Oh, Tom.
Recently in Atrocity Tourism Category
The Westboro Baptist Church, snuggly hug circle of Fred "God Hates Fags" Phelps and his ocean of glassy-eyed, gibbering progeny, will be dropping by the Chicago suburbs on Tuedsay to tastefully protest the funeral of Lance Cpl. Philip Martini. Martini, a Marine, was killed in action this weekend in Fallujah.
I guess he didn't get the memo that Iraq was Mission Accomplished.
Anyway, one of you needs to get out to the Drumm Funeral Home in South Holland, Illinois wih a camera between 2:00 and 9:00 PM, because a bunch of angry bikers have decided it's their job to keep Phelps away from the funeral service. And I don't know what's going to happen, but I would stomp a kitten to have it all on tape.
WOULD YOU LOOK AT THAT. MY SPREADSHIRT SHOP HAD ANOTHER BABY.
I can't imagine why this is happening! It had three years of abstinence-only sex-ed in high school, and I made SURE it didn't have access to birth control!
Shameful! Just shameful! If you people would just let me censor the Internet, THIS SORT OF THING WOULDN'T HAPPEN.
Very few people in your life will ever need to know absolutely everything about you.
I blog, but I don't post much in the way of personal information. I appreciate that everyone who visits takes the time to read what I write, but no matter how often you guys visit, some things just aren't any of your business, and I don't see why they should be. No malice involved, there. That's just a personal preference.
Amusingly, a lot of other people don't really feel the same way. Hence, MySpace.
Crappier than mid-90s GeoCities, more self-absorbed than a Livejournal, and ten times the eye-scorching incompetence of your average community college Web Design major. Oh, and it's full of teenagers. Functionally illiterate ones. Who type in AOL-speak and all-caps, completely devoid of irony.
Remember when the Internet was for smart people? Because I don't. Not anymore.
One of the "attractions" of registering a MySpace account seems to be the ability to stream music videos or MP3s the instant your pages loads on a visitor's browser, cheerfully resurrecting the most aggravating sin of web design ever conceived. Some overachievers like to stream both at once. You know, to bring the ruckus, as it were. Since most of these people are 16 or so, their tastes tend to run a little mainstream, and the site happily obliges them.
My Chemical Romance has a MySpace, for example. So do System of a Down, Fall Out Boy, Nelly, and a bunch of other spazzers I don't care about, but who's names function as street cred currency in the right circles. But I'm not even going to link you, because we're not talking about them.
We're talking about their families.
Not their families, specifically, but the families of the famous in general. Because they're just so much more entertaining.
I can't see her profile, but my personal favorite is probably Bobbi Kristina, daughter of Bobby Brown and Whitney Houston. She calls herself "nimpho babby," claims she's 14 years old (NNMB says she's 12), and wears blue contacts. The prosti-tots are just getting better and better-adjusted, aren't they? She's gonna be some real fun to watch when puberty kicks in.
Bobby's various bastard children have MySpaces, too, but they're boring. Yawn.
You need a little palate-cleanser after someone like Bobbi K. I prefer Chyna, the daughter of Faith Evans. (Faith, if you'll remember, is the widow of The Notorious B.I.G., although I don't know if this is his kid. I don't think it is. Or maybe I just don't like to picture Biggie having sex with anyone. Hurfle.) She's clearly stupid, but in that charming, adorable way most kids her age are. And adorable is definitely the right word for this kid. Like a fluffy little bunny. "bunita chica," indeed. Study hard, dear. Mind your mother.
There's yet more hip-hop spawn to be had, of course. Puff Daddy/P. Diddy/Sean Combs/etc. has two sons, Justin and Quincy, both of which have profiles. Justin claims to be 9 feet tall and make a quarter-million dollars a year. Quincy finds books to be "retarded/Stupid."
Bright, bright futures. Yes indeed.
There's also Nayrok Udab, sister of Erykah Badu. I thought Kool-Aid red weaves were over, but eh, what do I know. Erykah has "baduism," so Nayrok, in a stunning display of originality, has "hoodrok." I don't care enough about her to figure out what that is, though.
I don't consider LaToya Jackson to be famous, just associated with fame. You can find her here, carefully posed at the best possible angle to hide her mutilated nose. I remember seeing her first Playboy spread as a child. My mother looked at the Playboy she was in in a bookstore, and I peeked over her shoulder. LaToya looked like a blow-up doll.
And that is my LaToya Jackson story.
Britney Spears has a little sister named Jamie-Lynn (YEE HAW!), but she's decided to be stupid and boring and make her MySpace private. Jesus Christ, you people have ONE JOB: entertain me. And you CAN'T EVEN DO THAT. God DAMN.
But fortunately, Kevin Federline, Britney's husband, has more sense than to try and hide. Warning: K-Fed thinks he can sing. Kill your speakers.
Let me know if I've missed any, folks.
The GODDESS KRING is going to be on SCANTV tonight at 10:30, PST, and for the first time, I GET TO WATCH HER. Internet, I LOVE you!
Finally, all that wacky Kring-ian self-absorption in one single half-hour push, instead of bits and pieces where I can grab 'em. Not that there aren't plenty of those. But hey, no more of the good word second hand, goddamn it. I'm goin' straight to the source. And I ain't talkin' about her livejournal.
Blah blah Tori Amos blah blah endless endless photos of me blah blah Is my nudity distracting you from my terrible dancing blah blah blah I WAS A RENEGADE SAMURAI IN A PAST LIFE blah.
I can't WAIT. Let's see if I can resist shooting myself fifteen minutes in!
Imagine what a nice place the world would be if Christians stopped believing in Hell.
See, the theory goes like this:
You're already "saved." Y'know, by Jesus. That sacrifice of his applies to everyone: Screechy Pentacostals, daredevil snakehanders, Buddhist goatherds, Indian Hindus, Osama bin Laden, smart-ass atheist cartoonists, everyone.
Hell, the theory continues, is something you're already experiencing here on Earth, as anyone who's ever accidentally torn off a toenail or had a root canal could tell you. And upon death, everyone goes to Heaven. Everyone. Including all the people who never went to church in their lives, or went to the wrong church, or were too busy having sloppy, furious gay sex on a bed made entirely out of Bibles to go to church. Because God isn't a monster.
Crazy, huh?
Funny what happens when you take what amounts to Christianity's Big Stick out of its arsenal, though. I guess some people just don't like the idea that everything they disapprove of isn't in for a hard one upside the head after we all lose our 21 grams.
This American Life, the best radio show ever, recently ran an hour-long special concerning what happened when a reverend in Oklahoma stopped believing in Hell. SPOILER: Nothing very good.
It's an interesting listen. Give it a try. And I'll see you in HEAVEN, bitches. 
Copied OMG LOOTED from Juan Navarro, the SA forums, and a few other (but not enough) places.
Emphasis mine.
...
Yeah. So, uh, there you have it. White people can't loot. They just find things.
Huh.
Did you know that? Cuz I sure didn't.
Learn something new every day.
My neighbor, White Guy, was just escorted from the apartment he shared with his boyfriend, Black Guy, by four cops. Carrying a suitcase.
DRAAA MAAAA.
Now, it's been a while since the lock was changed, so I'm assuming he was escorted TO the apartment by the cops, too. Matt theorizes that it was to get the last of his belongings, and prevent the chore from becoming yet another tumble in the rough with his ex.
In any case, White Guy is gone, and it looks like he's staying gone.
Good. He was a shitbird.
Think I'll blast a little Saul Williams through the wall tonight, just to remember him by.
Happy trails, ya clown.
The doorknob's gone from Black Guy/White Guy's apartment door.
Titter.
This could mean a lot of things, a few of them pretty pedestrian. But consider this.
We live in a good-sized apartment building with one of those safety foyer deals. You have to open two doors, both locked, before you get to the elevator, and even then, you've got 14 floors to go through if you're just gonna go door-to-door and try every lock. Which means even if you lost your keys, it would make more sense just to get a new one from management.
Also, since these guys live together, it would take maybe ten minutes to go to the hardware store down the block and have a new key made from the other guy's. That's what Matt and I did when he moved in.
But that's not what's happening.
I'm sort of hoping someone threw a hideous fit and got kicked out. And I'm sort of hoping it's White Guy. He's a shit.
White Guy's the one who hit Black Guy and got the cops called on him a while back, and White Guy's the one who throws a great big tantrum every time we look in the general direction of the goddamn stereo. So yeah, the hell with him. I'd take Black Guy's shitty R+B blaring into the hallway any day over White Guy's general spastic stupidity.
Updates as they're merited. Dramawhore am I.
ATTENTION, GOOD, RESPONSIBLE, GOD-FEARING CHRISTIAN PARENTS!!!
As we all know, children are convinced by television and video games to go totally queer-mo. Gayosity is an acquired trait, forced upon sexless, gender-neutral children by swear words and The Lie-beral Agenda.
REMAIN VIGILANT! The HOMOSEXUALISTS will not be easily dissuaded from creeping into your innocent child's bedroom in the dead of night and coughing QUEER GERMS all over him! THEY MAY HAVE INFECTED HIM ALREADY!
Fortunately, Focus on the Family has compiled a helpful list of warning signs to determine your child's level of exposure to gayedness. EDUCATE YOURSELF! Enact preventative measures! And if the queerdom persists, REEDUCATE. We here at Focus on the Family recommend Exodus International, the largest, most successful homosexual rehabilitation organization founded by two guys who have since renounced it and moved in together in operation today!
And once you've sufficiently slapped heterosexuality into your child, make sure to do your part to stop the homosexual campaign against children.
(Cuz, y'know, gays aren't pedophiles. We aren't saying that. Except... dude, they so totally are. I swear.)
Coming soon: how to tell if your daughter is becoming a LESBIAN. Currently relegated to the back burner, though, because foxy lesbians making out is, like, so hot. But dudes fucking, man... that's just gross. >:(
