I always picture God as looking like Afro Samurai, but Pat Robertson makes me hope ever so fervently that this image is true. I hope, I hope, I hope I get to see Pat Robertson’s face when God is all, “WTF, Pat?” I hope there’s some kind of jumbo tron thing and it’s on an endless loop with Pat rubbing his fat little hands together going, “Oh, boy I can’t wait to hear, ‘Well done, thou good and faithful servant,’” and then God showing up as Afro Samurai saying, “We need to talk, Patrick.” I just think that would be lovely.

I know this is old news and I didn’t even want to comment on it because I’m trying to be nicer to stupid people, but these are the things that clog up my brain.

Do you have afterlife revenge fantasies in which no one is hurt, only humbled? Do you think God looks like Afro Samurai or some other fictional character? Fill my comments section with your fun afterlife ideas.

Good day.

Lately, though, I’ve notice a lot more disagreeable comments from them. I think the spammers are looking to create controversy so you’ll want to track them down and google stalk them until you accidentally buy one of their products. So clever because we humans love to have internet controversies.

Still, though, the spammers just aren’t good at what they do. Just as an example, I have 2 spam comments on my Thankful post that really make me wonder:

Baby Grocery Cart Cover says, “Well, I don’t know yet. Not sure. But this is convincing…”

Really, Baby Grocery Cart Cover? Am I supposed to be sucked into an argument about this? What are you not sure about? The fact that I have children? The fact that it was noon and they were in their jammies? Do you doubt my thankfulness? Psh.

And Jungle Ceiling Fan Pull says, “I disagree. I wonder how you draw your conclusin?”

Oh, Jungle Ceiling Fan Pull, what were you thinking? This is a perfect comment for so many of my posts that state a “conclusin” without having any facts. My “conclusin” that I should get in the shower because the people at the party would be thankful for that? I draw that “conclusin” by knowing that I’m a greasy, smelly skank if I don’t shower. How do you draw your “conclusin” that people want a jungle ceiling fan pull? Nobody wants one, even if you use clever spam. Not clever enough!

Do you have imaginary conversations with spambots? Do you have real conversations with people you know in real life? Do you wonder why I would have imaginary conversations with spambots? Leave a comment and let me know where you get your lithium.

Let’s see…happy Martin Luther King day, my kids are sick, the CPSCIA is dumb, and Obama is almost president.

I always ruin MLK day for my kids by making them watch the I Have a Dream speech and making them read things on Anti-Racist Parent and Racialicious until they rend their garments in despair over their white privilege. It’s a tradition.

Everybody here is coughing their heads off. Me? I’m taking Eleventy billion milligrams of vitamin C and eating garlic by the bulb. I smell bad. I know this because I smell well. Get it? Grammar. Good times.

Speaking of words, have you seen this bull?  The Consumer Product Safety Improvement for Dumbasses Act is trying to get rid of everything, everything! for children under 12 that might have lead in it. Hello Small Business Owner, you say you don’t have the money to test your handmade, naturally lead-free products so that we know for sure, for sure that they’re lead free? Too bad for you. Close your store you filthy child poisoner. And libraries? You’re the poisony-est and you shan’t let the children touch the filth.

And tomorrow we get a fresh and fancy new president. If you’re Facebook friends with my sister, go support her support of Barack Obama because some douche from her church hassled her about it and I’ve advised her not to hassle back because, well, there are a lot of douches in her church. Personally, I believe Christian douches are the worst of all kinds of douches. And I’m including Muslim douches and vinegar douches in that. Just so you know.

Oh, hey, look, I’m a comma:

You Are a Comma

You are open minded and extremely optimistic. You enjoy almost all facets of life. You can find the good in almost anything. You keep yourself busy with tons of friends, activities, and interests. You find it hard to turn down an opportunity, even if you are pressed for time. Your friends find you fascinating, charming, and easy to talk to. (But with so many competing interests, you friends do feel like you hardly have time for them.) You excel in: Inspiring people You get along best with: The Question Mark

It is 2008. It is the information age and, frankly, there’s no going back. There’s not going to be an anti-information movement that will take away our internet tubes. Children who grow up now are tech-savvy. And there is nothing wrong with that. I don’t get overtly criticized (to my face, anyway) for the fact that my kids blog and they make youtube videos, but I know that some people think they’re better mothers than me and my friends because they withhold technology while we dole it out freely like so many little Ritalin pills. These are the people who would hear my kids say something about some tv show or video game or website and they would make a judgement right then and there that our family is less, well, wholesome? or whatever and then they would avoid us. Except, not really. They wouldn’t avoid us because then how would they get off on saying, “Spongebob? Never heard of it; we only watch PBS.” And then I would have to bitch about how annoying that little Canadian fucker Caillou is. I mean, my god, that kid’s voice makes me want to shoot up the joint and then declare war on Canada. It’s almost embarrassing how much I hate that kid.

Anyway, I don’t really have time to flesh this out into a real, thought-provoking post with, like, stuff to back up my opinions and whatnot, but I’m just trying to say that our children’s culture is important and should be respected. Can you imagine being the only kid in class who didn’t know how to rat your bangs so they would stick way the hell up? That was our culture and I’m glad I didn’t miss it.

Disclaimer: I don’t skip McDonald’s because of any philosophical beliefs about the way they treat their meat animals, or because of any health risks that eating there might cause. No, if I still lived in Chesaning, I would still be eating McNuggets. The only reason I don’t eat there anymore is because, why would choose their fast food if I could get fast food at Panera or Chipotle? That would be crazy!

No! I just heard on NPR that AB was all, “You’re mean! We don’t need your money! And, hello? Cuba? Please,” and that was very comforting to somebody who grew up on Busch Light (after graduating from wine coolers and Boone’s Farm, of course). When I moved on from the watery taste of Busch Light, it was the watery taste of Bud Light that I loved. I felt more sophisticated. Bud Light was a grown-up beer. On special occasions, such as 8th grade graduation, I bought it in bottles instead of cans. In college I experimented a little bit with Bud Ice Light and Zima, but everybody experiments in college and nobody should be judged for that. When I moved to Arizona at 19 and my brother sneered over my shoulder every time I ordered my tried-and-true favorite, I branched out a little bit and started enjoying Bass Ale, which is an import, but it’s distributed by Anheuser-Busch, so it was ok.

Even though nowadays I don’t really stick with the AB brand all that much, it’s still a piece of my childhood. I don’t buy Fun Dip anymore, either, but it still holds a special place in my heart and I would prefer that it was still called Lik-m-ade like it was when I was young. And you know how at the end of the Bud commercials, the deep-voiced announcer says, “Anheuser-Busch, St. Louis, Missouri”? That just feels like home to me. If he starts saying, “Anheuser-Busch InBev, St. Louis, Missouri, Belgium, Cuba,” that just won’t feel right.

I don’t like my inbox to be full and I don’t like my Google Reader to tell me I have more than, like, five new blog posts to read so when I opened up the reader this morning and it told me there were 347 new items to read, I had a mild panic attack and then I hit “mark all as read” with enough force to shatter my mouse. So if somebody blogged about something super important, let me know because I so hate to be out of the loop. What if Dawn fell in a well or something? It would suck if I called over there and was all, “Hey, Brett, Lemme talk to Dawn; I missed that bitch!” and Brett burst into tears. Awkward.

We got back home last night and I’ve been grocery shopping, laundering, yoga-ing and just generally freshening since then. I suppose I eventually have to pick the hamster up from Kristen’s house. Maybe. We’ll see.

Chesaning was lovely. I make fun of it a lot, but there’s really nothing like feeling like you have two homes. My nephew’s party was tons of fun and look at these awesome centerpieces:

And look what my nephew made:

Yeah, he made that. Cool.

My sister’s youngest daughter is staying with us for a little bit so I have to go pretend like it’s fun around here so she doesn’t get homesick. More catching up later.

S3x is a normal part of life and should be discussed as such with people. Children are people, just in case you didn’t know. And they have reproductive organs, even if you don’t want to believe it. Homosexuality is a normal part of life for some people and if kids were allowed to learn about it, they might feel they could come out with dignity and love, or if they’re not gay, they would be able to give their gay friends dignity and love when they come out, then we’d have less Ted Haggard situations in the world. Yeah, heaven forbid your child should be allowed to feel that his homosexual feelings are ok. It’s better if he tries to deny them and gets married and has 5 kids only to be living on the down low and blowing apart his life and his wife and kids’ lives in the process. Messy. But at least you didn’t have to explain homosexuality to a child. Horrors.

*Because there is so much deviant behavior in the world, caused by stoopid parents who won’t provide their children with non-judgemental information about one of the most normal things in life, I have to type those kinds of words like that so the deviants who google certain things don’t stumble upon my site. Stop being stoopid. And buy some books for your kids. Then let them read them whenever they want so it takes the mystery away and it becomes no big deal instead of this thing to simultaneously covet and feel ashamed about. You can start by calling their parts by the right names because if you can say those words, it’s much easier to say all of the other things you need to say over the course of a lifetime of parenting.