On Taylor, Swastikas and Letting You Choose Katy Perry as the Next Hitler

I’m a wee bit torn on this one.

Below is a picture of Taylor Swift (lover her!) with some random guy at Katy Perry’s (hate her!) birthday party. As you can clearly see, the random guy next to Taylor has a big ol’ swastika painted on his chest.

Nazi alert!

There’s some mild fury on the internet over this picture. Some people are concerned that innocent little Taylor Swift is now going to try and exterminate the Jews or some other such nonsense. I, for one, don’t think Taylor Swift is the next Hitler. I also don’t think the random guy next to her is the next Hitler. Katy Perry may very well be the next Hitler, but that’s a post for another day.

Taylor’s people have explained that Taylor took hundreds of pictures with hundreds of people at this particular party. She did not know all of these people. She was just being an innocent little celebrity posing with her fans. You can’t fault a girl for that, can you?

But can you fault her for not noticing the huge swastika on the random guy’s chest? Had I seen that coming toward me, I would have certainly run screaming from any cameras in the room. No one wants to be seen in a picture with some random guy with a swastika on his chest. Talk about a party foul.

Some really educated people will rationalize this whole thing and claim that the random guy is Hindu or Buddhist and that the swastika is an ancient religious symbol that has only recently been used to represent the plot to kill every single Jewish person on the planet. While true, I don’t buy it for one second. That random guy is no Hindu. Just look at those glasses!

I’m curious, however. What do you think?

As for me, I’m willing to give Taylor the benefit of the doubt. She’s way to earnest and sweet and blond and cute to ever knowingly get involved with a Nazi. She was just being a good little celebrity. How is she supposed to control what her fans are wearing (especially when Katy Perry clearly sends them over to sabotage our poor Taylor)?

Until we have all the facts, however, I’d just be cautious about condemning Taylor if you happen to be Jewish.

On Ernestine Copeland, Demons and The Ugliest Example of the Ugliest of Evils

A friend of mine sent me the following video. In this video, Ernestine Copeland speaks at a Washington, D.C. hearing on same-sex marriage. My friend asked me to watch the following video and blog about it. Since I strive to be obliging, I am obliging.

Upon seeing this, my first thought was to write a post about the Bible. It’s very easy for a rational human being to study the Bible and see that the Bible really has very little to say on the issue of homosexuality. In fact, only six or seven of the Bible’s verses even refer to same-sex behavior in any way, and none of these verses refer to homosexual orientation as it’s understood today. On the other hand, divorce is strictly forbidden in both the New Testament and the Old Testament, as is remarriage by anyone who has ever been divorced.

I realized that providing such a rational argument in response to Ms. Copeland’s outrageous testimony was pointless. Clearly the woman is insane. A rational response would do no good here.

My second thought was to play the race card. Ms. Copeland does not feel that a correlation can be made between the fight to end slavery and the fight for same-sex marriages. I disagree. They are both very clearly civil rights issues. There was a time when white men stood in courtrooms across this country and spewed the same kind of nonsense Ms. Copeland subjected her audience to. The only difference is that they were fighting against Ms. Copeland and anyone else of color.

Again, I realized that a rational argument is not the way to go here. You can’t fight insanity with sanity.

My third thought was the one that stuck.

Ms. Copeland is quite simply pathetic. Everyone like her who vomits such irrational hatred is just pathetic. These people are disgusting and sad and misguided. To see Ms. Copeland in action was almost heart-breaking. If she wasn’t spewing such hatred, I would almost feel sorry for her.

The power of religion is that it can bring people together in faith. When it is perverted to the point that it is unrecognizable, religion can become the ugliest of evils. And Ms. Copeland is one of the ugliest examples of this.

“My God is about reproduction,” she tells us. Those are the first words she uses to describe her God. She later calls Him just and pure. And yet she chooses to first tell us that her “God is about reproduction.” She does not tell us that her God is about love or humanity or peace. No, her God is about sperm meeting egg and creating a child.

I could have stopped the video there. That was all I needed to hear to know that Ms. Copeland has strayed too far from any beauty found in the Christian religions to ever return. And, sadly, Ms. Copeland represents many many people in this country. These people have poisoned their minds and souls with hatred. They’ve turned something that can be beautiful and unifying into something that is purely monstrous.

And they have to live with this fact. They have to go to bed every night and wake up every morning with hatred coursing through their hearts and minds. What a dark existence they must lead, one that I can only imagine is the stark opposite of the existence their God would hope for them.

What these people fail to see is that hatred will not win in the end. I promise you that. The tide is turning. Yes, it is turning slowly, but it is turning. And one day Ms. Copeland will wake up in a world where her worst nightmares have come true. Love will have won out and she will be left with nothing but her own hatred and her own demons to keep her company.

Where will her God be then?

On Time, Points and Screaming at the Sky

I read the following passage on the way home from work. It comes from Michael Thomas Ford’s Full Circle.

Now that I’ve almost certainly passed the halfway point in my climb up the mountain of this life and am coasting down the other side with a tailwind at my back, I sometimes wish I could slow time to a crawl. I think that is why many of us, as we age, require fewer and fewer hours of sleep. It is not that our bodies have become more efficient; it’s that we’re afraid we’ll miss something by wasting precious hours in slumber when we could be eating ice cream, reading Shakespeare, or scanning the night sky for falling stars. How many times have I wished for just two or three more hours in a day, not in which to accomplish a task, but simply to enjoy being?

I think Mr. Ford has a point, a point with which I seem to be becoming more and more familiar with each passing day. The point, however, is not completely applicable to my life. The point is slightly flawed.

I do not wish to merely “slow time to a crawl.” Rather, I wish I could just stop time in its tracks completely.

I want to stand in the middle of everything, tilting my head back so that my eyes are facing the vastness of the sky. I want to raise my arms and I want to scream.

“STOP!”

I need to take a break from so many things. My mind and my heart and my body are all running at a pace I can no longer afford to keep up with. Something has to give. Something is going to give whether or not I like it.

I wish I could just stop it all. I wish I could sit alone for as long as it takes and just figure it all out. I need time to think about my life and the decisions I am making. I need to process my situation. I need to make sure I am doing what is absolutely best for me.

And yet, I can’t. I can’t slow down long enough to think. Life keeps coming at me regardless of how much I wish it would just stop.

It’s not going to stop. It’s never going to stop. It’s going to keep coming and keep coming and keep coming until I finally just crack.

Screaming at the sky is not going to make any fucking difference.

On Noah, Child Protective Services and Dressing Like a Thirty Year-Old Cougar at a Frat House Halloween Party

Meet Noah.

Noah is nine. Her big sister is Miley Cyrus. Noah likes ponies. Noah likes The Jonas Brothers. Noah likes summer vacation. Noah also likes to dress like a thirty year-old cougar at a frat house Halloween party.

Did I mention that this girl is nine?

I need to get my hands on the number for Billy Ray Cyrus. Obviously he’s unaware that his daughter is at some charity event dressed like a slut. Would someone please let him know? And if he doesn’t seem to care, let him know that the daughter dressed like a slut for the paparazzi is not Miley. It’s Noah. And Noah is nine.

What is wrong with these people? I’m sure all little Noah wants to do is follow in her big sister’s footsteps. And I’m sure all Noah’s mommy and daddy want to do is rake in a few more million dollars thanks to one of their daughters. But do they really need to parade their nine year-old daughter around like she’s some kind of Wiccan prostitute?

I can almost see her twat! And she’s nine!

I know that sex sells. I know that Miley and Britney and Lindsay all made a killing selling sex long before they were even old enough to legally have any. And yet, that’s nothing compared to this little girl. She’s only nine and she (or someone named Billy Ray Cyrus) already wants people to see her as some kind of sex symbol.

If she releases a music video involving a plaid skirt and a glimpse of her panties within the next nine years, I’m calling Child Protective Services,

On Darkness, Sanity and Not Knowing if He Can do It Alone

Our hero finds himself at the bottom of a dark pit. There is no apparent route of escape. All around him vipers slither and hiss. They threaten not only his physical self, but also his very sanity.

He turns to his right and is instantly comforted by the sight of her. She is his rock. She is trapped along side him and together they will fight off the vipers and find a way to escape. They will not let the darkness get the best of them. They will win.

It’s a game of wits. It’s a game of strength and endurance. Can they hold off the madness of their surrounding before it is too late?

A rope falls from above. A savior has arrived, someone who knows all too well the perils of the void. He calls down to her. She can join him in the light. She will be safe. For her the game is over.

Panic rises in our hero, but he does not show it. She deserves safety and should not have to see his pain. He will stay and fight the vipers alone. He will soldier on. He will not let this be the end of his fight.

He watches as she is pulled to safety. Her figure slowly disappears until he is sure that she no longer exists. All around him the vipers draw closer. They hiss at him, enticing him to join them in their lunacy.

He has to fight. He has to escape. He knew he could do it as long as she was by his side. But can her do it without her?

As the darkness begins to move in on him, he doubts his own will.