The Kiss

I was sulking - over what I don't remember anymore.

He paid it no mind and instead, playfully wrapped an arm around my neck and rocked it back and forth - not quite a bear hug, more of a cub strangle.

I shot him a mock-dagger look only to be met by a pair of eyes twinkling with mischief. He was bad news : the "town whore" was an accurate - if loving - moniker. And yet, when he drew me closer, I didn't bother to resist.

I closed my eyes as our lips met in a moist, tender kiss. He had full lips - the kind I like to nibble and suckle on when I smooch. It was warm in that crooked embrace, and in this brash, boisterous, flirtatious boy I caught a glimpse of my old self again.

And then we kissed some more, and I remember thinking how good it was to kiss. To surrender to passion, to lust, to sexual excitement again - even if love wasn't in the equation.

Our lips parted. I opened my eyes to look at him.






And then I woke up.

Hell and Condomnation

Mmm, so what else is new?

The RCC once again displays its irrelevance and stupidity yadda yadda yadda.

The erudite Gibbs and the ever-thoughtful McVie have already weighed in on this latest bout of addlepated bullshit, so if you haven't yet, do read their comprehensive takes on the matter.

As for me, while teabagging the clergy always gives me multiple orgasms, in this case methinks I'll refrain from posting a lengthy diatribe about how I really feel about grumpy old geezers in robes telling me what I can or cannot do. Instead, I'll let this video, which I've been saving for just such an occasion, do the talking :

WWJD, indeed.

100

Yeah! W00t, w00t!

Fish Be With You

 

Yin & Yang: Just like two fish sixty-nining.

Pic from here.

 A brief overview of the Pisces sun sign:

The Pisces Sun sign  has an evolution from adolescence to adulthood, which is the Pisces person you met 10 years ago will be a completely different person today. This is attributed to the mysterious planet Neptune, one of the ruling planets for this sun sign this is compounded by the element for Pisces which is water. The other ruling planet for Pisces is Jupiter, the planet that offers to these people visions, wisdom and expansion. This would be the planet configuration model this astrologer would interpret as having the makings for clairvoyance. 

 

"The only way for you to get what you want...is to become a human yourself."

All these factors for the mate of this person would make for a hard to handle relationship in most cases. The Pisces male no matter what he tells you is perceptive and seeks both sensual prey and romance at the same time. This conflict more so than any other factor in his realm causes most to overindulge. Both the male and the female of this sign loves to be admired, pursued and to have a good time. Some famous Pisces are Patty Hearst, Michelangelo, Liza Minnelli, Liz Taylor, Lilli Taylor, Andrew Shue, Joan Crawford, Albert Einstein, Alexander Graham Bell, Ivana Trump, Rihanna, and Cindy Crawford, to mention just a few.

 

Look at this butt/Isn't it neat?/Wouldn't you think/My life is complete?

The first day of Pisces comes in full swing without looking back to the cusp that we are in. The person born on this day is influenced by both the Moon and Neptune the vast presents of Pisces element, water makes for a wavy emotional person but when we add Jupiter, the other ruling planet for Pisces, we see a wellspring of vision wisdom and the convictions of past experiences. Overall the February 20th person is an astute learner and will selflessly help to better the whole cause. 

 

Swim through the ocean floor/ Crash to the other shore...

A month to relax and reduce your schedule in order to give yourself a chance to recharge your batteries. You need this break, as you will be back in the thick of the action before you know it. A Full Moon at the end of the month can seem to bring up a lot of emotion which can affect your relationships. Don’t make any decisions on the spur of the moment. Wait a while!

Under the sea...under the sea...

Pic from here.

2010 will be a Number Seven year for you. Ruled by Neptune. This is a year of preparation, chance, and refinement. It is not a time of dramatic changes. Instead, it's a year when reflection on the past is helpful, and when refinements to your life path should be made. It's a good year to study and analyze. Unexpected twists to your life story and "chance" meetings are probable. Advice - take stock of your life in order to prepare for more exciting years to come, examine the past and plan for the future, get in touch with your deepest needs and uncover your personal power, don't strain yourself or actively try to expand.

And I was born in the sign of water, and it's there that I feel my best...

Pic from here.

This year you would be opposing many of your employer's policies and methods. It would be extremely difficult for you to keep your thoughts to yourself, which would create problems for you at times. You need to behave in a very tactful manner to avoid arguments and confrontations. Your earnings would increase but you need to control your spending. You and your beloved would reach a new level of understanding. You would also accomplish a lot together which would bring happiness and peaceful atmosphere at home. Health of someone close in the family would be a matter of serious concern. The months of April, July, September and December would be important.

Not Another Jesus Post

Oh, Christ.

I mean, Jesus! I mean, oh Lord.

It must be the month of love indeed if this is the third post I'm making about a god of love that isn't Cupid.

Anyhoo...in an upcoming Parade interview , Elton John just basically said that Jesus is gay:

"I think Jesus was a compassionate, super-intelligent gay man who understood human problems. On the cross, he forgave the people who crucified him. Jesus wanted us to be loving and forgiving."

Mmm...fishers of men, indeed. I'm sure Lady Sir Elton meant well, but I'm not so sure Jesus was that much one of us. Then again, it would be like saying that being gay is a bad thing. Which it is not.

While the Greco-Roman gods had a rollicking time fornicating with hapless mortals when they weren't boning each other, I guess I prefer my Judaeo-Christian deities to be asexual. Less confusion that way.

In case you're wondering (and I'm pretty sure you are), those sexay men on crosses are from the play "Matthew Passion" , which "tells the story of the passion of Christ; the story of Matthew Shepard being picked up, beaten up and left for dead on a hillside in Laramie, Wyoming, and the story of a middle-aged HIV-positive survivor who outlives his life expectancy. Although the three stories take place in three different locations, and are two thousands years apart, they all reflect one another and converge in the final scene."

I would've loved to see this play, but considering where we are, it'd have a snowflake's chance in hell.  Too bad, because I...

 

Fine, okay, okay, I'll stop now. Sheesh.

Beauty and Madness

We all know that Art is not truth. Art is a lie that makes us realize the truth, at least the truth that is given to us to understand. 
- Pablo Picasso

Behold that vision. What did you just see?

Did you see an ephemeral angel, an apparition of light and a metaphor for the beauty and transience of life? Or did you just see a coke-addled model, stylized and made-up, rigged on invisible wires and whose image was transmitted as a hologram, just another hi-tech gimmick to bedazzle a jaded audience?

It was both, and the capacity not just to perceive, but to create beauty from the banal realities of the world is the artist's gift. And to be able to hold two opposing ideas in one's head at the same time - such as beauty in an ugly world - is the mark of intelligence. Or madness.

I had written a lengthy, unpublished post about Alexander McQueen, about how his choice to end his sufferings by his own hand echoed the stories of other artists before him - Hemingway, Plath, Van Gogh. About how the souls who possess the gift of creating beauty are also often cursed with the torments of madness.

Any artist knows how fickle the muses can be - just like fate itself. I wonder if that which blesses us with flashes of divine inspiration also blights us with stabs of dark desperation? Is it the pain borne out of the conflict between these two opposing forces that produces great art and literature? If so, what a steep, steep price we pay.

But perhaps it is not just the artist's curse, but the general human condition itself. It is our lot to be capable of soaring to great heights, as well as plunging to unfathomable depths. Free will, the gift unique to man among all of God's creatures and what makes us capable of self-determination, comes at a price. To create, or to destroy. To cling to hope, or succumb to despair. To choose life, or choose death.

I do not identify with McQueen simply because I believed he was a true and tormented artist. But I do recognize the forces that finally drove him to make his final choice - as do you.

No, I identify with him and the ultimate path he chose because no man is an island, as John Donne wrote, and indeed "every man's death diminishes me, for I am involved in mankind."

"As the heart grows older, it comes to such sights colder," wrote Gerald Manley Hopkins in Spring & Fall. But death is not the only blight man was born for. Life itself can be a curse all its own.

But there's the rub. Like that all-too-human angel up above, I suppose it all depends on what we can see, or choose to see. To perceive beauty amidst ugliness, and to reveal it like a sculptor, his chisel releasing an angel from a block of marble. Or to declare the marble a dead piece of stone and demolish it with a sledgehammer.

I am not a deeply religious man, but I suppose it's but fitting that I post this on Ash Wednesday.

Our bodies may have come from dust. But what we truly are came from light, and like that haunting and beautiful angel, to that light may we all return.

I Love You Over And Over Again

I'm not a normally sentimental kind of fellow, and thus, I have never quite celebrated V-Day. But far be it from me to harsh on anyone else's happiness - fragile and fleeting as it may be.

Thus I share with you the following compilation, which I must shamefully admit almost moved me to tears. Because it made me remember that I loved, and loved deeply once. And how beautiful it was.

My own love may have run out, but love itself goes on.

Long Live McQueen

Alexander McQueen, enfant terrible of British fashion, is dead.

The Daily Mail reports that McQueen, 40, committed suicide today, a week just after his mother died. McQueen took his own life days before the opening of London's Fashion Week and weeks before Paris' Fashion Week, where he was supposed to unveil his new collection .

McQueen's kooky, quirky, yet elegant, otherwordly designs rocketed him to fame and he became head of Givenchy in 1996, where he remained until 2001. He then partnered with Gucci and launched his own label.

 He also designed Gaga's famous Lobster Claw shoes in that "Bad Romance" trainwreck.

Here's a haunting yet strangely poetic video from one of his late-90's shows:

What a waste. And what a shame. Carpe diem, memento mori.

 

 Alexander McQueen, 1969-2010

To You, By Way Of Pink

I've always liked this girl, because she's the type of girl I usually get attracted to. Tough and sexy, yet at the same time human and vulnerable.

It's no coincidence that her songs resonate with me, especially when I am in my angry/emo states - just like right now. She sings of love and heartbreak, betrayal and loss with equal measures of anger and hurt - just like I would.

This particular song and video - from her 2001 album Missundaztood - encapsulate how I've been feeling. For the past ten fucking years.

I can't stay on your life support

There's a shortage in the switch

I can't stay on your morphine

Coz it's making me itch

I said I tried to call the nurse again

But she's bein' a little bitch

I think I'll get out of here

Where I can run

Just as fast as I can

To the middle of nowhere

To the middle of my frustrated fears

And I swear

You're just like a pill

Instead of makin' me better

You keep makin' me ill

You keep makin' me ill

You keep makin' me ill.

And Now For A Little Dogstyle

I thought we could use a little palate cleanser from the God Vs. Gaga and Xtreme Ministries double-nutter , so here's a little cuteness overload for you.

Kawaii, kawaii!!!

And since I wouldn't be me if there wasn't some sinister twist in the offing, here's SOME MORE doggies exercising:

Well? What are you gaping at? Get off your butts, you lazy mutts! Summer's coming, so you gotta get your freak on, bitchez.

You laughing hyenas.

Oh, Christ

Behold the power of Christ, you puny mortals!

The Lord - He doth work in mysterious ways, doesn't He?

Anyyyyyywaaaayyy...just a day after I posted that fundamentalist crackheadedness that was God Vs. Gaga, I came across this item in the New York Times :

"Flock Is Now A Fight Team In Some Ministries"

To wit, the article features how more and more American ministries are resorting to rather, uhhhhh....unorthodox ways to attract people - specifically young men - into coming in to hear the Good News.

Like Xtreme Ministries (I kid you not), a small church near Nashville that doubles as a mixed-martial arts club. It was founded and is led by Pastor John Renken, 42, who also doubles as its coach.

The school's motto? "Where Feet, Fist, and Faith Collide."

If Michael Bay directed "The Passion of the Christ."

"Mr. Renken’s ministry is one of a small but growing number of evangelical churches that have embraced mixed martial arts — a sport with a reputation for violence and blood that combines kickboxing, wrestling and other fighting styles — to reach and convert young men, whose church attendance has been persistently low. Mixed martial arts events have drawn millions of television viewers, and one was the top pay-per-view event in 2009."

"Recruitment efforts at the churches, which are predominantly white, involve fight night television viewing parties and lecture series that use ultimate fighting to explain how Christ fought for what he believed in. Other ministers go further, hosting or participating in live events.

The goal, these pastors say, is to inject some machismo into their ministries — and into the image of Jesus — in the hope of making Christianity more appealing. “Compassion and love — we agree with all that stuff, too,” said Brandon Beals, 37, the lead pastor at Canyon Creek Church outside of Seattle. “But what led me to find Christ was that Jesus was a fighter.”

The Macho Messiah

"The outreach is part of a larger and more longstanding effort on the part of some ministers who fear that their churches have become too feminized, promoting kindness and compassion at the expense of strength and responsibility."

"Too feminized?" 

Ok, fine. Even I find this a little too gay.

Oh, I get it. Promoting "kindness and compassion" instead of "strength and responsibility" probably makes Jesus a bit of a wuss. Hence, the 'roiding up of the Christ. He is, after all, not just God's son, but the Son of Man, as well.

And let's face it. You can't battle the forces of Hordak evil if you're not built tough yourself, now can you?

I guess some people just can't accept Jesus into their lives if he comes across as a long-haired hippie pushover.

Moving on, the article says:

"These pastors say the marriage of faith and fighting is intended to promote Christian values, quoting verses like “fight the good fight of faith” from Timothy 6:12. Several put the number of churches taking up mixed martial arts at roughly 700 of an estimated 115,000 white evangelical churches in America. The sport is seen as a legitimate outreach tool by the youth ministry affiliate of the National Association of Evangelicals, which represents more than 45,000 churches."

Defending the faith with tough love.

To be sure, not everyone is keen on selling Jesus as Rambo: The Gung-Ho God.

"Nondenominational evangelical churches have a long history of using popular culture — rock music, skateboarding and even yoga — to reach new followers. Yet even among more experimental sects, mixed martial arts has critics.

'What you attract people to Christ with is also what you need to get people to stay,' said Eugene Cho, 39, a pastor at Quest Church, an evangelical congregation in Seattle. 'I don’t live for the Jesus who eats red meat, drinks beer and beats on other men.' ”

Jesus not only loves you, he pwns you, too!

While I acknowledge that there are many paths to salvation, I'm just unsure whether these guys are taking things - once again - too literally here.

"Over the past year and a half, a subculture has evolved, with Christian mixed martial arts clothing brands like Jesus Didn’t Tap (in the sport, “tap” means to give up) and Christian social networking Web sites like Anointedfighter.com."

"Men ages 18 to 34 are absent from churches, some pastors said, because churches have become more amenable to women and children. 'We grew up in a church that had pastel pews,' said Tom Skiles, 37, the pastor of Spirit of St. Louis Church in Arnold, Mo. 'The men fell asleep.' ”

"In focusing on the toughness of Christ, evangelical leaders are harking back to a similar movement in the early 1900s, historians say, when women began entering the work force. Proponents of this so-called muscular Christianity advocated weight lifting as a way for Christians to express their masculinity."

 

Eat his body, drink his - whoooooooops. Wrong Jesus.

As a child, I often wondered:  if God was love, why was He always so angry? Unlike the serene Buddha (who isn't technically a god, okay) or the smiling Hindu deities (with the exception of Kali, Durga, and the more bloodthirsty members of their pantheon), one would be hard-pressed to find a depiction of a happy, smiling God in Judaeo-Christian iconography. 

 

God the Father was always so stern, so forbidding, so...distant. A god that inspired more fear than love - just like my own father. Then again:

“The man should be the overall leader of the household,” said Ryan Dobson, 39, a pastor and fan of mixed martial arts who is the son of James C. Dobson, the founder of Focus on the Family, a prominent evangelical group. “We’ve raised a generation of little boys.” 

The Old Testament, particularly, was ruled by this ever-furious, vengeful Father, ready to smite anyone down if they so much as said the wrong thing, looked back at Sodom & Gomorrah, or heaven forbid, looked anything like Lady Gaga. 

Once more,with feeling.

On the other hand, the New Testament has always struck me as God's New Deal with mankind. At the risk of oversimplifying, it's as though after raining fire, the Great Flood, and 7 kinds of herbs and spices and pestilence upon mankind, God realized that His children were still not drawing nearer to Him. Hence, He must've adopted a new tack, and brought Jesus into the picture. If the Father Figure didn't work, maybe the Big Brother-figure would.

Res ipsa loquitur.

The Messiah came down to spread a new and simpler gospel: "Love one another as I have loved you." A gospel I believe encapsulated the essence of Christianity far more beautifully than the earlier, sterner Commandments set firmly in stone. 

This new and gentler God spread His word through acts and service: sermons and talks, healing the sick, raising the dead, the occasional turning of water into wine (whenever He wasn't walking across it, that is). A far cry from the previous Almighty Administration's scorched-earth policy. It was this God, who actually lived among His beloved, practicing what He preached, with kindness and compassion, that I wanted to follow. Not out of fear of eternal damnation, but yes - out of love. JC was, if my childhood hymns were to be believed, not just my Lord. He was also my friend.

The Buddy Christ.

Sure, He could be given to righteous anger (as when He whipped the merchants out of the temple), but on the whole, Jesus wasn't as temperamental or given to hurling bolts from on high as the Father. He was, after all, the Lamb of God, not His henchman. But His strength was of a quieter kind. Not the blustery, show-off kind involving the massive destruction of cities, the gnashing of teeth, and the lamentations of women.

No, Jesus' strength was the kind that didn't need bombast because His strength came from deep within. Truly, this God made Man was the Rock of Ages.

 

I guess that's why benighted rednecks who believe more in Might rather than Right have a hard time accepting that a pacifist Messiah spreading a gospel of peace and love could vanquish evil  and save souls. The very idea that LOVE could conquer all must've sent the single brain cell left in their heads rattling like a dried bean in a tin can.

“ 'This whole generation is raised on the idea that they’re in a culture war for the heart and soul of America,' said Stephen Prothero, a professor of religion at Boston University.  "

Hence, we now have Bloodsport Jesus.

 So much for the Prince of Peace.

Heaven help us.

God Hates Gaga

I was going to post this at the start of January, but figured I didn't want to start the decade with hate. And so I am posting this, with mucho irony, on this, the first day of the month of love.

"Ga-ga, ooh la la, ga-Ga, ooh na nAAAaaRaaaArGhh**!!"

While I am not exactly gaga over Gaga, I don't really mind Stefani Germanotta. Sure, her fashions might cause blindness and induce epileptic seizures, but she's about as harmful as popping two Paracetamol after a drinking binge. However, if the Westboro Baptist Church is to be believed, God Himself hates, hates, HATES Lady Gaga.

RSVP. First-come, first-burned.

So much so that she's going to hell. In a shocking pink mirrored handbasket, I'm sure.

"I'm your biggest fan/I'll hound you until you love me/Gaga/Gagarazzi..."

Now, this fine Christian lady holding up what certainly isn't a souvenir from one of Gaga's concerts is Megan Phelps, a parishioner from the Westboro Baptist Cult "Church." On instructions from God Himself, no doubt, she recorded a parody of Lady Gaga's biggest hit "Poker Face," in which she lovingly describes The Penised One in such Christian terms as "you got a whorish face" and makes references to  "your hateful fans" and "you pissed off God", punctuated with reminders that "God hates you."

Aaaaaaanndddd since I took so long before publishing this post, dear Megan above has thoughtfully - with the help of parish donations, undoubtedly - cobbled together a precious little video for us: 

The Church of The Poison Mind Westboro Baptist Cult Church is led by the Nutbag Rev. Fred Phelps, whose family has been the subject of a TV documentary entitled The Most Hated Family In America. Their little God-fearing "church", in the name of the Lord, also runs a lovely site called GodHatesFags. This "church" has been active in spreading God's love by protesting gay events as well as picketing the funerals of homosexuals, with such words of comfort like "He's burning in Hell" and of course, "God hates fags."

Separated at Birth? 

On the left, the befuddled crusader for your last rites. 

On the right, the beleaguered crusader for your rights.

Thankfully, according to Wiki :

"Westboro has been labeled as a cult by the website apologeticsindex.org; as well as by anti-cult figures such as Rick Ross. Westboro's theology differs considerably from mainstream Christianity by espousing that individuals will be given eternal damnation for any number of sins. The members justify their messages, which they acknowledge to be alarming and hurtful, because the messages are intended to turn people from their current paths which will cause them to be sent to hell."

As for the Fame Monster herself:

Looks like it isn't God who hates her, but some other heavenly being. Now who would throw roses from on high like that?

I'm looking at you, missy.