Champions of islam

Remember the time when a clown like this would have been laughed off the world's stage? Now we have to take these Islamic idiots seriously (hard as that may be when they seem to be auditioning for the role of General Zod in the next remake of Superman).

A little bit insane

Is it possible to be a little bit insane or is insanity one of those all or nothing deals? I was talking to a person recently when the conversation suddenly took an insane tangent (and we weren't even discussing religion yuck, yuck yuck!). He started going on about people being either odd or even numbers. I don't know if this was an original theory of his or something he had gleaned from one of those books in the "New Age" section of Barnes & Noble. He went on at such length that I was tempted to give the other person present a sidelong glance as if to say, "This guy's nuts, right?" Instead, we nodded politely and waited for him to finish. I quickly changed the subject and the conversation continued with no further insane flare-ups. I've had several conversations with this person before and never noticed anything odd. But the Odd and Even People Theory left its mark. Will I ever be able to have a conversation with this person again without looking for signs of mental illness? I suspect not.

Speaking of mental illness, what was the deal with the men in white coats and butterfly nets dispatched from the booby hatch to pick up the insane in old movies? Was this based on reality or one of those running gags that took on a life of its own? And wouldn't a butterfly net be rather inefficient for subduing a disturbed person? Straight jackets and rubber rooms I can understand, but not a damn butterfly net.

Broham and The Quisling

I stumbled upon this site by accident last week. If I'm reading this correctly, this numbskull claims to be the first person ever called "broham." Why anyone would want to lay claim to this distinction is beyond me. And yet I seriously suspect that this guy will probably go to his grave bending anyone and everyone's ear with this knowledge. How do I know this? Well, take a look at some of Broham's other accomplishments. Seriously, do you think he will ever top his Original Broham achievement? I suspect not (sorry, but appearing as an extra in the movie version of "Miami Vice" doesn't quite cut it). Better yet, just take a look at his picture. If this isn't the quintessential American lunkhead, I don't know who is (and he's "cocky" too! I never would have guessed! And "conceded"! Whatever that means!). Now that I think about it, maybe he is the Original Broham!

As much as I would dislike being called "broham," being called a "quisling" would be far worse. Reading David M. Kennedy's great Freedom from Fear, I came across this term again and couldn't help but think what a disappointment it must have been for the Quisling family to have their name become the noun for the European equivalent of a Benedict Arnold. Surely, they must have protested that Vidkun wasn't the only Nazi collaborator, "Why single us out?" But in this case, the sound of the name so accurately fits its definition that it almost seems inevitable. Actually, Benedict Arnold pales in comparison. Given the choice of describing a loathsome traitor, I'd have to go with "quisling" every time.

The guilt-ridden Mother's Day card

Am I the only one finding it increasingly difficult to find a Mother's Day card that strikes the right balance of sentiment? Some of these cards lay it on so thick, only a criminal out on parole would find them appealing. I actually feel bad after reading them. They're so heavy with guilt, I feel sorry for anyone who would have to buy one. On the other hand, some cards are so flippant as to be insulting. Would it kill you, Mother's Day card writers, to show a little respect for Mom? It is her day after all (and your biggest pay day, I suspect). How about a card for sons and daughters who aren't complete fuck-ups and don't need to make an annual act of contrition via the Mother's Day card or so disrespectful, ungrateful, and unfunny as to be a slap in the face? Is there really no middle ground for Mom?

The Man in Black

Another creepy dream last night: It's night and I'm living in some ramshackle apartment (not to be confused with the apartment where I currently reside). There are no lights on in my apartment or on the street. Everything is dark. As I pop out of my apartment to dash across the street to pick up something to eat, a van drives by looking for a parking spot. I cannot see the occupants of the van, but I can hear the voices of my parents arguing inside. When I get to the other side of the street I realize that it's very late and that all the stores are closed. I retrace my steps back to my apartment. A few steps into my apartment, I remember that my parents will soon be arriving and return to the front door. As I step out of my apartment again, I'm confronted by a frightening figure: a tall man, dressed head-to-toe in black, his head and face completely obscured by a black beekeeper's-type helmet. The voices of my parents behind this figure aren't exactly reassuring. For a moment, I think it may be my older brother, but I'm not sure.

That's when I woke up. I guess I have a built in defense system that automatically wakes me up when things are getting too creepy. Thank goodness. I wasn't exactly in a hurry to get to know The Man in Black.