Wednesday, February 23, 2005

Fear by windshield wiper

Yesterday, UL students had the pleasure of finding this on their cars:

Almost here? The Doors recorded that 32 years ago! Posted by Hello

The above is a typical ad in the October 2004 issue (!) of The House of Yahweh Newsletter. The front article is entitled "Forty Nations Now Have Nuclear Capabilities: What Does This Mean for World Peace and Safety?" Here is a stirring excerpt:

I recently read the laws that the health department sends to morticians and was amazed at the number of diseases one can get from the dead body of a human being.

About fifty years ago when I was in college, I worked in a funeral home. Comparing the laws from then to now, I was amazed at the increase of the risk factor in touching the dead because of all the new diseases, viruses and parasites that have been created and mutated by the unhealthy habits of mankind in the past fifty years.

These diseases, viruses and parasites were created and mutated by mankind because they have broken the Laws of health.

So there you have it, folks! The world is threatened with nuclear winter because of our bodies' audacity to grow rank after death. Oh, how I pine for the good old days when men were men, women were pure and everyone was so clean that you could eat off their corpses! Too bad those bastard diseases had to go and violate our laws against them (I think that's what he's saying).

But what I find even more amusing is this group's attempt to scare us into apocalypse mode by showing us this picture:

I know...I drive by it every time I go to Baton Rouge Posted by Hello

I hope we avoid another holocaust as much as they do. Seriously. But I don't think Louisianians are going to be scared to piety by a picture that looks like the entire expanse of the Atchafalaya River, especially since the Cypress stumps in that river are considered vital examples of Louisiana beauty.

The Jewish Holocaust was one of the worst tragedies in world history. And the threat of war and disease is very real. And these are precisely the reasons why we need to examine these issues in a far-less-kooky context. Still, for what I paid for this newsletter, I got my money's worth. I can't wait to see what will be left on our windshields next!

Sunday, February 06, 2005

Super Bowl Dreams

Today is Super Bowl Sunday, a day in which the entire nation gets together over junk food and drinks to watch the purest show of Americana that exists today (You thought that was the State of the Union address? Hah!). I've written lots of stuff on football, particularly the Super Bowl, and yet I continue to mine the game year after year. That's easy to do, considering how much the Super Bowl speaks of our society at any given time.

First, a couple of Super Bowl facts:

--The Super Bowl owes its name to a bouncy ball and a blurt. Sometime around late 1968, Kansas City Chiefs owner Lamar Hunt had seen his daughter bounce a rubber ball over the roof of their house. Amazed, he asked her what it was. She told him it was called a "Super Ball." Later that day, Hunt was in a meeting with event organizers and referred to the game as the "Super Bowl" without thinking. Thus Super Bowl III became the first game to carry the name, with the previous two games receiving the title retroactively. The rest is history.

--The first-ever SB touchdown was scored by a hung-over playboy who could barely see straight. Green Bay Packer wide-receiver Max McGee was so sure that he would not play in Super Bowl I that he spent the previous night and that morning grabbing ass and getting wasted. Of course, this being a TV show--one carried live by both NBC and CBS--karma dictated that McGee had to take the field. So wasted he couldn't even find his helmet (he borrowed one from a surprised teammate), McGee nevertheless scored a one-handed 37-yard grabber to land the first six-pointer in SB history. I have this catch on tape, and it's a wonder that the drunk wide receiver didn't plow straight into the goalpost--especially since the goalposts in those days were inexplicably in the front of the endzone. What was that all about?

--My brother was born on the same day as Super Bowl XII. In a cosmic coincidence, he later played football. In an even weirder coincidence, his younger brother also played football despite having no connection to the Super Bowl and possessing only 133 pounds of body.

--The Saints have never been to the Super Bowl. Optimistic stance: the Pittsburgh Steelers didn't win a Super Bowl championship until their 40th year of existence. Pessimistic stance: the Super Bowl didn't exist until the Steelers were almost 40 years old.

And now, I present to you my list of observations/predictions for this year's game, along with links to relevant columns I have previously published:

--The Philadelphia Eagles will win. Why? Because they have Donovan McNabb, who Rush Limbaugh thinks is overrated. Oddly enough, McNabb has enjoyed his best career run since Rush said that about him, thus proving for the first time what a lousy prognosticator Rush is. See also McNabb's Rush Attack from 10/15/03. The main reason that I think they'll win, however, is simply because I want them to. But alas, because my support is the kiss of death for anyone's success, I offer the following declaration:

--The New England Patriots will win. Why? Because they have our local high-school legend Kevin Faulk, who played for my high school's archrival, and who clocked my lineman brother on his way to what I'm sure for Faulk is a long-forgotten touchdown. I also don't care for football dynasties (please understand...Saints fan here!) or a team led by a quarterback who once hooked up with Tara Reid. I once joked that, in the wake of 9/11, the Patriots would be allowed to win no matter what (Patriot Games, 9/4/02). Crazy how things work out, huh?

The game offers a uniquely American conundrum: we're divided once again, this time on Patriot-Eagle lines. Both teams' mascots represent revered symbols of our nation's heritage. If you root for the Patriots, then you have no respect for our national bird. Likewise, if you let the Eagles soar, then you're clearly unpatriotic. What kind of un-American jerk are you anyway?

More predictions:

--At the end of his halftime performance, Paul McCartney will expose his breast, which will have "Fuck the FCC!" written on it. I can dream, can't I? The last Super Bowl gave me so much material that I spread it over two columns: Stupid Bowl Propaganda (2/11/04) and Janet's Breast, Part Two (2/18/04). This year's halftime lineup is not quite Janet/Justin (or even Ashlee Simpson), but any upheaval will do.

--That naked streaker won't be back. But he'll be at home, watching the game with grossed-out family and friends.

--At least one (and probably five or more) commercials will send the typical right-wing "mexed missages" about why sex, marijuana and file sharing are evil while crotch-biting violence, beer and Viagra are just dandy. A metaphysical certitude.

--Someone will get drunk tonight. Call it a hunch.

Go Eagles! Soar like you've never soared before! From rocky coast to golden shore! Let the mighty Eagles soar!