Politicians call for children's vote

I'm not sure who would actually benefit from this, but I think that the Teletubby campaign commercials would be cool.

[Deutsche Welle: Germany]

But the Imams say that it is right.

Her man, her life, her love, strapped a bomb to his chest and climbed aboard a bus full of old women and children. He blew himself up, and took the futures and pasts of others with him. This is good, in the eyes of the mosque. This is how a war is supposed to be fought. Put the children and mothers of the enemy in your sights, and pull the trigger. And kill yourself. For in heaven, you will be awarded sexual pleasures beyond imagining.

What about me? she thought. Is my husband enjoying virgins in heaven, waiting for me with love? Where is the devotion, where is the decency in this? Am I to believe the Imam, that this is what it means to be muslim? That my husband chose to live in paradise with his sexual slaves, instead of staying here with his wife, and his children? Is this the culmination of 10 years of marriage and 15 years of higher learning, Arab-style?

I will take my hate, my disapointment, and my feelings of betrayal to pen. I will divide them 95 ways. I will nail them to the door of the Kaaba in Mecca. That is all she must do. She can save a fifth of the world. But she won't. She will take those parts of the truth that bring her respect. And she will cow down to the hatred that has gripped her world. She will accept the deaths of infants and old women, of stone-age sociology and primitive sexual superstitions, she will enjoy her role as widow and slave. She has no pride, no ambition, no energy. She will bring her children up to aspirations of martyrdom. That is all these people understand.

There will be no reformation.

Maybe she poisoned my beer with some sort of invisibility drug that's just come out on the market. I'm sure I'm just overreacting; I'm sure she's just got a lot going on. As if I give a flying fuck. In our relationship, at least, she doesn't have fuck-all to do outside of bringing me a goddamn beer at least once a motherfucking hour. How would that be, eh honey? That would be fucking spiffy, eh?

Goddamn, I wish I had a fucking watch sometimes. She finally showed up, then asked if I wanted a beer. Then acted fucking irritated when I said yes. What a fucking cunt. She has earned no tip. But, in order to break the cycle of Bad Tip/Bad Service madness, I'll give her a tip. Throwing her an undeserved bone, as it were. Hopefully, she won't misinterpret it as joy of being ignored on my part. I don't really see how she could. But, sometimes, people's capacity for self-delusion is nothing short of stunning.

Lordy, my anger's gone. That's a good thing, isn't it? Usually, I would say. Probably depends on the cause. Well, tonight, there's no more worrying about right or wrong, good or evil. I'm going to finish my beer, go home, and watch a movie. Enjoying the heat, I'll drink beer, thrill to explosions, watch the cars go by, smoke cigarettes, and ocasionally enjoy the electric sensation of too-vivid memories that spring at me from behind the sofa.

Good night.

Since some people seem to doubt the legitimacy and good taste of the fine people at HotOrNot, here's a little something to put a spring in your step:

Take THAT, O! ye doubters. The observant among you will no doubt realize that my score is going UP as time wears on, and the statistical sample grows larger.

There is an underlying philosophical experiment I'm performing here. In a few weeks, I'll upload a picture of myself sober and happy, and see how the voyeurs at HotOrNot rate it. The point is, people love to see men who are drunk and/or depressed, and absolutely despise the sight of a happy, sober, emotionally successful man. Of course, the last picture I have of myself in THAT dreadful condition is my high school graduation photo.

Damn.