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 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 Hollywood, Stars and The Race for Fame

I saw a poll online yesterday (forgive me for having forgotten the site) that asked readers to vote on the worst Hollywood parent. The choices consisted of Jon Gosselin, the father of Balloon Boy, Octomom and Lindsay Lohan’s father. I didn’t vote, but Jon appeared to me taking an early lead. I can’t say I disagree with those results.

My first thought upon seeing this poll was that I have no clue what Octomom’s actual name is. My second thought was that none of these people, with the possible exception of the man who sired Lindsay Lohan, should be considered Hollywood parents.

Then I stopped and thought about it for a moment and I realized that this is America. In America, anyone can be a celebrity. All it takes is a little screen time, a lot of audacity and people like me to write about you. Make a few bad choices and – BAM – you’re a star, baby.

It seems everyone wants to be a star these days. Be it reality television or blogs or YouTube, there are so many options available for the average Joe who wants to cash in on the fame craze. I can’t help but wonder, however, what the appeal is.

The minute one crosses over the line from being a regular person to being a star, everything changes. And from what I can tell, it doesn’t usually change for the better. Look at Jon Gosselin. Sure, he’s famous now. He also happens to be one of the most detested men on the planet at the moment. Complete strangers are voting him the worst parent in Hollywood. His marriage is in shambles. His family is falling apart. Every mistake he’s ever made is up for public judgment. His life is no longer his own.

I sure hope it was all worth it, Jon.

And yet, I wouldn’t be a very honest person if I didn’t say I wasn’t at least the tiniest bit intrigued by the idea of being famous. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit to checking the stats of this blog religiously to see just how many people are reading my public thoughts. I admit to fantasizing about being discovered someday and becoming the next big thing on the Hollywood writing scene.

Seems I’m as caught up in America’s race for fame as the next guy. I’m not nearly as despicable about it as Jon Gosselin, but the seed has been planted. I’m far from innocent.

What separates me from the likes of Octomom, however, is that which separates human beings from, say, fungus. I have self-awareness. I completely recognize that at least on some level I blog in the hopes of being famous. I also completely recognize that I’m never going to become famous for keeping this silly blog.

And yet, I’ll play along in my own delusional mind. And I’ll continue to judge those who have faired better than I in the race for fame. For, that’s what we do. We build you up to tear you down. And then we throw our hats in the ring to be the next person who is vilified by all of America.

Ain’t fame great?

On Responsibilities, Parenting and Not Letting Your Children Read Playboy

“I don’t like this movie.”

Those words were spoken rather loudly by the young girl sitting behind me at a viewing of Where the Wild Things Are.  These words were spoken just seconds before the young girl proclaimed she had to go to the bathroom or she would pee in her chair.

As you can well imagine, I was far from thrilled to be seated in front of this youngster.  I was, not, however angry with her.  I was angry with the grown man who had chosen to bring her to the movie in the first place.

I am well aware that parents are allowed to bring their children to the movies.  I am not one of those people who feels that children should never share the same space that I am in.  I love kids.  I’ve taken kids to the movies before myself.  I have no problem with kids in a movie theater when I make the decision to see a movie that is made is for children.

The issue here is that Where the Wild Things Are is not a movie that is made for children.

Yes, the movie is based on a popular children’s book.  Yes, the movie features large puppet-like creatures.  Yes, the central character of the movie is a young boy name Max.  None of this, however, means that Where the Wild Things Are is appropriate for children.

I knew this was a movie for adults before I even stepped foot into the theater.  I knew this because I read a few reviews of the film.  I did my homework.  I educated myself.

Why the hell can’t parents do the same thing before shoveling their kids into their mini vans?

When you are a parent, you have a responsibility to your children.  This means you do not bring them to a movie just because you think it’s appropriate for the little ones.  This means you look into the film.  Any parent who would have done so would not have taken their children to see Where the Wild Things Are.  And yet, I saw that exact film with quite a few children.

It’s all rather troubling if you ask me.  In a day and age when Marge Simpson is on the cover of Playboy magazine, animation can no longer be the measure for determining whether or not a product is kid-friendly.  Similarly, you can’t just bring a five-year-old to a movie because she likes the book it’s based on.

Children do not know any better, but adults do.  Or at least they should.  Most parents would not let their kids read Playboy just because a cartoon is on the cover.  So why would they let their kids sit through an emotionally dark film just because it features cute furry monsters?

I’m not a parent.  Maybe I am missing something.  Maybe it’s now acceptable to have your children see movies that grapple with some pretty heavy issues such as divorce, loneliness, trust and betrayal.  Maybe I’m way off base.

If I am, I apologize to all those parents out there who blindly took their kids to see one of the most adult films I’ve seen in a long time.  I’m sorry for making assumptions about your choices.  Next time I’ll go to a late-night showing of any film I think may have even the slightest appeal for children.

All I have to do then is hope that young kids still have bedtimes.

On This Is It, Michael Jackson and Hoping This Really is It

I wasn’t blogging on June 25, 2009. I was on hiatus. Therefore, I missed out on adding my two cents to the circus that was the death of Michael Jackson. Sadly, the circus has yet to really die down. Just today, Michael’s new single was released. This Is It hit the waves of the internet.

Ladies and gentlemen, the circus continues.

I have yet to listen to This Is It. The release of a new Michael Jackson single hasn’t made a splash in my world since he and sister Janet gave us Scream in 1995. Between then and now, Michael released 17 singles, most of which are either completely forgettable or songs I’ve never even heard.

Yes, Michael Jackson the performer died for me some time in 1996.

But now, it seems, Michael Jackson the performer is being resurrected. A new single is being dropped to coincide with the release a movie featuring footage from Jackson’s tour rehearsals. Rumors and allegations may have kept him down in life, but death is no match for Michael Jackson.

I predict This Is It will be a huge hit. I have little doubt that it will top the charts all around the world. Sales of this one are going to break records.

But where were all the people who will buy This Is It when Michael Jackson was still alive? I don’t recall anyone I know singing his praises and calling him out on being the greatest performer to ever live. I never heard his music blaring from cars as they passed on the street. It had been ages since I’d heard a Michael Jackson song on the radio.

And then Michael Jackson died and everyone wanted to be his biggest fan.

This Is It will most likely rocket Michael Jackson back to the level of superstardom he enjoyed with the release of Thriller. For one last brief moment he’ll be the guy with the glove that everyone loves. The rumors surrounding him will fade away and his music will be given a chance to shine once more.

It’s a shame he won’t be here enjoy it. It’s a shame that it comes from a disingenuous place. It’s a shame the world forgot him until he died.

I just hope that once the song and the movie are forgotten, we can finally just leave Michael Jackson alone. It’s high time we put the King of Pop to rest once and for all.

I hope this really is it.