Why does Honda hate Christmas?

With their [Happy Honda Days][1] advertising campaign, Honda proves that they are [anti-Christian][2]. We must boycott them. Remember, fellow Christian Warriors, the proper way to sell more cars in this holy season is with a Merry Chrysler.
[1]: “Didn’t we convert them after the war?”
[2]: “If Bill O’Reilly believes it, it must be true.”


James Dobson thinks I am gay

Over at the [Huffington Post] [1], Gene Stone [writes] [2] about Supreme Court nominee John Roberts and his possible connection to those horrible gay people. It seems that Roberts did some pro bono work on a gay rights case in Colorado, and now some scary right-wing fundies are all twisted in their knickers over this.
Stone continues with ultra-fundie, and super-dolt, [James Dobson’s] [3] warning signs for parents that their sons might be gay. Let’s take a look at some of these:
>1. Your boy has a strong feeling he is “different from other boys.”
>2. “A tendency to cry easily, be less athletic, and dislike the roughhousing that other boys enjoy.”
>3. “A persistent preference to play female roles in make-believe play.”
>4. “A strong preference to spend time in the company of girls and participate in their games and other pastimes.”
>5. “A susceptibility to be bullied by other boys, who may tease them unmercifully and call them ‘queer,’ ‘fag’ and ‘gay.'”
>6. “A tendency to walk, talk, dress and even ‘think’ effeminately.”
>7. “A repeatedly stated desire to be — or insistence that he is — a girl.”
A quick tally gives me at least 5 out of the 7 warning signs that I was going to turn gay/am gay/will one day admit that I am gay. This would bother me, if I believed that, a) there is something wrong with homosexuality, and b) humans are either homosexual or heterosexual and that their is nothing in between, which is a subject for a much more in-depth discussion, but nevermind that for the moment.
Instead, let’s look back at that list. 1) different from other boys. I would think is common to a vast majority of little boys. We’re all taught to be heroes, and since heroes rise above the crowd, we’d have to feel different. I believe Sesame Street would call it Being Special. That’s a ridiculous warning sign for homosexuality, but a perfectly good warning sign for children who are beginning to think independently and will separate themselves from their family unit. I believe this is what causes James Dobson to think individuality is the Devil’s work.
2) crying, less athletic, disliking roughhousing. Shit. That’s me in a nutshell. I broke down every time one of those stupid birds died in [March of the Penguins] [4]. I am not physically fit, and I hate when my friends start smacking each other in the guise of “practicing ninjitsu.” Honestly, I think obsessing about the body and touching other men indicates a propensity for homosexuality! But not being a man’s man, I wouldn’t really know.
3) playing feminine roles. Sure, I’ve played the sorceress in [Diablo II] [5], and a couple of my main characters in my short stories have been female. I kind of think of this as “relating to the opposite sex” or “indulging in fantasy.” I can understand why this would scare the crap out of Dobson.
4) likes spending time with girls and engaging in feminine pastimes. This one cracks me up. Okay, first, is not the definition of a heterosexual man, “a male attracted to females of the same species”? Why would I not like to spend time with girls? As a little boy, the girls were always so much more interesting to me. They smelled better, wore prettier clothes, and tended not to hit me (see #2). Then, too, I took to cooking before I ever took to baseball (I am assuming to a guy like Dobson, cooking is a feminine pastime). This isn’t to say that I didn’t have male friends growing up. In fact, it never made a difference to me as a kid. Kids were kids, and if you were in the same neighborhood as me, you either were my friend or my hated enemy, usually both within the same day. This one is really stupid. Dobson is beginning to confuse homosexuality with being comfortable with feminine roles. I think only 5 year-olds confuse gays with sissies.
5) being bullied. Right. This has nothing to do with the cruel child pecking order. If you are picked on by larger boys, you are gay. Great. I went to school with a kid with an obvious glandular problem. He was my age, but about four times my weight and twice my height. He was also a grade lower than me. I wore glasses, kept to myself, and didn’t engage in roughhousing, so, like Dobson, this kid thought I was gay. Well, maybe not gay, but always a “faggot.” He called me that so often that the bus driver took pity on me and told everyone that a faggot is just a bundle of sticks. Strangely, the teasing didn’t stop. Dobson really does have the logical powers of a pre-teen.
6) walk, talk, and think like a woman. I know a couple of homosexual men, and I think they’d say that they walk, talk, and think like themselves, but if forced to lump themselves in with a gender, they’d say, “men,” homosexual men, of course. Being attracted to men doesn’t make one a woman. This is the dangerous aspect to ignorance. Now some male children may “think” like women, and determine that they actually want to be women. I bet most of them grow out of it. I bet those that do not are so confused by their sexuality that they can’t judge for themselves whether they are hetero- or homosexual. Sexuality and gender is a bit more complicated that most of us want to believe.
7) wanting to be girl. See #6.
And whatever. These ignorant, but supposedly pious people, like James Dobson, can’t even be trusted to interpret the Bible correctly. Why would anyone look to them for advice on determining homosexuality in children?
[4]: “Those little guys were pretty cute.”
[5]: “and the barbarian, and the necromancer, and the druid…”


Auntie America v. Protestors

Protesting is Treasonous during Wartime; keep your mouth shut and your eyes closed.

Oh, Auntie America is in a tizzy again. No matter how popular Uncle Gov may be in the neighborhood, some local kids keep pestering him to clean up his own house before he goes off to work for iRaq Oil Concerns®. Auntie forgets that these kids with their slogans and marches and ideals are actually direct descendants of our father, Mr. Foundings. We are all related, and just because some of us don’t particularly agree with Uncle Gov, that doesn’t mean that we hate Auntie America. She’s a bit batty, sometimes, but a good ol’ broad, nonetheless.

Auntie also forgets that Father Foundings felt it ideal that those of us with grievances should be able to address them to Uncle Gov, even if Uncle Gov doesn’t want to hear it. Dissent isn’t treason; although, little Johnny Ashcroft down the block thinks it is. So maybe, we can say, it is just Auntie American to take issue with protestors.


Auntie America v. The Frenchys

Ban all things French; Send Back the Statue of Liberty.

Poor Auntie America. Her lap-dog, Media, kept barking and barking at the Frenchys’ house across the pond. Now, even Auntie’s husband, Uncle Gov, can’t take the noise and has started to threaten the Frenchys with gross, unmindful rhetoric.

But Auntie forgets just what our long time friends, the Frenchys, have meant to us. The supported us during our property dispute with the Englunds so many years ago. We, in turn, gave the Frenchys a couple of ideas on how to redecorate their own garden. The Frenchys have influenced the way we speak, the way we dress, and even the way we drink and eat, what with all the fine wines and cheeses they bring over to our pot-luck dinners. And the Frenchys have been ever so grateful to us since we helped repair the damage of that horrible storm back in the 40s.

Yes, the Frenchys can be arrogant. They are, in this situation, looking out for their own interests, before ours. And we often don’t understand their foreign ways, but, no doubt, we’re appearing the same way to them. Auntie America would do well to remember that a difference of opinion with her neighbors is no reason to throw the baby out with the bath water. Let’s not fight with a neighbor that we’re not at war with, Auntie. And let’s keep the nice statue that they gave us that sits in our front lawn. It means so much to both families, and it brightens the place up.

But that is just the way Auntie America is. I guess one could say it like this: It is Auntie American to belittle an ally over a disagreement.



We interrupt this blog for a very special interview with our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.

Jesus: Thank you very much, Mac, for letting me take this opportunity to address the world at large to answer a question that has been raised recently, namely, “What would Jesus drink?” I think the answer to this is obvious…

MacPhoenix: Excuse me, Jesus, but…

Jesus: Hey, Mac, didn’t you ever learn that it isn’t nice to interrupt? Especially when I decide whether or not you get into heaven?

MacPhoenix: Yes, Lord, but…

Jesus: Thank you. Anyway, anyone who knows Me knows that I love a drop of Manischewitz now and again. So when someone asks, “What would Jesus drink?” you can assure him that I drink Manischewitz. But lately…

MacPhoenix: Um, Jesus, You see…

Jesus: Look, Mac, you gave Me this opportunity to answer this philosophical question that has been all over the media, and I’m answering it. To continue, sometimes on a Sunday night after all the prayers have been answered, St. Peter and I like to kick back and watch some football with a few brewskis. Lately, I’ve been into Magic Hat’s Fat Angel. It’s got a really nice, mellow flavor, and it reminds me of Raphael, who’s been putting on a few pounds in the past millennium.

MacPhoenix: Jesus, I’m sorry. We want to know what would Jesus drive, not what You would drink.

Jesus: Beg pardon?

MacPhoenix: Yeah, the question is, “What would Jesus drive?

Jesus: But I don’t drive.

MacPhoenix: But if You did?

Jesus: Look, I’ve been doing just fine for two thousand years with just My sandals. The last thing I need to worry about is insurance. I mean, you turn into a senior citizen and those rates shoot right up to heaven. I’m a senior 30 times over. And I wouldn’t even know where to buy one. We don’t have any car salesmen up here. And do I put one of those tacky fish on My car? Or maybe just a vanity plate spelling out “JESUS,” and a tag border that says “Be very careful: Your Savior is in this car.”

MacPhoenix: Thank You, Jesus, for taking the time to answer this thought-provoking question. Next week, we’ll be talking to the Pat Robertson on his views about gay, Liberal Muslims: Are they the chosen people? Good night.


Commercial from the Future

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