Tag Archives: Odd News

Vatican goes green, and why text messages are evil

Considering the News…

In its latest attempt to embrace the digital age the Vatican is calling all Catholics and deploring believers to put down those sin-riddled cellphones during these glorious days of self-inflicted self-deprivation known as Lent. And it’s about bloody time.

Alas, how so dreadfully often furious typers of text messages neglect to take an occasional moment to bask in the glory of the Lord,  appreciating the sacrifices Christ made many centuries ago to guarantee our ability to text in peace.

So many times Mass goers have looked in uncontrolled horror as an iPhone clings to one believer’s hand while the body of Christ is placed in the other.

Why must these menacing iPod headphones dangle from ears when almighty and all-knowing priests speak the word of the Lord?

How can we not go one day a week without obsessing over the stats and numbers on our computers at work?

Must we drive those 17 unholy miles to work every day of Lent, or can a bike suffice for the sake of sacrifice?

Indeed, the Vatican – the guiding light it is, the beacon of hope we gratefully accept it to be – has composed a righteous list of ways to shun technology for these 40 days of Lent.

The Pope has blessed this manifesto of ways for circumventing the inherent dangers and evils of computers, iPhones, and Facebook.

All we can do is hope. Pray. Accept this list as a means for coming closer to God. For emulating the sacrifices Jesus so unselfishly made many years ago.

For more tips on how to become a better Catholic, please visit the Vatican website. Or, please befriend Pope Benedict on his Facebook and MySpace pages. Or, for those wanting some viral proverbs, feel free to tune into the Vatican YouTube Channel that is now available.

See you all after Easter!

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Michael Jackson’s nose is gone – No one surprised

Considering the News…

Michael Jackson is a man of confidence. A selfless guy. One who captivates a room of any size, no matter how many stars grace the floor. He teaches us that vanity is by no means a virtue, and for that we are all better people.

Thus, we praise not only his music catalog but look to him for guidance in navigating this cruelest of worlds. That a man of unmatched talent and unrivaled stardom should turn to plastic surgery seemingly every other week can only mean one thing – he is showing us the path to spiritual liberation.

The entire Jackson family is comprised of upstanding citizens and role models, strong-willed folks who put humanity and goodness before selfish wants and desires.

But only Michael could make such a prolific sacrifice – his cherished nose. Sad reports are surfacing and the outlook is grim. It appears Michael’s frequent trips under the knife have finally got the best of him, and a ruthless skin disease threatens the lovely little nose we have come to accept as a vision of perfection.

Because of Michael I will seek a more perfect face. Because of him I will have no rhinoplasty no matter how large and ominous my nose might often seem. Because of him I have seen the light, and there is a fine nose beneath it.

It is the nose given to me at birth. The nose god meant for me to have. And for that I shall never face the dire day when I have no nose at all.

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The Sanctity of Marriage – Plus, why gay marriage and polygamy have a chance

Considering the News…

There’s a lovely story out of Indiana receiving tremendous news coverage, of a 68-year-old woman who’s had the honorable privilege of marrying 23 times, with the marriages lasting as long as seven years and as little as 36 hours.

Born Linda Lou Taylor, this bride of brides is a living ode to the beauty of marriage, embracing all its ups and downs, in sickness and in health, a life’s work devoted to advancing the significance of this most sacred institution.

In these dark moral times of homosexuals fighting for marriage rights and polygamists pressing for the right to wed multiple partners, Linda Lou Taylor’s courageous story underscores the vital importance of preserving marriage as a union between only man and woman.

Why, would homosexuals be capable of marrying 23 different times? Not a chance. They don’t have the stomach for it.

And what about polygamists – could any of them achieve 23 partners at one time? Of course not, what an absolutely silly thought.

We must all applaud Linda Lou Taylor’s strong will and unrelenting dedication to this earnest and really, really serious cause. Thanks to her our children and our children’s children will one day be able to marry and divorce and marry and divorce and marry and divorce and marry again as many times as they deem necessary – supposing, of course, they are heterosexual God-fearing Christians who love and respect their partners, in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer, at least one in 23 tries.

Here’s to you Linda Lou Taylor – you’re one lousy tramp! But at least you’re not gay or Mormon. Now THAT would be a moral travesty.

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British, French nuclear subs collide – Plus, why Iran and North Korea might as well have a few nukes

Considering the News…

France and Britain are rather crimson and clover in the face today, as nuclear-armed submarines from the two national powers played a viscous game of underwater chicken, with neither side ever deciding to bail out.

Too much pride on the line, I suppose. And that’s a good thing, even if a couple dozen warheads colliding is not.

Some physical harm was endured, yes – mostly non-lethal bumps, bruises, and scratches – yet the major damage comes in the volatile form of concerned members of the press and members of a growing citizens group known simply by the succinct moniker Not too crazy about getting accidentally blown up because trained officers cannot clearly distinguish a nuclear-armed submarine from a dead whale.

(Indeed, any given day will find me willing to take a chance with 100 warheads before crossing the aforementioned citizens group. No hesitation whatsoever.)

It is true that history has bared witness to myriad mishaps by the French and British armed forces, however, this most clumsy incident illustrates just how integrally connected we all are as citizens of the same world, and that these blunders risk ravaging more than mere national pride.

While the self-proclaimed good guys forecast imminent global doom should Iran or North Korea ever obtain nuclear weapons, perhaps the more pressing concern is our allies throwing 50 warheads in the trunk and driving around with a head full of whiskey, wine and downers.

And yet who can condemn the British or the French? This obviously is no fault of theirs.

That two nuclear-armed submarines managed to collide in the Atlantic Ocean, as ridiculous as it all is considering the infinite space and avenues, is a bloody amazing feat for which only god can take credit.

The math alone requires us to forgive the two mortal nations without questions, punishment, or ridicule, as this was not of their doing. It would be like two 8-foot-tall redheads with 160 IQs and only 8 toes running into each other on a bike trail in Wichita, Kansas. Just doesn’t happen without good reason.

What won’t be forgiven is our grave suspicions of the ocean, for the world survived another day, but at what cost. I for one will never step foot in the Atlantic again, lest I wish for my right foot to fall off and grow tentacles and a set of teeth in its place. No, that doesn’t sound too swell at all.


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The Colonel’s fried chicken secret is safe – Plus, why nobody cares

Considering the News…

Fried chicken enthusiasts can rest easy today, thanks to comforting reports the beloved KFC recipe has at last been safely transported and secured in a secret vault somewhere in the enchanted hills of Kentucky.

Learning the exact contents of this hand-written document – penned by the mystical Colonel himself – has sent fried chicken impersonators through the depths of hell, as countless combinations have failed in the honorable quest of authentically replicating the mythical 11-herb mixture.

Few things have incited greater culinary madness through the ages, with some comparing the importance of the scintillating chicken recipe to that of Jesus’ bread, Emeril’s Caribbean-style chicken, and Bo Jackson’s signature BO Burger.

Naturally, every precaution was taken in transporting the historical document – with many security guards and a handcuff briefcase involved in the covert mission – before it was finally laid to rest in a high-tech vault that will be guarded around the clock by living personnel. And thank God for that.

At any given time, but only two living KFC executives harness the dear privilege of knowing the full recipe, which no doubt qualifies them both for the ‘Luckiest Damn Person Alive Competition’ held annually in Waukee, Iowa.

Merely disclosing a single element of the recipe means instant death by way of the guillotine, a long-standing Kentucky law that has surely survived many Supreme Court challenges, as it is no secret Rehnquist loved nothing more than a late-night bucket of crispy and succulent fried chicken.

Yes, this 68-year-old legend of a recipe is poised to remain a well-kept treasure for at least another 10 years, when slumping sales inspire KFC executives to move the document yet again, to any even bigger vault, with even more human security guards – reminding Americans the Colonel’s chicken is still accessible at your local KFC chain store.Today. And right now.

I myself haven’t eaten the filth in years. Maintaing a good cholesterol level just doesn’t allow for it, I’m afraid. Plus, the grocery store fried chicken tastes just as good, if not much better.

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Octuplets move to mystery mansion – Plus, why everyone with six kids should have another eight

Considering the News…

Scintillating details of the California octuplets remain shrouded in mystery, now four days removed from the babies’ removal from the mother’s womb.

Traditionally patient and polite news media is growing uncharacteristically anxious. Many pressing questions remain unanswered. What are their names? Who are the eight fathers? Are they Clippers or Lakers fans?

Yet the family is proceeding with painstaking secrecy and caution, striving to protect the anonymity of these eight little miracles, and paying no mind to the joyful reporters calmly seeking an interview.

The latest rumor seasoning this savory story is word the parents already have six little miracles – meaning their humble home has now contributed 14 healthy and happy and necessary additions to the otherwise scarcely populated state of California.

Unfortunately, heartless skeptics now wrongly question the family’s sincerity, speculating the true incentive for breeding eight little miracles simultaneously is an unbridled desire for fame and undeserved gifts. But that’s not the honest Christian thing to do, now is it.

Representing this batch of miracles is the grandfather ( identifying himself as Ed), who has offered few guarantees or promises thus far, aside from leaking word of a huge mystery mansion existing somewhere in the remote hills of the countryside, well beyond the mental and physical limits of lazy media members.

There, he says, his two dozen or so grandchildren will live in unchallenged secrecy, never bothering with the unworthy outside world. That 16 miracles can move anywhere in this country without anyone noticing is a relatively common feat destined for absolute, unhindered success. They will probably never be found, seen, or heard from again.

They certainly will never stoop to repeating the same trite interview again and again for any TV station agreeing to donate to the college fund, a college fund that will undoubtedly go toward the octuplets’ education alone, and not to any extravagant trips or boats or new cars or an even bigger mystery mansion in the even more remote hills of the countryside.

I wish the family only the absolute best. A great service they have done for the world. Think of how much less crime there would be if every family with six children made the admirable decision to take fertility drugs (true story) and have another eight.

We can only wonder how many less cars would be on the road. How much food everyone would have. How much cheaper college tuition would be. How many less people would be on welfare. How many more people would be employed. How many more people would be able to visit Wal-Mart and buy Chinese toys and appliances.

Indeed, we can only wonder.

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Bush vacates the White House, a terribly sad sun sets

Considering the News…

President Bush is back in Crawford, Texas, the sun having set at last on his memorable and abundantly eventful presidency. It’s back to civilian life, back to making trivial decisions that affect no one of interest.

Done are the presidential press conferences that inspired the collective cheers of so many Americans, all lauding his fine leadership while saying, “Just look at the truth spray from the glorious fountain that is his blessed mouth.”

Gone are the nightly compliments paid by popular late night talk show hosts, who so often honored President Bush with flattering Top Ten lists illustrating his competence and valor, or featured unforgettable clips from his valiant speeches, inevitably comparing him with the prolific orators who preceded him to the Oval Office.

Evaporated is the comforting notion of unchallenged national security, impregnable to the venomous terrorists hellbent on sowing America’s terrible doom, forever ready to sweep up any suspicious rogue who attempted to board the wrong plane or make the wrong cell phone call.

Lost is the simple honesty and crystal transparency of the Executive Branch, where Bush devoted the entirety of his eight years to illuminating to us common Americans the duties and privileges of this uncommon office, incidentally proving formidable leaders are never compromised by arrogance, stubbornness, or hubris.

Ended are the jovial bonds forged in the Bush administration, a successful experimentation in which friends and close colleagues worked intimately together to achieve the monumental, dismissing the antiquated sentiment that only a hodgepodge of so-called experts can propell the country to unbridled prosperity.

The nation, and thus the world, is much different today. A queer and unsettling feeling looms. Can our country survive without George W. Bush, the man who so cautiously overlooked our armed forces and national pocketbook with prudence and due diligence, the Commander-in-Chief who sacrificed his own passion, familial grudges, and personal agenda for the betterment of his treasured country?

No one can be certain. The future looks grim, with only a hint of sunshine gleaming off the coast of Hawaii. No expert myself, I have no authority to say.

But as a proud and concerned citizen of the greatest nation in history, I’m sure as shit ready to find out. God damn.

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