Secular Sunday - Saint Lucy, Pray for Us!

I feel I must apologize for missing Fun Fact Friday. I like to imagine you, dear reader, sitting at home in your scuffies yelling, "Where the fuck are the fun facts?" at your computer screen. This is probably not how you spent your Friday. I spent mine with dysentery. By which I mean, I didn't actually have dysentery - my doctor just told me to eat like I did. Now that we've delved into the inner-workings of my digestive system, I feel fully ready to move into the blasphemous portion of the program.

Today's focus: one of Catholicism's (few) leading ladies, Saint Lucy. They have never really been fans of vagina-ed people. (See genesis for the beginning.)

Lucy with some delicious eye soup for dinner.

I must offer a brief prelude for this particular shred of secularism, though. I used to be a Catholic but am not anymore for many reasons that I will not go into fully now, but my secularism is largely the result of a bear, leather, and semen. A religious cliché, I know!

My family, however, remains largely - and in some cases rather staunchly - Catholic. I say this in way of explaining that on my eighteenth birthday I received from one of my aunts - who shall, for my own protection, be henceforth referred to only as the Jesus Aunt - the prayer card of Saint Lucy, the patron saint of people with afflictions of the eyes. Given my own near-sightedness, it was a great gift. Her feast day is also my birthday.

I learned those two facts from the note my aunt enclosed with the prayer card. Jesus Aunt, though she did manage to ask Saint Lucy to pray for us, failed to mention why Saint Lucy is the patron saint of those with afflictions of the eyes. There are two stories:

1) Lucy (not her real name) consecrated her virginity to God. All the cool kids were doing it! Unfortunately she was betrothed to a pagan, as is so often the case. Spurned, her betrothed denounced her. Surprisingly she was not raped, but Sicilian guards did try to burn her. Failing that, they stabbed her in the eyes with forks.

2) Lucy (still not her real name) consecrated her virginity to God. Her betrothed pagan thought she had beautiful eyes, so - of course - Lucy plucked out her eyes to give to pagan admirer so she could spend more time with God.

A modern artist's rendering of Lucy. At least she looks happy.

There are valuable lessons to be gleaned from these stories. I, for one, have discovered that God is better served by virgins. Also, apparently the church doesn't think a person qualifies as insane when she plucks her own eyes out of her face. I was further surprised to learn that Lucy got to keep her boobs. That is not often the case with lady saints of the Catholic Church. True story.

It Begins...

I warned you that this day would come. To the faint of heart, I believe this is farewell. Good luck in life and such.

For those of you who require a larger cock (or larger print), open it in a new tab/window.

Until next time, dear reader. Then again, maybe not after this...

Satire Saturday - The Second Amendment

While some may argue that the Twenty Fifth Amendment, which provides the order of presidential succession, is the most important, I have always believed that the Second Amendment, which in part made the Twenty Fifth Amendment possible, is the greatest amendment known to man. I know some may see it as a constitutional relic of a bygone era, but it's not. It provides each and every citizen – regardless of race, gender, and, in some states, visual capability – with an important right, which is as unalienable as the right of each citizen to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. That right? The right to bear arms.

But what of this question of the relevance of the Second Amendment to our modern world? The atrocious myth of irrelevancy is propagated by treasonous pussies. I am speaking, of course, about those individuals who believe the Second Amendment is outdated and impractical for a world where guns can kill entire classrooms without being reloaded. I just call that a truly fine example of American ingenuity. I'd like to see those assholes who doubt the Second Amendment tell the Third Amendment it isn't relevant anymore. Now some of you may say, “The Third Amendment? What the fuck is that?” It's the reason you don't have random soldiers sleeping on your sofa or pissing in your bathroom in the morning. The Third Amendment was made in response to the Quartering Act, and it is working like a goddamn dream. So don't tell me that the Second and Third Amendments, put in place as a response to the Revolutionary War no longer hold water in a world that has transformed immensely since 1791. Bullshit!

Obviously all parts of the Constitution were meant to be interpreted as written, exactly as they are, forever. The Constitution, a living document? Please! Everyone in the world knows the founders got America exactly right the first time (not counting the Articles of Confederation). I mean, they clearly made it exactly as they wanted it, that's why they wrote in the process for amending the Constitution into the Constitution. That's why they added the Bill of Rights through the amendment process more than three years after the Constitution itself was ratified. That's why they allowed for slavery to continue and counted slaves as 3/5ths of a person. They weren't just fucking around; they were fucking right.

More proof the founders knew what was up: they look fancy in this painting.

So it's obvious the framers knew what they were doing. That's why looking at the Constitution from an originalist point of view is the only way to go. Constitutional originalists seek to represent the framers' original intent, and they know that the framers – with their all seeing eyes – intended for all American citizens to have a right to conceal handguns and carry assault weapons. The framers wanted nothing more than generations of future Americans to continue to develop weapons that would possess an increasing ability to stamp out other rights. Imagine how the framers dreamed that one day their great great and so on great grandchildren would be able to steal the First Amendment right to free speech by silencing others with their assault rifles. This dream realized, the framers can now dream other dreams, dreams of even more powerful weapons in the future.

And sure, some of you will say, even reading with an originalist interpretation does not necessarily grant the right to keep and bear arms to everyone. I don't care if it says “a well regulated militia, being necessary to the security of the free state” is why we have the right to keep and bear arms. My clammy, gun-toting hands are not part of a militia and don't tell me they need to be to pack heat! You know who says I'm right? Antonin “Fuck You” Scalia does. He even got out his eighteenth century dictionary in D.C. v. Heller to prove that even if words and technology change, his mind and the Constitution never will.

After all, the framers understood the importance of keeping and bearing arms. They knew, as the Declaration of Independence proclaimed that “when in the course of human events , it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands that have connected them with another” that first you write a strongly worded document that will then live on in history and then you get your damn guns.

But, as important as I know the Second Amendment is, not everyone sees its true value. The Constitution states that “the right of the people to keep and bear arms, shall not be infringed.” Yeah, shall not be infringed. Well, it seems like state legislatures have a little trouble understanding what infringed means, because they certainly have a lot of rules about keeping and bearing arms even after the courts said the Second Amendment was incorporated. If states truly understood the importance of the Second Amendment, they wouldn't deny felons and people under the age of 18 the right to own guns. That's a pretty big infringement and shows that even though the founders have at least seen one of their dreams realized in a blinding and deafening blaze of glory that can only be created by the majesty of firearms, part of their dream has been twisted into a nightmare where some Americans cannot keep or bear arms. The founding fathers weep for the felons who lie awake at nights longing to again feel the cold weight of a gun in their arms. The founders mourn the young children who have fallen victim to gun control laws that prohibit them from owning guns. Gunless youth of America suffer under the tyranny of not only such demon lobbyists as the Brady Campaign, but their own state legislatures.

The tyranny does not stop there. Gun control laws exist: The Sullivan Act, the Gun Control Act of 1968, and, most notably, the Brady Handgun Violence Prevention Act. The Brady Handgun Violence Prevention Act, which was signed into law in 1993 by former “President” William Jefferson Clinton, violates the Second Amendment and proves that some people just don't get what “infringed” means. This act allows for background checks to be run on would-be gun purchases before they can get a gun. Imagine needing a gun, right here, right now, and having to wait for a background check. That is grade A bullshit.

Enough with barely there gun laws! I say, no gun laws whatsoever. It's what the founders wanted. They didn't want us to live under the tyranny of the British, but more than that they didn't want us to live in a world where we could not possess whatever deadly weapons our sweet, innocent hearts desired. So for Christmas this year, I'd like unfettered access to all weapons and a rocket launcher. You know, for personal protection. That falls under “arms” doesn't it?

The Constitution justifies the Second Amendment's importance. It's necessary to protect ourselves from tyranny and, of course, those other nut jobs with guns. The founders knew what the Second Amendment would mean for future generations of patriots, and thus, it lives on today even as enemies rise up against it. But, and this is just a guess, since the Second Amendment has the guns, I'll bet it wins the fight.

Fun Fact Friday - 1 Down

Today's fun fact is coming in a little late again, but it is still Friday so the alliterative title is still apt.

Fun fact: The New York Times refused to publish crossword puzzles before the 1940s, believing them to be a "primitive form of mental exercise."

Well, pish posh The New York Times! I am a fan of many kinds of puzzles. I don't so much care for word searches though. That's not really a puzzle if you ask me. If I want to find words, I'll go look for them in the dictionary. Then I know exactly where to find them. Gee whiz! But I digress.

Please note that this is the wrong way to do a crossword. Do not start with 18 down. What the fuck?

Crosswords originally gained popularity in the 1920s, but even then The Times evidently thought rather highly of itself. Puzzles! Oh, hurumph! What could the common man possibly want puzzles for? Turns out The Gray Lady decided the common man wanted puzzles to amuse himself during blackouts in World War II. The first crossword puzzle in The New York Times was published in 1942 upon the United States's entrance into the war.

Since then, The Times puzzle - particularly the Sunday one - has become a status symbol at least to me. I am eternally impressed by people who can complete the Sunday puzzle, given that I rarely move beyond Wednesday when I am lucky enough to get my hands on a copy of the paper. Primitive form of mental exercise? Well, I suppose there is no other reason I would need to know Peter Fonda starred in Ulee's Gold. It really is just trivial but that is chiefly why it calls to my young heart. What is life if not the pursuit of useless knowledge? I just don't know!

Bonus fun opinion: Will Shortz is a god.

Overheard on NPR

Inspired by a morning at home with Weekend Edition playing in the background, I have decided to dash off a quick example of why I both appreciate NPR and think the humor of its non-entertainment programming is often underrated:

"Oh, this isn't like beer at all... this is nice!" - Scott Simon

I am a nerd, and these are my people.

Fun Fact Friday - The Macaroni Machine

Why, hello! You're looking lovely today. I am feeling quite loopy myself. And also thinking about pasta. There were reasons why I was thinking about pasta before, but I can't seem to recall any of the reasons I have been thinking about pasta. Whatever the strange explanation that has walked out of my brain at the moment, probably never to return, today's fun fact is about pasta.

Fun fact: Thomas Jefferson brought macaroni to America.

You see, when Thomas Jefferson was in France as an ambassador, he missed out on helping write the Constitution (bonus fun fact: the 17th Amendment calls for the direct election of senators!) but did spend a lot of time falling in love with pasta. Macaroni was evidently fashionable in France at the time and Jefferson sketched out plans for a macaroni making machine after a tour of Italy in 1787.

When Jefferson returned to America, he brought his beloved macaroni home. Then, after a nice afternoon of slave banging (for those of you interested, Jefferson apparently didn't fuck Sally Heming until after his wife died, so at least he's faithful, right?) Jefferson could settle back an enjoy a nice bowl of macaroni. I'm fairly certain the macaroni in America thing is why Jefferson made it onto Mount Rushmore. Sure, he wrote the Declaration of Independence, but he swiped most of those ideas from John Locke. Yes, he was the third President of the United States and made the Louisiana Purchase. Fine. But his greatest American legacy is gastronomical. For a moment, let's ignore his hypocrisy and plagiarism and just focus on the fact that your bright orange box mac and cheese is made possible by the obsession of one man with one meal.

I do not wear red, white, and blue on the Fourth of July. I do not complete patriotic word searches. But I do eat comfort food. So when you next open a box of macaroni and cheese at the end of a long day, stop and think about Thomas Eileen Jefferson and his contribution to America as we know it.

In Other Words - Asshole

I'm featuring the first in a series of re-imagined vulgarities today. Enjoy!

Fun Fact Friday - Duck Feet

I love to ask people if they like ducks. I don't have a real explanation for why, but it is one of my favorite questions to ask. That's one reason why I would never make it as a journalist. Given the opportunity to finally stand up and ask a question at a White House briefing, I'd point my recorder at Jay Carney and ask him President Obama's feelings on the most magical of birds. But I digress.

I, myself, rather enjoy ducks, so today's fun fact is about the most awesome of the Anatidae.

Fun fact: Ducks never get cold feet.

While I do mean for that to be taken in the literal sense because ducks have no nerve endings or blood vessels in their feet, I also suspect it to be true in the idiomatic sense. Ducks are notoriously sure of themselves and their decisions. I have never met a duck that pussyfoots around. Take, for example, the couple below.

Just look at those ducks! They're so young, and yet there is no hesitation written anywhere in their features. If only we could all be so plucky. Or at least so fucking awesome.

Seeking Available Newsmen

Confession: I have a thing for newsmen. I don't know if it's the gravitas or simply the resonance of their voices, but I have publicly swooned for many men who perch behind an anchor desk. I've dreamed about meeting Brian Williams three times. While I tried to play it cool, even my subconscious can't seem to carry out a casual conversation with the anchor of the NBC Nightly News in the supermarket without flipping a shit. I have not, however, had any dreams about Larry King. Sorry. A woman must have her standards.

But why make this confession now? Because Anderson Cooper has come out. At this point, I'd like to make it clear that my disappointment in this fact is only because I (along with my entire comparative government class in high school) longed to woo Anderson Cooper. Who wouldn't with a giggle like his?

But, given his incredibly stirring words about his sexuality, I know it has come time for me to bid farewell to my ambition to seduce the Silver Fox. To help heal my young heart from this small shock of unrequited love, I submit to you, dear reader, a one sentence story that I wrote several years ago about the love I hoped to one day share with Anderson Cooper:

Anderson Cooper sat down in his chair, which did indeed swivel 360 degrees but somehow failed to capture the gravitas that Anderson did when he sat behind the newsman's desk to tape the show that thrilled hundreds of dorky teenage girls when at 11:00 it blinked onto their television sets and filled the screen with the silver haired, handsome slice of man-pie that could only be Anderson Hays Cooper, and picked up the script for that night's show, glanced through it, even as his mind traveled away from the story printed on the page in front of him to his decision to keep his personal life quiet and leave every single woman in America yearning for the answer to the question of his sexuality to know if all their dreams were as futile as they seemed or if, perhaps, there was hope that Anderson Cooper, the man behind the degrees, behind the gripping reports, behind the sharp suits and reporter's gaze, could love them back, and decided, even as he reread the crisp, cadenced words, to announce finally, once and for all, that he was not gay but waiting for the love of his love to graduate college so the two of them could finally be together.

While I still dream for a platonic relationship with Anderson Cooper, I know I must give up my dream of a romance building between us. At this time, however, I would like to issue a call to all straight, single newsmen: I am a single nerd simply seeking a newsman.

Please note that this excludes all Fox newsmen because the phrase "Fox newsmen" is oxymoronic.