An Open Letter To Canada

We were tickled by a characterization of us as "pseudo-liberal" in an anonymous Canadian comment to the preceding post. We hauled out the After Therapy copy of Merriam-Webster's Dictionary to make sure we understood the insult before we issued a thorough response. Our apology to Anonymous In Quebec for not alternating paragraphs between French and English, even though we have a degree in the former.

Neither Merriam nor Webster defined the term for us, so we tried the hip online version. Again, no luck. We were asked whether we had meant to define the following: sodium chlorate, Saudi Arabian (!), saddlebred (only once), saddlebreds, sidereal hour, sidi bel abbes (wasn't she the mother on Dallas?), sidi barrani, soda bread or stilbestrol. We were also offered "spelling help". The very nurve.

Cambridge's various dictionaries were equally unhelpful. So we turned to the Web, thinking perhaps this was a more recent term of art with which we were simply unfamiliar. From the quick view of our googled results, we got: "Liberal is the New Conservative", "Pseudo Liberal = Socialist/Statist", "Pseudo-liberal (JEW!)..." etc. Only then did we realize we'd been nut-kicked by the KKK.

Never one to take it lying down, Feeling it important to respond, we decided to clarify the editorial/political posture of our organization:

1. We believe that people should have sex with whoever and whatever gives them pleasure and does no harm to the environment, the family farm, or unconsenting people.

2. We believe that conservatism is the logical extension of repression and spanking the slow erosion of straight, white, male privilege. As such, said erosion should be encouraged by mocking as many straight, white males per sentence as is grammatically possible.

3. We believe that people who cannot laugh at themselves may as well go ahead and die. Life is going to be one long, plodding, cruel, unenjoyable root canal of a ride.

4. We believe that people who cannot laugh at others are boring do not have their eyes/ears open. People are funny. Admit it.

5. We believe in God, but not the people who associate themselves with Him. We also believe He is a Him because we have trouble remembering to call Him a Her. We admit to not having seen God's gonads, so it's a pure guess, but it's one to which we've become accustomed.

6. We believe anyone who is anonymously gutless pseudo-anything lacks commitment to everything. We, therefore, disabuse everyone of the notion that we are Pseudo-Liberal and proudly admit that we are Card-Carrying Members of The Jihad Wing Of Liberalism.

7. We are non-commital when it comes to Gay Marriage unless you're asking us, and you happen to be over 6'2, male, and willing to listen until your ears bleed. If others want to do it, we don't understand why anyone would care.

8. We don't give a shit about abortion. Have one. Don't have one. We believe, on the one hand, that more abortions means a decent chance that the next Conservative Asshole may be headed off at the womb's pass. On the other hand, we think all surgery entails pain. And we are decidedly Anti-Pain. We also believe that people who don't have a uterus should speak much more quietly on this topic than those who do.

9. We like the environment. We're not giving up Central Heat and Air over it, but we do like it. We also live sufficiently inland as not to be immediately threatened by rising tides. We hope that whoever buys the house upon our death goes completely "green" and replaces it with a tent.

10. We are unabashedly giddy over the acid reflux Nancy Pelosi must give The Other Side. Finally, a better-than-even chance that The Only Speaker Of The House may ride in the S.F Gay Pride Parade behind the 40-mile procession of Dykes on Bykes. We fully expect to take over the White House in another 18 months and restore sexuality and intelligence to The Office Of The Presidency. We also believe that Canadians should generally keep their mouths shut when it comes to our culture or we will be forced to point out that they don't have one.

If Only It Were True!!!

This tidbit arrived in our Letters To The Editor (read: email inbox) today:

"Many will recall that on July 8, 1947, witnesses claimed that an Unidentified Flying Object with five aliens aboard crashed onto a sheep and cattle ranch just outside Roswell, New Mexico. This is a well-known incident that many say has long been covered up by the U.S. Air Force and the federal government. However, what you may NOT know is that in the month of March, 1948, exactly nine months after that historic day, George W. Bush, Dick Cheney, Donald Rumsfield, Bill O'Reilly, Rush Limbaugh, Condolezza Rice, and Dan Quayle were all born. See what happens when aliens breed with sheep?"

Being of Pentecostal upbringing, we were naturally inclined to assume this conspiracy was true - much like the Anti-Christ's message in the Procter & Gamble logo. And that Marilyn did not commit suicide. And the black helicopters one. At a bare minimum, we giggled at the coincidence and concurred with the conclusion.

But alas, our crack research staff, which would skip their mother's funeral to de-bunk a funny story, had to go and let all of the air out of this one by looking up the aforementioned's dates of birth. Assholes.

George W. Bush was born on July 6, 1946, before the alien landing, but still a day that will live in infamy. However, exactly 9 months before he emerged from Barbara's fetid womb, on October 6, 1945, General Dwight D. Eisenhower was welcomed into Berlin aboard Hitler's very own train. Coincidence? We think not.

Richard (Ohmigodwhata) "Dick" Cheney was born January 30, 1941, again, before the alien landing. However, at the time of his conception, on April 30, 1940, Brooklyn Dodger Ted Carleton threw a no-hitter against the Cincinnati Reds. The Cincinnati Reds were later owned by a vile woman named Marge Schottenheimer who ate poodles for fun. Coincidence? We think not.

Donald (Rummy) Rumsfeld was born July 9, 1932 in Chicago, before the aliens were born. However, 9 months earlier, on Sept. 27, 1931, the beloved Chicago Bears had been shut out 7-0 by their arch rival Green Bay Packers in the universally reviled state of Wisconsin. Consumed by bitterness and disappointment, Rumsfeld's parents conceived a prodigy whose spit would dissolve concrete.

Bill O'Reilly was born on Sept. 10, 1949. However, on December 10, 1948, exactly 9 months prior, the United Nations adopted the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, Article 19 of which says, "Everyone has the right to freedom of opinion and expression..." They clearly had no idea that on this very day in New York City, William and Angela O'Reilly were in flagrante delicto humping their hearts out to create the child who would one day be Bill O'Reilly. We firmly believe, had they known, not only would the U.N. have left out that article, but that authorities would have shot William and Angela O'Reilly on the spot in a clearly accidental incident.

Condoleezza Rice was born November 14, 1954, about the time the aliens had entered 2nd grade in Roswell. However, nine months earlier, on February 14, 1954 - you guessed it - Valentine's Day. Also, then-Senator John F. Kennedy appeared on Meet The Press. That same year saw the first network news broadcast - in color. The only mildly humorous thing that leaps to mind has to do with colored Democrats, who are unanimously opposed to Condie Rice and her hair. So we respectfully take a pass on this one.

Rush Limbaugh, a name we had intended never to type, was born on a cold, cold day: January 12, 1951, again, well after the alien landing in Roswell. However, some nine months earlier, on April 12, 1950, Eleanor Roosevelt wrote in her diary (we swear on all that we hold holy this is not fiction): "If there is one thing that enrages anyone who has an interest in young people, it is that it should be possible for teen-age youngsters to obtain narcotics and become addicts. If it is possible to clamp down hard on every narcotic peddler, it must be done—and done right away." You can look it up. We were shocked at the coincidence. But then our Prayer-A-Day calendar reminded us that there are no coincidences. So there you have it. At conception, he was cursed to at least addiction by Eleanor Roosevelt's private precursor to Just Say No.

Dan "Spelling Bee" Quayle, was born February 4, 1947, a mere 6 months after the alien landing. Assuming that alien offspring may mature faster in utero, we are completely willing to believe that former Vice-President Quayle is, indeed, the offspring of Extra-terrestrials and sheep. However, nine months prior to his unfortunate birth, on May 4, 1946, President Harry S. Truman misspelled the word "Nuremberg" in a letter written to Mr. Willis Smith, President of the U.S. Bar Association, thanking him for his trip to "Nurmberg" concerning the trying of Nazi War Criminals. (We did not make that one up, either.)

Our conclusion? The truth is almost always stranger and more frightening than fiction. But we will be trying to get our Research Staff laid so that they don't waste another day debunking simple jokes we receive in the office.

Is Nothing Safe Anymore?

We read with interest a news item from New Hampshire in which 70 year-old store clerk Judy Brenner, who just spent 5 of her waning hours completing the Boston Marathon, outran a teen-aged (alleged) thief with a half-gallon jug of hooch under his jacket. The world is a different place than the one in which I grew up.

Thinking that our perceptions were a bit askew, we did a test with a half-gallon container of milk. Granted, this body is not what it used to be when it comes to endurance tests. We imagined, however, that we could probably outdistance our grandmother in a pinch. This writer is in his extremely late 30's (42, to be exact). Granny is 83 and some change. That puts us closer in age than Judy Brenner and her humiliated teen, but provides a decent benchmark for evaluating the state of the world.

Grandma thought we had either lost our remaining marble or were trying to cash in on whatever inheritance may be headed our way as first-born of a generation. She's a game gal, though. I donned a jacket capable of sequestering the milk and did a few deep knee bends to prepare for the experiment. Granny showed up in a track suit with a stop watch and a personal trainer who had far too much knowledge of her pulse rate, personal best in the 100 Meter Dash and unfair tips on accelerating around the corner of the house.

I had a panic attack that delayed the start of our exercise. I flashed back to the one week I spent on the 7th grade track team. On that first day in 1976, the track coach at Santa Fe Trail Junior High School, whose given name was The Sadist, as I recall, pointed to the oval asphalt track and told sixty 12-year-olds to "run". I was game. I was fast. The previous year I collected a pocketful of ribbons that testified to my fleet-footed acumen. So I ran.

I had no older friends who might have warned me that "Run" is a complete sentence with no modifiers. "Run" means "until you die" on the first day of 7th grade track practice. I ran until I sensed that my stomach was no longer on board for extended traveling. I ran until my lunch disembarked the vehicle. Then I didn't run.

The Sadist barked something at me, which, above the din of heaving and the Angel of Death wooing me to The Light, sounded like, "I hope you die! I've been waiting to kill you since birth! If you show up tomorrow, I'll throw rocks at you while you run!" Or something. It was a rude revelation that puking does not excuse a person from running. It was simply incidental to the exercise - like sweating, apparently. This went against my 12 year-old Core Values, which was a list of one: No Puking. That list has not changed substantially in the last 30 years.

I spent the next couple of days showing up to track practice and staring down The Sadist, all the while contemplating the wisdom of hurling myself through the air over a bar that seemed perfectly content not to be moved from its perch. I pondered whether I needed to heave a cannonball when modern munitions had made firing one at high speed much more effective. I eyed the javelin with nothing less than homicidal intent, shifting my gaze from The Sadist to the javelin and back again. It wasn't my first brush with murderous intent. I had already (allegedly) pulled a disassembled service revolver on my 6 year-old sister who failed to appreciate the sensuality of the older brother on Flipper. I was a force to be reckoned with.

The next week, I auditioned for the children's choir for the KC Philharmonic's production of Leonard Bernstein's "Mass". No running involved. I sang like my life depended on it. And I got the job - one of 12 from the entire known universe to be selected to sing on The Big Stage, as I called it well into my 20's. I sang my resignation from the track team to The Sadist - to his utter bewilderment. "RUN!" he barked. And I did. All the way to my newly found theatre dreams and my first choreographer! There is no barfing in dance, FYI.

I considered that making my grandmother chase me around her yard to retrieve a half-gallon of milk was an ill-conceived notion that could not possibly end well. If she dropped dead mid-race, I would never be able to brag openly about my victory. I would be The One Who Killed Grandma and Stole Her Milk. If she caught me, I would be on CNN alongside the New Hampshire teen, only this time as the 40-something man who died thirty yards into stealing his elderly granny's milk. I would go down in history as one of the most reviled, incompetent criminals of all time.

I think Grandma was disappointed when I faked a hamstring injury while stretching. I valued her pride and my inheritance too much to let her know that I'd let her off the hook. Perhaps when she's 90 and I really need the milk, we'll give it another go. Or not. Old folks are not made the same way as when I was a teenager.

Just ask the kid in New Hampshire.

Horse Races Are For Horses

We were asked yesterday, by America Online, to rate the Democratic hopefuls following the most recent debate. We were flattered, to say the least, but did our patriotic duty to give an early rating to the Great Eight who showed up in South Carolina.

Only upon submitting our humble opinion did we realize that we were one of 112,251 people asked. So much for early fame.

Believing that the weekly opinion polls of the unwashed, ill-informed masses are the very worst way to decide on a president, we will here present the candidates from Our Party and their stances on a succession of issues that we deem relevant. Today's issue: Deviants' Desire To Jump The Broom.

Where they stand on Gay Marriage, Civil Unions, and Kissing On The First Date:
(in order of how well we liked them in the S.C. Debate)

1. Sen. Barack Obama - "...personally, I do believe that marriage is between a man and a woman." (From a statement on the Federal (Anti Gay-)Marriage Amendment on the floor of the Senate, 6/5/2006.) "But most of us do believe that gay couples should be able to visit each other in the hospital and share health care benefits; most of us do believe that they should be treated with dignity and have their privacy respected by the federal government." (From the same speech.) Barack wishes you well in the hospital, but don't plan any bedside hitchin'. It's enough that he'll let you in plug-pulling range. Happy now?

2. Sen. Hillary Rodham Clinton - "... opposes same-sex marriage but supports civil unions between members of the same sex. During her husband's administration, she supported the Defense of Marriage Act, a law preventing the federal recognition of same-sex marriage." - PlanetOut Network, February, 2006. Hillary would like to be invited to your reception, but prefers not to know what happened before it or what may occur after.

3. Former Sen. John Edwards - "Edwards indicated that this issue was the 'single hardest social issue' for him and that he had engaged in a lot of 'personal struggles' over this issue. He believes that same-sex partners in committed relationships should have civil rights and should be afforded the dignity and respect to which they are entitled. He struggled with the question of 'how we achieve this?..whether it is through civil unions or partnerships.' He indicated that he is certainly for all of the non-discrimination and equal benefits provisions. However, he said that it was a 'jump for me to get to gay marriage?I am not there yet.'" - Pandagon, N.H. Town Meeting, 12/29/2006 This comes as a profound disappointment, not only as public policy, but for our personal fantasies in the possible post-Elizabeth (God forbid) era.

4. Sen. Chris Dodd - The geriatric Dodd has children aged 2 and 5, so should be assumed to have a healthy appreciation for sex, in general. He said his daughters could grow up to be lesbians and that he hopes they would have the opportunity to enjoy marriage-like rights."They may grow up as a different sexual orientation than their parents," he said. "How would I want my child to be treated if they were of a different sexual orientation?" -From a N.H. Public Radio broadcast, 4/4/2007. Great. Just what we need. More lesbians. Dodd voted against the Constitutional Amendment to ban gay marriages.

5. Sen. Joe Biden - Voted "Yes" to Bill Clinton's Defense of (Heterosexual) Marriage Act in 1996, Voted "No" to Constitutional Amendment Banning Gay Marriage ten years later (2006, for the mathematically challenged). Anybody's guess what this decade may bring. Inferring, we would say that he doesn't mind us getting married as long as we don't steal currently married straight folks to do it. We think.

6. Former Sen. Mike Gravel - You're not going to vote for him. What do you care? Whatever his position, he'd rather you did - or didn't - marry while Bush and Cheney rotted in Guantanamo. And you can't entirely dislike a guy with those priorities. (Gravel's Press Secretary, Alexander Colvin, told C-Span that "Sen. Gravel unequivocally supports same-sex marriage and opposes the Defense of (Heterosexual) Marriage Act.") There.

7. Gov. Bill Richardson - If the couple is Hispanic, he's going to take a little longer to mull his position, but officially: He's against gay marriage, for civil unions, and against "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" (according to comments outside a Portsmouth, N.H. ship yard on 4/5/2007). In other words, he'd really rather see you shot in Iraq than joined at the altar. If there's a different interpretation, we're open to hearing it. But we're pretty sure that's what he means.

8. Rep. Dennis Kucinich - Nobody is voting for Kucinich. He's a vegetarian. That's all you need to know. Vegetarians have noxious gas. They're pro-everything. That's the only way they can have friends in spite of their flatulence. ("Sure he farts a lot, but he'll probably send a FABULOUS wedding gift. He's on the list.") Kucinich displayed a skeevy hand-holding posture with his mail-order bride in the Spin Room after last night's debate in South Carolina. (Not unlike the stomach-churning moment we all had when Michael Jackson tongue-assaulted Elvis's Only Child on National TV.) This makes us glad that he's not actively pursuing a gay marriage of his own. THAT's all we'd need.

Look for more updates on the issues - and the horse race - in later days.

"After Therapy"....Where we don't even pretend to be fair. Or balanced. Or sober.

Scourge Of Modern Cinema Dead

Jack Valenti, Movie Ratings Pioneer, Dies at 85
By DAVID GERMAIN
AP
Los Angeles (April 26) - Jack Valenti, the former White House aide and film industry lobbyist who instituted the modern movie ratings system and guided Hollywood from the censorship era to the digital age, died Thursday. He was 85.
(photo: Fred Chartrand, AP)

As cultural throwbacks go, Jack Valenti, who had every chance to be a voice for freedom of expression based on his Kennedy associations, instead used his prominence to put a permanent pock-mark on the face of artistic expression.

His MPAA Ratings System (G, PG, R, X, etc.) did more to limit the freedom of directors, writers, actors and the American public who would consume their work than Joe McCarthy, Don Wildmon, and Michael Powell (former head of the Federal Communications Commission) put together.

By slapping his arbitrary rating on every single piece of cinema produced in the last 40-some years, he escorted the film industry from blatant blacklisting to a more underhanded form of censorship that Americans could swallow. His assignment of an "X" to a piece of work based on language or sexual content was the kiss of death to many an expression that might have survived had it relied on blood and guts instead.

Rather than revel in his demise, we here at SMTS instead hope to revel in the demise of the system to which he gave birth. If parents want to have an advanced clue as to what their children may view in the theatre, they can pay $20 like the rest of us and see it first.

Here's hoping this is one man who gets to take his creation to the grave with him.

South Carolina Democratic Debate

We gawked over our cold fried chicken and potato salad at a voice we didn't remember ever having heard before tonight. Our ears were finely tuned to see if we could begin to make a decision between Hillary Clinton, Barack Obama, and John Edwards (for whom we voted in the last Democratic primary). But our jaw dropped over the name and voice of a man who captured our attention with his vigor, candor and refreshingly righteous views.

Why isn't anyone talking about former Sen. Mike Gravel (D-Alaska)?!?! (pronounced gruh-VELL, at right) We realize Alaska is one of the Why Bother States for the media Powers That Be in New York, L.A. and Atlanta unless the topic is drilling in ANWR (the Arctic National Wildlife Reserve). But this man threw his hat into the ring with a grenade attached to it and we have to say, "Well done!"

Not only did he say "Get Out!" when it comes to Iraq, but he also suggested, with nary a hint of cordiality, that we throw the war's architects in jail, commandeer the Congress to enforce the will of the American people, and generally run roughshod over anybody with a W bumper sticker left from 3 years ago. AND he managed to do it all while making it seem eminently do-able. In fact, we're left wondering why our Ladies & Gentlemen On The Left didn't make this part of their First Hundred Days agenda.

Our favorite, Sen. Edwards, was nauseatingly cautious. Sen. Clinton was triangulating with the best of them. Sen. Obama did what he was supposed to do - not look foolish in the company of more experienced people. Sen. Dodd overcame the disparity between his eyebrows and his disturbingly full head of hair to sound like someone who could well be Vice-President. Sen. Biden avoided two-hour answers and managed to display self-deprecation. Rep. Kucinich looked only slightly less crazy than usual, but took up time and space better spent on more likely candidates. Gov. Bill Richardson deep-sixed himself with a single answer about being last to call for Attorney General Alberto Gonzalez's resignation on the basis of their shared race. He can look forward to a replay of that quote in his re-election campaign for New Mexico Governor while he hopes for another cabinet appointment.

Clearly, there is a concerted and coordinated effort between the camps not to lob bombs at each other and give the Other Party material for the general election in 16 months. Nobody passed that memo to Mike Gravel, because nobody realized he would be there until he showed up on the stage. Good plan. Don't look for the Other Party to be as measured and reasonable in their approach to each other or the eight candidates who appeared in Dixie tonight. Gravel showed so little concern for the politesse that was common among the others that his very lack of diplomacy qualifies him under the John Bolton Rule to be the next administration's U.N. Ambassador. (Think Don Rumsfeld with a soul.)

He may have been incommunicado for the last 25 years, but Sen. Gravel found his voice tonight to at least hand over the spoon that should stir this pot for as long as his finances will allow. What's more, he communicates Dennis Kucinich's plan and trumps him with a furrowed brow and a booming delivery. As a President, Gravel would be an unmitigated failure. But we love the idea of hearing Sen. Gravel's voice in the debate.

Our question to Sen. Gravel is simple: Where the hell have you been since Vietnam? And welcome back.

Worst Recipe We Ever Tried

From the test kitchen of SMTS, we bring you our greatest mistake ever. We once prepared this dish for a party. Upon arrival at the party site, we noticed a hint - a soupcon, if you will - barely a dab of the concoction on the side of the dish. We snagged it with our thumb, popped it in the mouth and immediately ran for the nearest receptacle.

This is not just bad. It's evil. This is what you take to the party when your ex invites you to meet his younger, hotter boyfriend. This is what you take to the office when you plan to quit on Monday. THIS is what you take to your mother-in-law's home, just out of spite.

Remember...This is NOT to be eaten.

Savory Cheesecake

1/4 C. breadcrumbs

1/4 C. Parmesan cheese

2 8 oz. packages cream cheese

1/3 C. heavy cream

4 eggs

2 - 3 drops Tabasco sauce

1/2 lb. bacon finely chopped

1/2 lb. bleu cheese

1 small onion, chopped

Cook bacon in a skillet until crisp. Drain on a paper towel. Saute the onion in 1 T. of the bacon grease. Set aside to cool slightly.Mix together breadcrumbs and Parmesan cheese in a bowl. Shake them into a buttered 9 inch spring form pan. Remove excess.

Add the cream cheese, cream, eggs and Tabasco sauce together in a mixing bowl. Beat until creamy. Add the onions, bacon and blue cheese to bowl and blend well.Pour mixture into the prepared pan. Shake to settle and to get rid of air bubbles.

Place the pan in a larger pan with 2 inches of water. You may need to wrap aluminum foil around the cheesecake pan, depending on your pan.

Bake at 325°F. for 1 hour and 30 minutes. Turn off oven and crack the door. Remove the cheesecake from the larger pan. Leave cheesecake in the oven. RUN! The smell alone will violate your lease.

And You Thought Their Religion Was Odd

Our friend and SMTS Pastor, Pat Robertson, has explained the ways of the world to us once again. As we've noted before, Rev. Pat invites you to "Bring It On" at his Web site, 700club.org.

This week, Concerned in Columbus raises the ugly spectre of Mail Order Brides (never mind the cost of postage). You remember the drill...we give you the real question and then two answers - one from Rev. Robertson and one from the editorial staff of SMTS. You can then ask your office mates to join in the fun and try to guess who wrote which answer! (We are nothing if not entertaining.)

Question:

I have a friend who is literally shopping for a bride from overseas. He picks a girl from a company list and calls them. He then asks them personal and sexual questions so that he can see if they are, quote, ‘compatible.’ I think this sounds wrong and he’s mistreating this women. What do you think? Is this a valid way of finding a wife?

Answer A:

Recent worldwide demographic reports show that female infants are outnumbering male infants by a nearly 2-to-1 ratio. Even among the adult population, single women outnumber single men by a staggering number across all age ranges and socio-economic demographics - no matter what that Anne Heche show says. Catalogues, in general are a crapshoot. Web sites are far more effective marketing and shopping tools, with video, sound and text lending a 3-D experience to spouse shopping.

You wouldn't date someone with the intent of finding a spouse without asking important, intimate questions if you were sitting at Bible Camp, so why forego the same ritual from afar? Nobody wants a frigid Finn landing on their doorstep - or worse, some Muslim. It is no sin to make clear your understanding of sexual matters: Missionary Only Elsewise You'll Be Lonely, like you learned in Sunday School. Relax. Jesus is Lord over everything...even the mail.

Answer B:

It sounds like your friend is a voyeur who’s playing games, and he might as well be doing phone sex, what you’re talking about. I see nothing wrong with looking for a bride in some of the countries where there are women who are looking for husbands. But I think the most important compatibility is spiritual, what is the spiritual attitude of somebody. I remember Billy Graham said a few years, and I endorse the statement emphatically, that if you take an unbeliever as a mate, you’ve got the devil for your father-in-law. And you just don’t know what you’re getting from some overseas country. I mean, take something who is an idol worshipper and has demons.

I mean, a lot of things can happen. I don’t know exactly what it is. But there are also some beautiful women, very dedicated women, who are living in poverty in places like Russia and the Ukraine, etcetera, who would just love to come to America. But you’ve got to also understand their motives. Are they coming because they want to be Americans, and the minute they get over here and get the right credentials, they’ll go bye-bye? I mean, it’s a dangerous game.

Hindu God Coughs Up Missing Mom

Monkey God Belches, Mother Found
(SMTS, New Delhi, File Report) -

Sareesh Jankar, a mother of five and devotee of Hindu God, Lord Hanuman, walked to safety over the god's incisors Thursday. She had been missing since dining with the deity late last month at New Delhi hotspot "Ramajareeshnukapur".

Indian authorities had used search dogs and even a team of specialist hyenas on loan from neighbor and longtime agitator Pakistan, but had given up hopes of finding Jankar after 2 weeks of fruitless hunting. Authorities had not considered the god a "deity of interest" prior to her surprise emergence at daybreak Thursday.

The Monkey God denied wrongdoing, indicating that the date had gone swimmingly, including banging laundry on a rock, shrieking to the radio, and consuming surprising amounts of cumin-laden hors d'oeuvres. "One minute, we're kissing passionately and the next thing I knew, she was gone. I figured she'd bailed, " the Monkey God said.

When he experienced serious heartburn in his sleep, Lord Hanuman said, he assumed it was the cumin, which has never really agreed with him. "She went to so much trouble to fix it, I felt like I should eat it and take a Prilosec later. When you're a Monkey God, it's not like you have women lining up to be your booty call," he noted.

When asked whether gods swallowing people was a common occurrence, Indian officials declined to comment, citing fear of widespread digestion. Jankar's oldest child, Aneesh, told People Magazine (India) that he had begged his mother not to become close with the Monkey God. "I got one look at the size of his mouth and I just knew....I just knew....," he said, his voice trailing off in emotion.

Indian officials were mum on whether charges would be filed against the deity, citing jurisdiction problems. Asked if the Indian government would be issuing widespread warnings about the dangers of dating a god, Minister of Information Neela Ramikanishur-Steinberg said in measured tones,

"Naughty gods need love, too."

Big Gay Vacuum

Rosie Bids Adieu to "The View"
Posted Apr 24th 2007 10:35PM by TMZ Staff

There is a strong buzz in Hollywood that Rosie O'Donnell will announce Wednesday (April 25) that she is leaving "The View" -- and she'll make the announcement on the show.

Say it ain't so. Just when we'd decided to break our Star Jones-inspired boycott of The View (before she was fired and liposuctioned), we learn that our favorite View Gal and all-'round good egg Ro' O'Do' is beating feet for a yet-to-be-announced gig.

It's no secret that our gal Ro is in the running to replace Bob Barker as Groper-In-Chief at The Price Is Right. We think it's beneath her, but The Biggest Lesbian in TV has earned the right to do whatever her heart desires. Barbara Walters was seen wearing Depends, as the departure of her ratings savior has caused her to shit uncontrollably. Donald Trump has retreated to an undisclosed location.

The oncoming dearth of real gay voices on TV is chilling. Neil Patrick Harris and T.R. Knight notwithstanding, Ellen DeGeneres is the only free-speaking, be herself gay personality on the tube. And we all know Ellen has a laser-like focus on being funny. Good on her. Politics ain't for the weak-hearted. Donna Brazile (CNN) almost counts, but nobody gives a homo-bathed opinion on the day's events and the state of the world like Rosie. She's an old time, bomb-lobbing, conservative knicker-twister who created her own mold. She turned heads, stomachs, and daytime TV on its head with her wit, courage, and thinly-veiled gay rage. We'll miss her for as long as she's gone...which shouldn't be long.

The View has been an ideal, high-profile place for a Big Gay Gal to speak her mind to desperate homebound housewives in the a.m. While we acknowledge the potential entertainment value of an all-new set of skill games on The Price Is Right (Spot The Fake Boobs, Shar-pei or Star Jones?, Pin The Subpoena On The Republican, Pick a Toup' For The Trump), we think there are obvious pitfalls to a lesbian having "Come On Down" as her catch phrase. We're going on record as betting that she's not seriously after Barker's job. Watch for another rant opportunity to fall on her plate faster than you can say "Star Jones Married A Queer". She's instant ratings. And that matters.

The right place for O'Donnell, if not in government, is Air America Radio. This Speak Truth To Power powerhouse deserves an unfettered soapbox where she need not apologize to Baba Wawa every time she says what the rest of us were thinking. And nobody should have to sit that close to Elizabeth Hasselbeck without having the option of punching her in the mouth. We say, "So long Ro'....and God's speed."

No worries here about this TV Titan landing on her feet. The only question is who else's feet will she land on? We're hoping they're big and important. And a gentle reminder to Ms. Walters: You made your bones asking tough questions of powerful people. Let's hope this isn't a sign that you've lost your backbone due to osteoporosis...or a simple lack of guts. Daytime TV was in desperate need of a conversation about something other than EVOO and how bra straps cut into the back. Regis is so yesterday. Rachael Ray is an over-hyped flash in the pan. And Tyra Banks...well, bless her heart.

Oprah is everlasting because she is who she is. Rosie is in the same mold - only with a potty mouth. And that makes her a lot more like us than Oprah will ever be.

Ms. Fonda Is Not Happy

(CBS) Jane Fonda is siding with the studio executive who blasted Lindsay Lohan for partying too much, acting like a spoiled child and showing up late for work while filming "Georgia Rules."

We can't say that we're surprised. Lindsay "Lips" Lohan and Jane Fonda were a combustible combination from the get-go. Not since Kim Basinger and Alec Baldwin teamed up for....what was the name of that movie again?...have we been this sure that someone would get bitch-slapped before the director yelled "Cut! And cover your cooch!"

We simply commend Ms. Fonda for her strong defense of the inherently honorable thespian profession. Also laying waste to Lohan's behavior: Nick Nolte, Mel Gibson, Paula Poundstone, Colin Farrell, PeeWee Herman, and various rappers. You know you've gone too far when people who WANT to see your pussy think you're skanky for showing it. Oh...and for not showing up to work on time.

We did not break our No Pussy Moratorium lightly here at SMTS. We thought long and limp about whether it was a necessary part of the story or if it simply appealed to the most base instincts. Concluding that base instincts are the fun ones, we went with the pussy picture.

"But you're GAY!" We know, we know. It's not like we touched it or anything. In fact, we edited this post while wearing gloves. We also delayed our morning bagel until the offending orifice was safely out of the viewing window. As a matter of policy, we are pro-vagina for the purposes of perpetuation of the race. We simply choose not to participate. We abdicate, in simpler terms. We defer to others more qualified. And more inclined.

To those who accuse us of Gratuitous Pussy, we say "Go ask Jane." We could not find a picture of Lindsay showing up late to work or flubbing her lines. So we went for the easy shot. Our options were "Pussy" or "Martini". And let's face it....Pussy Sells.

Kudos to Fonda for joining Donald Trump as leaders of the brand new and utterly unlikely Wholly Holy On Responsibility, Ethics & Seriousness (WHORES) For The Media. What's this world coming to when B-listers show up late, party 'til dawn and eschew thongs for the commando media grab? We have been to rehab any number of times (visiting friends, naturally) and can tell you that the paper undies they make you wear do not encourage good skivvy habits. So don't expect a change on that note from Ms. Lohan.

On the topic of Stars Behaving Badly, we feel led to add a novel note to the Alec Baldwin saga. If our mother had left the kind of phone message Mr. Baldwin left on his daughter's answering machine, "Rude....pig....rude....pig....pig....pig", we'd assume Mom was in a very good mood and we were probably going to Pizza Hut. When our parents were pissed, "rude little pig" would have sounded like the title of a fairy tale compared to what we really heard. So we're left to wonder: What's The Big Deal? Did anybody grow up in a house where "rude little pig" was a shocking reprimand from a parent?

Alec: Stop using the telephone. Lindsay: Put your clothes on. You're already running late. It can only help. Jane: Don't criticize half-naked, drunken children. It's beneath you. Donald: Go away. Kim: Take a Valium and learn what real curse words sound like.

Note to all, to quote the woman who used to look like Joan Rivers: ...Grow up.

Foreign Policy: The Lost Puppy Approach

"We want to defeat them there, so we don't have to face them here...If we retreat -- were to retreat from Iraq, what's interesting and different about this war is that the enemy would follow us here. " - Pres. Geo. W. Bush, April 10, 2007 to a Fairfax, Va. American Legion post.

We would like to assure Our Only President that the flaws in his reasoning are understandable, but disappointingly untrue, nonetheless. When this line began falling upon our constantly pricked-up ears 5 years ago, we thought something sounded slightly amiss. Before we issued an official policy statement, however, we decided to do some research of our own.

First, we went to a Kansas City drinking and dancing establishment, inserted ourselves into the mix of writhing, sweating, heaving chests and chatted up several of the locals. Upon leaving, we asked an objective bystander (a homeless man who will do anything for a cigarette and the ice from your drink) to count how many of the locals followed us home. We regret to inform you that despite leaving our address on countless tables and walls, no one followed us home.

Strike One for the President's Theory.

Next, we attended an Earth Day celebration where domesticated animals roamed freely amongst women with arm pit hair and men who had eschewed deodorant in 1963. We had filled our pockets with Liva Snacks to increase our - and the President's - chances of being successful. Again, no luck. No dogs followed us home. But "Prairie Princess" calls once a week to see if we're available for a vanilla chai and a nude fire circle come the next full moon.

Strike Two for the President's Theory.

We allowed for the notion that perhaps this only works when there is an ocean involved. So, being on a limited corporate travel budget, we hopped from Houston to Ft. Lauderdale. We stood on the beaches of Ft. Lauderdale expecting legions of Houstonians to come swimming ashore at any minute. Again, sundown came and aside from sand in our shoes, nothing came home with us.

Strike Three for the President's Theory...and now we're convinced.

We don't get a lot of muslims in Kansas, so finding an actual citizen of the Axis of Evil was difficult. Thanks to the Internet, however, we did connect with a Koran-wielding Cake Decorator on a popular hook-up site. Ali Koresh Raflahegi assured us that Rand McNally revealed the whereabouts of The New World to most of Asia shortly after Christopher Columbus returned from schtupping deliciously dark-skinned natives on our friendly shores. "We don't need to follow your troops home to find you," Ali noted. "We have MapQuest."

Well, color us embarrassed. We're sending an urgent cable to Our Only President post-haste to inform him of these developments. It is our hope that he will cease his suggestion that terrorists don't know the way to San Jose unless they have someone to follow.

In fact, we hope he stops speaking altogether.

(Our thanks to the Science and Research Staff of "So My Therapist Says" for their many contributions to this report.)

Monday Puzzle: Spot The Irony, Solve The Mystery

Former Russian president Yeltsin dead (CNN.com)
Former President Boris Yeltsin, who engineered the final collapse of the Soviet Union and pushed Russia to embrace democracy and a market economy, has died, a Kremlin official said today. He was 76. Kremlin spokesman Alexander Smirnov confirmed Yeltsin's death, but gave no cause or further information.

Far be it from us to use the death of a world leader to poke fun. But this one is just too easy.

Here's how the game works: Spot the irony in the news lead (above). Once you've found it, you can call the Kremlin coroner and save him hours and hours of autopsy-related cutting and pasting.

Since this is our first Blog-based game, we're giving you a hint to get you started:

Still stumped? OK. Two hints. And yes, that is a drunken Ann Coulter doing a thunder-thighed Macarena in the background. Solves more than one mystery, doesn't it?

Next: Kylie Minogue Takes Down Cheney

Crow and Rove Debate Global Warming
AP
WASHINGTON (April 22) - Karl Rove's debate with singer Sheryl Crow and producer Laurie David about global warming heated the atmosphere at a black-tie Washington dinner.

Well, we knew it would happen sooner or later. Karl Rove would have to answer for his role in something eventually. For whatever reason, we really thought Congress would beat Sheryl Crow to the punch.

The story goes that the former, almost Mrs. Lance Armstrong (a title shared with Matthew McConaughey, if you believe everything you hear) approached Rove at the Yuk Fest that is The Washington Correspondents' Dinner. Ms. Crow reportedly asked Mr. Rove to reconsider his position on Global Warming and to look into the whole Earth is Flat theory, as well.

Rove reportedly lost his mind and declared himself King of 37 states, all notably inland and immune from the effects of rising tides. In Rove's defense, the evening was hosted by Rich Little, a long-dead comedian who resurrected his Richard Nixon impression without a hint of irony. We at SMTS believe that 15 minutes of Rich Little could make anybody cranky and not just a little delusional.

Famed documentarian, Laurie David, who shot the Al Gore documentary, "An Inconvenient Truth" had initiated the exchange. David was present to collect footage for her next piece, a revealing look at elective dentistry, with the working title "An Inconvenient Tooth". David captured the entire exchange on a handheld video camera, but reports that in the editing process it was discovered that Rove's image ceased to appear on tape the moment he began to rant. The White House worked quickly this afternoon to quell suspicions on The Hill that Rove is an actual demonic entity whose image cannot be captured on film once he "manifests".

President Bush, who declined the traditional opportunity to poke fun at himself, instead spent 10 uncomfortable minutes expressing his anguish over the Virginia Tech massacre and explaining that his nickname for Rove, "Beelzebubba", was "in no way related to Satanism, The Prince of Darkness, or Dr. James Dobson."

Joan Dellabiagio, a former housekeeper for John Ashcroft said, "This is not the first time. At a Christmas party in 2003, Rove went ape when someone mentioned Hanukkah. I snapped his picture at that very minute, but the photo only shows the bar and a Jewish guy who appears to be arguing with the Christmas tree. Weird."

Attorney General Alberto Gonzalez issued a statement that says, "I have hours of footage of Karl losing his cool. Take my word for it, he's no demon. " When asked if he would testify to that under oath, the Attorney General said, "Are you kidding? Every time I touch a Bible, it leaves a scar."

Gonzalez also declined to produce the videos, citing national security concerns.

...And A Gently Used Play Station

Internet Key in Probe of Tech Gunman
Killer Bought Ammo Clips on eBay
By ADAM GELLER and CHRIS KAHN
AP
BLACKSBURG, Va. (April 22) - Computer forensics are playing a key role in the probe of the Virginia Tech gunman, with investigators revealing he bought ammunition clips on eBay designed for one of two handguns used to kill 32 people and himself.

This is how you know when your culture has made mass murder too easy. It's hard to line 30 people up and successfully execute them when you're relying on a baseball bat, a knife, and a rock.

But a PayPal account, 2 minutes on eBay, and a legion of dullards misreading the 2nd Amendment puts mass murder, quite literally, right at your finger tips. The asshole bought his ammo on eBay! No gas money to make it to Wal-Mart for your bullets? No problem! No cash to hand over the counter at Bubba's Ammo and Bait? No problem! Think they'll recognize you as the Crazy Asian Guy if you ask the neighbors to borrow several hundred rounds of ammo? No problem! EBay brings the 2nd Amendment to life for you: the broke, the crazy, and the gutless.

No background checks required. No I.D. necessary. No tracking, no limits, no risk... No common sense. The NRA has hoodwinked a good part of the populace and has alternating presidents in its pocket. For every Rep. Carolyn McCarthy (D-NY) who responds to gun violence by becoming an advocate for common sense restrictions on weapons, there are 1,000 turkey hunters who insist an Uzi is required to bring the gobbler to the table. And if not required, it should at least be on the list of options

The right to bear arms is guaranteed in the context of a well-regulated militia, not an unregulated Internet purchase. Without diminishing the responsibility of the individual who committed the heinous Virginia Tech murders (Seung Hui Cho), we should be taking a long, hard look at just how enabling we expect to be.

My dog's license has to be renewed annually. My Medicaid eligibility is reviewed every six months. My driver's license has to be renewed every 6 years. My state requires no license at all to purchase or own a gun. If I can't see well, I can't drive. If I'm blind as a bat, I'm welcome to shoot. If I take medication that compromises my ability to operate heavy machinery, I'm prohibited from taking some jobs. But I'm welcome to shoot under the same influence. I cannot drink and drive, but I can drink and shoot. Eventually, this should seem crazy.

It has been eight years, this week, since Dylan Klebold and Eric Harris mowed down thirteen people at Columbine High School. Sometimes I think we'll never learn.

Limbo In Limbo

Catholic Church Reverses Teaching on Limbo
By NICOLE WINFIELD
AP
VATICAN CITY (April 21) - Pope Benedict XVI has reversed centuries of traditional Roman Catholic teaching on limbo, approving a Vatican report released Friday that says there were "serious" grounds to hope that children who die without being baptized can go to heaven.

Well, color us relieved...we think. Without issuing an official encyclical or other papal document, and without certifying an official theological shift, His Pointy-Hatted Excellency has placed the concept of limbo in....well...limbo.

Infants currently in limbo were interviewed on The Montel Williams Show, courtesy of Clairvoyant Laureate, Sylvia Browne. "Johnny Doe", a 6-month old infant from the 16th Century, indicated that he and his fellow Limbonians had not yet started packing their belongings for a move to heaven, pending further details from the Vatican. "We've noted that the Catholic Church has not always gotten it right, to put it mildly, when it comes to dealing with kids," Doe said. "We're holding a Limbo Town Hall Meeting in late April to discuss whether we're even interested in a move that would put us just down Heaven's Highway from a whole gaggle of priests of dubious character."

"Catherine", as she prefers to be known, is a 3 year-old who died in The Great Chicago Fire. "Moving is a big thing," she noted. "First, can you sell your home if it's in a place that may no longer exist? If not, how in the world will I be able to afford a place anywhere else? It's not like we draw a pension down here." A spokesperson for Out Of This World Real Estate Financing confirmed "Catherine's" concerns. "The equity built up in a home that may soon be wiped off the history books is certainly in jeopardy," they noted, on condition of anonymity.

Cosmos Realtors Association has no estimates on the total value that would be lost if Limbo simply ceased to exist. "It would make the losses in Hurricane Katrina look like a minor hail storm," they noted on their Web site. The cost to relocate billions of dead children from Limbo to Heaven has been estimated in the bazillions of dollars. When asked who would finance such a move, the World Bank declined to speculate. One source at FEMA, a Catholic who fears excommunication if identified, confirmed that the agency has been contacted about the sale of 1,500 trailers. Neither Ford nor GM would confirm or deny that they had been contacted about contracts for an astronomical number of child safety seats.

Halliburton, however, openly expressed interest in the situation. "We have world-wide experience in wiping population centers clean and relocating refugees, whether they like it or not. Relocation is our bread and butter," a statement circulating in Rome says.

The Pope has declined further interviews on the potential impact of eliminating an entire plane of existence. Former Presidents Clinton and Bush were spotted boarding a plane for The Vatican early this morning. Neither camp would confirm that they were being enlisted to help solve the thorny problem of moving dead infants from the comfort of Limbo to the wonders of Heaven.

Pro-life radical Phyllis Schlafly stared slack-jawed when asked what the pro-life position would be on the handling of long-dead children. CNN's Nancy Grace noted that "as a woman who has a dead fiance, I feel particularly qualified to note that no one, not even Social Services, appears to have the best interests of the dead children in mind". Contacted for a response, Limbo Mayor, Stillborn German Boy 1984, asked simply, "Nancy who?"

Vermont Impeaches Bush....Or Something

Vermont Senate Calls for Bush Impeachment
Lawmakers Also Call for Impeachment of Cheney
By ROSS SNEYD
AP
MONTPELIER, Vt. (April 20) -
Vermont senators voted Friday to call for the impeachment of President Bush and Vice President Dick Cheney , saying their actions have raised "serious questions of constitutionality."

In related developments, Georgia disbanded the New York Yankees, saying they have "serious questions" about the nature of the relationship between Alex Rodriguez and Derek Jeter.

Maryland disbanded the Rocky Mountains, with their state legislature voting 24-7 that the range was "a royal pain in the ass, impassable for 10 out of 12 months".

And Arkansas disbanded Texas...just for spite.

No word from either Bush or Cheney as to whether they pissed themselves upon hearing of the Vermont vote. But Wolf Blitzer reportedly suffered priapism when considering how much air time this could fill.

Going Native in New York

Having endured no end of harassment from my far-flung friends in the Gay Meccas of San Francisco, Chicago, New York, and Tupelo, I hereby take my stand in defense of Lesser State Queers (LSQ's) everywhere.

CNN has not yet placed it on the crawl. Katie Couric can't manage a straight face to report it. And FOX News can't bring themselves to say "gay" because their kindness might piss off Ann Coulter. You're getting it here first.

Remember the Central Park pigeons that captivated the loony legions in The Big Apple? This is better. While those of us who see birds every day - and often battle them in our attics with brooms and Aqua Net (it works and it costs less than a dollar....use your imagination) - Asians used untold megapixels capturing this miracle of modern perching. New Yorkers hauled us by the taxi-load to view their Once In A Lifetime View Of A Seated Bird. We smiled and nodded in hopes that they wouldn't leave New York and bring their insanity to our fair prairies.

I know a homosexual - personally - who lives in New York. Not like Albany, NY, but NEW YORK, NY. THE New York. NY Times, Times Square, David Letterman....you get the picture. I can confirm he's a 'Mo because he once sent me a box of his clothing. Straight men simply don't own that much silk. AND I've spoken to three - THREE - men who have slept with him. I haven't spoken to three men I've slept with in the past decade. This is a dead certainty. He's queer.

He's also for certain in New York. I have caller I.D. I'm practically a private investigator.

So this New York 'Mo, who gave me no end of shit for moving to my homeland for security, reveals today that he has no running water in his loo. (Pause for requisite fainting.)

Heterosexuals have a gene that permits them to survive these circumstances, hence the perpetuation of the race until The Age of Running Water, at which time The Gay Community was born. Oh sure, there were gay people in the olden days. But they weren't happy about it. You hardly ever see a picture of Oscar Wilde smiling. I rest my case.

Homosexuals have a lifestyle that requires a combination of running water and privacy. First, we shave things and places that require a drain, a steady stream of warm water, and a door that will close. This is so we can pretend to others that hair simply doesn't grow there....anymore. We also have a tradition (some consider it a courtesy, others a requirement, and the lunatic fringe a taboo) of tidying up the play ground, shall we say? "Taking the garbage out the back door", "Dropping the pool off at the kids", "Showering the inner child".....capisce?

So imagine our surprise, here at SMTS, when we learned that our Hell's Kitchen Homo was residing in a pricey apartment without so much as an outhouse's worth of accommodations. I promise you this: Somewhere on Craig's List is a nota bene that you'd better take care of your bidness before you arrive at his doorman.

Our NY, silk-clad, fashion slave of a friend has no water in his toidy. Our great-grandpa had running water in his bathroom - indoors - in 1940-something. In Kansas. I'm told he uses that as his excuse to shower daily at The Gym. Showering you can do, with a little imagination, at the kitchen sink. With a few Wet Ones and a shpritz of Febreze, perhaps. But some things cannot - I stand corrected - should never occur in the general vicinity of food prep.

So take comfort, my Fairy Friends in Falls City, Sioux Falls, Topeka, Des Moines, Omaha, and Neodesha... We have it better than at least one of them Big City deviants. Never again let your zip code bring you down. At the end of the day, you have it just as good - if not better - than Those Who Can See The Ocean From Their Living Room. When life throws you shit, take comfort in the fact that you can wash it away in the comfort of your own home.

And be sure to ask, the next time you're in The City, if your 8-Hour Husband has a home with running water.

Ahhh.....Spring

Spring, it seems, has sprung....boobs. Now we know why "they" love Paris in the Springtime. The photo on the right is from late 2006, the photo on the left is from last month.

We admit with no shame that we are experts, at SMTS, only on the male mammary and various other appendages, both large and, unfortunately, small. But if our eyes don't lie, it seems that East hath met West somewhere in the middle of Paris with overwhelming results. Where the two sides were once far apart in their stance, a new summit (or pair of them) has resulted in a happy convergence of positions.

Spokespersons for both sides say that the meeting was merely a matter of time and that each holds out hope that they will see eye-to-eye, as it were, for some time to come. Both sides also acknowledged the possibility of even greater cooperation in coming years, with such adjustments to the pact as made necessary by the ravages of time and the wonders of science.

Claire de Bourgonville, a tour guide at The Eiffel Tower, indicated that this new attraction in the center of Paris should not significantly impact tourism at the vaunted edifice. "Even with the remarkable renovation au centre de Paris," she quipped, "la Tour Eiffel is still the only one of the two on which you could safely climb."

'Nuff said.

But Chewing Will Kill You...

Smoke Break Saves Woman From Falling Tree
(AP) ROCK HILL, S.C.
(April 18) - Smoking just might have saved Brenda Comers' life. She said she had just finished washing dishes Monday and stepped outside to smoke a cigarette when an 80-foot oak tree crashed through her roof, landing across the sink where she had been standing just seconds before.

Never mind the questions that arise naturally out of this news lead: 1)Just how many dishes must you be washing when a smoke break is in order at some point? OR 2)How addicted must you be when you can't make it through dishwashing without a toke?

In yet another example that Jesus doesn't care if you smoke, Brenda Comers can count on a (shortened) lifetime supply of Marlboros for the free publicity. If Brenda had been like so many of South Carolina's gentility, she'd be reported dead whilst unburdening herself into the sink-side Nascar Spit Cup.

We here at SMTS recommend smoking. We think it weeds out the weak-gened part of the species. Look at Bette Davis, for example. She at least appeared to smoke well into her 130th year. And George Burns. And that guy from the tracheotomy commercial. When others squealed in horror at the sight of a man sucking smoke through his blow-hole, I thought he should have been given a spot on "That's Incredible!" hosted by the lovely and pansexual John Davidson, Fran Tarkenton and a woman. (We knew....even way back then....we knew.)

Chewing, however, is verboten in the SMTS household and circle of acquaintances. We equate it to shitting. We don't mind knowing that you do it, but we prefer you not to do it in a see-thru cup and carry it to important functions. Like a Bar Mitzvah, for example. (We don't have Bar Mitzvahs in Kansas, to my knowledge. That was just to include you other folks who grew up with inside toilets.)

After our last near-death experience (we've made the trip so many times, we can tell you that The Light is simply an ill-placed luminary in a heavenly Taco Bell parking lot), we decided it best to haul the quasi-corpse back to the homeland, so that it wouldn't suffer the indignity of riding in the underbelly of a Southwest Airlines flight as its last travel experience. We made a one-year layover in Suburbia before putting aside the last of our expectations for life and buying a home in Mayberry, pop. 3,000.

It should be noted that we are unequivocally pleased with the choice after three years. However, in the first week, we made our first trip to The Grocery Store. Why they bothered to name it (CountryMart) is beyond me. There ain't but the one for 15 miles in any direction. "The Grocery Store" is how it is and will always be labeled. They could call it "Nekkid Chicks and Jerky Sticks" and folks would still just call it The Grocery Store. But I digress.

On my first trip through The Grocery Store, I was met in the canned goods aisle by a gentleman of country persuasion. Here, my facts may fail me. It might have been the bread/chips aisle. They've switched them in the last year. Mostly, this serves as entertainment for a few months while you watch the old folks squeeze cans of creamed corn until it dawns on them that This Isn't The Bread Aisle Anymore. Then they clatter over one aisle to squeeze something else. But I digress...

In said Canned Goods Aisle, I was mindin' my own business...like you do.... looking for Green Beans - cut in hunks, not longwise, as God intended. This nice gentleman excused himself in front of me, I smiled, and he hocked a brown loogie into a see-thru Dairy Queen Moolatte cup.

I left my cart in the Canned Goods Aisle and shopped Out Of Town for the next month. Oft times, when in Rome, one cannot do or tolerate what the Romans do. So we take a weekend en provence to right ourselves. The point is, chewing is bad for you. At the very least, it should not be done where people are having vain imaginations of culinary success. Or where people of proper upbringing might happen upon you. Or in North America.

Smoking, on the other hand, may well save your life. Just ask Brenda Comers of Rock Hill, S.C.

Salvaged

It seems our physician has come to the conclusion that we are now at the stage of life where "salvaging" should become a part of our conversational lexicon. Came as something of a shock, it did. But if we were honest, we'd say that it was probably a bit overdue.

Never one to lose his sense of humor in the face of grim statistics, I plan to approach my Salvage Business like everything else: Just one more thing to wake up and conquer. I've imagined my Salvage Therapy to include putting a 1963 Chevy Pickup on blocks in the front yard, having a deceased washing machine on the back porch, and a pile of flat tires in the backyard...just in case they come in handy. I had thought the salvage mentality had gone the way of BetaMax with the advent of eBay and recycling. I'm just going through the Garage Sale stage of my life, it seems.

I have a date tomorrow with a vampire - a square-bottomed lesbian who will drain me of several vials of tainted blood. We'll ship them off and see if I qualify for a new clinical trial for the latest, greatest hope of the Aidsy Set, as Randy used to call it. I've been tired for a long, long time. My current headache has lasted for 8 weeks - unabated. I've proven that no amount of Vicodin, Klonopin, Tylenol, Sudafed or Marijuana (concurrently, on at least one occasion) can keep it away. Something's been rotten in Denmark for a little while now, though I didn't mind until I started with the vomiting. That's where we draw the line.

I would rather endure amputation than hurl. Honest. Been that way since time immemorial.

It seems we've exhausted the rather lengthy list of medications that can prolong the beleaguered existence of a person in our condition - or quite nearly done so. We have now officially become a hopeful guinea pig. Hopeful, because there's not yet a guarantee that even the clinical trial is an option. Hence my Interview With The Vampire tomorrow.

We are likely to be uncharacteristically under the weather in the near future and, if history tells us anything, will be unpleasant in the extreme. New medicine does that to us - especially if it makes us hurl. While we are not prone to being maudlin or morbid, we do find refuge in a deep well of nastiness that sustains us in such moments. Who knows how many nurses have been driven from the profession by one of our many hospital stays?

It's all about expectations and predictability. You expect that you won't wake up dead in the morning. (I know that's oxymoronic, but you get my point.) You expect that today will be rather like yesterday and not bring anything shocking to your doorstep. If you'd expected it, you wouldn't have been shocked, no? You hope that your demise is predictable, slow and leaves plenty of time for tidying up around the house: ditching the worst of the porn, cleaning up enough so they don't call you a slob post-mortem, folding your underwear so they remark upon your attention to detail. You hope.

My expectations when hospitalized are that I will be treated like a lazy guest at the Hilton. I will lie there while you wait on me hand and foot (and vein). When I need something, I'll push the little button and you will scamper to me as though you'd been waiting on nothing more than my call light and my request for another ultra-mini can of Coke. Or to change the sheets I've sweat through for the third time in an hour. Or to remove the urinal from the table where I'm going to eat in a few minutes. When my expectations aren't met, I turn into a Nursing Instructor and give the short course in How To Make Your Life Bearable and Mine Unspeakably Pleasant For The Next Few Days. Just give me what I want when I want it and then go away. And smile, for Christ's sake. It's not like you're the one hooked up to the machines. You're getting paid for this and I'm going to get a bill.

I did not expect to be salvaged so soon. But here we are. It's disconcerting, to say the least. But we will continue to picnic and pretend that the big birds circling over head are simply after our tuna salad. And we will continue to laugh. We invite you to at least smile. It takes our mind off things.

Should we be lax in providing new material in the near future, don't worry. We'll either be back soon enough with something provocative and hysterical (to us, anyway) or our sister will post the nice words the newspaper says about us when it's all over. Either way...you'll have at least one more original read. Hell, we may even pre-write our obituary and post it here so we can enjoy it together.

Now that's the way things ought to work. Salvaged or not.

Pat Robertson Answers Your Questions

Seein' as how this is the Gentile version of the Sabbath and whatnot, we decided to be a bit more spiritual for one day out of seven and bring you some chicken soup for your soul.

One of our favorite examples of Mental Illness In The Media is Pat Robertson. On his Web site, http://www.700club.com, he invites visitors to "Bring It On", by way of submitting hard-hitting questions on any topic. Pat then channels Mussolini and Joan Crawford in giving his answers.

We thought it would be fun to give his answers and then give our own answers. Then we challenge you to pick who gave which answer. Think of it as a break from the Sunday crossword.

Today's question comes from Tempted in Turkey:

I’m currently studying in Turkey, and one day I hope to move here or the Middle East. I met a guy that I’m attracted to, and we share a lot of the same interests; however, he is Muslim. Nothing has started and nothing will, but is it a sin to be attracted to him -- to be attracted to non-Christians?

And now the answers:

CHOICE A: Dear Tempted,

Let’s face it: he’s a man; you’re a woman. It’s not a sin to be female with a male. But let me tell you, don’t get married to a Muslim. You will be treated as a second class person. They will take the rights away from you. If you have children, they’re liable to take your children away from you. It is a hellish situation for a Christian woman or an American woman to get involved in a marriage with somebody from one of these other cultures that treats women like dirt, and you just don’t need it. You may be physically attracted; but remember, that will happen to you later on. So don’t do it.

CHOICE B: Dear Tempted,

What does he look like? You know how sometimes people of Middle Eastern or Mediterranean descent can be overly-hairy? This should be a primary factor in your decision. You say that you're attracted to him, but have you seen him without a shirt? Or have you taken a peek at his ass? An overly hairy ass is nothing but a breeding ground for all manner of pestilence.

It is not a sin to be attracted to this man or any non-Christian. In fact, you'll find that a non-Christian is much more likely to buy you a drink, tell you you're pretty, and then give you a memorable 45 minutes in the back seat of a Hyundai. And you don't have to pay for any of it!

Jesus loves him. Why shouldn't you? Go for it! But don't come crying to us the first time your jewelry gets snagged in his back hair.

Amen.

Who Reads This Shit?

We're glad you asked! Of the last 100 visitors to our humble abode, we can tell you the following (cue Big Brother music):

1. Florida, Nevada, S. Dakota, N. Dakota, Nebraska, Kansas, Illinois, New York, New Jersey, Virginia, Missouri, California, Maryland, Washington, Colorado, Tennessee, Wisconsin, Arizona, Indiana, Minnesota, Iowa, and North Carolina are home to those readers who stopped by to set a spell in the last several days.

2. More remarkably: India, Canada, El Salvador, Norway, The Netherlands, Guatemala, France, Portugal, England, Denmark, Morocco, Colombia, Sweden, Australia, Brazil, and Germany sent readers our way in the last week. God knows if they speak English. But we welcome them giddily.

3. We peeked in on what they were searching for, as well...for R&D purposes, naturally. We won't ever do that again, so feel free to google anything your twisted little heart desires. Just know that if you ever lose your way, a google search for "womens' prolapsed assholes" will bring you right back here. I don't know why. I don't want to know why. It just does. And shame on you for googling that. You know who you are.

4. In the last week, we've had our T.V. habits criticized, our news commentary lauded, and one open letter to a person of note still unanswered. (If you run into Prince William or if your cousin happens to meet Prince Harry on the battlefield, give them a shout-out and this URL. OK?)

5. We've added one of our favorite columnists, via video, on the site. Just by clicking on the T.V. screens to the right (---->) you can watch Dan Savage in a variety of settings and on a wide variety of topics. If you don't know from Dan Savage, you might want to put grandma and the kids to bed and turn the volume down before you click.

Thanks for giving us a boost on our first week back! Feel free to leave your comments any time. We've yet to delete one. OK, maybe one. But it was overly-flattering and referenced our Editor-in-Chief's "honey pot", which we deemed too family-unfriendly for this space. (For more on our standards, see "bowtie-wearing pussy", "eating pussy" and the variety of lesbian sex references above.)

We hope to be around for a long, long time - commenting on the news of the day and the occasional giggle from home. We don't take it seriously and neither should you. If we were serious people, we'd be coaching basketball at Rutgers, making German army training videos, or using a chainsaw to defend our honor. We're just not, though.

One lone question via email about the Blog's nonsequitur of a title: "Wasn't he do-able?" The answer is "Oh, quite. We just had a momentary fit of good judgement in the midst of an emotional pothole. Under any other circumstance, we'd be fucking our therapist and not blogging."

'Nuff said.