The Godfather x 3

I was lucky enough to have been given two Godparents who loved me dearly and I in turn loved them.  They were kind enough to come to my piano recitals and baseball games while also taking me along on their travels, allowing me to set foot on 6 different continents and roughly 40 states.  They also took me to Disney World 28 times.  Not bad.  

But the only way they put the "God" in "Godparents" was to drag me to about 100 cathedrals on our travels and just as many statues of Budda.  We rarely spoke of this "God" fellow and when we did, it was when Don said cryptic things like "You know where God is Michael?  He doesn't exist" while simultaneously cursing the Catholic church for destroying itself with Vatican II.  He was a mixed bag, that Don McCarron.  

My Godmother, Janice, was the far more consistent Catholic; she went to mass every Sunday and would complain incessantly between glasses of wine when she was unable to find a Catholic mass on a Sunday in, say, Hiroshima. 

To their credit, they never pushed religion on me despite being my Godparents.  Depending on your point of view, this made them either the best Godparents in the world or the worst.  I prefer to think of them as the former.

I miss them terribly.  

Why do I bring this up now?  Well,this past weekend Krishni and I were present at the baptism of Sheila Grace Harris--my Sister Peggy's kid--as we stood as her newly minted Godparents.  For those counting, this now makes me a 3 time All-Star Godfather.

"But wait, Mike," you interrupt, "Why do you even want to be a Godparent when, you know, you sorta don't believe in God?"  

Well, it's not that I don't believe in God.  While I don't necessarily believe in him, I also don't not believe.  Some people would say that I am agnostic but that implies that I've given God some serious thought.  The reality is that I haven't; I never think of God at all.  In fact, I'm going to stop capitalizing "God" from here on out.  Religion is only a blip on my radar anymore because I seem to enjoy mocking it. 

However, despite my treatment of the Catholic church in this blog, I'm not really anti-religion.  Religion seems to have done some amazing things for folks over the last couple of thousand years.  Who am I to argue?  Conversely, it's also been the source of many of the worlds bloodiest atrocities, a fact my beloved Godfather liked to point out (Don was awesome.  As such, while I may not be capitalizing "god" from here on out, I will be capitalizing "Godfather" because--even from the grave--I'm pretty sure he can kick our asses.  The man deserves our respect).

What bugs me is the hypocrisy of the self-righteous.  Isn't that a sin?  Well, it should be.  I hate it when people quote Leviticus as an excuse to hate on gays while ignoring all the other crazy stuff Leviticus spits out*.

Like how tattoos are forbidden by god

*Quick side note:  You know how people often put a meaningful bible quote on their wedding invitations?  One of my better ideas for our wedding was to put the chapter and verse from Leviticus specifically forbidding the consumption of shellfish and then serve scallops during the cocktail hour at our reception.  Sure, most people wouldn't have bothered to look up--or even notice--"Leviticus 11:10" at the bottom of our invite but I would have been telling the story for years.  Sigh.  Lost opportunities. 

I also hate it when politicians talk about god while spouting about family values...then get caught blowing a dude in an airport bathroom.  I hate it when priests live in lavish homes while they ask a homeless family if they are catholic/baptist/methodist before allowing them to spend the night in a gymnasium.  Also, I am firmly against child-rape. Biblical hypocrisy bothers me to no end. 

There was this guy that I hated in my fraternity back in college.  He claimed to be religious and would spout about god and how he was a better person than those that didn't believe...and then turn around and drink a dozen beers, grind on four or five girls on the dance floor at a party, bang one of them and then call his girlfriend when he got home to tell her how much he loved her.  All while wearing a little golden Jesus chain.  Man, even today, thinking about that little self-righteous prick gets my blood boiling. 

One night, he and I got into an argument about the benefits of religion and he dropped down something to the effect of "Fuck you, Jacklich.  At least I believe in something."  That set me off.  I ripped him down to the studs.  Not only did I give him a list of everything I did, in fact, believe in (myself, my friends, my family, pie) but I also called him out on his collegiate infidelity--he loved that--and asked how one can get so many different blow jobs from so many different sorority girls while wearing Christ's cross around his neck.  I followed that up by giving him a little one-two punch on the history of Jesus and Catholicism and how maybe, just maybe, Jesus wasn't the son of god.  Trust me, if there is one thing that I know about, it's history.  He walked back to his room in a huff, swearing the whole way.  I'm pretty sure I ruined his sodomy that night. 

Not gonna lie: it was a fun evening.  

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Ok, so certain religious people bug me.  You know how homophobes are always saying that they don't hate gay people, they just wish gay folks would "stop shoving it" in their faces?  As if holding hands is in any way "shoving it"?  That's sort of how I feel about religious people.  I'll respect your religion as long as you respect me for not giving a fuck**.

**Side note II:  You know who is an awesome religious person?  My old roommate Mel.  She went to church, volunteered to help the less fortunate, sang in her choir and truly believed in the "Do unto others" stuff.  In addition, she had the patience to quote "John 3:16" whenever I demanded it.  She also never brought up this stuff at home unless it was Christmas and even then, it only took the form of a nativity set or "Oh Come All Ye Faithful" playing on a constant loop.  In short, she is an honest, good religious person.  Sure, she is no saint but then again, she never claimed to be.  Which is sorta my point.  Every religious person can only hope to be like Mel.  

I wish we could talk about politics or touchdowns without mentioning god or Jesus or the bible.  But again, I'm not anti-religion.  Religion just happens to not be for me.  I would much rather believe in my wife than believe in god. 

So why do I continue to say "yes" when asked to be a Godparent?  It's an honor, I suppose.  Again, this all goes back to how devastatingly awesome my own Godparents were.  The two of them enriched my life and made more of an impression on me than I think they ever knew.  I don't think I could ever influence one of my Godkids lives the way my Godparents influenced mine.  But I will sure as hell try. 

So the question isn't why I keep saying "yes" when asked to be a Godparent.  Really, the question should be "Why on earth do these parents want me influencing their children in any way?"

It probably has more to do with Krishni. 

Today in Sheer Internet Joy

Am I the only one that thinks it's weird that a Catholic Cardinal gets to chime in about gay marriage?

So people hate Chick-fil-a.  Or they love it.  There really is no middle ground on this one.  Who knew that the most polarizing company in the world wouldn't be named something like "The Mel Gibson Child Porn and Violent Rape Super Store of Greater North Korea"?

If you haven't heard, the owner of Chick-fil-a said in an interview that he was "Guilty as charged" when asked if he was against gay marriage.  People on both sides of the debate, naturally, flipped the fuck out.  There is now a national boycott of delicious, delicious chik'n sandwiches and a Mike Huckabee sponsored "National Chik-fil-a Day" for which kids in Alabama will now probably get a day off of school.  Chicago Mayor Rahm Emanuel delighted one side by saying that Chick-fil-a's values "are not Chicago's values"--echoing similar statements by the Mayors of Boston and Philadelphia--and supporting an alderman that is denying Chick-fil-a a building permit in his ward.  Rush Limbaugh and many in the GOP immediately complained that such thoughts are hateful and bad business. 

Even The Onion chimed in in their own delightful manner. 

Now, we all know that Chick-fil-a has some abhorrent politics.  I've said as much in this very space.  They donate a shit-ton of money to organizations that have been designated as hate groups and their owner is a dick.  But they also have the best ad campaign in the world and serve a cholesterol-riffic good lunch.  I'm torn between my hatred of assholes and my love of fatty foods. 

It's times like this that I think, "What would the Catholic church have to say about this?"

Fortunately for all of us, Cardinal Francis George didn't leave us waiting long.  “Recent comments by those who administer our city seem to assume that the city government can decide for everyone what are the ‘values’ that must be held by citizens of Chicago,” George wrote on the Archdiocese of Chicago's blog Sunday. “I was born and raised here, and my understanding of being a Chicagoan never included submitting my value system to the government for approval. Must those whose personal values do not conform to those of the government of the day move from the city?”

George went on to write: “Approval of state-sponsored homosexual unions has very quickly become a litmus test for bigotry. … Surely there must be a way to properly respect people who are gay or lesbian without using civil law to undermine the nature of marriage.”

Jesus, where to begin?  Let's ignore the fact that Cardinal George here wants us to "properly respect" gay folks while simultaneously denying them dignity and equal rights.  That's a helluva magic trick.

But why on earth are we listening to a priest's opinion on marriage when priests themselves are not allowed to get married?  What insight does he have on the institution of marriage?

I'm an immature--sometimes drunk--guy who thinks about fantasy baseball and sex far too often to be healthy.  But I'm also married.  That little ceremony performed by my sister and attended by many of you gives me far more insight into marriage than a guy who has presided over an organization involved in one of the biggest pedophilia controversies in history. 

Want to know the secret of marriage?  Love.  And separate bathrooms. 

Francis George, however, seems to think the secret of marriage is one penis and one vagina making Catholic babies who in the future can be fingered by priests.   

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Every day as I wake up, I turn off the white noise app on my iPhone and read the morning news.  I check in at the Chicago Tribune website, I go to the Seattle weekly alternative blog to which Dan Savage contributes, I check my fantasy team and then I make one more pit-stop before eating breakfast:  the NOM blog. 

For those not in the know, NOM stands for the "National Organization for Marriage".  NOM is an uber-religious organization whose sole purpose is to fight the marriage equality movement.  It's run by a totally irrational guy named Brian Brown and a crusty vagina named Maggie Gallagher.  They organize various boycotts of just about any corporation who donates to the equality movement (a surprising number of companies that I use and consume on a daily basis:  General Mills, Apple, Microsoft, Starbucks, McDonalds, Disney, etc) while simultaneously decrying as fascists anyone who dares boycott Chik-fil-a. 

You may ask yourself why--as a guy who is passionate about allowing dudes to marry--would bother to read such hate-filled drivel.  Well, two reasons.  For one, we should know the enemy, whether that enemy is in al-Qaeda or just a fat guy from Mississippi with a 7th grade education and an incomplete comprehension of the Bill of Rights. 

Secondly, and most importantly, I like to rile these folks up. 

Since the NOM blog is, in fact, a blog, they allow space for folks to comment on the individual posts.  Anyone who spends any amount of time with me knows the comments section for stories on the internet is one of my favorite places to be.  Given enough time, any discussion on any article will break down into an insult-filled back and forth that always ends up with one guy calling another guy a Nazi.  Even if that article is about bunny rabbits shitting rainbows while winning an Olympic gold medal.  It's quite fascinating to watch. 

Thus, when you begin with an article that is already filled with hate, the comments section is downright delightful. 

I like to post things like "I'm sorry you feel that way 'OnlyGay4Christ69', but soon you'll be dead and I guarantee your grandkids just won't hate gays like you do" and "Does it just suck living in Arkansas?"  (for those keeping tabs, I've now generalized and offended people from Alabama, Mississippi and Arkansas.  Sorry Jon.)

Many times, these posts get deleted by the moderator but if you state your case quietly and eloquently in a non-offensive manner, the post will stay up on the blog forever.  I encourage you to go and post something today.  Pissing off a fag-hatin' fatty from Kansas (bam!  I got another one!) soothes the soul. 

**********

This fall, gay marriage is on the ballots in Washington state, Maryland and Minnesota.  I don't have high hopes for any of them--Washington might pass--but even in defeat, the movement is clearly winning.   Hell, I never thought I'd see the Democrats adding marriage equality to their platform but that appears to be the exactly what they are doing.  Think about that for a moment:  in the last few years we've seen the numbers in favor of gay marriage consistently tick up to roughly 50-55% while also getting one of the two major political parties and the goddamed President of the United States to state their support.  Hell, even Republicans are starting to see that the fight is lost.  The Rick Santorums and Mike Huckabees are a dying breed. 

Hopefully soon Adam will finally be able to legally wed Steve.  The religious right will still be able to wallow in their hypocrisy, decrying sodomy and screaming about how gay marriage is destroying the fabric of their own marriages and children...all the while vigorously masturbating to some hot girl-on-girl porn and not understanding the meaning of the word "irony". 

Know where I'll be when the LGBT movement wins?  Sipping some celebretory Veuve Clicquot with my wife while joyously reading about judgement day on the NOM blog. 

Somewhere in Utah, OnlyGay4Christ69 will be weeping.  It'll be a good day. 

This only makes me want Taco Bell that much more

As if we needed a counter-point to my previous post:

One final note on Home Alone while I wait to be fired

Did you know that Elvis Presley was in Home Alone?  It's true!  You know, if we're to believe the bat-shit crazy fringe of society (speaking of which...I'm going to miss Herman Cain and Rick Perry and Michelle Bachmann and Rick Santorum.  They brought so much light to my life).

Seriously.  They were the best.

Anyhow, back to the subject at hand.  Yes!  Elvis Presley--despite the normally-severe disadvantage of having died in 1977--appeared in the greatest Christmas movie of all time.  If you take the time to Google "Elvis Presley Home Alone"--and why wouldn't you?--you come upon all sorts of websites dedicated to the long held belief that ol' Elvis is still alive and kicking and appearing in Christmas movies.

At the time of Home Alone's release in 1990, The King would have been 55 years old.  In the scene where Kevin's Mother is arguing with Steppenwolf Ensemble Member Alan Wilder at the Scranton Airport (just before she meets John Candy and the rest of the Kenosha Kickers), there is an extra standing in the background that is, apparently, Elvis Presley.  A not-dead Elvis Presley.  Don't believe me?  As they say, the proof is in the pudding:

See him?  Over her left shoulder?

Not buying it yet?  Well, let's compare Elvis and this fellow, shall we?

Prooooooooooooof!

Further prooooooooooooooof! 

I did a cursory check around the interwebs for further, photographic evidence that Elvis is alive and well, surviving in a new career as an extra in movies shot exclusively in the midwest, but could not find any such proof.  Well, actually, I just got bored with the search and quit altogether to re-review the Lindsay Lohan pictures at i.playboy.com.

I've reluctantly come to the conclusion that Elvis is, in fact, dead.  The interwebs overwhelmingly told me so.  I have nothing further to say on the subject other than this is a pretty funny picture: 

There's a "Hunka Hunka Burnin' Cross" joke there somewhere. 

Things I don't hate

I seem to spend an inordinate amount of time bitching about the things I hate.  Like mayonnaise and Julia Roberts.  It's sort of who I am.  But today on the bus--where I overheard two dudes loudly going on and on and on about how much they hate Justin Bieber--I realized that that can be exhausting.  Who can hate Justin Bieber so much that they must angrily bitch and moan at 7:13 AM on a Friday when everyone else is patiently counting down the minutes until 5pm? 

As such, in celebration of it being Friday, I thought I would make a list of things that my stunningly sexy readership of 9 may think that I hate, but in actuality, don't bother me in the least:

1)  Bieber

Might as well start here.  I can't name or hum a single song by this kid.  I have no idea if he sucks musically or not.  All I'm going on here is what I hear people complaining about the guy.  Ok, so he has kind of douchey hair.  I'll give you that.  And he has more money than god.  But hell, he's just a kid that was thrust into a spectacularly successfully money making machine.

Can we blame him for that?  He's sort of like the next generation's version of Macaulay Culkin.  Sure, we may all remember Mac fondly now, but that's revisionist history.  There was a swift and brutal backlash against Macaulay Culkin back in the day that abruptly pushed him into an early retirement.  It's very easy to forget how much people hated that kid for a while.  So, Mac relaxed for a couple years, divorced his parents, slept with Michael Jackson, got married, got divorced, laid low and then eventually came back as an indie-movie darling and I think we can all agree, he's sort of awesome now:

God, I hope that picture isn't photoshopped

Point is, yes, Bieber is over-exposed and has that hair but it wouldn't surprise me if he either went the Mac route or the Timberlake route and remade his career on down the road.  I hated Justin Timberlake for a while...c'mon, the dude was in 'NSYNCH (did I get that right? I refuse to google it) but through a series of SNL appearances, that fun Pepsi commercial where he was killed by a big screen TV, "Tit-Gate" at the Superbowl, and some pretty good roles in the occasional movie, he's made my short list of dudes I'd probably have to set aside my heterosexuality and bang given the opportunity.  I can "not hate" Bieber and at the same time hope to god he never makes that list too, right?  I better move on.

2)  Rebecca Black

This is one that I don't get at all.  Sure, her song "Friday" was not very good.  Let's get that out of the way right now.  But is it the worst song every released?  Hell no.  I mean, the Black Eyed Peas shit out a worse song 8 or 9 times on their average album.  Bob Dylan recorded entire albums on auto-pilot that were worse than "Friday".  I can even think of a few Beatles songs that are worse: "Birthday", "The Long and Winding Road", "Ob-la-di, Ob-la-da" and "Michelle", just to name a few.  

I really don't understand what the spite and fury is all about.  What we have here is a 14 year old girl whose parents paid for a music video to be made of a song the girl didn't even write.  The lyrics speak about the average, every-day "problems" of a teenage girl, not about Nancy Pelosi and John Boehner having a dirty three-way with the Declaration of Independence.  Where is the controversy?  "Friday" is the definition of innocuous. 

And yet, because of this song, the girl--a freaking teenage girl--received death threats.  What?  Why?  I don't get it.  I hope she makes a shitload of money, does Bieber and writes a hilarious book someday.  The ridicule she received was not at all equal to the annoying qualities of the song. 


3)  Mondays

For just about forever, Sunday has been my favorite day of the week.  See, on Friday and Saturday, we're supposed to act and behave as functional human beings.  We go out, have drinks, mix in a dinner, run errands, visit people and generally better ourselves.  Sunday?  I consider it a loss if I change my underwear.  Sundays are all about sitting on the couch, watching football and movies, playing Nintendo and not showering.  Sunday is the perfect bridge to Monday.

If you can't deal with a Monday, then you didn't do Sunday right.  

While I don't hate Mondays, I do think that these days they are rather sad and bittersweet.  One one hand, I have to drag my fat ass out of bed, take the bus-to-the-train-to-the-bus in 40 degree weather all to help grown men masturbate.  On the other hand, I won't have to worry about that commute much longer.

Sigh.

4)  Jesus Christ

Despite what you may believe after a few of my posts these last few days, I gots nothing against the King of Kings.  Honestly?  Jesus seemed like a cool dude.  While I may not believe that he was the son of God, I do think he was a prophet of sorts and pushed a message of love that people these days really, really seem to ignore.  It's hardly his fault that millions of people have been killed in his name.  And if he's watching us today, he's probably cursing Republicans right now, saying things like "WTF?  I never said word-fucking-one about gays." or "Help the poor!  Help them!  Remember?  Love!?  I healed lepers!  You can't help a cancer-ridden single mother of 3 with her hospital bills!  Christ!"

What did Gandhi say?  "I like your Christ.  I do not like your Christians."  That seems about right.

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Thus concludes the only blog you will likely ever read where JC, Beiber and Rebecca Black have something in common.  Happy Friday!

Christ-fil-A

My morning commute lasts about 50 minutes, give or take.  I usually take the 84 bus to the 147 bus and then walk the 3 blocks from Michigan Avenue to my work at 680 N Lake Shore Drive.  Sometimes, unfortunately, the bus gods don't play nice and I'm forced to take the Red Line downtown.  I don't have anything against the train...it's just louder, more herky-jerky, and is super-crowded by the time I reach my destination.  Today was one of those train days.

One bonus of taking the train to work is that the exit of the Chicago red-line stop spills out at the front door of Chicago's newest fast-food joint, Chick-fil-A.  Those of you from south of the Mason-Dixon line are well versed in the deliciousness of Chick-fil-A.  Those from up north likely only recognize the establishment for those amazing cows that urge folks to avoid eating beef:

Seriously.  These cows SLAY me.

This morning, my second bus was running late so I reluctantly took the red line to work.  However, such a travel annoyance comes with the promise of a delicious chikin biscuit at the other end of my commute.  I ordered my biscuit, waited, like, 30 seconds and a nice lady delivered it to me.  I said "Thanks!", turned around and started to walk away when I'm 90% sure she replied with "God bless you!"  As I said, since I was running late, I had already turned to walk away but I'm pretty damn sure those were her words.

Now, Chick-fil-A's politics are well known.  The company was started by a deeply religious man down in Georgia and their mission statement is almost as funny as those cows:  "To glorify God by being a faithful steward of all that is entrusted to us. To have a positive influence on all who come in contact with Chick-fil-A.   And serving deep-fried chicken sandwiches to everyone but fags." 

Full disclosure:  I may have added that last part. 

However, they have donated a ton of money in the equally-hilarious (and terrifying) "National Organization for Marriage" and have been involved in a number of discrimination lawsuits.  Because, you know, its ok to hate on queers and Muslims because, like, God and stuff.

So by all means I should avoid this place like the plague.  Like Target, they have an abhorrent political stance and I should not support either organization but damned if I don't like the joint.  The chicken sandwiches are really good.  Plus, they serve waffle fries and their single serving ketchup doesn't come in annoying packets, it comes in an awesomely convenient cup that you can squeeze in the traditional fashion or peel back the top and dip stuff into it:

How cool is that?  And why has no one thought of this before?

Returning to my experience this morning, it was odd to be preached-to at a fast food restaurant.  Don't get me wrong, I'm not gonna go all Jimmy Johns and boycott the place.  It's just weird.  Growing up Catholic, I'm used to being surrounded by god-stuff: crucifixes, flying through our prayer before dinner ("blessusohlordandthesethygiftswhichweareabouttoreceivefromthybountythroughchristourlordamen"), morning prayers on the intercom at school, spending my Saturday mornings at stupid CCD class...I get it.  God is all around us if you want to believe that sort of thing.  I don't think, however, that if I was hit by a bus on Michigan Avenue later this morning, I would be granted the keys to the gates of heaven just because I ate a delicious $2 chicken sandwich and was blessed by the cashier before I did so. 

I dunno.  Maybe I'm wrong and the girl with the colorful beads in her hair that blessed me today is right.  And maybe I'm screwed anyway because despite my Chikin baptismal, I feel a dude should be able to marry another dude and "Christians" should just back the fuck off. 

And maybe--just maybe--nothing that occurred this morning matters at all in the cosmic scheme of things and all I really did was make a bunch of cows ludicrously happy because they won't face the slaughterhouse for another day. 

I'm sure we'll meet again soon at White Castle, cow.