“Face away from the camera when attempting to pocket the undocumented campaign contribution, Senator.”

photo credit: AP Photo/Elise Amendola

“Ah’m thinkin’ about so high, mebbe a burnet, butta blond would be okay. Needsta be good at findin’ small…uh…items. Oh, an’ ah guess it could be a girl, if yeh hafta. Heh-heh-heh-heh.”

photo credit: AP Photo/Paul O’Neill, POOL

“In ‘TheSims3, Bumbling Through America’, players control the fates of the McSames*, a family from Arizona involved in national politics, through interactions with their estranged step-cousin, George, who makes everyone extremely uncomfortable.”

photo credit: REUTERS/Kevin Lamarque

*The McSames is a registered trademark of what it is left of the Republican National Party, which does not include Libertarians or people of good moral character.

“Ah think sumbuddy watered down mah drank. Ah ain’t even gittin buzzed!”

photo credit: AP Photo/Haraz N. Ghanbari

a tip of the atheistic helmet to Radical Atheist’s post, Holy MP3 Player, which first alerted me to this piece of JESUS CRAP™ that was so absolutely, fantastically, mesmerizingly incredible that i willfully and knowingly didn’t save updates to an ongoing draft so that I could make this post.

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So, I’m sitting in a coffee shop, minding my own business, posting entirely irreverent thoughts and feelings to my little corner of the universe, wholly satisfied with the relative unlikelihood that either I or my “eternal soul” will be consigned to “Hell” for the things that I do. I’m typing away joyfully, committing one or more likely indiscretions in the views of my religious friends, when I hear a tinny-but heartfelt rendition of Amy Grant’s “Arms of Love”, which I hadn’t heard in literally over twenty years, back when I was still a brainwashed, Jesus-loving troglodyte.

I turn to my left, and sure enough, there at the table next to me is a forty-something religious-type working on his church’s website through his earbuds. My eyes quickly take in the scene with a “go figure” attitude, but then they seem to be drawn from his expensive Bose earguds, down the connecting cable, but not to his dinky-looking-but-swanked-out 14″ notebook computer, which would have made at least some form of sense. No, instead, they appear to be attached to the very thing that was responsible for the death of his very own Savior.

“Jesus Christ, what the Hell are you listening to,” I am unable to keep myself from exclaiming aloud.

He looks at me askance, unable as he was to really hear what I said, notes that I have “Planet Atheism” in my the browser of my considerable 17″ notebook, and slides away from me further to the left while cranking the volume up on Amy Grant’s tinny croonings. As he slides away, I indulge in the fond reminiscence of the early 1980’s when my still-adolescent mind would have heartily enjoyed banging Amy Grant to Kingdom Come, but prudently choose instead to glorify the femaleness of several of the members of my youth group.

But, I digress, and no, I wasn’t a very good Christian. I honestly felt all guilty about that until I finally realized that I was simply following in the footsteps of most of the Christian leaders who had progressed through adulthood before me. At least I liked young women instead of juvenile males who needed far more from a “father figure” than his holy rod of spiritual retribution.

So, if you’re a good little Christian boy or girl, and you’re wondering how you can subtly offend the non-believing people around you (or those who prefer that their music not contain false, self-aggrandizing dogma-ingratiating lyrics), be sure to pick up one of these little gems. They’re probably a little uncomfortable in your front pocket, but that right there is a Judas-thought, and you should be ashamed of yourself!

You can get your very own Cross MP3 Player (jPod) from engadget.com, a place which now makes me shudder. Impress your entire youth group with your semi-phallic representation of the presumed sacrifice granted unto you by some mythological guy who probably never existed! Use your 4Gb of Sacred Digital Storage Space to maintain your entire collection of “Christian Rock”….up to ten times over at 128kbps! It even comes complete with a microphone jack so that you can record the Holy Rantings of your Chosen Pastor of Duplicitous Ramblings!

From the website:

Destined to be sold in bulk quantities to youth groups everywhere, the Cross MP3 Player is hardly designed by coincidence, and comes with 4GB of internal memory, a two-color LCD, built-in speaker, FM tuner, integrated mic, seven equalizer modes and a multi-language menu for those overseas mission trips. Fightin’ the good fight will only cost you $48.14, but you can whittle that down even more by purchasing these things by the hundreds

Yes, that’s right. You’re a rich, young, probably-white neo-conservative Christian. You can afford to buy them in bulk and pass them out as a “blessing” to those less fortunate to you. Because, after all, nothing says “holiness” like the gift of cheesy, cross-shaped small-ass MP3 players for the less-fortunate-than-you token Hispanic members of your congregation who don’t even have computers! Rock on, Christian Soldier!

Sadly, the jPod’s FM Tuner may not allow you to capture Rush Limbaugh broadcasts, but at least you’ll be able to listen to your favorite alternative-rock station while you’re fag-bashing at the local park or gang-raping that little trollop who lives a couple of blocks away.

Buy one today. Hell, buy a dozen! Jesus would! In fact, if he had actually existed, I’m sure Jesus would have loved to have one of these to listen to while he was supposedly hanging up there on that hunk of wood, saving YOUR ass from Eternal Damnation and Hellfire!

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{the title of this post was unabashedly plagiarized from Jesus Built My Hotrod, by Ministry, a totally blasphemous work of music, which, were i to actually purchase this piece of turd, would be one of the first songs i would download and play on it.}

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JESUS CRAP™, fun-filled Judeo-christian E-commerce Systems Under Scrutiny for the Collective Retardation of All People, by commander other.

Those few of you remaining around the otherwhirled have probably long since realized that atop a recent move and certain personal/family things going on right now (not to mention new full-time employment), frequent blogging on the various inanities we humans refer to as “politics” and “religion” has somewhat lost its shine.

That shine was just starting to get polished up a bit (I’ve even got four drafts going right now!), and then Hillary Clinton goes and drops this turd on us:

“My husband did not wrap up the nomination in 1992 until he won the California primary somewhere in the middle of June, right? We all remember Bobby Kennedy was assassinated in June in California. I don’t understand it.”

Now, with many years of soccer refereeing experience and over two decades’ work in quality assurance, I long ago learned how not to lose my cool even when somebody really pissed me off. I don’t think for a moment that Hillary Clinton is so stupid that she was inferring that gee, golly wouldn’t it be candy if somebuddy happened to off that other democratic senator who happens to be running for president right now? I also don’t think she in any way meant it as a slight to the Kennedy family, either.

In fact, I dare say that the assassination of Robert F Kennedy came to mind so readily because of Ted Kennedy’s recent hospitalization and unfortunate diagnosis, so I don’t fault her for thinking of RFK at all, really.

What bugs me is that a candidate for president can let such carelessness out in public, unfiltered. We’ve come to expect that kind of shit from the current buffoon occupying the Oval Office. She’s running on a campaign that purports to do better than that, but she manages to sound at least something approaching the same level of daftness.

Now, Hillary-lovers, don’t go get all up in a huff because I said “she”. It’s the proper pronoun to use for a female. That doesn’t mean I’m bashing Hillary because she’s female. It means this little episode simply underscores her basic unpreparedness for the tasks ahead of her. This is pitiable. This is right up there with “Nelson Mandela is dead,” and for someone campaigning for the presidency, that shouldn’t be the type of company one would want to keep.

But, of course, that’s not the end of it. Not satisfied with equating her own acumen with that of the man she would hope to replace, she took that original turd and just threw up all over it:

“I regret that if my referencing that moment of trauma for our entire nation - and in particular the Kennedy family - was in any way offensive. I certainly had no intention of that whatsoever.”

Read that carefully. Now, read it again. Is Hillary sorry for what she said? No, in the grandest tradition of her Republican counterparts, Hillary Rodham Clinton isn’t about to admit that she fucked up. No, instead she regrets that some people might have been offended by what she said.

Not. Even. Brave. Enough. To say. “I Fucked Up.”

Leadership. That’s what this country needs. Leadership. Sometimes a good leader has to be willing to say, “I fucked up. Don’t be like me in that way.”

But we don’t see that from Hillary Clinton.

To those Hillary supporters reading this blog, you have my heart-felt condolences, and I urge you once again to reconsider the logic that breasts make a candidate worthwhile. They don’t. Professionalism and leadership are a significant portion of what does, however, and your candidate appears to equate professionalism with Bushism and leadership with avoidance.

There’s only one real candidate left for president of these United States, and it’s not Ralph bow-to-my-irrelevant-and-sorely-misplaced-hubris Nader.

Senator Clinton, there is exactly one set of options to you, and they can be expressed quite succinctly: “Shut up and get out.”

Edit: hah. It appears that great minds think alike, or at least in my case, that my feeble little mind might occasionally spark upon something that a great mind already thought of. I did not have the pleasure of viewing or reading Keith Olbermann’s piece on this same issue earlier tonight when I wrote what I wrote above.

“…is left hanging on a limb of the SupidTree.”

photo credit: AP Photo/Wilfredo Lee

I refer, of course to Bill Kristol, who in an amazing feat of quantum physics, which he purports to disdain, apparently had the StupidTree planted over his dead, bloated corpse several years ago.