Don’t Allow Organized Religion to Stand in the Way of Your Faith

Knowledgeable historians believe Christ was born sometime around Easter, and crucified sometime around Christmas, and the string religious spin-offs have been back-asswards ever since.  

Rev. Phillip G. Kayser, who proudly endorses Ron Paul for president, believes in the mass execution of homosexuals as being something justified by the bible based on the Book of Leviticus – so that makes it OK?  When will it be OK to start calling the extreme right-wing exactly what they really are?  Fascists.  Neo-cons are becoming frighteningly similar to Nazis.  There, I said it.  They – their words – actions and deeds bare NO resemblance whatsoever to the teachings of Christ. Such is the religious right.
 
I suspect Ron Paul in his own private thoughts, doesn’t care one way or the other about Christianity or any other religion for that matter, but he IS a nihilist who would destroy the United States government for the sheer pleasure of doing so – offering nothing as a substitute in it’s place.  Furthermore, he’ll accept an endorsement from anyone under the precept that libertarianism means anyone can do anything they want to – including harming and excluding other people, because freedom belongs only to those who agree with him.  Ron Paul is a serious contender for winning the Iowa Caucus, January 3rd, and that is terrifying.

Dr. Paul has a history of non-apologetically accepting endorsements from Neo-Nazi organizations like ‘Stormfront’ and acting as if there’s nothing wrong with doing-so – using double-talk to weasel his way out of taking responsibility for his actions.  After all, he’s a libertarian, and shouldn’t be held accountable for anything.  It’s his right to idiocy.

Sure, why not?  Drink a glass of tainted raw milk, see if I care…

So it should come as no surprise that a lunatic like Rev. Phillip G. Kayser, Ph.D. – (Philosopher of Dogshit) would endorse the Ron Paul campaign while waiving the banner of death to all homosexuals.  The more I see of religion, the more convinced I become that I will never allow organized religion to get in the way of my faith.  I’ve come to believe that organized religion is the crutch of the weak-minded who require explanations for that which cannot be explained.  

There are a lot of problems with taking any religious text written thousands of years ago with it’s origins in oral tradition – handed-down for countless generations and reinterpreted with ‘tweaks’ here and there incorporating whatever bias pleased various interpreters along the way – and then pass it off as God’s own “word.” This can only create a world akin to the child’s game of ‘whisper-down-the-barrel’ where the “faithful” try to apply their ideological mythology to laws governing us all and retrofit whatever definition of relevance is most convenient toward justifying their ’cause.’  Only certain basic principals of our ancient texts relate to the contemporary world – take ‘Thou Shalt Not Kill’ for instance.  A concept lost on the dogmatic faithful who favor extermination of anyone who disagrees with their illogical fantasy world, rushing to war and clinging to guns while pretending to worship the Prince of Peace.  Ron Paul’s own newsletter once included an article about how to best kill a black youth and destroy the evidence – as a paranoid solution to car-jacking.

To Dr. Paul’s credit he is openly anti-war, however, it’s almost to the point of international isolationism.  But what kind of outcome does he think will result from welcoming endorsements from hate-groups and fringe religious cults?   

America has a frightening and noisy faction of regressive thinkers who want to fuse America’s Constitutional laws with religious texts.  This is the exact same brand of lunacy that has caused some Muslim nations to have so much difficulty assimilating into the rhythms and logic of the more sophisticated industrialized world.  It’s also WHY the Framers of OUR Constitution insisted on the Separation of Church and State. 


Curiously enough the same Americans who hate Muslims, are doing their level best to become the mirror image of everything they proclaim to despise ABOUT Muslims.  These are the same people taking-up the imaginary cause of banning Sharia law, when the execution of homosexuals is one of the most notorious and backward-thinking tenets Sharia Law.  What’s next?  Guidelines on what size and shape of stone to use when stoning people to death?  Or how to correctly beat one’s wife or wives?  Those handy little tips are part of the Qur’an, and no sane Muslim I’ve ever met ascribes to them.  And no sane Christian or Jew should cling to the more violent and archaic “teachings” of the old testament. Religious texts were written by men, edited over the centuries by other flawed human beings – and are not edicts written directly from the invisible hand of anyone’s God – and that includes Christ.  Christ never wrote anything in His own words or defence.

Organized religion of all stripes are collectively the most destructive force working against a peaceful world, providing once and for all conclusive evidence that the devil hides in plain sight.

Dangerously stupid religious cults like the one known as “The Family” located in Washington, DC’s House On ‘C’ Street (where House Speaker, John Boehner lives) have already spurred a Holocaust of killings and torturings of homosexuals in Africa.  This has led to threats of executions to those who harbor or hide homosexuals – all as a result of The Family’s “missionary” work, specifically in Uganda.  The ‘C’ Street’s ‘Family” receives a tax exemption as a religious organization.  Curiously enough, the House on ‘C’ Street has also served as an assignation site for extra-marital affairs by Capitol Hill Republicans outwardly committed to ‘family values.’  But that’s heterosexual misconduct, and only exposed when hit by sunlight – leaving politicians scrambling like insects from under a rock.

Are we to believe that Dick Cheney’s lesbian daughter, Mary – or Newt Gingrich’s lesbian half-sister Candice are to be burned at the stake or given lethal injections if Ron Paul’s supporters get their way?  Is Richard Simmons really all that threatening?  Are we a nation who will allow the minority of hateful loud-mouths like those of the Westboro Baptist Church to set the tone for America?   In case you forgot, the Westboro Baptist Church sends protestors pumped full of hatred to disrupt the funerals of fallen soldiers and harass families grieving over a loved one who died of AIDS.

Why do the thoughtless loudmouths like Qur’an-burning pastor, Rev. Terry Jones take-up so much of our national attention?  And now we have the wrong Rev. Phillip G. Kayser, Senior Pastor of Dominion Covenant Church in Omaha, Nebraska having his own, slimy dark-day in the sun.

If history has taught us anything (presuming anyone pays attention to history) hate groups have a way of hypnotizing the weak-minded and uneducated into joining their fold.  Interesting how the Department of Education is one of the first government agencies slated to be cut as a ‘cost-saving’ measure by ALL the Republican presidential hopefuls.  Nothing could be costlier in the long run than a stupid, superstitious and uneducated populace.  They’re already on the rise.  I’ve had just about enough from the religious right.  As I’ve heard it said, “Climb down off the cross, we need the wood.” 

WinnieToons’ Annual Tasteless Gay Christmas Story

 

I received a text Christmas morning from my old friend Robert that read:  

“Enjoy your traditional Christmas tree toss.” 

Robert is one of those unforgettable people from my past who has an embarrassment of ‘dish’ about my personal history.  I had to stop and think for a minute what the hell was he was talking about, when it struck me… Robert was referring to an incident from days long gone-by, and I couldn’t help but let loose a belly laugh.  Reflecting on that long forgotten incident, it seemed anything but funny at the time – at least not to me – but some situations require the passage of time to fully ripen the bouquet of their absurdity.

There used to be a singing pretty-boy here in Philadelphia who I never took much notice-of.  He was blond and much too pretty to be a man.  His hair was thinning, and he went to great lengths to try and disguise the fact.  But while I knew him, he was still getting away with an undetectable comb-over.  I only knew him to say ‘hello,’ but I didn’t know him well.

One happy hour at Woody’s Bar, the pretty-man, Calvin Quinn, clearly a cocktail or 2 over his limit, started to hang all over me making it abundantly clear he had placed me in his cross-hairs.  It was a week or so before Halloween, and I was only out for a drink not necessarily looking to hook-up – but if cheap, easy sex was landing right there in my lap, I figured, why not go for it?  He wasn’t my type, but after a few cocktails in bar-light it’s surprising what kind of guy becomes my type.

Not knowing all that much about Calvin, he nevertheless joined Robert, and another friend, Joe and me in an unexplainable Halloween group-costume as trashy showgirls running in and out of a series of parties.  Robert being the sexiest of us had his costume half-off midway through the evening advertising his gym-toned physique and drunkenly begging men to push him up a juke-box.  The evening ended with Robert and Joe sharing or rather fighting-over an inebriated stud-muffin while Calvin came back to my house to scrub-off our make-up.  

In no time at all, Calvin and I had become – to my surprise – no – make that my dismay – a budding romantic “couple.” We went to my place regularly and did what passed for the ‘wild-thing.’  He was very pretty, but pretty men have never been my preference.  He was too pink and rosy – too soft like an inflated Playtex rubber glove.  And his eyes when he drank, took-on the bloodshot look of a laboratory rat.  But everyone raved about how ‘adorable’ he was, and so I started to believe what other people were telling me, rather than listening to my own instincts and tastes.  That said, I try to keep an open mind about people, and in those days was often guilty of compromising my standards when it came to getting laid.  Calvin was very full of himself, basking in self-importance, fancying himself as having a certain local celebrity-status – if only in his own mind.  He was an actor, model and song-stylist – gay chanteuse is a more accurate description.  For Calvin, having an unconventional artist-boyfriend both complimented his self-image and his outfits.  Like most of my relationships, this one wasn’t well thought-out.  

None of them have been.  

I meet a guy at a bar, have a drink, bed ‘em and the next thing I know, I’m the other half of an “item.”  At least I didn’t allow this dude to move in with me.  Calvin had a roommate, which made him self-conscious about doing the deed at his own apartment.   He also had 2 spiteful little designer terriers who took an immediate dislike to my gentle little mutt named Buddy.  

Did I say Calvin didn’t move in with me?  Well that’s not entirely true.  Within days he had a key, toothbrush, contact solution, and various items of clothing strewn all over my house, not to mention those evil little devil-dogs, who were forever tormenting my sweet little Buddy.  Calvin started foisting-off his demon-dogs on me because he was always too lazy, too busy or too hung-over to walk them.  I could walk those spiteful little monsters to Montreal and back, and they’d still piss all over my sofa or crap on my bedspread as soon as we got back to my house.  “Cute” as they were, they’d be looking me right in the eye, wagging their little tails as dark pools of liquid spread beneath them on my living room upholstery.  Because they were nasty little things, I had to separate them from my junkyard mutt, Buddy for his own safety.  He was far better behaved with an infinitely better disposition, and I didn’t like him being attacked.

It was early October when Calvin’s and my “relationship” took-hold and no sooner had Halloween melded into Thanksgiving, than it was quickly becoming too late to break-up with him before Christmas.  I was allowing myself to be led, for which I have only myself to blame.  Through a misplaced sense of honor, I had myself convinced I was going to have to endure this emotional mistake right through the holidays, and figure out how to set myself free at a later date.  It’s poor-form to break-up with anyone right before Christmas.  I pride myself on not being like other guys – I at least attempt to be honorable.  Not a wise strategy when you’re the only one playing by antiquated Victorian rules of conduct.   

As the holiday season progressed Calvin would be at a theater somewhere playing the straight male ingenue in a local musical production – or taking gigs in cabaret theater which was enjoying a resurgence in certain circles.  To his own group of friends, musical theater was akin to religious faith, and everyone HAD to go to New York to see the latest Broadway production of whatever current show was the talk of the town – whether they could afford to or not.  Fashion and style were tantamount to social worthiness – both subjects under normal circumstances were topics I find completely off-putting.  But like a man who’d boarded the wrong express train, I was in a relationship and clueless as to how I might honorably jump-off that train without getting a concussion. I also freely admit to being nothing short of a coward when it comes to hurting other people’s feelings.   

I should have been clued-in when it became clear that Calvin didn’t really like having sex.  He just liked having me play the role of ‘boyfriend.’  We’d start doing the deed, and then he’d suddenly feign exhaustion or worse – take a phone call from another theater-queen and yack-away about who was currently rumored to be replacing Patti LuPone in ‘Evita.’  I’d be sound asleep by the time one of these theater calls were over.  I was occupying the placeholder-spot as the ‘boyfriend,’ and there are few benefits to being cast in that kind of role.  Still, I felt it was only polite to wait until after the holidays to bring this travesty to it’s logical conclusion.  I’m such a wimp.

On Calvin’s non-performing evenings I’d be dragged off to parties held by a friend of his – a wealthy, local, eccentric dentist who surrounded himself with musical theater people.  Everyone was fake, giving each other air-kisses and swooning over how FAB-U-LOUS each-other looked in that color, that hat, that outfit, that new hairstyle…  It was ”dahling’ this and ‘dahling’ that…

The women in Calvin’s cadre of theatrical devotees swore undying love to him, making ‘kissie-lips’ at him bulging with botox. Their mugs were shoveled full of make-up applied to faces snapped-back so tight by plastic surgeons, their smiles tended to expose involuntary grins full of capped and bleached teeth – probably the work of the singing dentist.  Everyone’s eyebrows, including the men had that look of eminent surprise, penciled-on a bit too high or merely displaced by the surgeons knife in an effort to keep everyone looking smooth and young(ish).

The men, if that’s what you wanted to call them, tended to be on the younger side, lean and dressed to accentuate their round, dancing musical comedy bubble-butts – poured into tightly tailored pants.  Out of place, I found myself the unintentional witness to a subculture I didn’t think existed outside of vintage movie musicals.  I was acutely out of my element.

The gay dentist’s dinner parties were among the most peculiar spectacles I’d ever witnessed.  People didn’t gather around a normal dining table in his posh Society Hill townhouse, but rather, everyone was seated at separate tables designed to accommodate 2 to 4 people while waiters brought drinks and food.  A pianist would be playing Cole Porter or Gershwin when our dental-host would pick-up a microphone and begin to sing in a less than professionally-trained voice that loosened the fillings in my teeth.  Maybe that was how he drummed-up business… 

Your first time dining at the good dentist’s home was always the most traumatic.  Just as you put a forkful of food in your mouth, a spotlight would be aimed your direction, blinding you as if you were about to be sucked-up and abducted by a Stephen Spielberg spaceship.  Seasoned guests acted like all this was perfectly normal, as our host would start scat-singing “Tonight-a we, doobbley-doo-ba delight in-a-in-a-in-a wel-com-ingggggg-doo-wah our newest guest, Beihl-a Beihl-a BEIHL – a skooby do wha-pow!”

What just happened?, I thought to myself as food drizzled down my chin, my mouth having fallen open in shock.  

Our host continued with microphone still in hand… “Beihl, Calvin tells us you play a little piano.”  I furiously shook my head in a gesture indicating NO-WAY trying not to choke myself to death on what I hadn’t yet swallowed.  Suddenly there was a thunder of applause as I felt my elbow being lifted urging me toward the keyboard.  I used to play a little piano, but I was never what you’d call good. And it had been years since I’d sat down in front of the ivories to try and hammer out a melody.  But the applause didn’t abate…  In a dream-like state of hallucination, I found myself scared-shitless, sitting in front of a keyboard which had been surrendered to me by the professional pianist.  Wanting to bring this embarrassment to an end as soon as possible, I trans-channeled my inner Victor Borge and played a discordant version of “Peg ‘O My Heart” intentionally played in 2 conflicting, dissonant key-signatures creating a musical effect that could make dogs to howl and mirrors shatter.  I thought it was funny.

I received a polite smattering of bewildered applause and floated back to my table confident nothing of the sort would ever happen to me again.  It was like an out-of-body experience.  I have no idea how I returned to my table.  Calvin was looking at me with stern recrimination.  “You can actually play, Beihl, why the hell did you do something like that?  You’ve totally embarrassed me in front of all my friends.”  

Defending myself, I replied, “Because I don’t like being put on the spot, and I’m NOT a professional musician.”  He gave me a condescending pat on my hand and reassured me some of the dinner guests might have realized I was trying to be funny – but performing at the singing dentist’s house was serious business to Calvin.

No sooner had I settled back to eating my meal than another blinding spotlight hit our table.  The singing dentist with mike-in-hand encouraged more applause coaxing Calvin up onto the stage….

I was left wondering what kind of person installs a stage and theatrical lighting in a multilevel dining room in the first place…? 

Up Calvin sprang jumping onto the stage, grabbing the mike like a seasoned-pro and whispered a word or two to the pianist, then speaking into the mike said, “I’d like to dedicate this song to my new boyfriend, Beihl…” and with that, another spotlight with a blue-filter blinded me in an other-worldly hue while I was trying to inconspicuously chew and swallow my food.  Calvin launched into a reasonably competent medley of sappy romantic ballads while I sat there stricken with a mouthful of dinner unable to swallow feeling all eyes were upon me as he warbled away…

“Embrace me, my sweet embraceable you
Embrace me, you irreplaceable you
just one look at you my heart grew tipsy in me
You and you alone bring out the gypsy in me…”

What the fuck is he singing about?  He hadn’t put out in over a week, let alone like a gypsy.  I was considering crawling under the skirted table until this ungodly, humiliation was over…  It was bad enough he was giving me blue-balls in our private life, but why in the world was he broadcasting his supposed passion for me to the entire room like we were in a serious romance?

After the dinner party, things were a bit tense between us, but Calvin said he wanted to make-it-up to me.  “Let’s go back to my apartment tonight, we can get the dogs and it’ll be a different setting – a change of pace.”  

Stopping back at my house, Calvin’s awful little dogs were merrily pulling the stuffing out of my sofa while my poor dog, Buddy sat there with his ears down, doing his best canine impersonation of innocence.  It wasn’t necessary.  I KNEW which dogs were the culprits.  “Don’t they look cute?” Calvin said, “That piece needed reupholstering any way.”  And off we went to Calvin’s apartment on the other side of town with me thinking to myself “why am I allowing this relationship to continue?”  Then recalling it was almost Christmas, and it’s really poor form to break-off a relationship right before the holidays.

At Calvin’s apartment we finally did the deed, with him making an unusually dramatic series of erotic noises, clearly disturbing the roommate he’d feigned not wanting to disturb.  His moans and outcries in the name of “Oh God, OH GOD, OH GOD!” seemed a little too theatrical to me.  Yeah, it was sex, and yeah, sex is fun, but is it necessary to broadcast to the entire apartment building what we were up to?  I wasn’t aware of it at the time, but I later learned Calvin’s roommate wasn’t just a roommate, but his ex-lover who he was still living with out of financial necessity.  The moans were less about MY performance and more intended for the sadistic audience-appreciation of his ex-lover’s ears – but I wasn’t cued-in at the time.  I’ve since made it a rule never to date theater folk.  You never know when they’re play-acting or acting for real – if ‘real’ is even in their repertoire.

So it came as no surprise when Calvin’s ex-lover made a scene at the breakfast table the following morning, insisting that Calvin be “OUT OF THIS GODDAMN FUCKING APARTMENT BY THE END OF THE WEEK.”  And no, I did NOT offer to let him to move-in with me.  I was gonna dodge that bullet at all costs.  There was however, a little apartment around the corner from me that was immediately available, so I went from boyfriend to furniture-mover, to wall-painter and back to dog-sitter all in the course of one hectic week.  Against my better judgement, we had keys to each others places so the demon dogs could be dropped off if he had a late curtain – as Christmas crept closer and closer…

I did a sketch of his awful little dogs and framed it.  That should be sufficient, I thought, and placed it gift-wrapped under the Christmas tree in Calvin’s apartment.  The same Christmas tree that I’d had to carry on my back, saw-off the trunk to level-it-up and set into the base without much useful assistance.  The same tree I’d had to string full of lights and prune to perfection so the shape would be ideal to feature Calvin’s prized collection of antique mercury-glass ornaments and old-fashioned strings of beads.  After vacuuming-up the excess pine needles, I said to Calvin, “Let’s get naked.”  His reply floored me:

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that Beihl.  I don’t want to make love again until you tell me you love me.”

“Say WHAT…?!!!” I replied.  “I didn’t have to tell you I loved you the night we met at Woody’s. I didn’t have to tell you I loved you when you were torturing your ex-roommate – besides, we’ve only known each other 2 and half months.”  Love is a serious topic, and I knew full-well I was only putting-up with this bogus relationship out of cowardice and sexual convenience, which wasn’t working out all that well for me…  Besides, if he wanted ME to tell HIM I loved him, why wasn’t he initiating the subject by telling ME he loved ME?  It was 2 days away from Christmas Eve, and my plan was to regroup my thinking and decide whether to break-it-off after Christmas or wait until after New Year’s Eve.  In all honesty, I wanted a ‘friends-with-benefits’ arrangement, not a “serious” Hollywood romance.

We had a quarrelsome non-argument, where I was preached-to about the true meaning of commitment and how the holidays were the perfect time to commit to a deeper sort of love.  I admit to cowardice of the first order, but I’ll only admit to being just so much of a fool and nothing more – I was not about to tell anyone I was in love when I wasn’t.  I was, however, cowed into putting on a jacket and tie and cajoled into attending another musical extravaganza Christmas dinner-party at the singing dentist’s house.  The discussion about love was temporarily tabled.

In no time at all, I was back in that surreal theater-set dining room.  I even acquiesced to sitting down at the piano and playing a little rendition of ‘When Sunny Gets Blue.’  I’d made it a point to never learn any Christmas carols.  I can’t think of a single Christmas carol I genuinely like.  Christmas carols get inside your head like an ear-wick rotting your brains and never giving you peace, forcing you to hear passages playing over and over again in your mind…  When I finished my number, a portly woman wearing fashions she couldn’t logistically carry-off, leaned into the piano and said “Do you know ‘What I Did For Love?'” All I could say was, “Madam, I shudder to think…” and I headed back to my cabaret table.



No sooner was I seated than those blinding spotlights were on us again.  It was like having dinner while being the subject of a police air search.  Tonight’s lights were a triad of rotating red, white and green snowflakes piercing their extraterrestrial beam directly at our table.  The singing dentist with microphone in hand announced “We have a special surprise tonight, Calvin Quinn and Philadelphia musical new-comer, Bobby LaCroix are going to treat us with a duet of Baby It’s Cold Outside.'”

Applause. Applause. Applause.  

Calvin and some perfect stranger both hopped-up on stage, together with a lighting-effect snow-fall for a backdrop.  On the count of three, two pretty boys sharing one mike started singing with piano accompaniment..

I really I cant stay
(but baby its cold outside)
I’ve got to go away
(but baby its cold outside)
this evening has been sooo ver-ry nice
(I’ll hold your hands there just like ice…)

The singing dentist sauntered over to my table and sat down in Calvin’s chair.  “Calvin tells me you two are falling in love.”  I choked at the sheer in-artful surprise of his comment.  “Love is a serious subject,” I replied,  “not to be taken lightly.”  Calvin and Bobby LaCroix warbled-away in the background…

my mother will start to worry!
(beautiful what’s your hurry?)
and father will be pacing with fury
(listen to that fireplace roar)
so really I’d better scurry!
(beautiful please don’t hurry)
well maybe just a half a drink more
(put some records on while I pour…)

Having had several single-malt Scotches, I asked the well-meaning singing dentist, “What do you see in all these people?” Feeling bold, I continued, “They invade your house and take your hospitality for granted, and I can’t imagine that a single one of them so much as sends you a thank-you note.”  He gave me that RCA Victor dog look, so I went on… “Hey, it’s none of my business,” I said “but it looks to me like you spend a small fortune on these dinner parties, and I can’t help but wonder if you’re not buying yourself a house full of shallow friendships.”

“I am,” he told me, “I have fantasy friends where I can create a moment in time where all of life seems just like the old supper clubs of days gone by.”

“Are you happy?” I asked him.  “No,” he answered, “are you?”  He stood-up, smiled and greeted another guest.  By this time Calvin and Bobby were winding-up with a big finish demonstrating the chemistry of their stage presence bringin’ it home in perfect 2-part harmony:
“But baby it’s COLD OUTSIDE.”
Calvin bounced back to our table.  “Honey, you really don’t look like you’re having a very good time.  Do you feel OK?” — “I’m fine.” I answered, but Calvin continued…  “You really don’t have to stay.  I know you don’t quite ‘get’ this crowd of people.  If you want to go home and walk the dogs, I’ll understand, and we’ll make love in the morning, I promise.”

“Bobby LaCroix is really very good.”  I added carefully watching his reaction.  “And very cute, but how old is he?”  

“He’s a sweetheart,” Calvin answered.  “He’s just a baby starting college at Curtis Institute.  He’ll be 18 on January 15th.” —- “I thought he seemed a little too young for this jaded hen-house full of musical comedy wannabees.” 
“Don’t be mean, Beihl, it’s only the Scotch talking.  Really go ahead and take the dogs out, and I’ll let you do anything you want to do to me in the morning.”  Immediately my mind snapped into high-gear: that motherfucker has already lined-up a trick for the evening, and he’s trying to gracefully get rid of me while keeping me on a tight leash…

I went home, walked all 3 dogs and counted to one hundred – I then made my way over to Calvin’s place.  The apartment where I’d moved-in all the furniture, painted all the walls and even installed his all-too-perfect Christmas tree.  I had the presence of mind to bring his idiotic ill-behaved little monster dogs with me.  As I turned the key in the tumbler, I heard soft music playing in the background with only the romantic colorful glow from the Christmas tree illuminating his tiny efficiency apartment.  Right away I saw what was undeniably two male figures trying to hold perfectly still paralyzed under the covers of Calvin’s bed, with one pair of size 12 feet attempting to curl their way under the covers so as to become invisible.  I turned-up the dimmer on the overhead light to full blast so the room was only slightly less glaring than the dentist’s spotlights.  “Honey, I can explain….” I heard Calvin say standing-up bare-ass naked as I picked-up Calvin’s Christmas tree, still plugged-in and covered with antique Victorian mercury-glass ornaments and threw it across the room at him with all my might.  The other little queen hid under the covers with his shrinking hard-on collapsing like a little wilting tent under the quilt.  

With veins standing out on my forehead I hollered at the top of my lungs: “Calvin, you are a badly-balding, former pretty-boy with no dick, no morals and no future.  AND you’re certainly no one I could ever love.”  With that I took-away my house keys from his hall table, and left him stranded, stark naked and bare foot in the middle of a floor scattered with shards of broken mercury-glass as his own little soldier went from full-attention to “at ease.”  I slammed the door, spun on my heels and stomped my way home curiously satisfied with myself. 

So I broke-up with Calvin before Christmas after all, and while it was more dramatic than I’d pictured, it was also much easier than I though it would be. 

By that point it was almost 2AM, so I ran all the way to the Trocadero nightclub on Arch Street where my friend Robert was working as a go-go boy.  I had tell SOMEONE what had just happened.  When I told Robert I’d just thrown a fully decorated, lighted Christmas tree at Calvin, Robert sat down in his G-string and laughed out loud.  At the time I didn’t entirely see the humor in the situation, but the harder he laughed the more I laughed.  I was free.

I went home and spent the rest of the night, and well into the morning making hand-tinted Victorian Christmas ornaments from Xeroxes of deranged 19th century paper engravings depicting children frozen to death in snow banks – or eating out of dog bowls.  My holiday gifts definitely reflected my mood that year.  I gave everyone a perverted Christmas tree ornament – macabre and dark, but darkly humorous at the same time.   I didn’t have anything close to a broken heart, but I did have wounded pride for being such a trusting fool by not having ended that annoying relationship sooner.

About a year and a half later, I got a call from Robert.  He and a couple of friends stopped into a gay bar advertising live music on the 2nd floor.  They went-up stairs to have a drink and there was Calvin Quinn singing an “Evening of Rodgers and Hart,” when he ad-libbed in scatter-song as the new audience members found seats “I-a spy-a shoobidie doo-boop a-group of old friends comin’-in for a drink.  Scattley-ouee, a dang-pow.  Are there any song-requests from the audience?” he crooned, when Robert chimed-up in a voice no one could possibly miss, “Can you sing ‘Oh Christmas Tree’?” Robert’s group left doubled-over with wicked laughter, leaving Calvin standing metaphorically once again naked and barefoot on a stage full of imaginary broken mercury-glass ornaments – his little soldier no doubt shrinking in his trousers.

Flash forward. I never became a famous artist.  Robert works in hotel management somewhere down south.  Calvin’s dreams dissolved into retail jewelry sales and a string of failed attempts at landing a rich lover. And the singing dentist took out a loan with organized crime to open a night club that tanked, sadly he tanked too – as the subject of a notorious unsolved Philadelphia murder.  Maybe they were music lovers – but he certainly didn’t deserve what happened to him no matter how awful his singing.  At least he left the stage with the cache of being the subject of speculation in an unsolved murder mystery everyone talks about to this day.  The dentist left all his earthly belongings to a one night stand – go figure…  I bet Calvin was kicking himself for not having had himself made the beneficiary.

Beauty, like life, is fleeting.  Skiddley-doo-wap- POW.

WinnieToons Traditional 2011 Year End Embarassment – 52 Cartoons

The 2011 Year End Cavalcade of 52 of Our Most Embarrassing Moments.

Before we get to 2011, what better way to bewilder ourselves than starting with a reprise of a 2010 post acknowledging how Dick Cheney and Zsa Zsa Gabor are for some unexplainable reason still alive – while most decent American citizens still have to wait until 2014 for basic healthcare to kick-in.

John Boenher proved the job as Speaker of the House was much larger than his abilities — most recently bungling an ill-advised effort to block the Payroll Tax-cut for Middle Class Americans while trying to make the tax cuts for the obscenely wealthy permanent. 

Nothing better typified 2011 than political bickering and in-fighting over everything from income inequality to body-blocks coming from the right-wing to prevent social equality.

In 2011, we bid a fond farewell to Glenn Beck’s bat-shit crazy FOX news program, rendering him among the living dead.  He’s still alive, but no one notices or cares.

The Texas Board of Distorted-Education, who mysteriously control all the available texts purchased for every school in the United States, decided to downplay the roles of Thomas Jefferson and Benjamin Franklin because Jefferson and Franklin were ‘Deists’ and not ‘lock-step’ Christians.  George Washington was a Deist too, but they decided to just make-up suitable factoids about him.  Besides, it’s really, really difficult to rename the capital.

Michele Backmann succeeded in eclipsing Sarah Palin as the nations most ill-informed dunderhead seeking political office well above the limitations of her own miniscule intellect.  Who knew there was someone even more historically confused than Sarah Palin?  The Republicans trotted-out a whole truckload of ‘em who we’ll visit later-on in this embarrassment of riches.

2011 saw a record number of financial difficulties, worldwide — including Greece’s economic turmoil which threatened to topple the Euro, further endangering American economic interests.  Meanwhile, Tea Party freshman House Republicans stonewalled raising the ‘debt ceiling’ while not comprehending exactly what the debt-ceiling IS.  They just didn’t like the sound of it.  Period.

2010’s catastrophic Supreme Court folly known as ‘Citizens United’ (more aptly named ‘Corporations United’) gave rise to the 2011 political ‘super-pacs’ where anonymous money could be used to bolster the campaigns of politicians who were neatly tucked into the pockets of corporate interests – thus shifting loyalties away from their constituents to the greater task of convoluting laws so as to benefit the corporations who’d mysteriously funded their campaigns.

‘Citizens (A.K.A. Corporations) United’ gave way to a floodgate of shadow contributions inspiring Duck D. Duck to run for president through the Long Island Ice Tea Party Super-pac – shown here in Charo-drag, pandering to the growing Latino vote.

With the earlier historic passage of Barack Obama’s signature health care plan – disrespectfully known as ‘ObamaCare’ – came a flurry of 2011th hour increases in medical premiums and copay’s in order to beat the 2014 compliance deadlines.  And the usury continues to increase exponentially everyday since.  Get-in the greed while you can…

With great power comes tremendous tension which therefore leads to a natural need for “releasing” that tension.  Political figures having extra-marital sex is nothing new – in fact it’s commonplace.  Anthony Weiner, using his other hand, has the distinction of never having technically had sex outside his marriage – only technologically texting pictures of his junk to women who texted-back pictures of theirs.  Sounds like safe-sex to me.

On the subject of boring sex, there was a royal wedding this year, and I for one couldn’t care less.  Frankly I’m surprised the British have enough collective pulse left, let alone heterosexual men to go through with the deed.  Long live the queens.

While the royals were getting married, world-class dirtball and slime-merchant, Rupert Murdock was merrily hacking into royal and celebrity cellphones to harvest whatever smarmy gossip he could spoon feed to the defunct ‘News of the World’ — and his other equally distorted news-entertainment rumor machines like the FOX News Channel.  ‘Fairly unbalanced’ doesn’t begin to cover it.

With Royal Weddings still fresh on our minds, queens are now allowed to marry queens – at least in New York State, making it the 6th state to sanction legal gay marital unions.  The divorce lawyers are already rubbing their hind legs together with financial glee.

While we’re discussing ‘old queens,’ Pope Benedickhead beatified j2p2 in an effort to draw attention away from a growing number of Catholic clergy sex-scandals, not to mention the Vatican’s complicity in a Mafia ATM money-machine laundering scheme.  Saints be praised.

On an even darker side of ‘faith’ congenital idiot, Harold Camping raked-in millions from the faithful with his 2nd unsuccessful realization of ‘Rapture.’  A small town in Kansas was devastated by a tornado that same day, but it is widely believed to be a coincidence, and not the wrath of God.

2011 saw it’s fair share of tyrants fall from grace, not the least of which is Governor Scott Walker of Wisconsin, who styled himself after Egyptian dictator, Hosni Mubarak.  Walker now faces eminent recall.  The so called ‘Arab Spring’ started when Tunisian dictator Ben Ali was ousted, leaving even Donald Trump feeling uneasy about his own empire.  

While Barack Obama was ‘dissing’ the Donald at the White House Press Club Dinner, covert forces on Obama’s orders were in the ready to ‘take-out’ Osama Bin Laden — a task that George Bush in his infinite incompetence attempted by way of the loss of countless thousands of lives — citizens, soldiers and innocent bystanders worldwide — bearing a financial cost of TRILLIONS of dollars and counting, plunging the world into an economic depression – OR recession if you’re hopelessly optimistic.  The exact figure increases every millisecond – check-out this numeric-ticker website if you want your hair to stand on end: http://costofwar.com/en/  By the way, Bin Laden had quite the stash of pornography, not something exactly sanctioned by Sharia Islamic law.  Look carefully and you can see him ‘tenting’ his gown.

The most colorful tyrannical loss of 2011 was Muammar Gadiffi, who had no less than 16 accepted spellings of his name.  His loss to the fashion community is comparable only to that of Alexander McQueen.  Kim Jung Il, while crazy and dead, had no real fashion-sense.

Gaddafi deserves more than one mention, when it was discovered the flamboyant dictator had a raging hard-on for Condoleezza Rice.  Eewwee…

People like to complain how Obama doesn’t get upset enough – as if hysterics are going to improve anything.  I like the ‘no-drama Obama.’  He’s a rare bird in the world political theater.  But citizens across the nation were heartened when Obama gave a rousing populist speech in Osawatomie, Kansas – where T.R. himself once gave his most stirring populist address.  More importantly, Duck looks fabulous in Teddy-drag.

Of all the blog posts appearing on WinnieToons this past year – this one is my personal favorite.  The Obama supporters of 2008 are one naive bunch of dreamers.  In my not-so-humble opinion, the accompanying essay that appeared with this illustration just might explain what disillusioned Obama supporter so desperately need to learn.   This is how the game really works…

The housing crisis continued to ulcerate in the guts of homeowners from coast to coast, with banking chicanery leaving a record 1,394,839 families wondering if they need to stake-out their own personal park bench now before the rush begins.  Bare in mind ‘We the People’ bailed-out these same mortgage banks – all of whom awarded bonuses and golden parachutes to the said-same individuals who need to be wearing ankle bracelets and awaiting sentencing.

While so many Americans never dreamed such devastating financial calamity would visit their lives, they are nevertheless grateful to be on food-stamps and welfare.  Meanwhile chic sidewalk cafe’s and pricy 4 star restaurants did a land-office business serving plates full of nothing.  Both rich and poor alike got nothing to eat.

Cut me a break with the misplaced-modifier.  The world population DID hit seven-billion with the birth of a single child in Indonesia in 2011.  The global population is expected to reach ten-billion in 2020 while religious fanatics fight tooth and nail to prevent birth control measures.  The planet cannot support this many people.  We will most certainly be facing water and grain riots which have already begun in 3rd world countries.

Exacerbating world water and grain riots is the retarded pursuit of ‘fracking.’  Fracking is a low-return access to natural gas resources that unalterably poisons vast reservoirs of clean drinking-water below the level of the Marcellus shale – further using millions of gallons of water laced with toxic chemicals such as lead to complete the drilling effort, resulting in an environmental disaster which is expected to take 500 to a 1000 years to bio-degrade.  This practice is on a dramatic rise — as is childhood cancer in adjacent communities.

Shortly before the Fukashima Nuclear Power Plant in Japan was irreparably compromised by an earthquake and tsunami, congenital idiot and House Majority Whip, Eric Cantor of Virginia proposed a “laxing” of federal safety standards for antiquated nuclear power plants in America.  A month later a 6.0 earthquake struck with it’s epicenter in Cantor’s own district, only miles from one of Virginia’s questionable antique nuclear power plants.  This only served to cement Cantor’s resolve to repeal nuclear safety standards.  Sheer genius… for a super-villain. 

Even as the aftershocks of our ‘jarring’ 6.0 earthquake were still being felt, Hurricane Irene ripped her way up the eastern seaboard (yes, including Cantor’s Virginia) proving how vulnerable we all are to the caprices of nature.  Thankfully the cast of the Jersey Shore were all safe filming in Tuscany destroying international relations with Italy.

As if fracking, earthquakes and unpredictable hurricanes weren’t enough, Republicans were trying to hold the $1,000 Middle Class Payroll Tax Cut hostage by pork-rolling the Keystone Pipeline spanning Canada to the despoiled Gulf Coast a part of the tax-break legislation.   Say what…?!!!

The ‘Occupy Wall Street Movement’ almost felt like the protests of the 1960’s and early ’70’s when a genuine grass-roots movement railing against corporate greed, scared the pants off the Koch brother’s AstroTurf-funded Tea Party.

The ‘Occupy Movement’ drew attention to the reality that 2011 is pretty similar to 1911, full of social unrest and economic inequity.  Like it or not, Occupy changed the dialogue.  Even Bank of America stopped fleecing customers for a fee to access their own money.

Truth to tell, the Occupy people were non-violent, which can’t be said for the blunderings of large city mayors and police officials, resulting in a strengthening of the movement — which is precisely what authorities sought to squash.  No one learns from history.

Peaceful ‘Occupy’ protestors were maced, beaten and physically dragged-away to maintain the “prettiness” of American cities.  Even members of the clergy and an Iraq War veteran weren’t spared the violent, blundering stupidity of inept officials.

As the season got colder and the warmth of Christmas approached, deranged shoppers, desperate to get the latest X-Box for their loved ones took a ‘tip’ from local police forces, and maced other shoppers in the spirit of the season.

Pope Benedickhead in a futile effort to mimic Christ’s compassion for the poor, endorsed the ‘Occupy Movement’ – from a safe and sanitary distance.

Saving the best for last, we now will take an in-depth look at the Republican Primaries, sizing-up who might best be Barack Obama’s political opponent in 2012.  First there was Donald Trump who runs again and runs-away again, never really meaning to ever be taken seriously.  He’s a buffoon, and even he knows it deep down inside.

For a while, in transparent desperation, frantic Republicans tried to draft Chris Christie to run for president, as an alternative to Mitt Romney, but Christie hadn’t finished destroying New Jersey yet.

In time all hopes of Chris Christie had vaporized into hot-air, much like Jersey’s other famous dirigible, the Hindenburg. 

Mitt Romney is the perfect ‘made for TV’ president.  Not a hair out of place, and able to deliver any kind of line, true or false whether he believes his own words or not.  He’s more suited for to be cast as the attractive older husband in a Zales anniversary tennis bracelet ad than that of a world leader.

Then along came Rick Perry doing his Josh Brolin impersonation of George W. Bush, and it was a battle of the perfect coifs between 2 candidates neither of whom are fit to form coherent sentences, let alone be elected the leader of the free world.

During the caucuses there was a spate of GOP candidates demonstrating their skills consuming phallic foods.  I have way more examples than I can post, but here is how vehemently anti-gay candidate Rick Santorum goes-down on chocolate…

…and the more hands-on approach of Rick Perry.  

Even Michele Bachmann and her ‘pray-away the gay’ husband, Barcuth Bachmann demonstrated what a bombastic bunch of blowhards they are.

The  most disappointing moment in the 2011 Republican primary race was the day Donald Trump called-off the Trumpathon Debatacle.  Only Newt and Santorum were willing to debase themselves, but Long Island Ice Tea Party candidate, Duck D. Duck was ready, willing and able to take ‘em all on.  Santorum, by the way, wants to end the food stamp program because poor people are often fat.  They’re fat, because cheap food is fattening you idiot.

It was nothing short of a tragedy (no make that travesty) when the black-walnut himself, Herman Cain was pressured to step-down as the GOP frontrunner.  

Mister Cain didn’t so much speak from the heart of the right-wing conservative community as he trans-channeled gobbledegook he’s been storing in the great tarter build-up in the back of his mind.

Ann Coulter seized the opportunity to make even Ron Paul’s racial faux pas’ seem quaint as she discerned the “quality” of “our blacks” against the quality of “their blacks” as if she were still talking about human merchandise on the slave-auction block.  Perhaps one day she’ll accidentally behead herself on high power lines.

Who among us can help but cherish the moment when Michele Bachmann announced to the world that film hero, John Wayne, like herself, was from Waterloo, Iowa.  Trouble is, serial-killer and children’s party clown, John Wayne Gacy was the one from Waterloo, Iowa – NOT John Wayne the classic film actor.

Michele Bachmann can be credited with further marginalizing Sarah Palin, and for that we owe her our eternal thanks.  Now what do we do to get HER to fade into obscurity?  Bachmann blew a gasket when she saw how insane she looked on the cover of Newsweek.  The problem was, as pointed-out by editor, Tina Brown, the contact sheets from Bachmann’s photo shoot ALL made her look crazy — in every single picture.  The image selected was the sanest-looking one of the bunch.

Newt Gingrich was given a 2nd moment in the spotlight when he became the GOP frontrunner du jour.  But with front-runner status comes scrutiny, as Ron Paul is now finding out.  Newt married his high-school geometry teacher, who he started banging while he was still under-aged.  He later served her divorce papers while she was undergoing cancer treatment to marry his second mistress/wife who he divorced once she was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis.  We can only speculate as to what deadly disease current mistress/wife Callista will contract.  As it is, the woman already appears to be embalmed.

“The Thinker” left to contemplate the United States with he, himself as the Commander in Chief. Now that’s a chilling thought…  Kinda makes a person long for the reasonable old days of the Spanish Inquisition.  We can only hope his dreams of leadership are flushed-down the crapper.  And soon.

As we bid a fond farewell to 2011, one is left wondering how the Colosseum of political blood-sport will turnout in 2012?  Only time will tell, but if things continue at the same pace, there will be no lack of material to make us all laugh until we cry.  

Happy New Year from, 
Winnie, Duck & Gay Beihl.

The Republicans Cave Under the Weight of Their Own Stupidity

The Republican House finally caved today under the weight of their own stupidity, and it wasn’t pretty.  A contrite and humble John Boehner came out late this afternoon, desperate to get out of Dodge before Christmas.  Even he couldn’t stomach his own party’s obstructions blocking the extension of the ‘Payroll Tax Cuts for Middle Income Americans.’  In the long run, the House had to cave on the tax cuts – even if it IS only for 2 months.  The GOP is on record trying to make the tax cuts for the wealthiest citizens permanent, and the American people know it.  So we settle for a 2 month breather, and then go through the same bullshit all over again – hopefully this time without the Republicans trying to sneak-past environmental disasters like the Keystone Pipeline as part and parcel of the deal.

We’ll watch this same drama play-out all over again exactly in time for Groundhog Day just as the Republican presidential nominee is announced.

Both ironic and appropriate, isn’t it?  

How many times in the past 3 years have we watched the Republican Party stand in the way of common sense and the will of the people merely to be obstructionists?  Way too many times – remember the Balanced Budget Amendment?  It seems the GOP credo is to create the problem and then block the path to fixing it.  Now Republicans are going to have to find the fancy footwork necessary to do the obstructionist dance while attempting to win-back the oval office.  Sweet.

If it isn’t abundantly clear to most voters that the GOP is more focused on destroying the Obama presidency than attending to the business of moving the country forward — then those voters are either not paying attention or way too willing to fall into lock-step simply to unseat a black president.  I’m tired of listening to these people.  I’m sick of hearing Republican candidates and talking-heads blathering-on about how we need “leadership.”  We’ve got leadership, and we’ve got a shitload of problems to solve too – none of which are being addressed by a do-nothing Republican House of Representatives.  

Here’s the basic truth: The Republican Party under Bush/Cheney destroyed the American way of life for decades to come and NO ONE — NO ONE can fix it in one or two terms.  All any president can do faced with our current preexisting economic climate is try to set us back on the right course and hope against hope that future administrations follow suit.  We’ve heard no solutions for the American recovery from the Republicans — and when Obama tries anything from reaching-out for bipartisanship to proposing workable solutions — the Republican party bites his hand — and in doing so, bites the hands of every single American citizen.  I’m tired of these people, they’re full of shit.  They’ve had their chance, and they’ve blown-it.  Now it’s time to get with the program and realize the GOP represents a carry-over from a toxic past, representing no hope, no morals and no future.

Be done with them, we’ve go to get on with the task of cleaning-up the steaming pile they’ve left in their wake.

Republican House Works Tirelessly to Reelect Barack Obama

Yes indeedy, the Republican House of Representatives is working tirelessly to reelect Barack Obama — and why shouldn’t they given the embarrassment of baboons battling it out for the GOP presidential nod?  Add to that, the stalemate being dramatized by members of the House in order to block the extension of the Middle-class Tax Cut prior to the December 31st deadline — all indicators clearly illustrate the Grand Old Party is proud to be hopelessly out of step with the American people on all social and economic issues.

Here’s the GOP plan – starve-out 99% of struggling Americans by filibustering anything in their best interests, and hope the citizenry are stupid enough to blame it on Obama.  Knuckleheads like Mitt Romney say: “What America needs right now is leadership.”  We have leadership.  What we need is a functional Congress.  Romney knows full well, Obama can’t Constitutionally force Congress to pass anything.  He can be as persuasive as he likes, and even call them back to session — but if he’s being stonewalled, he’s being stonewalled.

Here we sit in the worst economic disaster since the Great Depression — a “recession” lest we forget designed and orchestrated almost entirely by the Republican Party.  It’s now completely acceptable in the GOP mind-set to merrily go bulldozing-over the interests of the average voter like stepping on a convention of pismire ants.  Republican’s have been feeling their political oats ever-since the ill-advised Supreme Court blunder known as ‘Citizen’s United’ deemed corporations to have the same rights as individual people.

Beyond all that, blocking benefits and tax-cuts for the middle class and working poor is not the way to bolster your party’s political capital leading-up to an election year.  Who doesn’t want to vote for a party that clings desperately to massive tax breaks for the uber-wealthy while picking the pockets of the average American voter?  The answer is clear: The Republican Party has finally come to the conclusion that they’re completely incompetent, know it, and are secretly hoping Obama will win.

Pay no attention to pinheads like Mitch McConnell and Michele Bachmann deliberately enunciating each bitten-off syllable, saying We Will Not Rest Until Bar-rack O-bama Be-comes a ONE TERM Pres-i-dent. They’re merely using reverse psychology while speaking as if they’d all recently suffered a stroke. Deep down at heart Republicans are obviously huge Obama supporters.  There’s no other obvious explanation.  Here’s their plan, see to it your GOP candidates are indistinguishable from contestants on the Jerry Springer Show — illustrate that your party is in utter disarray — get all your Congresspeople to act like spoiled children — then take away what little money American’s have left — and you’ve got the perfect recipe for reelecting Barack Obama.

Republicans actually love Obama, and as they say, “you always hurt the one you love…” Not to say that Republican’s don’t love money and power even more — and Jesus Christ when it’s convenient.

There was a time when developing farmland into endless fields of press-board MacMansions was considered progress.  Now preserving virgin countryside is progress.  The definition of progress is constantly changing.  Such is the nature of the Progressive Movement.  Conservatives, who have no connection whatsoever to ‘conservation’ (except insofar as it comes to undermining the cause) see progress as best defined by standing still when movement is imperative.  Their plan is to keep outmoded systems in place, and even take a giant step backwards if at all possible: employing back-ass-ward thinking like repealing child labor laws, circumventing the Clean Air and Clean Water Acts and choking people to death environmentally and financially, all for the greater good of corporations…  And VOILA – you’ve got the modern American GOP platform.

John Boehner, who was clearly in-over-his-head as a mere member of the House of Representatives from the State of Ohio, is embarrassingly inept as Speaker of the House.  But not to worry, Eric Cantor is waiting in the wings to trip Boehner off the stage into the orchestra-pit and step into the man’s shoes the minute he figures out how to best undermine his old buddy.  Cantor has arguably been one of the single most vocal forces of obstructionism in Congress over the past decade. This is the man who wants to peel-back safety standards on nuclear power plants even after the epicenter of last summer’s 6.0 earthquake struck frighteningly close to a nuclear reactor in his own state of Virginia.  This, mind you, hot on the heels of the world witnessing the catastrophe at Japan’s Fukushima Nuclear Power plant following a huge natural disaster. Cantor is a real giant among mental midgets.

All this adds up to one thing: The Republican brand knows they’re crazy, collectively incompetent and in no way prepared to take the reigns of leadership.  That brings me to only one conclusion: The Republican Party knows it’s best for the nation to reelect Barack Obama, and are behind him 100% – well that, and Eric Cantor wants John Boehner’s job — badly.

 

Christmas on an Alternate Universe

For years now I’ve analyzed my gripe with Christmas.  My Christmas is cautioned by previous decades of miracles gone missing.  Sure, there are daily miracles if you want to be relentlessly optimistic – things like sunrises and all that…  Airborne particulates have really made sunrises and sunsets dramatically more vibrant, but that’s not the kind of miracle I’m looking-for.  People aren’t getting along any better due to vivid sunsets or the miracle of acid rain.  Right now House Republicans are praising the Lord while starving-out the masses, and kinda hoping everyone will understand that destroying our collective lives is justifiable merely to make Obama look bad while blaming him for the economy.  And THIS strategy is intended to be their gateway back to the White House?

Last weekend’s previously passed Middle-Income Payroll Tax Cut is dead again with more off and on again posturing – per usual.  By the time I publish this post, the tax cut will most likely have reached a compromise and again deteriorated into chaos and back again.  It’s political theater of the absurd, and we’ve all seen this drama play-out before.  Hopefully the American voting audience will accurately pick-out the villains from the vilified in the latest Capital Hill comedy of errors.

We need a Christmas Miracle, and it’s got to be more than merely the timely passing of Kim Jung Il, and the inevitable downward spiral of Newt Gingrich in the GOP primaries.  It needs to be greater than knowing Dick Cheney has a battery-operated digital heart, and Walt Disney still remains cryogenically frozen.  We need something to make the world sit-up and take notice.
Like what you ask?


An end to reality TV?  

The Kardashians fading into obscurity? 

Gangata-rap being replaced by a return to melody and lyrics?  

No, all that’s way too much to hope for.  What we want for Christmas (or this Holiday Season if you prefer) is for House Republicans to put the interests of the country above materialism and power.  Nah, that’ll never happen either.

Here’s what Winnie and Duck propose for our Winter Solstice miracle:

How about a HUGE digital money transfer?  I’m talking about a transfer of wealth from all the institutions to whom ‘We the People’ have generously bailed-out, divvyed-up and fairly proportioned into — wait — let me do some mathematical calculations here — three-hundred and eleven million people less 1%  — divided into X-number of trillions of dollars — parceled-up evenly — and mysteriously deposited directly into the bank accounts of every poor sucker who ever voted and paid taxes.  Frankly it would do a hell of a lot more to repair the economy than any of the trickle-down economics currently being unemployed by the “Job Creators.”  Sadly my calculator doesn’t’ have room for all the zeroes, so I can’t give you a bottom-line net gain for each citizen.  Anyone willing to do the math is more than welcome to post that figure in the comments section.  

But back to the transfer of wealth to the masses…

Of course the tracking records of this monumental transfer of wealth would become magically untraceable.  AND best of all, since banks, mortgage companies and lending institutions have repeatedly demonstrated over the past decade how they don’t keep anything close to accurate accounting records — ALL of that bailout money would still be due to be paid-back with interest.  Prior payments against the debt would be conveniently lost and therefore added to the outstanding principal.  

It’s kind of like what Wall Street did to the American people, only in a fun-house mirror.  Think of it like spending the holidays on an alternate universe where fairness is the guiding principle – not principal.  Now THAT’s what I call a Christmas miracle.   Dream-on…

http://www.pbs.org/wnet/need-to-know/economy/the-true-cost-of-the-bank-bailout/3309/ 

What Does What Have to do with What?

  
Like most Americans, I’m glad the constipated House of Representatives finally passed the extension of the middle-class payroll tax cut just in time for the holidaze.  Of course they only did it so they could all leave for ‘winter recess’ – taking-off even MORE time – as if they actually DO anything as it is.  But we’ll take it.  We have to.  Who couldn’t use an extra $1,000 bucks in their pockets in these difficult economic times?

The 1%, that’s who.  

Curious how the Republican members of the House of Representatives keep fighting tooth and nail to preserve the Bush-era tax breaks for the 1% wealthiest Americans – and pitch a fit over extending a measly $1,000 tax-break for the middle-class demonizing the measure as if it were akin to treason.  


“Who’s going to pay for these middle-class tax-buts?” we heard echoing through the halls of Congress.  Odd how we never heard the Republican’s mention that same sort of question when the subject was unfunded wars, or tax-breaks for the wealthiest among us.  Very peculiar.

However, what’s more peculiar, is how politicians manage to cobble-together disparate issues like the Keystone Oil Pipeline proposed to cut a swath from Canada all the way down to the Gulf Coast and attach it inextricably to funding tax-breaks for people struggling to put food on their tables.  That’s how Washington works, AND it’s what makes the average citizen’s eyes go crossed.  What the hell does one thing have to do with the other?


Answer:  NOTHING….


…Nothing aside from porky little techniques of political posturing and shady legislation that can link a bridge to nowhere to funding school lunch programs.  This is the stuff you’d expect from the inmates of an asylum – which is kinda what Congress has become.  There’s no doubt in my mind that members of Congress have more skeletons in their closets than all the ex-convicts employed by the NFL combined.  


People know they’re hungry and wanting for money – but it’s short-sighted to keep putting all our resources into fossil-fuel projects promising short-term jobs and long-range fossil-fuel dependence.  Advanced-thinking people know how hungry and desperate Americans are for work – but not at the cost of destroying our environment for future generations while ignoring the development of alternative clean energy sources.  Alternative energy sources potentially offer even more jobs now and in the future.  This is the same conundrum we see playing-out with the ‘fracking’ controversy – only this time Congressional Republicans have found a way to tie the payroll tax-cut for the middle-class to an oil pipeline project that will disturb the entire continent north to south without regard for whatever will to be mowed-down and bisected by it’s path.  It’s not like we have a history of environment oil disasters or anything…  Oh, right, I plumb forgot about the BP mess in the Gulf, the Alaska oil pipeline spill and the Exxon-Valdez…

In the end, Republicans historically have, and will continue to hold the economy hostage, effecting everything from unemployment benefits to keeping the lights-on in our government buildings – only approving a 2 month extension while demanding all Bush-era tax breaks for the wealthy be made permanent.  It’s deja vu all over again, ironically set to be revisited by Congress on Groundhog’s Day.  This confusing tangle of constipated legislation is intended to prolong the financial agony of the American people – simply so the Republican Party can make President Obama look bad in the eyes of voters who aren’t paying attention – blaming him for the economy – without a thought as to how this disastrous economic climate came to pass.  

In 60 days, President Obama will be placed in the untenable position of facing a 2nd fight with Congress to further extend tax breaks to the middle-class PLUS government funding while having to make impossible decisions concerning the Keystone Oil Pipeline.  In a logical world these issues should-not and would-not be linked, but Washington, DC isn’t part of a logical world.

The Republican Party doesn’t give a rat’s ass about the American people, the middle-class or the working-poor.  It’s all a chess game to those wealthy bastards.  They want to capture the White House as their prize – the rest of us be damned.  And they wonder why American’s have taken to the streets…

Whatever Will We do This Holiday Season?

 Whatever will we do to entertain ourselves with the republican debates behind us and the Christmas holidays yet to come?  I’m not a huge fan of holiday TV specials, except for the year Claudine Longet appeared fresh from prison on the ‘Andy Williams Family Christmas Special’ after she’d shot and killed ski-pro Spider Sabich.  Now THAT was ‘must-see TV.’  But those were simpler times.

Michele Bachmann will be going home to ‘pray-away the gay’ in hopes that her husband is actually straight.  Mitt Romney will have to figure out how to get life-sized sports cars’s into all his many children’s stockings.  Rick Perry will be throwing the switch on a Christmas tree-shaped pyramid of potentially innocent death row inmates, lighting them-up for all to enjoy.   We know Rick Santorum will not be spending his holiday feeding the poor.  Most certainly Newt Gingrich will be buying-out the entire floor at Tiffany’s for his wife Callista.  And no one gives a crap what Ron Paul does with his holiday.  In a perfect world Herman Cain’s family gathering would be telecast as a reality TV program.  You know he’s getting a black-walnut lump of coal in his stocking this year.  Oh, to be a fly on that wall…

It’ll be a blue, blue Christmas without them.  

I’m going to miss all of the the Republican hopeful’s and their “zany” antics – but on the bright side – which ever one of them is deemed to be the worst, the most unpalatable, the most embarrassing and the most illogical; will be anointed to represent the party of greed supplying endless sound-bites for all of next year’s vicious, overbearing political campaign ads.  We have so much to be thankful for – and to look forward-to.


This Christmas, I’m thankful for Duck D. Duck’s courage in taking the bull-by-the-horns and becoming the Long Island Ice Tea Party Candidate.  Someone needed to represent the inebriated.  In fact, Duck’s Christmas present for Winnie and me, just arrived in the mail today special delivery.  She sent delicious dog treats for Winnie, (I’ve tried them) and 3 lovely, thoughtful bags of ‘Old Fashioned Common Sense Throwin’ Gravel’ directly from Texas.  This product can be used to toss right in the eyes of your enemies, as it boasts on the packaging.  Not to mention it outsold the “Pet Rock” in Europe – very ‘Continental.’   I can hardly wait for my first arrest after using it, but I’ll have to use it sparingly, because there are so many idiots out there who need a face-full gravel.   Thank you, Duck, I will cherish that gravel right-up until someone posts bond.

Duck D. Duck’s thoughtful gift in the spirit of the season.

WinnieToons is Proud to Publish Our Most Offensive Post to Date

Newton Leroy McPherson was born in 1943, and adopted his mother’s 2nd husband’s last name of Gingrich, which was modified from the more appropriate German spelling of GinREICH.  Like his multiple metamorphosis of names, Newt, himself is difficult to nail down, bringing to mind the oft-cited cliche of ‘nailing Jello to the wall.’  He’s one slippery little greased pig.


Newt is a cunning man who won’t allow trivialities like ethics or integrity to stand in his way, as illustrated by his being censured while Speaker of the House with 83 ethics violations – NO, make that 84 – resigning from Congress, fully disgraced in 1997.  Newt stated in his own voice the following beautiful and telling words: “In my name and over my signature, inaccurate, incomplete and unreliable statements were given to the committee.”  They might well be the only truthful utterances ever to fall from the man’s lips.


Newt was at the time spearheading the movement to skewer President Clinton over the Monica Lewinski cigar-job scandal, when it came to light that Newt, himself was embroiled in all sorts of illegal chicanery concerning the “people’s business”- AND having a far more serious extra-marital affair with House staffer, Callista Bisek, whom he has since married.  In order to marry Callista, Newt served divorce papers to his 2nd wife, Marianne Ginther Gingrich shortly after she’d been diagnosed with multiple-sclerosis.  Newt has a history of divorcing his wives the moment they develop any kind of serious health problem.  Why wait ’til death do us depart?  Perhaps it’s something in the Gingrich family drinking water…?


Be all that as it may, it’s not the affairs that bother me, it’s the hypocrisy. Newt packages himself to his followers as a God-fearing grandfather and family man.  Newt’s minions are the devout Christian-values crowd who would no doubt if asked, cry-out to be given Barabbas while feeling all the holier for their blundering judgementalism.

Newt began the affair with his 2nd wife, Marianne while he was still married to his 1st wife, Jackie Battley Gingrich.  It is notable to mention that Jackie Battley Gingrich was Newt’s high school geometry teacher – and if that wasn’t peculiar enough – he served Jackie her divorce papers while she was hospitalized battling cervical cancer in order to marry his 2nd wife, Marianne.  So far, 3rd wife, Callista remains in good health, and no doubt employes a battalion of ‘poisoning-maidens’ to insure her own longevity…  As if death or illness could ever put the touch on the current Mrs Gingrich – she already sports an impeccably pre-embalmed appearance like that of a demonic ice queen. 

Which of the 3 faces of Callista do YOU want for
First Lady

It’s Callista for whom Newt has run-up a half million dollars worth of jewelry at Tiffany’s on a rotating charge, while sailing to the Greek Islands when other presidential contenders were out pressing the flesh.  Newt accomplishes these lavish extravagances on his “meager” salary as a paid neo-con lecturer boasting multiple bookings at $60,000 a pop for 45 minutes worth of blatherings about his “historical” fictions and deranged worldview.  Newt’s current passion is the repeal of child labor laws: World without pity.  Amen.


Newt is quick to self-righteously defame the integrity of any politician who had financial dealings with Fanny Mae and Freddy Mac, who led to the collapse of the housing market.  While technically powerless, Newt’s demanded all those politicians be forced to resign – when in reality Newt, himself was on the payroll of Fanny Mae and Freddy Mac in the days proceeding the housing crisis as a “consultant and historian” paid a cool 1.8 million for his services.  But Newt sees nothing inconsistent about this when he’s eviscerating political opponents and detractors.


After a lifetime of lying, cheating, misleading and deceiving everyone from his multiple wives to his former Georgia constituents – Newt has conveniently found “redemption” in Jesus Christ our Lord and Savior, through the equally dubious integrity of Catholic Church – just in time to fool naive Republican voters into thinking this salamander has permanently changed the color of his ‘tone.’  


Almost none of Newt’s former colleagues from the infamous ‘Republican class of 1995′ are rushing to Newt’s defense.  In fact many of them are sounding a warning about the man who drafted “The Contract for America” – later dubbed as a “Contract ON America.”   Conservative talk radio host, Michael Savage has gone so far as to offer Newt Gingrich ONE MILLION DOLLARS in CASH to remove himself from the Republican presidential race. 


Heaven help us should Newt ever be granted the plum-prize as President of the United States, for it would most surely become his throne, and the American people will be reduced to that which is flushed to the sewer.  

The Gingrinch Who Stole Mitt Romney’s Christmas

The far right might not be getting what they want for Christmas this year, but it appears they’re about to get exactly what they deserve.  This past Saturday night while some stations were rerunning classic old holiday chestnuts, the most frightening pre-Christmas special was airing on ABC: The Iowa Republican Primary Debate.  The centerpiece of that debate was the jolly old elf himself, Newt Gingrinch.  A scary concept to sane Republicans and Democrats alike.

At one time the the smart money was on Mitt Romney needing only to outlast the other freaks on the GOP political midway, and the nomination was his to loose.  No one honestly believed Michele Bachmann was presidential material.  And Rick Perry’s reindeer-in-headlights debate performances eliminated him even in the eyes of the most dimwitted prospective voter.  Herman Cain provided a wealth of political levity, and he will be greatly missed by humorists worldwide.  But no one ever believed Cain would be an ‘able’ president.  Poor Rick Santorum has almost as much trouble cobbling together a sentence as Rick Perry, and Ron Paul’s ‘out-there’ libertarian rhetoric makes me wonder if he’s huffing helium.  All Romney thought he had to do was look like a suit-model, never perspire in public, and the prize was his for the taking.

Too bad Mitt isn’t the right flavor of vanilla for blood-thirsty Obama detractors who were willing to toss Romney aside, even for a discontinued flavor like black-walnut.  Mitt, is more than just dull and ‘richly’ out of touch, he’s a member of the Church of the Latter-Day Saints, which doesn’t set well with evangelicals.  Mitt will never win the hearts of the crowd who loves to hate in the name of Jesus.  Those folks will settle for nothing less than Satan himself – and now they’ve got him – like it or not.  Does any rational thinking person seriously believe Newt Gingrich has found Christ in his conversion to Catholicism?  Newt hasn’t changed his spots, only his strategy, knowing how much the gullible love a good story of redemption – be it true or false.

Newt is crushing Romney with double digit poll numbers while evangelicals sell their souls to the devil in hopes of deposing a fair-minded, intelligent – no, make that brilliant – black man from retaining the presidency.  I refuse to believe this country is stupid enough to actually elect Newt Gingrich when it comes down to the wire – but then again I tried not to believe they’d reelect George W. Bush – so all bets are off.  The idea of President Newt should frighten the living-daylights off both sides of the aisle.  That said, in the general election – which is only an abstract-concept in the minds of ideological GOP primary voters – Mitt Romney is far more palatable than a scoundrel like Newt Gingrich.  

What we need to remember, is doing what’s right has no bearing on the GOP collective mindset.  Nor is doing what’s right for the country an issue with that same-said voting block.  So it seems Mitt Romney won’t get what he wants for Christmas, but the entire Republican Party will get one hellish, glowing lump of red-hot coal in their stockings come Christmas morning…

…However, something tells me Barack Obama’s Christmas gift might be exactly what he wished-for:  An unelectable devil in a Santa suit for his 2012 presidential opponent.  Sweet.  Sweet as a red, white and blue candy-cane.