DubyaTeeEff

Thinking about God

Mon, 25 Feb 2008 22:13:31 GMT

Been thinking about religion a lot lately.

I identify myself as a staunch atheist but, oddly, it doesn't feel to me like a decision; rather, it feels like a factor of my DNA.

I was raised by my grandmother who was religious, but in a strange, tribal way. It was almost like an animism, no formal worship of any kind, but velvet tapestries and plaster crosses everywhere. It was fascinating to me, but fascinating in the same way that a Hopi spirit doll is fascinating. Quaint.

There were periods in my very unhappy adolescence when I tried to find some meaning in faith, but it was much like my grandmother's superstition, with more Kalahari bushman than C.S. Lewis to it...all about saying special words to get results, praying for rain.

Recently, I came into contact again with both my mother and my father - I haven't spoken with my father since I was 16 and haven't actually met him since I was 8 or so. My mother and I parted ways about 16 years ago and continued to live in the same town, never speaking.

They are both very, very sick. My mother is a third stage renal patient and my father is being treated for colon cancer.

The part that strikes me as relates to where we started, to god belief? They are both atheists as well. My father wouldn't use that word, but it applies. They are in the foxhole, so to speak, and they remain resistant to faith.

I often feel as if I am missing the part of my brain that makes religion work, that carves some sort of sense out of faith. Maybe it's genetic.

Blog Like It's the End of the World!

Wed, 13 Jun 2007 22:24:22 GMT

I can hear them even through the walls and my windows are vibrating, a thrum-like howl from the heart of the world.

They're on us now, the ones we buried and left behind. And they are screaming.

They scream because they are hungry. I scream because I know what they eat.

I can see them in my head, moving from house to house like ghosts. They pull the baby like fresh plucked piglet from their unsheltered prams, they tear apart the old and sick in their unquiet, damp beds. They're making the world stop and there is fuck-all I can do about it than this.

And this is less than nothing.

A note thrown into a sea that ends at no beach, with no Crusoe to read it.

Goodbye.

KNOCK KNOCK

Thu, 22 Mar 2007 22:04:49 GMT

Signing the Detainee Act.

Tue, 17 Oct 2006 23:33:15 GMT

Oh well...it was a nice constitution while it lasted.

zOMG!!!1!!one!!! A real life zombie plague!

Fri, 15 Sep 2006 23:48:51 GMT

OH Noes!!1!

EDITOR'S NOTE:
Yes, I know it's fake, people. Settle down.

na na na na na na na na na!

Fri, 15 Sep 2006 21:57:08 GMT

Rapebear!

Thoughts on Dead and Breakfast or Pissing on Cornflakes Part the Frist

Fri, 15 Sep 2006 16:25:35 GMT

Something happened to me watching DEAD AND BREAKFAST - a bit of a satori kinda moment.

I knew, intellectually, that this was a Fun movie, an Affectionate Spoof, but I found myself bored and distracted beyond comprehension. I was REQUIRED to like this movie, fer Chrissakes. It was a zombie spoof with lotsa gore, a country Greek chorus and Jeremy "MAY" Sisto. Why then did the whole thing seem oddly embarrassing and unworthy of attention?

I don't think it's age - I've not lost my affection for kitsch or irony as death has tightened it's icy grip on my ever hardening arteries...I think that I'm just seeking more genuine experience. This movie is a smirk, not a smile.

I've no patience for what the modern horror movie has become - an interminable stew of TEXAS CHAINSAW remakes, lesbian vampires and shitty zombie make-up. It's all a tremendous waste. If you have the time, patience and drive to craft a film, why make shit? Why make DEAD AND BREAKFAST when you can make MAY? Why make VAMPS: DEADLY DREAMGIRLS when you could make HENRY: PORTRAIT OF A SERIAL KILLER or STREET TRASH?

Also, a side comment:

If it wouldn't be funny in a comedy, it sure as shit ain't gonna be funny in a horror comedy.

Lipstick traces

Fri, 08 Sep 2006 23:39:58 GMT

From Banksy's site...

<td></td> An extract from the diary of Lieutenant Colonel Mervin Willett Gonin DSO who was
among the first British soldiers to liberate Bergen-Belsen in 1945.

I can give no adequate description of the Horror Camp in which my men and myself were to spend the next month of our lives. It was just a barren wilderness, as bare as a chicken run. Corpses lay everywhere, some in huge piles, sometimes they lay singly or in pairs where they had fallen. It took a little time to get used to seeing men women and childen collapse as you walked by them and to restrain oneself from going to their assistance. One had to get used early to the idea that the individual just did not count. One knew that five hundred a day were dying and that five hundred a day were going on dying for weeks before anything we could do would have the slightest effect. It was, however, not easy to watch a child choking to death from diptheria when you knew a tracheotomy and nursing would save it, one saw women drowning in their own vomit because they were too weak to turn over, and men eating worms as they clutched a half loaf of bread purely because they had to eat worms to live and now could scarcely tell the difference. Piles of corpses, naked and obscene, with a woman too weak to stand proping herself against them as she cooked the food we had given her over an open fire; men and women crouching down just anywhere in the open relieving themselves of the dysentary which was scouring their bowels, a woman standing stark naked washing herself with some issue soap in water from a tank in which the remains of a child floated. It was shortly after the British Red Cross arrived, though it may have no connection, that a very large quantity of lipstick arrived. This was not at all what we men wanted, we were screaming for hundreds and thousands of other things and I don't know who asked for lipstick. I wish so much that I could discover who did it, it was the action of genius, sheer unadulterated brilliance. I believe nothing did more for these internees than the lipstick. Women lay in bed with no sheets and no nightie but with scarlet red lips, you saw them wandering about with nothing but a blanket over their shoulders, but with scarlet red lips. I saw a woman dead on the post mortem table and clutched in her hand was a piece of lipstick. At last someone had done something to make them individuals again, they were someone, no longer merely the number tatooed on the arm. At last they could take an interest in their appearance. That lipstick started to give them back their humanity

Source: Imperial War museum

</td>

The David Lynch cigarette commercial...

Wed, 06 Sep 2006 16:02:41 GMT

...because drinking slug water always makes me want a smoke.

Tue, 05 Sep 2006 18:38:05 GMT

It was if that great rush of anger had washed me clean, emptied me of hope, and, gazing up at the dark sky spangled with its signs and stars, for the first time, the first, I laid my heart open to the benign indifference of the universe. To feel it so like myself, indeed, so brotherly, made me realize that I'd been happy, and that I was happy still. For all to be accomplished, for me to feel less lonely, all that remained to hope was that on the day of my execution there should be a huge crowd of spectators and that they should greet me with howls of execration. - A. Camus

Words of wisdom from Mark Twain...

Sun, 27 Aug 2006 01:03:31 GMT

From THE MYSTERIOUS STRANGER:

"Monarchies, aristocracies, and religions are all based upon that large defect in your race - the individual's distrust of his neighbor, and his desire, for safety's or comfort's sake, to stand well in his neighbor's eye. These institutions will always remain, and always flourish, and always oppress you, affront you, and degrade you, because you will always be and remain slaves of minorities. There was never a country where the majority of the people were in their secret hearts loyal to any of these institutions."

I did not like to hear our race called sheep, and said I did not think they were.

"Still, it is true, lamb," said Satan. "Look at you in war - what mutton you are, and how ridiculous!"

"In war? How?"

"There has never been a just one, never an honorable one - on the part of the instigator of the war. I can see a million years ahead, and this rule will never change in so many as half a dozen instances. The loud little handful - as usual - will shout for the war. The pulpit will - warily and cautiously - object - at first; the great, big, dull bulk of the nation will rub its sleepy eyes and try to make out why there should be a war, and will say, earnestly and indignantly, "It is unjust and dishonorable, and here is no necessity for it." Then the handful will shout louder. A few fair men on the other side will argue and reason against the war with speech and pen, and at first will have a hearing and be applauded; but it will not last long; those others will outshout them, and presently the anti-war audiences will thin out and lose popularity. Before long you willsee this curious thing: the speakers stoned from the platform, and free speech strangled by hordes of furious men who in their secret hearts are still at one with those stoned speakers - as earlier - but do not dare to say so. And now the whole nation - pulpit and all - will take up the war-cry, and shout itself hoarse, and mob any honest man who ventures to open his mouth; and presently such mouths will cease to open. Next the statesmen will invent cheap lies, putting the blame upon the nation that is attacked, and every man will be glad of those conscience-soothing falsities, and will diligently study them, and refuse to examine any refutations of them; and thus he will by and by convince himself that the war is just, and will thank God for the better sleep he enjoys after this process of grotesque self-deception."

Well...aye and begorah! A sequel to BOONDOCK SAINTS?

Thu, 24 Aug 2006 22:15:10 GMT

FILM ROTATION : BOONDOCK SAINTS 2: Update & Plot Details

Hanging out over at Digby's place...

Thu, 24 Aug 2006 15:20:09 GMT

Hullabaloo is home today to an interesting and timely discussion of the Dumbshit Voters (my term, not Digby's) - that is, ignorant clods who vote for political critters based on nebulous unformed feelings rather than logical and thoughtful positions on the issues.

I've known folks on both ends of the political spectrum on this one...no-necked knuckledragging neanderfucks who vote for right-wing politicians because "They's like you an' me, hyuck hyuck (belch)" and smelly-ass Andrea-Dworkinesque vegan creeps that believe that "Like, Bush is a fascist, man...*weed cough*). The common element is an unthinking sort of idiot cloudiness, a befuddlement that confuses "values" and "lifestyle" with political issues.

Personally, I vote based on cup size.

Mine, that is.

Pasty faces, eyeliner and mouse ears: Bat Day at Dizzyland!

Mon, 21 Aug 2006 17:48:08 GMT

http://flickr.com/photos/tags/batsday

Wherein Glorious Leader Pops a Sprocket.

Mon, 21 Aug 2006 17:30:57 GMT

MONKEEEES!

Fri, 18 Aug 2006 23:28:38 GMT

Cuter than you. Totally.

I'm as hawt as Claudia Schiffer and O.J. COMBINED. (With a little Dukakis thrown in.)

Wed, 16 Aug 2006 20:21:47 GMT

The TSA's official policy in re: motherfucking snakes.

Tue, 15 Aug 2006 14:39:05 GMT

Boing Boing: As with liquids, TSA bans motherfucking snakes from planes

My Philosophy

Fri, 28 Jul 2006 21:23:20 GMT

I believe that every moment of a person's life is much, much worse than the moment before...therefore, every moment that you live is better than the one that's about to be.

I call this optimism.

Random Friday

Fri, 28 Jul 2006 16:37:09 GMT

Golden I - Mindless Self Indulgence - Frankenstein Girls Will Seem Strangely Sexy
Somewhere My Love - Leonard Simmons - American Music Compilation
Fuck Armageddon...This Is Hell - Bad Religion - All Ages
Let's Ride - Nashville Pussy - High As Hell
Magna of Illusion - Blue Öyster Cult - Imaginos
White Rabbit - Mephisto Walz Various Artists - The Darkest Hour
Kick the Bucket - Mindless Self Indulgence - Frankenstein Girls Will Seem Strangely Sexy
Is It Luck? - Primus - Sailing the Seas of Cheese
One Of The Boys (Clinton) - Bill Hicks - Rant In E-Minor
Such Great Heights - The Postal Service - Give Up

Like Judas of old...

Mon, 24 Jul 2006 19:52:13 GMT

Even Hippies are right sometimes.

"...and that's when the CHUDs came at me."

Fri, 21 Jul 2006 23:59:52 GMT

CRACKED FAQ:
Being Attacked by C.H.U.D.

Friday Random Ten

Fri, 21 Jul 2006 18:42:28 GMT

UNCHAINED MELODY - Cyndi Lauper
UNCONTROLLABLE URGE - DEVO
SCROOD BI U - Lords of Acid
TRANSYLVANIAN CONCUBINE (THE MANSON MIX) - Rasputina
ALL MURDER, ALL THE TIME - Samhain
RESPECT - Adam Sandler
DEMOCRACY IS A FLAWED THEORY - Doug Stanhope
KIDFRIED - Don Davis
CLAUSTROPHOBIC - Edna Swap
FEMTEX - Therapy?

This was played out a year ago - but I do love it dearly.

Thu, 20 Jul 2006 14:36:49 GMT

You Knew it Was Coming: All Your Snakes - Cinematical

I finally like CASINO!

Wed, 19 Jul 2006 22:45:18 GMT

FILM ROTATION : F$%K The Movies