While we’re on the topic of vice and mood-altering substances, here’s a short video on the Sweet Sweet Cheeba that details its interesting history, courtesy Andrew Sullivan:
A fun little survey of what people are drinkin’, and why. Kinda fun, particularly if you like booze. (I like booze.) My favorite so far:
Gin and Tonic
“The first and last time I drank vodka, I woke up in a military graveyard in Denver. So I started drinking gin, and I never looked back.” —Josh, 27
A few more pictures of a pretty lady over at Josephine’s website.
It’s hard to tell how accurate they are, considering I don’t know much about statistics (I barely passed that course) and I’m far too lazy to check any of the cited sources, but here are some interesting figures on divorce among Christian fundamentalists. It would be hypocritical of me to point out the hypocrisy of others, but I can at least allude to it, right? Right.
This has obvious ramifications in light of the California Supreme Court’s decision upholding Proposition 8. (Those of you who are completely incensed by it, by the way, read John Scalzi on the subject; if the decision is a setback at all, it’s a pretty minor one. Andrew Sullivan, somewhat an authority, believes that seeking to affirm gay marriage rights through the courts is a mistake: it’s too easy for the conservative pundits to shout “activist judges!” Let each state, and the federal government in turn, see the light on its own. It’s better to wait 3 or 4 years and either convince enough people that gay marriage is a good thing, or wait for the bigots to die off, as they inevitably will. When the courts get involved, the conservative base tends to get riled up and do things like enact constitutional amendments, which are much harder to get rid of down the road. But back to the topic at hand.)
Does it matter if fundamentalist Christians are marginally more likely to get divorced than other demographics? Well…no. The only real bonus to it is that when someone rants about the “Death of the American Family” or some other bull, you can point out that Fundamentalism seems to be the greatest threat of all. That’s satisfying, but counter-productive: you don’t convince people that way.
In my opinion the easiest way to argue with someone who is against gay marriage is to demand specificity. When they say, “Gay marriage is bad,” ask why. When they say, “Well, because it damages the institution of marriage,” ask how. If they say “The bible says homosexuality is wrong,” ask what that has to do with secular policy. You probably won’t convince all of them, but you don’t have to: you just have to convince enough.
From the everlasting joy that is This Is Why You’re Fat, I bring you: the deep-fried cheeseburger on a stick. Oh heck yes:
Do you know why the internet was invented? Do you? It was invented for things like AwkwardFamilyPhotos.com. Note: the below is, in some bizarre world, real.
Locked and loaded.
Charles has sort of entered a mildly regressed, whiny, misbehavin’ state since Josephine showed up; a little jealousy, a little boredom, a little attention-seekin’. So I try and make sure he gets to be the center of attention every so often. To this end, he and I went to purchase ice cream at a little place up the road from us. He got a vanilla soft-serve cone covered liberally in sprinkles, 1/3 of which he ate, 1/3 of which he rubbed over every inch of his body, and the remaining third of which I put into the freezer after he left it to melt onto the coffee table. I got a chocolate milkshake the size of Charles’s torso, and picked up a peanut-butter shake for Sarah, who remained home to feed Josephine.
While we were there, I met an aged gentleman who had on, of all things, a Philadelphia Athletics Historical Society tshirt. I was unaware that such a society existed, and asked him about it; apparently they have a little museum somewhere up near Hatboro, PA. After he went on his merry way, I whipped out my phone and did a little googlin’. As you might surmise, they have a website. More importantly, they have a store, filled with stuff like this. Daddy want. Wait, wait, no. Daddy really want, except without Foxx’s name, since players didn’t have their names on their uniforms until 1960. Plus then people would be like, “What the hell is that you’re wearing? Oakland’s colors do not include blue,” and I would say “It’s a replica Jimmie Foxx jersey, man, know your SHIZNIT.”
I have strange conversations.
Honkin’ at the honey in front-a ya with the bright eyes.
