Should this Book be Banned from Schools?

Most everybody, it seems, is all for the use of plain language. That is to say, being plainspoken is often seen as a virtue, whereas flowery language is, or can often be, seen as obfuscatory, i.e., attempting to confuse, or hide something by the use of arcane language.

So, would it be “appropriate” to have in a school library a book that openly talked about a young woman having her nipples rubbed, and breasts squeezed by her numerous, seemingly countless lovers? A young woman who was so horny that she wanted men with big penises to stretch out her vagina? To have it filled to overflowing with their semen? To be an orgiastic “cum slut,” or “bukkake babe”?

If the colloquial language used to describe such acts shocks your sensibilities, perhaps the idea of the underlying acts would similarly be shocking: A super horny young girl who just wants to fuck… all day long, day and night, day in, day out, with as many men as she possibly can, who revels in the orgasmic sensuality of the entire experience.

If that shocks, or, even disgusts you, and you think that such descriptions are “inappropriate” for young children, or even older teens, to read such material, perhaps it might be wise to consider banning the book, or books, that contain such sexually graphically depictive language, and ideas.

Interestingly, that book which contains such graphical literary depictions of sexual activity in REAL LIFE is in

Happy Easter, er… Happy Fertility Day!

For Christians, today is Easter Sunday. It’s their annual high holy day which corresponds with the Spring Equinox in which they celebrate the alleged resurrection from the dead of their god, Jesus of Nazareth, whom they also call Jesus Christ, whom they believe to be God incarnate, and the “son of God,” even though in their story book, Jesus only referred to himself as “the son of man,” NEVER as “the son of God.” NEVER.

Of course, they’ll fight you tooth and nail in disagreement that Jesus of Nazareth is not their god all while saying “praise Jesus!” and making similar exclamations, but in the same breath, they’ll capitulate and confuse things by saying there’s a “trinity” of three separate divine beings whom they identify as “the Father,” “the Son,” and “the Holy Spirit” whom they claim are not separate, but are separate, and are “co-equal” yet distinct and unique.

Entire religions – actually, “denominations” – have been formed around the various interpretations of those blatantly absurdist claims. Baptists, Methodists, Presbyterians, Episcopalians, Church of Christ, Church of God, Church of God  in Christ, Mormons, Jehovah’s Witnesses, Seventh Day Adventists, Cumberland Presbyterian, are but a few, and that’s just here in the United States.

Abroad, there’s Greek Orthodox, Russian Orthodox, Armenian Apostolic, Armenian Catholic, Armenian, Coptic Catholic, Coptic Orthodox, Anglican, Anglican Catholic, and on, and on, and on, and on. Some have said there are probably tens of thousands of different denominations and sects of Christianity, while others say there are but a few hundred. And yet, the odd thing is, that while they’re all “doing their own thing” they pray and seemingly ask for “unity” which they call ecumenism.

Bottom line? It’ll never happen. Not until they all give up their own private interpretations, traditions, and everything about their religion.

There’s a long-standing joke – there’s ALWAYS truth in humor, and it serves to remind us of the matter about which it takes light-heartedly, and even

Who Cares What Jesus Would Do? What Would Trump Do?

Dear Judas,
(A Letter to the Evangelical Church)

NOVEMBER 20, 2020
by JOHN PAVLOVITZ

Dear Evangelicals,

I thought of you today.

I was reading the Bible. (You may remember the Bible from a sitting president’s recent upside-down, tear-gassed, church steps photo op.)

I came across Matthew’s story of Judas’ final moments here on the planet: overwhelmed with guilt, in a searing, sweaty panic — realizing that he had betrayed his beloved Jesus and sent him to an unthinkably violent death, all for thirty cold pieces of silver that now felt worthless in his hands.

He’d kissed him and he’d killed him, just to gain a quick windfall that he suddenly realized was fool’s gold.

He died knowing he’d forfeited his soul and couldn’t get a refund.

President Donald Trump poses with a Bible outside St. John’s Church across Lafayette Park from the White House Monday, June 1, 2020, in Washington, D.C. Part of the church was set on fire during protests on Sunday night. (AP Photo/Patrick Semansky)

I wonder if you will ever have such a last-minute awakening: a similarly sickening moment of clarity-come-too-late, when you look around and see all that you’ve destroyed and how many people you’ve grievously wounded — and if you too will realize that you’re now permanently in the red because you have abandoned your namesake for another name that adorns very different kinds of buildings.

Take a moment and survey the coins in your hand, now, friends.

Roll them around your fingers.

Feel the weight of them.

Your thirty pieces of silver were these last four years, some Supreme Court Justices, a couple hundred lower court judges, the temporary high of a few political wins, the bully pulpit of a President’s Twitter feed for forty-eight months, and perhaps soon, loss of a woman’s right to autonomy over her own body.

That was your soul’s selling price.

Was it all worth betraying Jesus for, I wonder?

Was it worth brutalizing the already vulnerable and oppressed, whose lives he said he inhabited?

Was it worth aligning with this petulant, profane Caesar in all his pervasive and prolific violence?

Was it worth driving a generation from the Church that Jesus built to be a refuge for wanderers, a balm for the hurting, a destination for weary pilgrims, and a home for prodigals?

From where I’m standing, it wasn’t.

From where I’m standing, you’re bankrupt.

From where I’m standing, you’re stuck.

President Donald Trump (in blue tie, 3rd from right) poses outside St. John’s Church across Lafayette Park from the White House Monday, June 1, 2020, in Washington. Part of the church was set on fire during protests on Sunday night. Standing with Trump are, LEFT to RIGHT, Defense Secretary Mark Esper, Attorney General William Barr, White House national security adviser Robert O’Brien, Trump, White House Press Secretary Kayleigh McEnany, and White House Chief of Staff Mark Meadows. (AP Photo/Patrick Semansky)

I’m out here with the multitudes who will never darken the door of one your gatherings ever again because they’ve seen your greed.

I’m here with those whose last remaining tethers to religion have been fully severed seeing you abandon the tender world-loving heart of Jesus, in favor of a thin facade of nationalistic bravado.

I’m here alongside hundreds of thousands sitting vigil for

Achoo!

An orgasm is the moral equivalent of a sneeze. It’s part of the autonomic nervous system and thus, largely cannot be controlled.

A sneeze is much ado about nothing.

Or, at least it is now.

It was once thought to portend poor health, sickness and disease, which is why many will say “bless you,” or “gesundheit!” after one sneezes.

Again, because a sneeze is a function of the autonomic nervous system, there’s largely nothing we can do to prevent it from occurring.

The autonomic nervous system regulates such bodily functions as digestion, breathing rate, heart rate, urination, pupillary response (response of the pupils to light), and sexual arousal.

So many make much ado about sexuality, but most of today’s ideas about sexuality are

World’s Oldest Man

“Methuselah lived 900 years,” says the partial lyric in one song.

The account to which the song refers, is found in the Old Testament book of Genesis, chapter 5, verse 27, which states that, “Altogether, Methuselah lived a total of 969 years, and then he died.” (NIV)

But more recently, the World’s Oldest Man, Masazo Nonaka, who was aged 113, has died overnight. That according to his family, granddaughter Yuko Nonaka, who called the family doctor, who in turn, officially pronounced his death.

Of her grandfather’s death Yuko said in part that, “We feel shocked at the loss of this big figure. He didn’t have any health problem. He went peacefully and that’s at least our consolation.”

In April 2018, the Guinness World Records certified Masazo Nonaka, then aged 112 years and 259 days, as being the World’s Oldest Living Man.

Masazo Nonaka was certified by Guinness World Records as the Oldest Living Man April 2018.

Born July 25, 1905, he grew up in a large family – six brothers, one sister – in his youth was a lumberjack and farmer, married in 1931, and fathered five children. He succeeded his parents in owning and operating Yado Nonaka Onsen, a hot springs inn at the foot of

Little Irritants

The toilet lid is up.

The toilet seat is up.

The toothpaste cap is off.

The toothpaste tube is squeezed all over.

The toilet paper hangs off the back.

The toilet paper hangs off the front.

Dirty dishes remain in the kitchen sink overnight.

We are only as big as the smallest thing that irritates us.

Professor Dr. Robert Alter, PhD, professor of Hebrew and comparative literature at the University of California, Berkeley, wrote in his 1984 book “The Art of Biblical Poetry” that a dialogue with “the voices of two lovers, praising each other, yearning for each other, proffering invitations to enjoy” the sensuous joys of sexuality and the encouraging dialogue of friends occurs in Song of Solomon, the unmistakably erotic book in the Bible.

Feminist Biblical scholar Dr. Jo Cheryl Exum, PhD, Professor Emeritus at the University of Sheffield, England, in an expository entitled “Song of Songs” in the 2012 book “Women’s Bible Commentary,” wrote in part that, “We do not know whether or not the situation – love, one-to-one relationship – allowed a certain freedom from social constraints, or whether the genre (love poetry) of the social setting (private rather than public life) accounts for the Song’s unique portrayal of mutuality in love, but in any event, the Song testifies to a world-view that included a vision of romance in which

A Short, Post Saint Patrick’s Day Lesson

If you’ve ever heard any Xian pop songs, you may have heard the line “I don’t believe in luck, I believe in Jesus.” Or, maybe you’ve heard someone say something like, “I’m not lucky, I’m blessed.” The idea is that, for the Christian, luck has no role in their life. Simply put, that’s not only bad theology, it’s contrary to Scripture itself.

“I have seen something else under the sun: The race is not to the

Is God an Abortionist?

The Bible never mentions abortion.

It doesn’t suggest it, nor does it even hint at it.

The Bible doesn’t forbid prostitution.

In fact, there are many things the Bible doesn’t even mention.

But it does forbid eating pork, shrimp, oysters, mussels, clams, cheeseburgers, wearing clothing made with cotton/polyester blended  fabric, that a man should marry his brother’s wife if the brother dies before impregnating her, and several hundred other nonsensical rules, regulations and laws – almost all of which were religiously based upon ignorance.

At the time the Bible was written (approximately 4000 BC/BCE), there was no understanding of Germ Theory (1864). No one understood Bernoulli’s Principle (1783). In fact Bernoulli wasn’t even born then. No one understood the physics and principles of lift, low pressure, high pressure, or how weather systems occurred. Even the beer and wine that was made then was thought to have been made magically – as if it were some kind of mystical gift from the gods, a god, or the God. They had no idea – were literally clueless – that it was through fermentation, because

We All Love… Silly Pet Pictures

Seen here, Izzy, the dog has “rescued” a discarded empty of chips from the trash bin, apparently in hopes of obtaining a smidgen of a tasty morsel. / Photo by SRL

Do Animals…

Things like this – Cat LOL videos, stories of animals having friendships, and other similarly expressive photos & stories (such as the depressed goat which was separated from, then was reunited with it’s longtime donkey companion) – are quite fascinating.

The reason why should be self-evident. Which is, that we find them humorous or entertaining because we ascribe human traits to animals.

From childhood, I never considered the

People can never predict when hard times might come.

Death Comes to All

1This, too, I carefully explored: Even though the actions of godly and wise people are in God’s hands, no one knows whether God will show them favor. 2The same destiny ultimately awaits everyone, whether righteous or wicked, good or bad,^a ceremonially clean or unclean, religious or irreligious. Good people receive the same treatment as sinners, and people who make promises to God are treated like people who don’t.

3It seems so tragic that

Marriage Tips: A Healthy View of Conflict

Just as in our physical life, when we fall down, it’s because we lose our balance.

It’s not our sense of equilibrium that is lost – it may still be intact – but our physical bodies, the thing we use to communicate with the external world, has taken a spill.

It’s important to get back up, and to continue toward a path that leads to understanding.

Remember: It’s important to think about how you think.

—

Marriage Tips

Gaining a Healthy View of Conflict

By Tim and Joy Downs

The very presence of conflict in marriage is a source of embarrassment and even shame for Christian people.

Here are three revolutionary ideas – thoroughly Biblical ideas – that can change the way you look at conflict in marriage.

1. Marriage will not always be enjoyable.

Marriage workshops are dangerous places, and marriage is no different. Marriage is

Because sometimes, your marriage REALLY DOES suck.

Face it.

Life can have its moments.

And, those moments can try even the best of us.

Sure, there are some really trite sayings about life and relationships.

But unless you’ve been there, done that, and got the ratty, tattered tee-shirt to prove it, it doesn’t make a damn bit of difference.

And because divorce sucks and blows huge gnarly chunks.

—

Marriage Tips

But I Don’t Feel Like It

By Pam Farrel

I see it all the time as a counselor. We’ve all felt it: the “Hey, what about me?” syndrome. Sometimes it sneaks up on us when we feel that our emotional needs aren’t being met – and we resent it. Or maybe we have a hard-to-love spouse and we’re tired of trying to make things work. That’s when the “Hey, what about me?” syndrome hits. When does it come? It’s when we’re feeling sorry for ourselves – or just plain tired of trying – what can we do?

Choose.

Choose to make wise decisions.

Don’t rely on feelings or emotions when the going gets tough.

Our feelings don’t carry us to the right decisions; rather right decisions carry us to right emotions – and positive rewards. Here are a few ways you can exercise your will over your emotions:

Decide to take “divorce” out of your dictionary.

My husband, Bill, and I have counseled couples back to happiness from all kinds of crises: loss of a child, loss of a home, all kinds of addictions, affairs, and a whole lot

God… with a big I and my Rose

Sometimes, things aren’t always what they seem. Some call it ‘the irony of life,’ though it may be known by other names. It is indeed fascinating to note that what we see is often not what it is – or the true nature of a thing. There are reams and volumes galore of books written upon such the subject, which touches upon art, science, philosophy and religion.

Recently, having been blessed by reading an old prayer that indeed succinctly expressed the irony of life through faith, I had decided to share it with a dear friend.

Following is his response, then the prayer:

I think I first encountered this prayer while

The Priests who Survived the Atomic Bomb

Miracles happen daily.

They just don’t get much press.

Why?

“… a small community of Jesuit Fathers living in a presbytery near the parish church, which was situated less than a mile away from detonation point, well within the radius of total devastation. And all eight members of this community escaped virtually unscathed from the effects of the bomb. Their presbytery

Institutional Failure: UAH, Discovery Middle School; Killers Amy Bishop, Andrew Pakhomov & 14 year-old

Exactly what are the rules of “the Blame Game?”

We certainly know how to play it. And it seems that the silly little games we adults often play at times like this – in the midst of tragedy – rather than accept responsibility, we adults behave as if we were once again, carefree 6th graders on a playground somewhere, dodging and deflecting a kickball thrown at us.

Games however, are as much for adults as they are for children, and perhaps more so, because in learning to abide by rules and cooperating, we come to understand strategies, tactics, and how best to utilize opportunities – things and events – that come our way. Essentially, it is “the hand that is dealt us.” Hopefully, we learn how to be gracious losers, and equally humble winners, understanding also that no one always wins, and that “our time is coming.”

Yet, it is game-playing at inappropriate times that characterizes and differentiates children from adults.

Thanksgiving Carp (or should it be “crap”?)

My Thanksgiving this year was unremarkable.

I said jokingly – although with serious intent – that I should’ve gone to the homeless shelter to eat. At least that way I would’ve had some turkey, dressing and traditional food!

The ironic part of it all, was that I bought enough groceries to feed an army: 25 lb turkey, 20 lb ham, 10 lb pork tenderloin, 7 lb of three types sausage, 2 lb slab-cut bacon, mushrooms (shitake, portobello & white), onions, leeks, fresh spinach, cream, genuine maple syrup, pecans, walnuts, tomato paste, salad dressings, cheeses, and much, much more (over $300 worth)! The meat is now residing in the freezer, while the other perishables are in the refrigerator’s cooler drawer.

Perhaps it was my Matthew 22:9 moment. The well-read will recall that is the parable of the feast taught by Jesus Christ, in which the king made ready a feast but the invited guests didn’t show up. So, he commanded his servants to go out into the city streets, highways and byways and bid all to come to the feast.

My roommate is “vegetabletarian,” wasn’t invited anywhere by anyone she knew, and I didn’t get the invite from my folks because they were invited by my brother’s in-laws (Clifford & Jolene) to their place. I thought that was kind’a ass-holey of them, not my folks, to not invite me. I’m the elder of two, have neither spouse nor children, and don’t lead a secret life. Which is to say, C&J and all the gang know that. I guess they gave me the great big “FUCK YOU” this year.

But oh, dear LORD… don’t let ’em think for one moment they might be “dissing” me – their artificially nice world would cave in around them. But know what’s weird? He’s a Baptist-turned-Independent “holiness” preacher.

See what I mean? At least if I ate with the homeless folks, I’d have been around some folks that would’ve taken an interest in me.

As it was, I enjoyed the fellowship of one human being – my roommate and her dog Atticus – and one other… Mr. Jack Daniel’s whiskey.

Okay, enough carping.

So, the first turkey I had this season was at – of all places – a Chinese restaurant, the Sunday after Thanksgiving! Oh yeah… I also had some of my favorites: octopus salad, raw oysters, shrimp and kimchi, along with some beef – cooked, of course (though I’ve eaten it raw… yum! *LOL*).

I had a couple of laughs that day with my waitress and the folks at the table next to mine. I’m a personable fellow, and I like to laugh and smile.

Folks that know me, know that.

In retrospect, I suppose it all worked out for the best… though I still think it sucks.