Tuesday, May 27, 2008

We're All Colorful

I love having a colorful family. As a writer, a colorful family is my greatest asset. Do you think Hemingway had a colorful family? Of course not. That's why he shot himself. You have so many topics to write about when you have a colorful family.
When people say "colorful" today, they normally mean politically incorrect. That's the politically correct term for it. Truly PC people know that to be politically correct you must be PC about your political correctness. I'm politically correct. My family is colorful.
Another fact that aids my ability to write is the many eras my family members span. Take my paternal grandfather, for example. He's ninety, one of the kindest men you will ever meet, soft spoken, loving, sexist, and a white supremest.
He's allowed to have the last two traits without being at fault, of course, because he's ninety. When he was young, it was fashionable to be a white supremest. They had entire movements in Germany devoted to it. White supremacy really didn't go out of style until the seventies. By the time the seventies came around, he was already close to sixty, and more than set in his ways.
My grandfather's racist comments must be taken with a grain of salt. Ignorance may be bliss for those suffering from it, but for the rest of us, it's pure comedy. Don't believe me? Watch any Chris Rock comedy special. There is a reason that Time named him one of the most influential people alive.
An example of said racist comments would be his recent excursion to the hospital. He's having slight trouble with his colon, and will be having surgery tomorrow (pray that he comes through safely).When he was first admitted, he doctor was a black gentleman and so was his cardiologist. Later, in the ICU, his nurse was Indian. He wondered aloud why we couldn't hire doctors that weren't foreigners or "niggers".
Interesting enough, though, in his tirade he seemed to imply that black people were foreigners as well. it makes one wonder if white people are the only true Americans (in his mind, at least). Are Native Americans truly native to the average ninety year old? And are white foreigners American?
I've also noticed that racism, and most other frowned-upon isms, are acceptable before 4 p.m. on local daytime television (Jerry Springer, Judge Judy, soap operas). Does that mean that all screen writers for shows before 4 are ninety year-old white supremest? Or does it simply mean that all white-supremest over the age of 89 sleep after 4 p.m.?
I'd like to make the point, however, that if we were truly honest with ourselves, we'd realize that we are all colorful. For example, one day my children or grandchildren may be looking back on the post, and believe that I am a youth supremest (which is much like any other supremest, but with a Starbucks).

Thursday, May 8, 2008

I'll Take That Bloody Slab of Fat with Some Bacon Please!!

I love reading columns. A well written, thought-out, and (in the right scenario) humorous column can cheer me up on the worst news day. And lately we've had several of those.
So while sorting through the news page on MSN, I stumbled upon this treasure. It entails a certain writer's experience with being a vegetarian, and (more-so than the meatlessness) the strange reactions he's received over the years.

In similar fashion, I have decided to disclose my past experimentation. Now, once I go to college, I plan fully to convert to leaf-eating. But as I live with my parents right now (born-and-raised deep Southern Baptist. The cow isn't sinful, but leaving it's fleshy carcass unchewed is) I wish to go without the normal conversation that revolves around whether humus or hamburger would win in a culinary competition.

Now, first let me give an expanation for my herbivore behavior. I have nothing against meat eaters. It has to happen. Hunting is fine, as long as you eat as much of the animal as possible. No hunting for sport. Want to eat a cow? Sure. Just kill it in a humane way. Same thing with all the other animals.

But me...well, I've lost my taste for meat. I start to chew it, and then the flavor suddenly falls. I suddenly think about how much better a Boca patty tastes. I blame this on the trip I took to the Holy Land when I was in third grade. You try seeing slabs of meat covered with flies hanging by Captain Hook's spare parts. Not pretty. And definently not sanitary.

And I have that flashback everytime my mom drags me past the meat department in the store. Besides that, the very concept of chewing on something else's carcass is disgusting. And do you know what a hotdog is made of? Do you know what jerky is? Gross...

But to each his own. However, that maxim is not exactly one that is frequently practiced in my home. So when my father found out that had gone sans meat for six weeks during my stay at the Governor's Honors Program, he nearly gave birth to the cow he aspired to eat. According to him, meat is God's gift to men, and if you don't eat it, you are a heretic and will go straight to hell.

I bet a Boca patty is tasty grilled over satanic fire.

Thursday, May 1, 2008

Happy National Prayer Day!

Now, let me catch you up on some interesting news:

<< This picture is the subject of a Fox News report. A woman saw Jesus in her ultrasound. All I have to ask is...where is the kid? I mean, I see Jesus, but I'm thinking maybe the kid is breached? Head at the bottom, and that's his legs...and his, well, butt where Jesus' head is?
In other ridiculous news...

Another good reason why Obama should win. Coffee fuels both politics and the media. If Hillary can't get the coffee, then Hillary definitely can't get the votes.
Side note: super delegates don't drink coffee.

This is a pointless post. Mainly because this is pointless news.

Oh, and go see Iron Man!!!

AND MOST IMPORTANTLY, PRAY!!! Not just today, too, because you can pray other days besides the National Day of Prayer.