“I ain’t afraid of your Yahweh. I ain’t afraid of your Allah. I ain’t afraid of your Jesus. I’m afraid of what you do in the name of your God.” — Holly Near, “I Ain’t Afraid”
Every year, longtime social activist and singer/songwriter Holly Near swings down to Orange County and gives a concert at my church, always to a packed house. This year the date was set for yesterday evening, and I was fortunate enough to be able to attend — on a comp, no less! Admittedly, prior to about a month ago I’d only ever heard of her once — and even then it was through a passing reference in one of Erma Bombeck’s books — so I really didn’t know what to expect, although I was definitely hoping for a good old fashioned “We Shall Overcome” moment or two. And as it turns out, that’s exactly what I got. (Keep reading…)
I can’t stand it when I have to listen to someone announce how little television she watches, as this piece of information is usually delivered with a tone of voice and shrug of the shoulders that seem to say, “Why, someone as busy and important as I couldn’t possibly be bothered with something so pedestrian as television. Pish posh!” But despite my best efforts, I fear I may be turning into that very same person. Don’t get me wrong — I am most certainly not too busy or important. Rather, I’m just terribly occupied with keeping up on my celebrity gossip and the hordes of Family Guy episodes I downloaded off LimeWire. (Keep reading…)
Before I begin, let me just say I’m totally thrilled to be here. I feel like part of a power-trio. We’re like Voltron — minus two, but just as kick-ass. I really feel like this will do us all some good, and hopefully it will do random strangers some good, too.
Firstly, I want to clarify the whole beef issue. I’m not giving up beef “For Lent,” I’m just using Lent as an excuse to see if I can give something up for this long period of time. I’m not a religious person, I just want to see what it’s like to make this sort of sacrifice. And it’s not exactly a huge sacrifice — I’m really more of a chicken-or-fish-but-mostly-chicken guy anyway. It’s just a kind of experiment in knowing myself a little better and what I can do. There are as of yet no physical or measurable advantages; I am no happier, wealthier, nor better-looking than I was before I began.
Secondly, let me apologize for being that useless blogger who is never around. It’s weird, but I’m actually busy enough that I either have a life or else I have no life. But it’s cool here, because, though I haven’t even really written anything yet, save for some comments and this half-assed intro-to-Bil blog up to this point, I feel as though I will be contributing as often as I can. I can tell there will be a buzz around this site, so let’s keep it buzzing!
It’s late now, and I’m tired, and I have to clean the apartment at least a little bit more tonight, and my cat is demanding attention, so I’ll leave it here. I do have something to say about the CTA — that’s the Chicago Transit Authority, for all of you car-drivers out there by the oceans — I’ll get to it next time.
I’ve been a longtime fan of Prairie Home Companion and its creator, Garrison Keillor, so naturally I was excited to read his latest piece on Salon.com, entitled Stating the Obvious, in which he illustrated his rather traditional family values (three words that send chills up my spine, incidentally) in his typical deadpan, Midwestern style. Unfortunately, it’s terribly difficult to wax eloquent about the good old days without appearing painfully self-righteous, particularly when your own lifestyle doesn’t seem to sync up with the lofty moral structure you describe. And heaven help you if, when speaking about gay marriage, you not only fail to speak of it in the most glowing of terms, but also throw in some handy queer stereotypes while you’re at it. Six, to be exact. (Keep reading…)
I really wanted to write on here earlier this morning in order to procrastinate and now, I will do the same. Also, Trevor wrote this nice, long diatribe about Lent and how he’s given up Lent for Lent and how Unitarians don’t do Lent, they do Happy Hour. And I was thinking about a real response to this well thought-out post, and I thought, “What can I write that could be a thoughtful response beyond, ‘Now I want In-n-Out, bastard’?” And in thinking about that, I tangentially moved into contemplating the proper grammar for the above sentence and forgot entirely the point that I wanted to make. Alas. Ahem. So, essentially I’m instead writing this megapost about writing a post and actually using quite a lot of words to say absolutely nothing. You can expect great things from me, dear readers, in posts to come. I have another blog, to which I am the only contributor, which also recounts the inanities of my life with similar verbosity; it is linked on the side of the page, right over there —–> (Keep reading…)
“When it comes to brains, you’ve got’em/but unless you play the bottom/I’m afraid I’m gonna have to take a pass” — The Wet Spots, “Do You Take It?”
As if we didn’t have enough reasons to love Canada.
Cass King and John Woods comprise the Toronto-based musical duo The Wet Spots, and are quickly becoming my favorite two people of all time. Sometime last year I caught their video for “Do You Take It?” as it made its rounds around YouTube and Myspace, and I’ve been hooked ever since. So this past holiday season, my home was filled not with the more traditional refrains of “God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen” and “Joy to the World,” but rather a rousing chorus of “Fist Me This Christmas.” Hallelujah!
I have yet to see them live, but I aim to. Meanwhile, I’m an avid reader of their blog, in which they provide rather candid details about their stage shows and the various hiccups along the road. I found this particularly interesting:
Being banned from every club in Santa Barbara, only to have the show rescued at the eleventh hour by the local Unitarian Church. Our audience that night in the assembly hall was about 50% local perverts and 50% bemused pensioners. But they all hollered back for the Masturbation Singalong Song, and one of them told us that The Wet Spots, in our own way, are a ministry. Delusions of grandeur and Al Jorgenson goatees here we come!
As for that last comment, I agree entirely. I personally believe our society would benefit greatly from a less puritanical approach to sex, not just in our discussion of it, but our practice of it as well. Don’t believe me? Take the Executive branch of our own federal government, for example. As we proud Americans know, a sexually satisfied President is a successful President. Just look at FDR. Or JFK. Or Bill Clinton.
At any rate, I’m on my way to buy the Wet Spots’ new release, Hello Kinky — you do the same. Until then, make sure you catch their interview on Radio Vulva and, while you’re at it, take a peek at this 3-minute quickie reel:
I stopped attending church on a regular basis almost eight years ago, but the various minutiae of my evangelical Christian upbringing have not faded from my memory at all. So when I joined the Unitarian Universalist church about six months ago (think Buddhists who got trapped at a Benny Hinn revival weekend), I was very curious to see how we would handle the traditional church calendar, if at all. For example, our observance of the Christmas season predictably favored the more pagan elements, of which there are more than I thought, and thus was more of a three-week Winter Solstice celebration with a light sprinkling of Baby Jesus and a menorah stashed nonchalantly in a corner. Therefore, I can only assume that Easter — an unimpeachably Christian holiday — will come and go in a flurry of egg hunts and hymns to nature, but as the observance of Lent doesn’t necessarily connote any manner of religious attachment, I’ve wondered whether or not anyone in my congregation finds such a thing personally meaningful.
You see, my best friend gave up beef for Lent. Kind of. Which I think is refreshing, as for the most part he’s never cared much for religion and thus it’s usually me who’s given to unpredictably frantic outbursts of religious fervor, so it’s nice to pass the torch along. The fact that his wife is a lapsed Catholic — very, very lapsed — completes the scenario quite elegantly. As for me, even before I left the Christian church I would use this time of the year to make some flip remark about how I’d given up Lent for Lent. Now I just say that I’ve given up crystal meth, but only until Easter — then West Hollywood, here I come! And to the surprise of exactly no one, this particular brand of antipathy is fairly common among my fellow church members.
So I’ve come to this conclusion: Unitarians don’t do Lent. We do Happy Hour. (Keep reading…)
Filed by Trevor at 7:12 pm under Religion, Atheism, UU, Social Issues, Damn Hippies
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