Tag Archives: #amwriting
Today’s religious holiday stems from the bible to include murder and a meal for circumcised men. Yeah, it’s weird.
God was angry with the Egyptian Pharaoh for not releasing Israelite slaves and afflicted punishment in the form of ten plagues. The Passover was plague number ten.
From Sex in the Name of God, Chapter 2: The Penis Pact
Great detail was given about how to select, prepare, and cook a lamb.
Exodus 12 43 The LORD said to Moses and Aaron, “This is the ordinance of the Passover. No foreigner shall eat of it, 44 but every man’s servant who is bought for money, when you have circumcised him, then shall he eat of it. 45 A foreigner and a hired servant shall not eat of it. 46 It must be eaten in one house. You shall not carry any of the meat outside of the house. Do not break any of its bones. 47 All the congregation of Israel shall keep it. 48 When a stranger lives as a foreigner with you, and would like to keep the Passover to the LORD, let all his males be circumcised, and then let him come near and keep it. He shall be as one who is born in the land; but no uncircumcised person shall eat of it.”
Been there, done that. I can no longer enjoy a movie where elements are so similar I don’t feel like I’m in for any plot surprises. I’m annoyed watching it go down.
The Good Guy: He is smart, handsome, and strong. When faced with twenty assassins, all coming at him from different directions at the same time, he can kill each one quickly. One karate chop to the neck, one head twist, one kick to the abdomen, and voila, all dead. But then there’s the really bad guy, who for some reason becomes a ten minute brawl, until the good guy prevails or the bad guy gets away. If this happens toward the end of the movie, it might turn out that the bad guy isn’t really dead. He rises for his final attempt of murder, and is killed again; and maybe even again and again.
I hesitate to cite my source for the inspiration of this blog.
This ad . . . er um . . . article, by Judah and Chelsea Smith, is about getting folks back into religion, including brick and mortar churches. Unfortunately for those on the take, millennials and others prefer to experience the world on Sunday, rather than sit-in for some dude’s dialogue that distorts the disturbing bible into a random feel-good or doom-and-gloom speech.
Or: How to Demean a Female Teen
Yes, schools are losing more and more power to students, not something I entirely agree with. But slut-shaming via dress codes is another issue entirely.
Take a look at this picture and see if you think this “skirt” was just asking for it.
From Laura Orsi’s Instagram:
Yesterday, Clara Mitchell wore the same skirt I have on in this photo. She had worn it to school before, and was sporting it again for the Science Symposium. However, at 10am, she was dress coded for it being “too short” by Parkview administration who repeatedly made her turn around to “look at the back,” and easily caused her a panic attack, which they then accused her of faking.
The “Daddy-Daughter Date” disturbs me.
Yeah, it’s a great idea for fathers to spend time with their daughters. But, the word “date” should not exist between any Daddy and daughter.
You might think it sounds kind of cute, maybe because of the triple D alliteration. Try tasting “Mommy-Son Date” as it rolls off the tongue, and see if you still feel warm and cuddly, or creeped out.
Girls love Cinderella-type princess parties, replete with tiaras, fancy gowns, dinner, and dancing. Instead of Prince Charming, just add Daddy. That, my friends, is a gross bridge from pretend to reality.
Nick Sandmann, white Catholic teenager, hereby bears the brunt of bullshit from an extremist black group, and a predatory media, by his sheer presence alone. News reports should have directly blamed the involved black men for faults deserved, and still are not publishing their hateful speech.
The videos are sickening.
Black men who claim to be “Hebrew Nationalists” start off this infamous day with insulting American Indians. Indians are informed that their worship of totem poles, eagles, and buffaloes deserved the taking of their land. These doom-and-gloomers also insulted whitey, women, Parisians, Catholics, Christians, Jews, Israelites, homosexuals, fags, and just about everyone under the sun. This group then turned on a group of Covington High school teenagers who were also at the capitol, and called them crackers. As the crowd grew, and grew angrier, the black men saved their most egregious insults for their fellow race. In an exchange with a black man in the crowd, the so-called Hebrew Nationalists called him so many horrible names that a colon is in order: Uncle Tom, Uncle Tomahawk, Coon, Sambo, and Nigger. Later, they refer to a black Covington High Schooler as a token black, and a Kanye Coonye.
I’m not OCD and I’m not a hypochondriac, but the practice of communion is questionable.
First, a cute story. As a child, I went to church with one of my friends. My family wasn’t into the church thing, so I had no clue what was going on. At some point all of the people rose from their seats and went down to the front to get a little goodie. My friend’s mother told me to stay in my chair. This made me angry.
When I got home, I told my mom that everyone had snack except for me. Later, my friend’s mom called to explain that she withheld me from communion because I wasn’t a member of the church. She said she felt bad and wished she had let me participate. It turns out I may have dodged a bullet.
I was all gung-ho to talk about the display of the Ten Commandments in schools and in other public arenas. I planned on commenting on the rote recitation of the “Pledge of Allegiance” which includes “One Nation, Under God.” Instead, I stumbled upon some fascinating history.
The original pledge is not what we know: it didn’t include the United States or God.
“I pledge allegiance to my Flag and the Republic for which it stands, one nation, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all.” – Francis Bellamy, 1892
Many solar eclipses ago, I knew a guy who always carried a towel. He was an employee of the father of a friend. Whenever he came around, he would always place his towel on a chair before sitting down.
Was this dude a character straight out of The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy? Besides this one obsession, he didn’t seem to exhibit any other OCD behaviors, and he didn’t seem like a neat freak. To the contrary, he was usually somewhat disheveled and more than a little sweaty.
So one day, I finally ask the guy: “Why do you always sit on a towel?”