporate "quixotic" into daily conversation?

To that end, and because I am such a giver, here are some new words and phrases you may begin incorporating today.  (After all, if you think I'm going to help you with multiple orgasms you are extremely quixotic...look it up.)

1. Won’t Power

As much as willpower involves saying no to yourself (no dessert, no slacking off the treadmill), Won’t Power is about saying NO to others. All it takes is a nice person (and you are one, you know) and suddenly your days have too few hours, too much stress and too many favors, parties, errands, projects and commitments. Won’t Power is as simple as mastering three polite, yet definite words: No Thank You. (Get stuffed works well too, although typically does not yield a favorable response)Delivered with a smile, that is all the reply you need when invited to the next Gourmet/Candle/Bunko/Basket Party.

2. Schmear

When it comes to spreading on the cream cheese, butter or jam, downsizing from a dollop to a schmear can save you 10 pounds of fat weight this year. Lisa Dorfman, nutritionist and author of The Vegetarian Sports Nutrition Guide, stresses the key is in using the right utensil. “A butter knife instead of a standard knife or the back of your coffee spoon can save 10 grams or 100 calories of fat (2 tsp), multiplied by 30 days a month, 3000 calories fat, x 12 months a year, 36,000 calories fat, divided by 3500 calories (1 pound) = 10 pounds a year.” Now that’s what I call “schmear joy”.  (For the record, that's not what I call any phrase beginning with the word "pap").

3. Harmoney

Is there always more month left at the end of your money? Maybe you need a little Zen and the Art of Money Management. Derrick Kinney, Senior Financial Advisor with American Express Financial in Dallas, TX advises, "The first step to achieving Harmoney is to identify how much it takes to pay for the lifestyle you want. (New tennis shoes?  Gold front teeth?  Pimp your ride?)  Then decide -will you do what it takes to pay for that lifestyle (part-time job, working for someone named Clevis who wears a purple velvet hat and carries a cane, etc) without going further into debt (or jail), or will you downsize to a more manageable lifestyle (Payless Buy 1 Pair, Get 1 Pair 1/2 Price, Crest White Strips, new air freshener for your old minivan), that gives you some breathing room?" Think of it as Feng Shui for your checkbook.

4. Planned Spontaneity

An oxymoron to be sure, but planning your fun doesn't have to kill the thrill. Just ask Dr. Carrie Carter, author of Thrive! A Woman's Guide To A Healthy Lifestyle, "Our lives get so scheduled with what we have to do, if we don't plan and schedule times for fun, we often find that months have flown by without dates with our mate, fun with friends, or spirited spontaneity. By scheduling in these "times to be spontaneous," you give yourself permission to get what you need to thrive."  (Take my word for it:  No man will ever turn down an appointment for sex with you.  "Honey, I have you down for naked time Thursday night at 8pm - be there."  It's the one time he'll actually show up early, but hopefully "early" won't turn into the evening's theme...ahem.)

5. Sphygmomanometer (sfig’mo me nom’ iter)

Aside from being an awfully fun word to master pronouncing, this medical instrument is used to take your blood pressure. With heart disease a leading killer among people with hearts, make an appointment with one regularly.  (Guys:  buck up, drop trou, and let the doctor fish around your rectum.  Prostate cancer, when caught early, is treatable.  And for the record, the doctor doesn't enjoy spelunking your cave any more than you do.)

6. Water

The consensus has long been 8 glasses a day for optimum health and hydration. Most fall short of the mark, especially when dining out, choosing the empty calories of a soda or the willpower reducing alcohol of wine over H2O. Make this word your standard answer to the server and automatically save yourself 200-400 calories and $2-10 per meal! Add H2GO to your vocabulary and never leave home without a bottle in your hand.  (For those of you addicted to the sugar/caffeine rush of your daily can of legal crack, invest in a Costco sized bottle of Advil to use till the withdrawal headaches subside.)

7. It’s All Greek To Me!

As reported in the New England Journal of Medicine, June 2003, the largest study of adults - Greeks no less, backed up the true health benefits of the Mediterranean style of eating. The Divine Mix, as it is called, of olive or canola oils, produce, legumes, nuts, minimally processed grains and little saturated fat has shown a reduction in heart disease and many types of cancer. Toga not required. (Unless you're into that sort of thing...or watching Animal House.)

8. Emoticons :O)

Those facial symbols made out of the punctuation keys on a keyboard are here to stay. Though sometimes annoying, they are actually effective in their ability to humanize even the driest of emails. Check out www.netlingo.com/smiley.cfm and learn how to make the most popular, then turn your head sideways and express your inner semi-colon. ;o)  (Just keep them out of your business life, ok?  One sideways smiley face to your boss and your earning power drops 20%)

9. Play

Work, job, family, bills . . . these are the constant stresses and realities of an adult. But as Joanne Baum, a Denver based Doctor of Social Welfare points out, “Without the balance that having fun and playing provides, adults become imbalanced as all their "responsibilities" get to them, making them "too serious," while they lose their sense of humor and in turn are not much fun to be around.” See? All work and no play does make Jane a dull girl. Seek out a swingset or teeter totter today.  (That trapeze above your bed works too.)

10. New Year's Restitution

You didn't think you could enjoy all those holiday parties, buffets and sugar cookies without having to pay the piper did you? Don't worry though - he has a convenient "sweat equity" program and you have six whole months till bathing suit season to "work out" the terms. (And remember: if swimsuit season rolls around and your butt/thighs still look like someone hit you in the back of the leg with a sack of nickels - NO THONGS.  Guys:  Unless the only six pack you own is the one in front of your ribs, or unless you are French, Speedos are off limits.)

Blasphemy or Just Plain Funny?

I spent a portion of this afternoon as a guest commentator on the BBC Radio program, World Have Your Say.

Having been on previously, and displaying my knack for letting no morsel of airtime go empty (I can talk till your ears bleed – try me), I was not surprised when their producers called this morning asking for me to participate in another topic du jour.

When they broached the topic, I displayed my other innate talent:  That of bullshitting like I knew what they were talking about.

It turns out they wanted to discuss an internet phenomenon which is slowly picking up speed and participants:  Blasphemy.

The Blasphemy Challenge to be exact.

Oh sure, I’ve heard all about it!  I lied. 

Of course, I would be happy to discuss the You Tube videos! I assured the producer.

Speaking of You Tube, have you seen the hilarious SNL My Dick In A Box music video with Justin Timberlake? (anything to buy me time to quickly Google and You Tube some data. And if you have not seen the video to which I refer – give yourself a late Christmas gift and go now: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1dmVU08zVpA&mode=related&search= )

Well, Google and You Tube, I did.  In fact, in the time between the original phone call with the producer and when they called back two hours later for the live segment, I became an expert on the topic.

Centered around Brian Flemming’s award winning documentary, The God Who Wasn’t There, and presented by the Rational Response Squad (atheist group), The Blasphemy Challenge offers instant damnation and a free DVD for anyone willing to You Tube themselves declaring, “I deny the Holy Spirit.”

More details on the challenge, but first, let’s talk about the documentary.

Brian Flemming is not a man without talent, in fact, his work has been called “jaggedly imaginative” by the New York Times, and he himself has been called a “young Oliver Stone” by The Fox News Channel.  He is the co-writer of the Off-Broadway play Batboy: The Musical  (which won six Drama Desk Awards), writer/director of the feature film Nothing So Strange (Claiborne Pell Award for Original Vision), as well as having produced nonfiction for both ABC and Bravo. 

Basically, when it comes to writing, the kid represents.

His documentary takes on religious history and the story of God, Jesus, and The Holy Spirit, much the way Michael Moore sent up the automotive industry in Roger & Me, gun culture in Bowling For Columbine, and how Morgan Spurlock made us nauseous over fast food in Supersize Me.

Sure, if you are a religious person of any ilk, you will likely be offended by the arguments he and his interviewees set forth to support their notions that Jesus never existed, but if you are a thinking person, you might actually find the insights and thought processes, while not threatening to your own belief systems,  intriguing.

The folks at the Rational Response Squad found them to be validating.  So much so, that they prostrated themselves at the feet of their newfound diety, Mr. Flemming, and struck a deal in which he and his production company would provide copies of The God Who Wasn’t There to the first 1001 people who videotaped themselves violating the grand poobah of all sins.  The one sin for which there is no penance, no apology, no large check in the collection basket to get you out of it.

According to Mark 3:29 in the Holy Bible, "Whoever blasphemes against the Holy Spirit will never be forgiven; he is guilty of an eternal sin."

Jesus will forgive you for just about anything – sneaking cookies when Mom told you “not before dinner”,  stealing money from your sister’s piggy bank, thinking Pat Robertson is full of shit, etc - but he won't forgive you for denying the existence of the Holy Spirit.

Ever.

This is a one-way ticket to Hell you are buying here.  Pack extra underwear.

If you believe that sort of thing, of course.

And, of course, that sort of thing is believed by people the world over.  After all, every religion, regardless of whether you worship in a temple, lie face down towards Mecca, or pray in a cathedral, have one thing in common:  FEAR.

Yes fear.

The upshot in every faith is that if you do not do, subscribe to,  think, act, or proselytize a certain way – you are going to Hell.  Directly to Hell.  Do not pass Go, do not contribute $200 when the basket comes around.

The Rational Response Squad, whose other favorite activities include eradicating Christmas (EndChristmas.com), are targeting young people and began their campaign by posting ads online at such youth hangouts as Xanga, CosmoGirl, Tiger Beat, Teen, Friendster, and yes, even Boy Scout Trail.

Smart move.

Go after the demographic with the biggest (pardon the pun) devil-may-care attitude of all:  young people.

To young people, death is an abstract.  Something that happens to their grandparents and other people who smell of moth balls and gin.  Or to people in Iraq.

Young  people are very spendthrift with their own lives and safety to begin with, so what value do you expect them to place on their souls?

Of course, the other draw is the chance to place their face on You Tube, which has quickly become the clearinghouse for everyone’s 15 seconds of fame.

There are currently 828 videos posted under Blasphemy Challenge and I spent time this morning watching approximately 65 of them.  While some videos drag on, the subjects opting for Original Blasphemy, many are very short, Blasphemy Lite, as it were.

Do I think these people need saved?

Hell no.

I believe salvation is a personal affair, between you and the God you choose to worship. And should you transgress in this life, you will have a serious one-on-one with said God when your time comes. But it is not up to me to save someone else. It is not up to me to impose my beliefs on someone else. And it certainly is not up to me to tell someone what to do with their mortal soul. Life is about personal responsibility. It is about CHOICES. Good ones. Bad ones. Questionable ones. But I am not grading the test. So good luck with your answers. (When in doubt, choose "C".)

I do believe these people need saved from ugly haircuts, too much lip jewelry, and an abundance of backfat, definitely, but not saved from playing Spiritual Roulette with their souls.

Do I believe in the Holy Spirit?  Yes, I do.  It’s a personal choice, and one that I freely admit is based on the hand-me-down aspect of religion:  I was taught to.  My faith was given to me by my parents.  As an adult, I have opted out of organized religion, but I still believe in God.  The two being very mutually exclusive.

During the discussion on the BBC program, I politely listened to a Reverend who was offended by the videos and saddened for the people who had damned themselves for all eternity.  He railed against such a show of disrespect towards Christians and wished he could save everyone.

I then countered with the thoughts (rationale always shuts up people like this, reducing them to Uh, um, hmm) that much like TV programming one finds distasteful, the solution to being offended by the videos on You Tube is to NOT WATCH THEM, that young people like to shock and awe just as much as Donald Rumsfeld, and that if they need saved from anything, it is a world in which they are growing up with weekly school shootings, inept leadership, poverty, genocide, disease, and war.

I think given what they face, God will forgive them both questioning His existence, and a stupid video (one Swedish kid introduces his cat, and a German gives his dog camera time, both animals go on to also denounce the Holy Spirit) posted on You Tube.

Personally, I find the whole Blasphemy Challenge funny.  In fact, I plan on watching more of the videos.  They are hilarious, offer great insight into just how many lip piercings a body can take before speech is impeded, and with 828 videos, there have to be more starring pets.

Forget Girls Gone Wild. How about Animals Gone Atheist?

(Now that’s funny stuff.  Forgive me, Lord.)