Today in Sheer Internet Joy

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. 

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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. 

And this is why Peggy and Jamie are cool

It used to be that a trip to one of my brother or sister's houses meant a lovely dinner, maybe a bottle of wine and the ceremonial watching a Disney movie with the kids before eventually going to sleep.  This was never the case with my sister Peggy and her husband Jamie (remember him?  He was the guy that took his shirt off at the Bears game?). 

Krishni, Brad and I made the 100 mile trip out to Dixon, IL, to visit her family which happens to include 2 kids under the age of 7.  This is what we ended up doing:

I spent my entire Sunday locked in a desperate battle to rehydrate myself.  

What do you do with your Tuesday afternoons?

Typically, I wake up between 10 and 11--although, today I was in bed until I was forced to move at 12:06 because I had to pee--move out to the couch, apply for a few awful jobs online, and then pull up Netflix on my Wii.  I then spend the next few hours checking in at various blogs, pricing my dream Disney World vacation that I won't be able to afford until I have a job for a year or so and counting the minutes until dinner.  

Really, I should drink more.

The last few days I have been particularly pathetic because I tweaked my back again and it's been sort of difficult to move.  As such, I've knocked off quite a few movies while laying prone on the couch.  And since nothing genuinely blog-worthy has occurred, I thought I'd bore you with some thoughts I've had on a few of these movies.  I encourage you to be jealous of my current lifestyle while simultaneously feeling so, so sad for what I've become. 

1)  Who knew?  If you cast Irish and English actors to play Irish and English characters, the performances end up sounding Irish and English.

One of my all-time favorite movies is Michael Collins.  If you're not familiar with the film, I don't blame you.  It's a historical epic starring Liam Neeson as the titular character, the guy that pretty much created the Irish Republican Army as we know it today.  It is awesome and features some truly outstanding supporting roles played by Aiden Quinn and Professor Snape.  

 "And I will personally disembowel every last Snout and light their entrails on fire."

HOWEVER, the female lead--an Irish lass, keep in mind--was played by Julia Fucking Roberts.  You haven't seen an awful performance in a movie until you've seen Julia Roberts stumble through 133 minutes of an Irish brogue.  She almost single-handedly derailed the greatest Irish movie of all time, non-Ned Devine division.

"Look y'all!  I'm-a destroyin' this movie right now!"

If you haven't seen Michael Collins, I strongly recommend you do so.  Not only because it's a wonderful film about a man people should know about, but also for the duality of that hag's dreadful performance.  Oscar winner, my ass.  She should have gotten the opposite of an Oscar for Michael Collins.  Like, a "Rectum". 

Why do I bring this up?  Because two nights ago I watched another movie about the British fisting the Irish called In the Name of the Father.  

This time, however, actual British and Irish people were cast in the important roles.  

Daniel Day-Lewis plays Gerry Conlon, a hippie in 1970's Belfast who is wrongly accused of an IRA pub bombing because--among other reasons--his alibi was "dissapeared" by British investigators, desperate for a scapegoat.  He, along with a few of his friends, family members and Father, are all imprisoned for the crime which, again, they didn't commit.  While in jail, his Father dies before the entire group is exonerated once the corruption within the British investigation is exposed.  The film is based on a true story, and like many "Based on a true story" movies, it managed to get some of the details right. 

Pete Postlethwaite was cast as Jerry's Father, Giuseppe and I sort of feel the exact opposite about his performance of how I feel about that chucklefuck Julia Robert's performance.  You may recognize Pete Postlethwaite as Father Laurence in the Baz Luhrmann version of Romeo + Juliet...or as the guy that hunted the T-Rex in Jurassic Park: the Lost World.

This guy.

Seriously, Pete here is on my short list of favorite actors.  He's genuinely amazing and I cannot believe he lost an Oscar for his performance in In the Name of the Father to Tommy Lee Jones.  That loss isn't as egregious as some of the other Oscar upsets of the last 30 years but it's pretty bad. 

It's also too bad that he's pretty dead.  RIP, Pete.  

2)  I think I've figured out Harry Potter's most amazing power.

HBO has been showing the last two Harry Potter movies on pretty much a constant loop for a month now.  It's cool.  I had some issues with the middle third of the series--don't even get me started on the stupidity of that dumbass Tri-Wizard Cup movie--but feel the franchise started it's comeback with the Order of the Phoenix entry. 

Harry can do some pretty awesome spells, none of which I can name here because I'm not that big a fan of the series.  Petronus?  Is that one of them?  Has something to do with a glow-in-the-dark Bambi?  Anyhoo, Harry has the mad ability to chase down a snitch, keep his little fanboy from suffering a complete mental breakdown while simultaneously banging the dude's sister and basically winning all the magic. He's awfully hardcore for a nerd. 

You know what else Harry does better than anyone?  He has the power to keep his glasses on, no matter the circumstances.  

Think about it.  No matter how sweaty he gets during battle, no matter how many stories he falls off a dragon into a lake, no matter how many times he gets hit by a spell and blasted through the air, his glasses always stay on.  I'm sure if I re-watched the movies, I could find an instance or two where he is getting up off the ground after a wall or something fell on him and he's searching for his glasses but I can't think of one off the top of my head.  

 "Ocular Gorlillatis Glueium!"

That is one powerful spell.  

3)  I saw Brave and, well, meh...

I guess I've come to expect something profound from Pixar.  I strongly believe the best movies of 2000 (Toy Story 2), 2009 (WALL-E) and 2010 (Up) were Pixar movies.   

Brave?   Well, it was a beautifully shot movie.  And don't tell my Mom--which will be difficult anyway because, you know, she's dead--but I've always liked Scottish music a little better than Irish music. And it was funny.  

But it was much more of a traditionally Disney movie than any other Pixar effort.  You know, princess doesn't want to get married, she whines to a witch, a spell happens that messes everything up, intelligent animals get involved in shenanegans and at the end, the princess bonds with her Mother.  

Don't get me wrong, it was good.  It just wasn't what I've come to expect from Pixar.  If anything, Pixar is is a victim of it's own awesomeness on this one. 

4)  Wes Anderson continues to be the best director making movies today.  

I get it.  His movies are not for everyone.  I know more than a few people--people whose opinions I trust--who continue to not like Rushmore or The Royal Tenenbaums, not to mention The Darjeeling Limited, etc.  And his movies, despite a bright color pallet, tend to be a little bleak; they are movies about sad people often doing sad things.  

His latest effort, Moonrise Kingdom, is another such film, only this time the movie isn't just about sad people: Moonrise Kingdom is about two sad kids coming of age surrounded by sad people.  How he makes sequences of these movies seem so damn cheery, I will never know.  It's a gift.  

If you like Wes Anderson, I cannot recommend this movie enough.  If, however, you are bored to tears by his previous efforts, there's no changing your mind.  You'll hate it. 

5)  Lest you think my life isn't as sad as a Wes Anderson Character...

In the last two weeks I've also watched:  Twin Peaks, all 4 Futurama movies, The Bad News Bears, Goon with Sean William Scott (this movie kicked ass), The Empire Strikes Back, The Return of the Jedi, the entire Gilmore Girls series, The Hunt for the BTK Killer, What Planet Are You From? featuring Garry Shandling, 21 Jump Street (twice!  In two days!), The American President and so many Supernaturals, I've lost count. 

Anyone want to hire me for something?  Anything?

I present the following story as an AWESOME public service

Did ya hear about the 4th of July fireworks display in San Diego last night?  About how the display--supposed to last 20 minutes or so--suffered a computer glitch and all the fireworks went off at once?  If not, read and watch this.  For those too lazy to click on a link, check this out:

An exploding whale's vagina

Look at that!  It's like friggin' Baghdad back during Desert Storm!  Only in California!  I'm going to stop using exclamation points now!

Apparently, San Diego residents were, in a word, "pissed".  I suppose it's possible that I might have been as well.  After all, if I took the time to take Krishni, Vladimir and Vladimiria down to the harbor, staked out a decent viewing area, and got the kids all geared up for a long fireworks display, only to have a freak pyrotechnics accident happen, I likely would have been annoyed.  I mean, it's not like San Diego has a public address announcer that can get the word of such a mistake out to an entire city's residents.  I would have been just as confused as the rest of the crowd.

However, if it was just me and Krishni and an enormous amount of adult beverages, perhaps the ensuing explosions would have blown my nuts off with awesomeness.  

Yeah, I'm pretty sure I would have enjoyed that display. 

4th of July

I grew up in Lisle, Illinois.

Population: Who gives a fuck

Lisle is a little white trash town adjacent to several rich towns:  Oakbrook, Hinsdale, Naperville.  We are like the red-headed step-child of the west suburbs (perhaps an unrelated side-note:  the autocorrect on my iPhone consistently changes "Lisle" to "lose").

In an effort to boost tourism while simultaneously giving a great big middle finger to Naperville, Lisle created the "Eyes to the Skies" festival in 1982.  The festival--held on or immediately around the 4th of July every year--includes a carnival, local and "national" bands, deep-fried foodstuffs, a parade, fireworks and--the point of the whole thing--dozens of hot air balloons that fly in every morning and evening after a day of, well, ballooning, I guess.  

There's also this thing:

The festival went through some financial troubles in the late 80's before a group of concerned citizens took over the planning of the event and really kicked it into high gear in 1992.  Since then, Eyes to the Skies has grown annually and according to their website, now boasts over 150,000 visitors each year.  Also:  "The Eyes to the Skies Festival has been selected six times as One of the Country’s Top 100 Tourist Destinations by the American Bus Association."  

So...good for us, I guess.

My family moved to Lisle in 1978, the year of Mike.  My Dad built our house on an acre of land that, at the time, was totally undeveloped.  This acre happened to be sitting directly accross the street from the stretch of land that would eventually become the Lisle Park District.  The Park District being the eventual location of Eyes to the Skies.  It was pretty sweet.

However, since we were the first family on the block and since only two families joined us on that stretch of Yackley Avenue in subsequent years, that stretch of road continued to be dangerously underdeveloped by the city of Lisle.  We didn't even have a sidewalk until the early 90's and there was a sizable drainage ditch next to the entrance to our driveway.  This drainage ditch was the source of annual hilarity.

You see, I've always hated crowds.  And heat.  And just about everything about Eyes to the Skies except the fireworks.  Handily, since the park was just across the street, all we had to do to watch the big, bright explosions in the sky was to drag our lawn furniture from our back yard to the front yard.  Each year, we would slather ourselves in bug spray, bring a cooler filled to the brim with beer down to our chairs and watch the fireworks from the comfort of our own yard.  It was magical.

And then each year after the fireworks, we would gleefully sit and watch 150,000 people file out of the festival, walk past our house in the dark, and fall in the drainage ditch.

In addition to Lisle dragging their feet on installing a sidewalk, they never bothered to install street lights along that stretch of Yackley.  As such, it was dark along our street.  Like, "pitch black dark even with a moon and on an overcast night you don't stand a chance of successfully walking if you're not paying attention to the ground in front of you" dark.  Sidewalks are, what, four feet wide?  If people--typically teens since older folks like to walk on the sidewalk--were walking in a group and spilling over onto the grass along the concrete, the ground would suddenly give way, sending the teenager tumbling down about four feet to an iron sewer cover where he--it was always a "he"--would curse and struggle and eventually climb out of the pit while still trying to look cool.  

And since we were always a little drunk by this point in the evening, we would howl and point and generally make that kid feel extra small.  I never said I was a good person.  

This sequence of events happened so frequently, we never, ever left our seats until the crowd had fully filed out of the park.  Honestly, it's a genuine shock that the city of Lisle--or my friggin' parents--were never sued because of this annual treat. 

My family eventually downsized our house and moved to the other side of the park district where we happily still have an excellent view of the fireworks from our front yard.  Unfortunately, no one is ever in mortal danger of falling and breaking something simply for my bemusement.  And since my Dad is renting his house, it's not like we can just dig a pit in his front yard.  

Or can we?

Happy 4th of July!