Tag Archives: Magic Underpants

Thought you had problems then?

The unwavering disciples of the Prince of Darkness performed a Pink Mass over the grave of Catherine Idalette Johnston, the mother of Westboro Baptist Church founder Fred Phelps Jr.  Westboro has yet to officially comment on the eternal gaying of its leader’s dead mom, but the owner of the cemetery where the ceremony was performed has filed charges with the local police department.


It’s a good thing Mrs. N. isn’t the “I told you so” kind of person.   It isn’t like Mrs. N. didn’t try to warn people when the Fundamentalist Christian scholars over at Liberty University started praying Gay people Straight.  Don’t you remember?  And, it isn’t like she didn’t warn you all about the shenanigans those Mormons get up to out in Salt Lake City with that Mormon Pumpernickel Choir of theirs.  Marrying their dead Mormon relatives to non-Mormon dead people so that they can get into Mormon Heaven (where ever the fuck that is).  Them and their magic underpants and all.

It was only a matter of time until someone put all this religious mumbo-jumbo together.  It was inevitable that Freedom of Religion, that ridiculous notion that America was supposedly founded upon, showed its true colors.  Sure, people of different religious allegiances and persuasions can be expected to hate and kill each other over actual, or, perceived insults, and unavoidable lapses in polite conduct… behavior… manners are all sure to end badly.  That kind of stuff is, more or less, a given.  But, as Mrs. N. knew all along… It was bound to get silly.

“Give them an inch and they will take a yard”  How many times have you heard that said.  Well!  THIS is exactly the kind of shit you get when you let more than one brand of CRAZY, more than one breed of dog, loose in the yard unsupervised.  This is the kind of misbehavior the deeply religious will get up to if you let them… and BOY do we let them!

It’s the same kind of baloney we get up to when we discuss kids.  How many times have you heard it?  “Oh, they are all special in their own way.”    Sure they are.  All special…

Now all this bullshitting each other in the name of Freedom and Liberty is really starting to take its toll on a persons ability to take ANYTHING seriously.   We are beginning to learn that the more times you say yes to crazy… the harder it gets to ever say no.  We are living the nightmare of our own design.  We are adrift, all alone, in our own little flimsy boats in a vast and rolling sea of bullshit.  Anything Goes… as it turns out, in the end, means everything goes.

For all any of you know, tomorrow morning, you could wake up to not only find yourself dead, but, Gay and Mormon TOO!

Don’t you dare say I didn’t warn you.

Kiss, kiss

Mrs. N.









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IN but not OF

This is the very last I hope to be writing about politics for a long time.  The election is over and after months and months of being bombarded with lies and hate and bullshit from every direction I’m tired.  It was a hard time to deal with, I’m sure, for us all, but, I can only try to explain how it was for me in my little corner of America.

I titled this little essay “IN but not OF” because that is exactly how it feels to me to be living in a place that is “in” America, but, not a place that is at all very much “of” America any more.   I live in Central Virginia on the East flank of the Blue Ridge Mountains between Lynchburg and Charlottesville.  I am closer to Lynchburg than I am to Charlottesville and that makes all the difference.  The two cities are separated by about 70 miles of drop-dead gorgeous scenery and more American history than you can shake a stick at.  At the Charlottesville end we have The University of Virginia (Mr. Jefferson’s School), Monticello, the homes of James Madison and James Monroe, Lewis & Clark and, heading south toward Lynchburg, the Rockfish River and the home of “The Walton Family” (Goodnight John-boy).  For a while there Charlottesville was home to more billionaires than any other city in America, but, lately we have acquired a lot more billionaires and now nobody really knows for sure.

At the other end of the road we have Lynchburg.  If one city can be the opposite of another Lynchburg is the opposite of Charlottesville.   Billionaires don’t live in Lynchburg.  When Civil Rights Laws dictated that black people should have the right to swim in the Lynchburg Public Pools the decent, God fearing, people of Lynchburg decided to fill them all in with dirt.  When those same laws dictated that black children had the right to a public education along side white children a young preacher named Jerry Falwell opened up “Christian Academies” for white children only.  Today that little experiment in profiting from fear and discrimination has grown to be “Liberty University”, the largest Evangelical University on the planet.  Gay people are not permitted to attend.  Democrats are not permitted to organize on campus.  Being caught alone with a member of the opposite sex is something that can get you expelled.  Carrying a loaded  gun to class is permitted, but dancing is not.  Lots of famous rich people live in Charlottesville and on more than one occasion in the past ten years it has been named to the list of Best Places to live in America.  Lynchburg has never been on that list and the only rich people in Lynchburg have the last name of Falwell.  It seems that with the untaxed income the Falwell Cartel, I mean Family, has amassed over the years they have reached the point where they own just about everything in Lynchburg.  The earth itself is believed to be between 6 and 10 thousand years old in Lynchburg.  In Charlottesville it is over 4 billion years old.  Lynchburg voted overwhelmingly Republican yesterday and C-ville, that’s what we locals call Charlottesville, voted Democratic.

Lynchburg Virginia is In America, but, it can no longer be said that it is at all representative Of America.  It is a town on its last legs destined to become a living museum of what went wrong with the Republican Party.  Black people are still niggers and gay people are still abominations who have neglected to pray themselves straight and “chosen” to be gay in Lynchburg.  Planned Parenthood was picketed and driven out of town years ago, long before that kind of thing caught on in other culturally backward towns across our great nation.

Charlottesville has a Whole Foods, Trader Jacks, new Wegman’s on the way and every kind of International and ethnic product and produce you ever heard of.  Lynchburg is a food desert.  Last week it was announced that even the local SEARS is closing and the building was purchased by… you guessed it, “Liberty University” to be a civic center for Christian activities.

Now, some people might be wondering why I would want to live anywhere near Lynchburg Virginia.  Why I would want to expose myself to so much hate and down right primitive behavior.  So I will tell you.  Besides the beautiful countryside, absurdly low taxes and fantastic weather there is the opportunity to study a foreign culture, a dying foreign culture, without having to get even one inoculation.

I spoke to a senior in High School this morning.  She told me that the Senior Class voted in a mock election yesterday and President Obama won overwhelmingly.  While Mom and Dad were voting for Old “Magic Underpants” Mitt the younger generation were all for gay marriage, birth control and equal pay for equal work.

Did I mention something about a dying culture?



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Ghost Shirts (again?)

As usual the truth, or, reality if you prefer, turns out to be far more strange than anything you can make up in the way of fiction.

Anyone who reads this blog, or, knows me either personally, or, professionally understands how taken I am with attempting to understand what it means to be human.   How fascinated I am with the little “reality creation” projects that make up such a huge and vitally important part of our existence.   What you see pictured above are Mormon Temple Garments, known to us non-Mormons as “Magic Underpants”.  They are believed, by Mormons, to provide the wearer with spiritual protection and tales are told of Mormons who credit their temple garments with helping them survive car wrecks, fires, and natural disasters.  I have it on the highest authority that Mitt Romney would consider himself naked without them.

Now, here is what tickles the heck out of me this morning.   By the 1890s what was left of the Native American population was on its last leg.  The good Christian descendants of the God Fearing explorers who had lied, murdered and raped their way from coast to coast were about to finish, in the name of Jesus, the genocide begun moments after the first “decent white folks” laid eyes on the rich and so poorly defended real estate we know today as America.  As far as the Native Americans were concerned the writing was on the Tee-Pee and the jig was up.  Their way of life was over and they did what humans do when they realize their way of life is over.  They turned to magic!

A magical religious movement (excuse me for being redundant) arose among what was left of the Native American Tribes. Those who joined this movement were encouraged to believe that through magic and dancing the white man could be made to simply “go away” and that his bullets could be rendered harmless if warriors placed upon themselves magically protective “Ghost Shirts” and rode boldly into battle.  They were known as “Ghost Dancers”.   I bet I don’t have to tell you how well that turned out.

Here is the really funny part.  Can you guess where the Native Americans could possibly have gotten the crazy idea that magic clothing could protect them from harm?

You guessed it and historians and anthropologists specializing in that time period and location point almost unanimously to……. Mormon Magic Underpants!

So, where are we today?  The lies, murder and rape of the planet has continued and there is no end in sight to the damage more time will bring.  Whole nations, cultures and peoples now stand where the Native Americans once stood and like they did they long for someone, some power, to bring back the good times and the security and the power they once enjoyed.   Do they face this calamity with logic?  Do they say to themselves, “We are all in this together and, together, we can make a better and more equitable world”?


They choose to follow a man who wears magic fucking underpants and tells them stories of a magical future where lowering taxes produces more revenue and cutting spending on education produces more jobs.  I wondrous future where eliminating birth control produces less unwanted babies instead of more.  A magical land where we will ALL be rich if we can all just learn to blame the poor for anything that goes wrong….. And the minorities….. And the Chinese…… And the blacks…..  And the Government regulations…..

What’s left of that tribe once known as “The Middle Class” will soon learn what the Native Americans did.  Life on the Reservation ain’t all the Great White Father in Washington promised it would be.

Oh, and there ain’t know such thing as magic.


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Embarrassing Moments

I’m having one of those long, drawn out, embarrassing moments again.  Episode is probably a better word for it and even that doesn’t convey accurately what I am feeling because deep in my gut I know that this isn’t really going to end.  I will have times of diversion and there will be times when my mind is so occupied with other things that I will temporarily forget where I am and, more importantly, what I am.  I’m human and I’m an American.  Today I can’t forget either.  I understand that as a red blooded American I should be feeling “Exceptional”.   I DO!

Children are our future.

Unfortunately, the only thing exceptional I feel is exceptionally embarrassed.   That’s the whole damn problem with self awareness.   You can’t hide everything from yourself all the time.  A lot of the time you can, but, not all the time.

I watched the debate last night between the Kenyan and the White guy with the “Magic Underpants”.  To be more accurate I should say I watched a little of the debate and then went to bed.  There were so many things about it that I just couldn’t stand.  One of them was the people in the audience, who provided the questions.  People who just couldn’t quite make up their mind yet.  So, after being bombarded with information 24/7 and exposed relentlessly to the enormous philosophical differences between these two characters….. what kind of a mental midget says… “Jeepers, I just can’t decide.”?  I’ll tell you what kind.  The kind I don’t waste my time listening to.

So, I went to bed with a book and learned that there are approximately 50,000 nuclear bombs in the world and that if just 1% of them were set off it would probably render this earth of ours uninhabitable for humans.  So you have to ask yourself, where the hell did we get the idea that humans are “intelligent creatures”?  When you are done with that beauty ask yourself how the Bozos debating last night ever came to the conclusion that an economy…. ANY ECONOMY…. dealing with the finite resources of a closed system planet with a rapidly growing population could continue to GROW FOREVER?

I stopped to get a cup of coffee this morning and the young lady behind the counter called me Sugar.  They do that down South all the time.  Call you Sugar, or, Honey Bunch, or, some other equally cute name, but, that’s not the point.  The point is she had holes in her earlobes about an inch across that were kept open by short lengths of white PVC pipe that had been cut to fit, probably by her boyfriend.  Personally I think it detracted from the spider & spider web tattoo on her neck.  As I turned away she sold a hard pack of Marlboro Reds to the next Sugar in line.

I remembered the National Geographic magazines that used to have pictures of natives with bones in their noses and big plates in their lips and I thought….. soon.

I seem to remember a man once walked on the moon.  It was an American kind of man.  Dang, you would never know it to look at us now.


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I am in the middle of one of those “end of the rope” days.  I can’t watch TV any more.  Went out yesterday to buy some food, ravioli to be exact, because I had a hankering for them. We were out of wine and a few other necessities of life, so, like an idiot I’m off to the Wal-Mart.  That’s where it began this time, and the “times” are getting so close together that it’s getting scary.

Outside Wal-Mart a well dressed man about my age is pestering everybody to give donations for “homeless veterans”.  Now, on pure principal I hate people who stand around with their hand out collecting for this or that… I don’t give a shit WHAT it is… I just can’t stand it.  I guess the guy could read my face as I passed by, so, he goes into a bit about how much we owe to those who “keep us safe”.  That was it for me.  I asked him what he was doing there pestering people for money.  I suggested he round up some of his friends with no arms, or, no legs and hang out with the recruiters that stalk the halls of our High Schools fishing for suckers.  Fishing for more warm bodies to grease the wheels of the obscene WAR MACHINE my country has become.  The kicker was he was wearing a [ROMNEY] button.  Romney being the deranged presidential candidate who thinks we should be spending MORE on the military.

Now, I do not call that creepy bastard “deranged” lightly.

In my book ANYBODY who thinks wearing underpants with magic symbols on them will protect them from demons is a screwball… full stop!  Anybody who thinks the universe runs on “magic” and that people come back from the dead is crazy as a bedbug.  Well,… That’s Mitt Romney.

What I have had enough of, or, more than I can stand, is this ridiculous idea that it is wrong to question, or judge a person by their…. wait for it… FAITH.  

Pardon my language, but, FUCK THAT!  So lets say we all go to a magic show.  There is a guy up on the stage pulling rabbits out of his hat and he finishes by sawing a woman in half and then putting her back together again.  What would you think of me if you got the idea that I believed it was really magic?  If I told you that magic was real?  Would you trust me with your future, or, the future of your country?  THAT is why I feel the way I do about Mitt Romney AND each and every other person who prefers to get their truth revealed to them through one fucking kind of Scripture or another.  Their heads are soft.  Their porch lights are out.

The simple fact that Fat Bastards like this miserable excuse for a human being could SUCCESSFULLY parlay total bullshit into political power and hundreds of millions of dollars makes me embarrassed to be human.  The fact that we are told it is impolite to speak ill of another persons absurd religious “beliefs” … OF THE ABSURDITY OF ALL RELIGIOUS BELIEFS…  but instead, cast the stink-eye at science and scientists, BUT, accept as truth, what is to anybody with half an ounce of brains, total bullshit is more than I find I can put up with at my age.  It makes me rather certain we are a failed experiment in biological evolution.  Then I turn on the TV and I have to see fucking morons like this….

How did it EVER come to this?  I’m thinking the best thing that could happen on this planet is OUR extinction.   That and the idea that absolutely ANYBODY who has a uniform is a hero is just pissing me off to no end.




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First of all this isn’t a joke.  This is my opinion of the reality I appear to be caught in, like an insect in a spider web.  Politically, economically and culturally my country is in the crapper.   The whole world is in the crapper.  It’s the 21st Century, for Pete’s sake, and most of the “Big Brained” primates infesting this mud ball still think it runs on supernatural bullshit from the sky, revealed in farcical books and interpreted by con-men, lunatics and sociopaths.   I think you know the type.  The Falwells and the Ayatollah Khomeinis and the piss-ants like Santorum and Old “Magic Underpants” Mitt.

So, just when I figure things are about as fucked up as they can get for a guy like me… just trying to be left in peace to fart around, keep the place tidy and respectable… what do I get?   AXIRON

“Start your day with AXIRON the only underarm testosterone treatment.”

OK, I guess I have no right to be such a big baby about this because for 50 years they sold women on the idea that natural aging was a disease that required experimental hormone therapy.  Now that that fiasco has crashed and burned I guess it’s time to see how stupid and vain men can be for pharmaceutical fun and profit.  But, that isn’t the really scary part.

What is the most important information I should know about AXIRON?

AXIRON can transfer from your body to others. This can happen if other people come into contact with the area where the AXIRON was applied. Signs of puberty that are not expected (for example, pubic hair) have happened in young children who were accidentally exposed to testosterone through skin-to-skin contact with men using topical testosterone products like AXIRON. Women and children should avoid contact with the unwashed or unclothed area where AXIRON has been applied. If a woman or child makes contact with the application area, the contact area on the woman or child should be washed well with soap and water right away.

The phrase “you Betcha!” comes to mind.

But in the end we all know this is going to end very badly.  If you have any doubts, dig this.  AXIRON “instructions” call for users to “prime the pump”, so to speak, by discharging the applicator 2 or 3 times into the sink or toilet.  Then, immediately,  wash the receptacle down with soap and water.  It’s powerful stuff.  It has “staying power” if you know what I mean and you WILL follow those instructions ladies.  I hope.  At least until I’m dead and gone and, as hormones will, they make their way into the water supply.  Then, of course, you will all start to look more and more each day like you stared in one of those National Geographic Specials with Jane Goodall.  The children will really be something to see as the hairy little bastards, crippled as they already are with Attention Deficit Disorder, asthma, autism, allergies (I will just quit with the A’s if nobody minds) careen around the classroom on roller-skates, eating bananas, cussing out their elders and only answering to names like Mr. Zippy and Lil Bosco.

Remember, testosterone is a controlled substance that has long been shown to cause rage reactions.  What a positive BOON to mankind and human relations that will be!  Take a moment and picture it with me.  Hairy women, men with perpetual erections itching for a fight and children masturbating in the tree-tops, refusing to come down to do their homework.

This will be what the guy up top will look like, from the neck down, by then.  If I’m out of here in the nick of time the undertaker will remember me as the last guy he didn’t have any problem closing the lid of the coffin on.  As always… timing is everything.

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It takes a Hitler?


George Santayana once said:

“Progress, far from consisting in change, depends on retentiveness. Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.”

I think that is mostly crap.  I think that there are only so many plays in the play book that work… and the coaches, spectators and players all know it.  Repeats are a given in the game of governing man.  ”Retentiveness”, never being 20/20, is always colored by the what ifs and the hope that Springs Eternal within the breast of every budding megalomaniac.

     Somewhere, out there in this vast and proud land of ours, you would be wise to realize, the “Candidates” are thinking and making their plans.

 I went to bed early last night, troubled in mind with the plight of America.  My nation and home to eight generations of my progenitors was unraveling and becoming as economically nonviable as it was culturally ungovernable.  As I drifted, uncomfortably, into a state of immobility and altered consciousness I was transported into a new and proudly different America.

     My vision was never entirely clear, but, the gist of the reality was that America had become an “Economo-Theocratic Totalitarian State.  There were pictures of what appeared to be Mitt Romney everywhere.  It wasn’t until later that I learned, in bits and pieces, how it all came to pass.  How information technology and Mass-Media, under the control of international Mormon financial trusts and armed with the science of social engineering tamed the cultural mutt that America had become.

     In the early fall of 2011, unemployment rates above 20% and China’s announcement that they would, henceforth, no longer be bankrolling America precipitated a financial collapse the government was helpless to contain.  In panic, mobs of gun toting citizens looted grocery stores and delivery trucks.  The streets of America hemorrhaged with the blood of its citizens.  Local authorities were helpless to restore order.  It was then that the earthquake hit San Francisco with the largest one day loss of life in modern history.

     It was a day that had been foretold.  One group and one group alone had prepared by stockpiling one years worth of foodstuffs for their extended families.  One group had planned and infiltrated the executive offices and Board Rooms of key media, energy, software, transportation and computer manufacturing corporations. David Neeleman,  CEO of JetBlue,  Stewart Nelson of Novell Technology,  James Peterson CEO, Microsemi Corp. (military components),  Kevin B. Rollins former CEO, Dell Computer,  Brent Scowcroft (former National Security Advisor),  L.E. Simmons, Chairman Oil States International (a leading provider of specialty products and services to oil and gas drilling and production companies throughout the world.)…

One group alone was prepared.  They had been preparing for decades.  They were The Mormons.

 Tales and stories of “The Dark Months” that followed the collapse of American Civilization were known to all.  The Holy Video of Jesus Christ, hand delivering the Golden Tablets with “New” Commandments for God’s Children on Earth to the Elder Counsel in Salt Lake City played continuously on television for weeks.  Miracles occurred daily and were extensively investigated and reported upon by Mormon controlled media outlets.  The day of the Church of Latter-Day Saints had come to pass.  America’s only home grown brand of Christianity,  with millions of youthful operatives called “Missionaries” already in the field, restored order by distributing food and proclaiming “The Beginning Times” .  Jesus had returned.  His return had signified a new beginning for mankind and a new dawn for America.   Millions, drunk on religion, flocked to the Mormon fold and were absorbed.  It was then that the Elders announced who God had chosen to lead His people to prosperity undreamed of and everlasting.

As in all dreams, this one was convoluted, twisted and didn’t always make sense.  I remember it now as flashes of insight and fragments of scenes I witnessed or took part in myself.  The burning of the beauty parlors and the open condemnation of all things judged to be unmanly or unwomanly.  The news reports that only Mormons escaped the Divine devastation of San Francisco unscathed.  Multitudes of humanity dressed alike.  Men in dark dress slacks, white shirts and dark ties.  Women in long skirts with long braids down their back and the reintroduction of plural marriage for corporate CEOs and Military commanders.

My head swam.  The endless parades of “Saints” (missionaries) and “Heros” (military personnel) and the incessant blaring of old Donny & Marie Osmond records from loud speakers made concentration impossible.  Everyone smiled.  Everyone went to church.  Everyone worked where the church assigned them and all were fed through the beneficence of The Church of Latter-Day Saints.  Not to be “of the Church” was not to partake of the “New Beginning”.  Not to be “of the Church” and its teachings and its leadership was to sabotage God’s plan.  Not to be “of the Church” was, sooner rather than later, not to be.

I remember running and running, with hot fear rising in my throat, from smiling pictures of Mitt Romney.  On every TV, on every billboard, on posters pasted to flat surfaces everywhere it was Mitt.. MITT… MITT!  I had just heard the stories of the camps where homosexuals, coffee & tea drinkers, unwed mothers and those found in possession of Grateful Dead records were being detained for re-education.

 My lungs were on fire.  I had just escaped a gang of identically dressed missionaries who had been tailing me all day.  I stood beneath a huge sign, on a hilltop outside Los Angeles.  With no memory of how I had begun, or why, I found myself drawing a black Hitler mustache on a poster of Mitt Romney affixed to one of the supports of the giant white letters that loomed above me.  It was at that moment that I felt my pants yanked down around my knees.  I heard the youthful voice proclaim…   “Just as we thought!  NO magic Mormon underpants!  AND COMMITTING BLASPHEMY!  We must bring him to the Elders of the Church immediately.  ”Mitt preserve us.”  Said the one and all others followed suit.  

As they dragged me down the mountain to a waiting Church van with red, white and blue lights blinking on top, I caught my first glimpse of the sign on the mountain from far enough away to make out its meaning.   

 It read  [HOLLYWOOD].  The once palatial homes that made up the neighborhood where the Church van was idling in wait had been looted and most had been burned.  The van door slammed.  I was told to pray.  

  I awoke in my own bed with my heart racing and in a cold sweat.  My hands were trembling.  There were black magic marker stains all over my fingers.

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