WickedThought

Wow.

FUCK YEAH MOTHA FUCKA!!!

Just… wow.

It’s like booing a bad comedian off the stage. I don’t like Don Imus. I don’t like what he says, I don’t like what he stands for. I don’t like anti-intellectualism, I don’t like racism, I don’t like crudity, I don’t like vulgarity.

(I have no problem with profanity.)

If I don’t like what a radio DJ has to say, I turn the station. If I don’t like the program manager’s choice of songs, I turn the station. If I don’t like a commercial, I turn the station. If I don’t like what a comedian has to say, I get out of the building.

What Don Imus said isn’t new. He’s been saying that kind of crap for years. It’s just now that someone noticed.

But Don Imus isn’t alone. If CBS was pissed off about what he said, they are fully within their rights to fire him. This isn’t a free speech issue, it’s a commerce issue. Nobody is blocking Imus’ free speech. He signed a contract saying he would obey the rules CBS laid in front of him. He agreed to those rules, then broke them.

Of course, CBS is not totally blame-free, either. They knew what they were getting with Imus, just like radio stations know what they’re getting when they chose to broadcast Howard Stern.

But, anyway. The thing that really intrigues me about this whole thing is how much outrage there is about it. It fulfills a belief of mine that people really don’t know what’s being said over the airwaves.

I watch Fox News. Know Thy Enemy. When I complain about how completely obnoxious Fox News is, most of my friends dismiss me. “Yeah, but that’s Fox News. Nobody watches that.”

My father does. An intelligent man, my dad. A mechanical engineer. A science fiction fan. Well-read, well-spoken, bashful, successful, Lutheran. My dad. He watches it. And I can tell. When I was talking about the debacle in Iran, his face turned red and he said, “So you just want to let those bastards get away with what they did on 9-11, right?”

My dad. Intelligent, well-read. From Fox News, right to his mouth.

Over at Media Matters (not the most reliable source for non-biased information), they’ve gathered together a list of quotes that make what Don Imus said seem trivial. You can find it here. I’ll give you a couple.

“I never said that Hillary Clinton was a bitch. I said she sounded like one.”

Beck attacked victims of the (Katrina) disaster and the families of victims of the September 11, 2001, terrorist attacks, saying: “I didn’t think I could hate victims faster than the 9-11 victims.”

“[T]his Muhammad guy is just a phony rag-picker.” Boortz asserted that “[i]t is perfectly legitimate, perhaps even praiseworthy, to recognize Islam as a religion of vicious, violent, bloodthirsty cretins.”

Boortz said that (D-Georgia Rep.) McKinney’s “new hair-do” makes her look “like a ghetto slut,” like “an explosion at a Brillo pad factory,” like “Tina Turner peeing on an electric fence,” and like “a shih tzu.”

(Rush) Limbaugh claimed that “[w]omen still live longer than men because their lives are easier.”

On April 26, 2004, Limbaugh claimed that women “actually wish” for sexual harassment

Bill O’Reilly stated that Virginia Beach Mayor Meyera Oberndorf “should be baking pies, not running a major city.”

O’Reilly argued extensively for “profiling of Muslims” at airports, arguing that detaining all “Muslims between the ages of 16 and 45” for questioning “isn’t racial profiling,” but “criminal profiling.”

O’Reilly referred to Wiehl as “eye candy … for me,” telling Wiehl that she is on the show “because you’re good-looking, so I got somebody to look over” while he’s on the air.

Savage responded: “The idea of a gay rabbi is an oxymoron. Think about it: ‘Rabbi’ means teacher. You cannot have a homosexual teacher teaching boys how to be a Jew,” adding, “I’m not going to mince words for fear of offending homosexuals. They’re everywhere, anyway, trying to tell me what to say and what not to say and what to think. I know what’s right and what’s wrong. And that’s all there is to it.”

More Savage: “And what’s this sympathy, constant sympathy for sexually confused people? Why should we have constant sympathy for people who are freaks in every society?” adding, “But you know what? You’re never gonna make me respect the freak. I don’t want to respect the freak.” Savage concluded: “The freak ought to be glad that they’re allowed to walk around without begging for something. You know, I’m sick and tired of the whole country begging, bending over backwards for the junkie, the freak, the pervert, the illegal immigrant. All of them are better than everybody else. Sick. Everything is upside down.”

There’s more. So much more. Click on the link and you can watch/hear them all.

You never knew there was so much hatred in the world until you watch Fox News.

Faithful Readers may also know him as “The Grinning Man.”

Today, for the first time in… I don’t even remember how long, I went to Catholic mass. I thought the symbolism of going to revere the reborn Sun God was important for me this year.

I brought something with me, something I kept with me, wrapped up. I’d need it for later.

I went to a Catholic church here in Phoenix, and performed all the rituals. I dipped my fingers in the holy water by the door and made the sign of the cross, cleansing my body and my soul. I did it five times, to be precise. It had been a while, and I figured a little extra cleansing wouldn’t hurt.

I sat in the pews and looked at the hymnal. I forgot to bring a Bible, but then I remembered where I was, and that I really shouldn’t be reading from the Bible if I was in a Catholic church. A Lutheran church, yeah sure, but not here. Wanting to sincerely honor the tradition, I was glad I had forgotten to bring it.

It had been a while, so I was a little sloppy on the sitting and standing and kneeling.

I listened to the priest give his sermon about the importance of the day. He talked about re-birth and resurrection. Unfortunately, he also talked about judgment and lack of morals and the decay of modern society. I was tempted to get up and walk out, but I did not. I was even tempted to get up, walk out and shout: “Matthew Seven One, Muthafugga!!!!”

I did not.

(I’m a much bigger fan of Matthew 7:1 than I am of John 3:16. That’s where Jesus says, “Judge not, lest ye be judged.” Clear, concise language. Unlike the ambiguous John quote–the least “historical” gospel–that can be taken any one of a hundred different ways… and has.)

I sat through the rest of the service. When it came time for communion, I got up and stood in line. I’m a Catholic, after all. I went through all the right steps to finish my “training.” I’ve accepted the body and blood of Christ before. When I knelt before the priest and he said, “This is the blood of Christ,” I said “amen.” So it is. The body of Christ followed and I accepted it. Unfortunately, the blood was not in the golden cup I remember. Germ phobia. It was replaced by a tiny plastic cup. And it wasn’t wine. It was grape juice.

No drinking from the same cup anymore. Ritual surrenders to hygiene.

At least the body of Christ hadn’t changed. Although, when I was in Georgia, the church baked honest-to-God bread. The nuns broke off a piece and you ate that. I remember Sister Catherine told me they used honey in the recipe. Later in life, when I learned the symbolic importance of honey, I wondered if she knew the same secret I knew. I hope she did.

At the end of the mass, I did what you always do. I turned to my neighbors and shook their hands. Each of them was cursory. Nobody wanted to look me in the eye. So, I shook their hands virorously and said, “Hi. I’m John. This is my first mass in twenty years.” I made up the number. I honestly don’t remember. Hearing my name made them look up. Some of them smiled. An older woman, she returned my smile with her own, my introduction warming her up. She showed me some teeth and said, “Does your mother know?”

“Not yet,” I told her. I intended to tell mom later on today.

“Be sure to tell her,” she said to me. I nodded and assured her I would.

The mass was over. I moved with the masses to the entrance of the church. I reached the door. With my hand on it, I looked up. In an alcove by the door, I found the Virgin Mary. Her foot was on the serpent’s head. Snake, the bringer of wisdom.

I remembered being in Ireland, looking at the Book of Kells, looking at the image of Jesus kindly holding a snake. I remembered being told that the early Christian Celts associated Christ with the God of the Underworld. His servant, Snake. Knowledge. Wisdom.

Outside, the priest was there greeting the parishioners. I stepped up and said the same thing I told the people inside. “Hi. My name’s John. This is my first mass in twenty years.”

He smiled. “Welcome back,” he told me. He seemed friendly. An older man, perhaps in his sixties.

“It was beautiful,” I said. “A little different than I remember.” I unwrapped the thing I brought with me. I handed it to him. “Thank you,” I said.

He accepted it, a little unsure. “Than you,” he said.

“Did you know,” I asked him, “that the early Celts associated Jesus with serpents…” I went on to tell him the Book of Kells story.

“I did not know that,” he told me.

“I always liked that,” I said. “Especially because it was a snake that tempted Eve. The Tree of Knowledge. Before they ate, they were just dumb apes. But knowledge of their own deaths, that made salvation possible. Without that knowledge, they would have just been dumb apes. We would have never had astronomy or physics or calculus. We would have never seen the world. Just dumb naked apes, walking around that little garden.”

He nodded. “That’s very interesting,” he said. He was clearly becoming uncomfortable.

“I like it because if Jesus was the snake, that makes him a kind of Prometheus figure. And his punishment, having to hang on the cross, makes him a lot like Prometheus. And Loki, too.”

“That’s not why we’re here,” he told me, now visibly not happy with the conversation.

“That’s all I wanted to say,” I told him. And I left, the apple I brought still in his hand.