In other news: Hell freezes over

Well, Mother Rubble is online. It’s the sixth sign of the apocalypse.

While there’s still time, feel free to drop her a line (but be gentle, she’s new.)

As I write (March 24, 4:15 pm) Terri Schiavo’s parents have submitted ANOTHER appeal to the Federal Court.

As I wrote the other day, I waffled for a long while on this whole issue. But the past few days, in doing my research, I’ve come to the conclusion that Mrs. Schiavo’s parents, pitiable as they are, are just plain crazy.

The most telling evidence in my assessment was a report by the Mrs. Schiavo’s court-appointed Guardian Ad Litem, who spent considerable time with her, her husband and parents. From the report (emphases mine):

Testimony provided by members of the Schindler family included very personal statements about their desire and intention to ensure that Theresa remain alive. Throughout the course of the litigation, deposition and trial testimony by members of the Schindler family voiced the disturbing belief that they would keep Theresa alive at any and all costs. Nearly gruesome examples were given, eliciting agreement by family members that in the event Theresa should contract diabetes and subsequent gangrene in each of her limbs, they would agree to amputate each limb, and would then, were she to be diagnosed with heart disease, perform open heart surgery. There was additional, difficult testimony that appeared to establish that despite the sad and undesirable condition of Theresa, the parents still derived joy from having her alive, even if Theresa might not be at all aware of her environment given the persistent vegetative state. Within the testimony, as part of the hypotheticals presented, Schindler family members stated that even if Theresa had told them of her intention to have artificial nutrition withdrawn, they would not do it. Throughout this painful and difficult trial, the family acknowledged that Theresa was in a diagnosed persistent vegetative state.

And….

In 2000, despite conceding their daughter's persistent vegetative state, the Schindlers said they still believed she knew when they were there. When Felos, Michael Schiavo's lawyer, asked Bob Schindler if he thought Terri would be tormented by her current state, he replied ''Yes,'' but added, ''she's not that cognizant to be aware of it.''

It’s clear to me from the above that Mrs. Schiavo’s parents simply can’t let go, and perhaps have a bit of a control issue.

But any sympathy I might have felt for the Schindlers for their delusions of eventual recovery for their daughter has been whittled away by the ghoulishly political behavior of the Repugnantan party. To wit:

Tom Delay’s assertion that God sent Terri Schiavo to Earth in order to expose the vast liberal conspiracy threatening conservatives everywhere:

“One thing that God has brought to us is Terry Schiavo, to help us elevate the visibility of what is going on in America … This is exactly the issue that is going on in America, of attacks against the conservative movement, against me and many others … a huge nationwide concerted effort to destroy everything we believe in.”

DeLay’s, and the President’s, sudden concern for the welfare of those in vegetative states is remarkable, considering that in 1999 they could have done something to stop a Texas ruling which allowed people who wanted to be kept alive and whose families were in unanimous agreement that they wanted to be kept alive to be taken, involuntarily, off life support if the facility they were in decided that they weren't able to pay for the treatment that would sustain their lives. Especially if they were black.

Feverishly pro-Bush radio host Glenn Beck, who has offered to buy Terri Schiavo from her husband. Oh, and on his website, you can buy a T-shirt with Michael Schiavo’s picture on it, which says “I starved my wife to death”. Classy! (And in case you were wondering, Michael Schiavo relinquished his right to make the decision to remove his wife’s feeding tube. That’s how it ended up in the courts in the first place. The decision was the court’s. The decision would not change, even if her parents were to gain custody.)

And Dr. Bill Frist, who diagnosed Mrs. Schiavo via videotape and used that as a basis to give her already-addled parents false hope for her eventual recovery. Interesting in that he had this to say about the death of Democrat Christopher Reeve:

"I find it opportunistic to use the death of someone like Christopher Reeve -- I think it is shameful -- in order to mislead the American people," Frist said. "We should be offering people hope, but neither physicians, scientists, public servants or trial lawyers like John Edwards should be offering hype."It is cruel to people who have disabilities and chronic diseases, and, on top of that, it's dishonest. It's giving false hope to people, and I can tell you as a physician who's treated scores of thousands of patients that you don't give them false hope."

The hypocrisy of proclaiming a “culture of life” is astounding, in a world where 20,000 people a day die as a direct result of poverty, 100,000 innocent civilians have been killed in Iraq, and Michael Schiavo and Judge Greer continue to receive death threats from “religious” folk across the nation.

Jesuit theologian John J. Paris has this to say to the zealous among us:

Here's the question I ask of these right-to-lifers, including Vatican bishops: as we enter into Holy Week and we proclaim that death is not triumphant and that with the power of resurrection and the glory of Easter we have the triumph of Christ over death, what are they talking about by presenting death as an unmitigated evil? It doesn’t fit Christian context.

And my last sad, unfortunate truth for today: Terri Schiavo, who previously had the option to either die with dignity, or be kept alive with dignity, now has grandstanding Repugnantans to thank for stripping away any dignity she might have had.

Way to go, GOP!

What's that smell...?

...Why....it's Jesus!

Sorry I've been gone - I can hardly fend off the complaints of my, apparently, innumerable fans. I’ve been busy, you see, though I know you’re all busy and that’s no excuse.

So, let’s see…I went to Charleston, SC last week to a seminar about the online submission system that most medical journals use. Charleston is built on top of a swamp, you see, which you can tell by the swampy smell that permeates the town. Except for the lobby of my hotel, which smelled like asparagus piss. Beggars shouldn’t be choosers, I guess – I DID have free wireless internet access in my room, a sofa AND an easy chair, and room service that was quick as you please. Plus, every item on the room service menu came with either fried green tomatoes OR buttermilk-fried oysters. Yum!

There was a gal at the conference who couldn’t stop talking about the excitement of being on the volunteer fire department, back in Kansas or New Jersey wherever she was from. I bet it IS exciting, especially for the people whose homes are on fire, since she also disclosed that she’s BLIND IN ONE EYE.

And the person who drives the fire truck is deaf.

I returned to face an endless week of rehearsals and performances. Jet and I have ill-advisedly consented to help out the kids down at the college with their production of La Boheme. We’re making a pretty penny to do so, but I think we would have been better off to stay poor and have a free evening now and again. Plus we both work in churches, and it’s the Easter season, and if you’re not aware, it’s a pretty big deal for most churches. Plus we were doing a concert with the Washington Bach Consort, which made us mad because the hired soloists from out of town were not very good, and the people who did little tiny solos from the choir, like ME, were BETTER, and some people, like ME, who saw the Washington Post reviewer feverishly scribbling on his pad every time I sang my little insignificant solos, expected to wake up to the Tuesday Post to find that I at last had a champion in the Press, who would decry the hateful practice of flying in out-of-town soloists while local talent languishes in the choir. But it was not to be.

Poor Jet had to have a stress test yesterday, and the nurses made such a patchwork of his chest hair that he decided to trim it down to the nub when he got home. If you’ve ever SEEN Jet’s chest, you can imagine it was quite a chore. I imagine SOME gals would be delighted to have a clean-shaven husband, (like the young lady recently being squired by LSBB’s friend Doctor J, until he noticed a line her email that read “Men rock – except the hairy ones. Can’t deal with that shit.”) but not me! I’m just counting the days til it grows back!

I just don’t know what to think about this Terri Schiavo business...I was tending to come down on the side of the parents, so I asked Code Dependent for the buzz in the medical community, and she’s of a mind to let her go. And trust me, if Code “Softest Heart in Show Business” Dependent says it’s time to let go, then it’s time to let go. (And, Republicans, by “letting go” I DON’T mean parading Ms. Schiavo in front of Congress to “testify”, or comparing her state to that of a crumpled hundred dollar bill.)


I INSIST everyone go to the video store right away, and rent or buy the series set of Firefly, the late lamented FOX series by Buffy-creator Joss Whedon (who also writes a mean X-Men comic, and has just been signed to write and direct a new Wonder Woman movie). See, it’s kind of imperative that you do this for me, because then you’ll have time to fall in love with all the characters, and then you’ll go see the movie version when it comes out in September, and then FOX will regret canceling it, and it will come back on TV, and Jet and I will be happy. So just do it. Honest, have I ever steered you wrong?

Commandments, shmammandments

So the Supreme Court continues hearing oral arguments today about the constitutionality of displaying the Ten Commandments on government property. Opponents to the displays argue that it’s a blatant governmental sponsorship of a particular religion, which violates the First Amendment.

Those in favor of such displays countered yesterday that, in fact, the Ten Commandments are not even religious. Who knew?

Well, since the Ten Commandments ARE, apparently, the basis of our laws, I suppose, we ought to, you know, actually enforce them. At least one or two. Let’s run down the list, shall we?

Thou shalt have no other gods before me. Should be easy to enforce, once we decide once and for all who the “me” is that’s speaking, and then deport all the Hindus, Sikhs, Wiccans, Buddhists, Agnostics, Atheists, Humanists, and I would imagine most Catholics, Jews, and progressive Protestants. Oh, and we’ll also have to repeal that pesky First Amendment.

Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image, or any likeness of any thing that is in heaven above, or that is in the earth beneath, or that is in the water under the earth. Thou shalt not bow down thyself to them, nor serve them: for I the LORD thy God am a jealous God, visiting the iniquity of the fathers upon the children unto the third and fourth generation of them that hate me. And shewing mercy unto thousands of them that love me, and keep my commandments. Let’s see, no smiling Jesus on velvet paintings. Oh, and no naturalistic painting or sculpture. Or photography. Oh, and, effective immediately, descendents of criminals are responsible for the crimes of their ancestors, to the fourth generation.

Thou shalt not take the name of the LORD thy God in vain; for the LORD will not hold him guiltless that taketh his name in vain. Well, in the original meaning, it dealt with using God’s name in a contract. Like, you know, when you swear on the Bible in court or, say, at your inauguration as President of the United States.

Remember the sabbath day, to keep it holy. Six days shalt thou labour, and do all thy work: But the seventh day is the sabbath of the LORD thy God: in it thou shalt not do any work, thou, nor thy son, nor thy daughter, thy manservant, nor thy maidservant, nor thy cattle, nor thy stranger that is within thy gates: For in six days the LORD made heaven and earth, the sea, and all that in them is, and rested the seventh day: wherefore the LORD blessed the sabbath day, and hallowed it. Guess we’ll have to stop selling liquor on Sundays, huh? Except, of course, that the Sabbath is Saturday, meaning that this commandment is broken by nearly every facet of society, including EVERY CHRISTIAN DENOMINATION IN AMERICA. Whoops! Oh, and technically, you’re really not supposed to do anything but rest on the Sabbath, including anything fun and relaxing. Just a slight technicality.

Honour thy father and thy mother: that thy days may be long upon the land which the LORD thy God giveth thee. We’ll save a bundle of tax dollars when we eliminate Child Protective Services, since children in abusive homes will have no option to get out. And we can probably do away with Medicaid and Social Security altogether, since elderly parents will be living with their children until they die.

Thou shalt not kill. Don’t panic, Republicans! According to the letter of the law, the following persons may still be killed:

· Persons found guilty of temple prostitution
· engaged women who are seduced by a man other than her future husband
· women who practice black magic
· women who are raped in urban areas
· children who curse their parents
· some non-virgin brides
· Jews who collect firewood on Saturday to keep their families from freezing
· persons proselytizing in favor of another religion
· persons worshiping a deity other than Yahweh
· strangers who enter the temple

I suppose this list can conceivably apply to Iraqis and Iranians, so we’re okay there, but it looks like the death penalty will have to go.

Thou shalt not commit adultery. Again, fellas, not to worry! This refers ONLY to a man engaging in sexual intercourse with a woman who is betrothed or married to another man. So I suggest you choose virgins for your extramarital affairs. Oh, and – masturbation’s out. Sorry, gents. Ladies, you can do whatever you please, since under the new laws you will be property and inconsequential. Sorry about that. On the plus side, since we’re limiting things to just these 10 commandments, gay sex is A-OK!

Thou shalt not steal. I, ummm….er……okay, you got me. This one is already illegal.

Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbour. I guess television and movies will already be illegal with the graven images thing, and this ought to do away with conservative talk radio…I smell a renaissance of live theatre!

Thou shalt not covet thy neighbour's house, thou shalt not covet thy neighbour's wife, nor his manservant, nor his maidservant, nor his ox, nor his ass, nor any thing that is thy neighbour's. So long, Capitalism, been nice knowing ya!

I suggest a compromise on the issue that's sure to please everyone - round-the-clock screenings of The Ten Commandments at all government facilities. Yul Brynner's manly scowl, the way Anne Baxter sort of pouts every time she purrs "Oh....Mooooses", an appearance by my dear aquantiance, Riselle Bain....and HESTON RULES, BABY!

And don't get me started on the f&%@ing monkey

Okay, I’m back. Seriously. My boss, Dr. Phil’s Good Twin, is back from his kidney-removal surgery, and so I can safely goof off again, though Poinsettia has now gotten in the habit of asking me how to do EVERYTHING, regardless of how many times she’s been shown how to do it before, and if said task involves her actually spending more than five minutes doing it, she sighs loudly and complains about how much work she has.

Anyway, here I’ve been sitting around feeling sorry for myself all month, and grousing about life and work and such, and being apathetic about nearly everything, and after all that, my wonderfulness cannot be hidden, and in fact is endorsed in print by The Washington Post. Not to mention my forthcoming CD release, featuring my solo which was stolen from a little child who still gives me dirty looks. It almost makes being mind-numbingly busy worth it. Almost.


My only joy in the past month has been in snatching up DVD bargains and hard-to-find bootleg movies and such. Like yesterday, when I bought this at Target for $29.99, even though its retail value is $90. I can only imagine the embarrassment in the stock room when the pricing mix-up is discovered.


I also FINALLY received my black market movies ordered well before Christmas – I guess the black market movie business gets busy over the holidays. So I got, much to my delight and Jet’s chagrin:

- Every episode of the original Space Ghost, featuring teenage siblings and a monkey

- Every Superfriends short produced between 1981 and 1983, featuring teenage siblings and a monkey.

- Every episode of Electra Woman and Dyna Girl –just one teenager and no monkeys, unless you count actor Norman Alden.

If you ever want a refreshing reminder of what you learned from mass media as a child, sit down to a few hours of back-to-back Superfriends episodes. It’s an eye-opening experience. Some common through-lines:

1)If you are NOT white and American, then your superhero name should probably include your skin color, or should be stereotypically representative of your cultural heritage. Oh, and you can ignore the laws of physics.

Exhibit A, the “International” Superfriends, who despite being from the four corners of the Earth, always seem to be hanging out at the Hall of Justice waiting for trouble:

Apache Chief - Can grow to 50 feet high by saying “Enek Chok”.
Wears a leather vest and matching loincloth - even though his crotch is plainly visible to anyone of normal size who happens to be standing under him. Once shouted “Enek Chok” over and over until he was BIGGER THAN THE EARTH. When saying anything other than “Enek Chok”, he speaks like he’s had a stroke.

Samurai – Can turn into cyclones, fires, and other things that the writers made up as they went along. Dressed in a green bathrobe-diaper sort of thing, which I’m reasonably sure real Samurais never wore.

Black Vulcan – “Hey, everybody, did you hear? He’s BLACK. Not that you could tell, what with his bikini shorts and tunic open to his navel. Better add the “black” in front of his name so everybody knows his race right off.” Black Vulcan can turn his legs into lightning, which enables him to do lots of things that real lightning can do, like fly through space unaided and travel through time. Shockingly, didn’t speak in jive.

El Dorado – He’s Mexican. You know this because he’s named after a Mexican City. An imaginary Mexican City. And he speaks perfect English except for when he has to say “yes”, or “friend”. He wears a blanket, which he can use to wrap around himself and disappear – just like real Mexicans!

Rima the Jungle Girl – Not quite sure what sister’s deal is. She’s from South America, but has white hair and doesn’t speak in regional dialect. She’s barefoot and wears a potato sack no matter the weather, and manages to find vines to swing from, even in the middle of Washington, DC. In her favor, she always has to be picked up for missions, and doesn’t seem to loiter in the Hall of Justice like the boys do.

2) Every scientist, astronaut, archaeologist, and teenager has access to a direct video uplink to the Hall of Justice’s “Trouble Alert”. One caveat: if a teenager’s crisis is particularly pedestrian or commonplace, then they apparently ONLY have access to the “teen trouble alert”, which bypasses the Superfriends proper and only alerts the Wondertwins, Zan and Jayna. Such commonplace problems include teens who drive too fast, sass their parents or spend nights in haunted houses on a dare. The Wonderwtins subsequently get captured or trapped, because they are tools, and have to be rescued by a real Superfriend anyway, so why they bother with their own alert system I’ll never know.

Jayna, as you may remember, can turn into any animal. ANY animal. But instead of turning into a kodiak bear or sperm whale and whupping some ass, she relies on a steady menu of sparrows, giraffes, gophers, and the like.

Zan can turn into anything made of water, ice, or steam. Like “gelatin dessert”, which he actually changed into once. I didn’t make that up. Zan apparently shares a sort of psychic link with Jayna, so that if she changes into, say, a kangaroo, he will instinctively change into, say, an ice bowling ball. (Kangaroos are renowned for their bowling skill, I guess). I didn’t make that up, either. Zan also feels compelled to announce that the object he’s turning into will be made of ice, even though THAT’S ALL HE CAN TURN INTO. Like, maybe, if he accidentally said “form of a wrench”, he might actually turn into a WRENCH, instead of one made of ice.

Retards.

Poor Dino, having tasted freedom for a brief moment, has had it snatched away from her just like that. You see, Jet installed a doggie door for our little precious, at the urging of the Gay Reverend, who was horrified when we revealed over dinner that Dino sat on the sofa all day watching BBC America and waiting for us to come home.

So after three weeks, we finally got Dino to go through the door without being manhandled, assuming that, since she came back inside while we WERE home, she would do the same when we WEREN'T.

Well, our kindly neighbor Miz Smif came over the other night to reveal that she had been called by Mrs. Kravitz on the next street over, who threatened to call Animal Control because Dino was outside ALL DAY, in the FREEZING SNOW, barking. Oh, you can't imagine our horror and sadness, and to think that we could have been a segment on "Animal Precinct"! So, the doggie door is closed until summer. Or until we get another dog to boss Dino around.

That's all for now. I pledge to be more regular from now on, don't despair!