My daughter Deserved To Die

Abder-Qader Ali murdered his child and all it took were a few simple ingredients. First off, find yourself a place in the World where women are treated with less respect than dogs. This might be the 21st Century, but there are still loads of Countries to choose from!

“Sitting in the front garden of his well-kept home in the city’s Al-Fursi district, he remains a free man, despite having stamped on, suffocated and then stabbed his student daughter to death”.

Next, make sure your massively overdeveloped ego, completely disproportionate to your true worth in the World, is re-inforced by the culture in which you live:

“Astonishingly, he said, police congratulated him on what he had done. ‘They are men and know what honour is,’ he said”.

Ok, those are the easy bits, but maybe you feel a bit icky about murdering your child just because you’re embarrassed what other men will think of you? No problem! Just invent something that can’t be argued against to justify your barbarity:

“I know God is blessing me for what I did”.

Well done Ali! How on Earth would men be able to commit all these amazing atrocities if it wasn’t for the idea of God to wash away their confidence and give them some overblown, self-righteous balls. And having balls is very important when murdering your 16 year old daughter. You have to remember us women have our role:

“That girl humiliated me in front of my family and friends. Speaking with a foreign soldier, she lost what is the most precious thing for any woman.”

Speaking with a foreign soldier! What a slut! Didn’t she know the most precious thing for any woman is not to do anything that might upset a man’s fragile self-image. Especially in front of other men. Thank goodness men have their role too, to be brave and manly and strong:

“‘My sons are by my side, and they were men enough to help me finish the life of someone who just brought shame to ours.”

Doesn’t it make you feel all warm and fuzzy inside to know there are guys “men enough” out there to carry their narrow-minded, state-supported, neanderthal religious backed fear of women to the point of vicious, barbaric murder?

Oh, and if you care, Rand Abdel-Qader spoke to the soldier because she studied English and was volunteering, helping displaced families. Her body was tossed into a makeshift grave and spat on afterwards. But, why would you care? She was only a woman.

Link to the Original Story here

Thankyou Sarah Palin

If I believed in a benevolent God I’d probably thank her for Sarah Palin. Contrary to popular belief there are a number of sane Republicans who may have considered voting for McCain had it not been for the possibility of an ill-informed moose hunter becoming the President. Even McCain aides have started to reveal the fear that gripped the camp and all kinds of craziness is now coming out in the wash.

On reflection, it really was a terrible choice. Sure, it did consolidate the yokel vote, but the members of that group who are able to find the right end of the pen would never have opted for Obama anyways. It also utterly destroyed one of the McCain camps main attacks, that Barack Obama was too inexperienced.

And so she’s hightailed it back to Alaska and hopefully obscurity. I highly doubt she’ll still be the Belle of the right in four years time and any Republicans hoping to regain power ought to feel the same. Palin needs a huge amount of work to make her even a credible Presendential candidate and there’ll be stiff competition from much stronger candidates then too.

Still, that’s four years and a whole Obama term away, so for now I’ll just say: Thankyou Sarah Palin, y’all take care, y’hear?

Oba-Mania & Mr. McSame

It’s got to feel pretty terrible to potentially kill your nephew’s chances of the White House, a feeling I can well understand. Hard it will be for me to forget the horror of vomiting at my little nieces nativity play. The shocked intake of breathe and “Is that your Auntie Lucy over there covered in sick?” comments from the pretty little darlings will live long in the memory.

Not that I’m suggesting a nativity play is as important as a national election, (though for the benefit of all my Utah based fans, the former does have Jesus in it), but the same sense of “Oh my God, what have I done, why did I drink Tequila from a hot water bottle?” applies. You have to feel sympathy for Zeituni Onyango, (aside from my Utah fans natch; as a poor black woman she is of course deserving of nothing but contempt). Fortunately though, I don’t think it’s the October Surprise that John McCain was hoping for. Who, incidentally, looks more and more like the Grouch from Sesame Street everyday.

I still think it’s gonna be tighter than the boob tubes I wore when I was 20 though. Ever since the campaign began (back in 1551) I’ve been expecting a Mr. Magoo Mr McCain victory. Right now it looks like Obama, it ought to be Obama but I’m not as convinced as some. Inquests into the Republicans failure have already began which just makes me wonder what the fallout might be if the Democrats presumed night of nights fails to materialise.

So I’m hedging my bets. Always thought McCain would win. Leaning toward Obama but don’t wanna tempt fate. Think it’s gonna be close. And definately gotta get my nails done.

 

Fairground Distractions

This week John Cleese has amused me with a witty little ditty on the witless dick Sean Hannity. I also found a fab little blog that anyone with an ego the size of Sean Hannity ought to read, just to put things into a little perspective, and spent far too long giggling ridiculously at the ridiculously giggly Sexie fridge.

Still Giggling

Unevolved Minds

To steal from a greater mind than mine, why is it Creationists always seem so unevolved? Ambling around online has led me to a blogger who, for what he lacks in humanity makes up in spades in breathtaking ignorance and sliminess.

An example from said blog:

“The United States of America is a Christian Nation, and should therefore not be so kind to rape victims. After all, as rape victims are nearly always promiscuous, they bear at least part of the blame for the actions committed against them. Requiring women to wear ankle length dresses and bonnets, so as to reduce the flowing of hair, are the first step to reducing rape. The second step is to stop persecuting men in our society, and instead give them their Biblically ordained rights.”

It strikes me the greatest persecuter of men here is the blogger himself, labeling men as animals unable to control their base needs unless the women’s hair be covered with a pretty bonnet. Perhaps I’m unfair though. Perhaps I’m the victim of a very cleverly written parody of right-wing neanderthal hate. Or maybe the blogger just has a bit of a bonnet fetish.

Contemplating the skin-crawlingly creepiness of this poster is a little depressing, I feel sure he must leave a sticky snail-like residue wherever he goes.  However, how many men are as cripplingly insecure as this blogger, fearing and hating women in equal part, (and presumably doing something nasty over their prize bonnet collection simutaneously?). I believe the only “men” with attitudes like this boy-blogger are the ones who are actually capable of rape themselves, but a little voice at the back of my mind, the one that makes me buy so many shoes, wonders if it might be different, a worrying thought indeed.

Hilariously, the blog contains a link to bonnet wearing harlots.com something called “men’s rights online” which seeks to expose feminists and address the persecution of men by vicious females who refuse to cover their ankles. Who knew domestic violence was women’s fault?

Oh, and best to say: I’m certainly aware that Mr Persecution is no Christian and I would not dare judge a whole community based on one individual’s shortcomings. Although, that said, I might not call back that guy who asked me the kind of hats I like to wear…

A River that runs through Egypt

The scent of Chanel is actually whale shit, the partially undigested beaks of squids. As someone who would happily bathe in Chanel but wouldn’t be so keen on diving into a pool of partially digested squid beak this is a truth I’d rather not face up to. Sadly, not accepting a truth doesn’t make it any less true, something the author of this blog might like to think about.

The picture on the blog, surprisingly not drawn with crayons, was defended by the author with the following: “The picture is saying that it is nonsense to believe that we came from a pool of slime or a rock or whatever evolutionists believe”. (emphasis added by me). Now, call me a crazy lady who covers herself in half eaten sealife but wouldn’t it be sensible to understand something before rejecting it? Wouldn’t it be honest to do so?

Evolution is supported by a weight of evidence in various fields and is accepted as fact by all those who don’t place their faith in bronze age script writers. It doesn’t even invalidate the God theory yet millions not only refuse to accept it but fail to try to even understand. I’d love to know, what’s so wrong with Evolution?

 

 

Now, before the usual posts about natural selection being all about chance, Evolution being only a theory, etc, etc, (both in the same group as “Gonzo was an ant-eater” for outstanding wrongness) let me make a point. I’d like to hear why people are so opposed to Evolution. Is it fear?  The proliferation of misinformation and lies? Inadequate teaching methods? The human mind prefering made up truths to reality? Or is it simply the difficulty of believing someone as mesmerizingly gorgeous as me could ever evolve any better?

Looking forward to hearing from anyone who wants to understand

Bits and pieces and things and stuff

Such a lazy lady I’ve been but such is life when life is so lovely. I’m sure everything will go tits up crappy again soon and I’ll be back to blogging and sobbing, but for now occasional posts is the best I can do.

The best I can do isn’t as fab as this admittedly.

I also came across this little story and found it even more disturbing than the fact I’ve now read something from the Daily Mail. I particularly like the “Sometimes I have fat days” line. It might be due to the fact that basically sweetie, you’re fat.

I don’t say that purely to be spiteful, I just find it troubling that someone who is palpably overweight and clearly unhealthy can be held up as a rolemodel for her appearance. Voluptuous is a fab little word but it doesn’t apply to Ms Marshall. The same goes for curvy. Rotund and blobby would be more appropriate.

Jamie Oliver got into some hot soup recently for suggesting French food is better than British cuisine. (Although this is blatantly true there are a large number of Daily Mail readers who regard describing the French as better than the English at anything to be an offense deserving of hanging). I mention it as it suggests to me something rotten at the heart of British life. And I’m not just talking about the smell of black pudding. No-one should aspire to be a size 16.

Anyway, there’s another Sex & the City on tv, time to be a lazy lady again…

 

Hero Worship

Fundies say the darndest things is a little cul-de-sac of the web compiling some fascinating thoughts, supposedly all true. A couple of my favs include:

“In my opinion, if an animal in the wild like a swan is caught being gay it should be shot on sight, disinfected, and used to feed the poor”

“so you think if no one believed in any religion there would be no wars or fighting? i think it would be worse. i know if i didn’t fear god’s judgement i would have killed many many times”

“You are banned. You are not a Christian for Christians don’t accuse brothers and sisters in Christ of being non-Christian.”

“If we did evolve from monkeys then how come babies arent born monkeys…and how come we dont speak monkey?”

“If the Bible is wrong when it tells us it is infallible, then it contradicts itself. If it contradicts itself, then it is unreliable. If it is unreliable, then our faith is totally shattered and Christianity is a lie. You need to seriously reconsider your logic.”

“Jesus is not a Jew. Jesus was Jewish.”

 

 

Surely, if there is an all powerful, all knowing God waiting for us all in heaven he must find some of his creations a tiny bit taxing, to say the least? I know being stupid isn’t a deadly sin but there must come a point when, so jaw droppingly imbecilic are your thoughts, any God who exists has to be doing the Oliver Hardy thing.

I tend to imagine any God that did exist as a bit like a modern day rock star in regard to his or her attitude to their followers. Sounds odd, I know, but I am going somewhere with it.

Sure, Mick Jagger says he loves the fans and I’m sure he has time to sign an autograph here and there, but would he like to spend long evenings with the guy who can list every single b-side track in alphabetical order? Similarly, Beyonce will smile for the cameras but would she be willing to donate strands of her hair to tear streaming pleading uber-fanatics? And would Bono not cringe a little inside as fans indulged him with craven adulation? Well ok, Bono would probably be fine with that, true…

However, any “normal” rockstar must surely find their most devoted fans a little bit creepy at least. Damon Albarn knows inside he’s just a regular guy and the idea of a fan living their life through a warped devotion to him would surely be unsettling. As individuals who have achieved so much, rockstars must also find people whose sole achievement is a superb ability to memorise, collect and hyperventalate in the presence of their heroes a teeny bit dull.

Poor old God. I can see her there now, cramped in the corner of heaven by the cd rack , forced smile fixed on her face as the Creationists quote their most favourite bits of scipture. They’re all crowding round her, praising to the skies, singing off key, (except for one old Creationist at the edge, proclaiming “Numbers” to have been a por follow up to “Leviticus” in monotone tones). Could a God so all powerful and smart really enjoy herself? I’m pretty powerful and smart myself, and I’d be knocking back the booze faster than you can say Amy Winehouse.

The only hope for fundamentalists is that God is the kind of gal who likes a little flattery, likes to hear only good things about herself and has a messianic complex…so lets hope for their sake Michael Jackson really is God.

President Obama/President McCain

After enthusiasticaly voting for the chance to have a black President, Americans now seem to have cooled on the idea of actually having one. That said, Mr Obama hardly helped his cause this week. For what the thoughts of a slightly tipsy Brit matter, I thought the New Yorker cover was quite blah. It mocked the absurd idea that the Presidential candiate is a terrorist in disguise and his wife a black panther activist straight out of a Quentin Tarantino movie. Unfortunately for the New Yorker, here’s the thing:

Some people genuinely think that.

For Obama this was a bit of a trick missed. Here was an opportunity to show he has a little humour, to show the absurdity of the very notion of him being a terrorist by not taking it seriously. A well-scripted “off the cuff” remark about it being ” a joke no-one’s gonna take seriously” or a line like “Well, I like what they did with my hair” may well have killed a few headlines while endearing the candidate to the public.

Sadly for Barack his campaign staff is lacking in a permanently tipsy and/or crazy blogging Brit (Me) to inform him of this and so instead his campaign team disasterously took the high ground, further cementing the image of Barack as elite, perpetuating the stereotype of black people being touchy and over-sensitive and worst of all – giving credence to the idea that the New Yorker cover could be interpreted as fact. Here’s a scary thing, of course:

Some people think the New Yorker cover is factual.

Let’s face it though, the people who think Obama suspect because his middle name is Hussain, who think him unpatriotic because he disn’t wear a badge, these people are unlikely to swing toward Obama, and absolutely certain never, ever to swing. Laugh about the New Yorker cover and 90% of the electorate will think “Obama doesn’t care, I guess it is kinda dumb”. The 10% who think “Darlene, get off the porch and come skin this racoon, it ain’t safe out thar with those Communist bred fireflys, and that Obama is a terroroist too” don’t really matter. (Unless they live next door to you).

Of course, as the Hollies famously told us, the road is long with many a winding turn and Obama can still win the election. Just, call me cynical (I’ve been called a lot worse) but I worry about the Democratic candiate suffering like Liberals before him and being trounced by the Straight talk Express riding McCain. Old people do love buses, don’t they?

Anyway, the red wine is gone and so therefore so am I. Hope anyone who reads me regularly has missed me, and read the post below this one, it’s much better.

The Argument against Evolution

Mr. C: Do you speak English?

Me: Yes, I do.

Mr. C: So what does “misology” mean?

Me: I don’t know.

Mr C: Ha! Then you don’t speak English!

Me: (confused) Umm…I don’t follow you.

Mr C: (Triumphant) You don’t know what misology means, therefore you don’t speak English.

Me: No, hang on…What does misology mean anyway?

Mr C: (Evasive) Well, I don’t know either, but the point is you don’t know therefore you don’t speak English.

Me: But-

Mr C: (Beaming) Furthermore, as I have now proved you cannot speak English it follows that you must speak French!

Me: I….excuse me? Wait, wait…Even if I don’t speak English, why does that mean I speak French? What about…Spanish? Or Chinese?

Mr C: (Patiently) Ah, those aren’t true languages.

Me: Right…Umm, what?

Mr C: French is the only true language. Things like Chochenyo, Tillamook and Jassic are dead languages. French is a living language! People who speak things like Arabic and Chinese are mistaken and are going to go to Hell. I believe in the one true language, French!

Me: So, even though I know thousands of thousands of words in English and can construct clear, meaningful sentences, I don’t speak English because I don’t know what misology means?

Mr C: Yep.

Me: (consults dictionary). It means “fear of reason”. Do I speak English now?

Mr C: (Pondering) Hmmm, fine. What does “incogitant” mean?

Me: (Shaking head) You got me.

Mr C: (Triumphant) You don’t speak English! Praise be to French!