Can’t see a group of teen girls being brought into a prison for a “sock-hop”; it’d be like chucking chum to sharks. So the image of prisoners innocently cavorting with a group of local girls doesn’t seem realistic. It’s much more likely that everyone in the jail is a guy, which means the song is obviously a tribute to the oldest and most infamous aspect of prison life: anal rape.

Number 47 said to Number 3
You’re the cutest jailbird I ever did see
I sure would be delighted with your company
Come on and do the Jailhouse Rock with me

It’s obvious that Number 47 is attracted to Number 3 and would like to take him somewhere for some quality time. “Quality time” being a raw rectal rooting of the most sordid and lascivious nature. Taken in this context, the term “jailhouse rock” seems to be slang for the act of homosexual love.

I wonder if Elvis ever thought about this as he sang it? It certainly makes it more amusing when you see the baby boomers jiving to it at weddings.

Elvis assumes the "mounting" position

Since then I’ve read many of his books and articles and was often entertained (as well as informed) as he made the rounds on The Daily Show, Politically Incorrect, Real Time with Bill Maher, and other talk shows. Hitchens, often swirling a scotch either backstage or right out in the open, was the type of opinionated asshole I love: one who know what he is talking about and who suffers ignorance poorly.

Hitchens is well-known for his atheism and contrarian views. He actually wrote a book called God Is Not Great: How Religion Poisons Everything, which should be mandatory reading in every high school. But now he has recently been diagnosed with throat cancer, which he has written about here. Needless to say, some of the Christian folk have been wondering aloud, if not stating outright, that his plight might be some sort of punishment for his outspoken criticism of organized religion and the people who adhere to its ancient superstitions.

From biblearchaeology.org:

“It is not our place as Christians to say the specific reasons why Mr. Hitchens has contracted this disease. We only know that God often uses illness as a means to bring people to repentance and faith.”

It might also be the decades of alcoholism and smoking  that led to his cancer (as well as a possible genetic predisposition—Hitchens’ father also died of throat cancer). But hey, I guess no one who led a good decent Christian life ever got a disease or experienced any personal misfortunes. Look out atheists and non-believers (including those who worship the wrong gods). God has a bullet for you, too, if you don’t keep your mouth shut.

This type of thinking is so stupid and crazy it just boggles the mind. If your idea of a “loving” God is a petty, jealous asshole who dispenses horrible suffering on those who merely seek to better understand this world and their place in it—and let’s face it, that’s exactly the type of God you worship—then there is only one thing to say: F–k you and your God. I’d rather be struck dead than suffer the cruel whims of some spoiled brat deity.

I hope Hitchens is able to beat his cancer. If he does, it will be a testament to his personal will and the “miracle” of modern medical treatment, not God doing an “aw shucks, I was just messin’ with ya, man.” Get well soon, Hitch.

Watch this short clip of a dancing clown. This clown is harmless enough and just wants to make us laugh. So why does it make my flesh crawl and my bowels slacken?

Yeesh!

So, apparently the reasoned and compassionate medical solution was  to continue any bad habits and just take the purple pill. Which I did for a while.

But then I decided that curing the reflux was more to my benefit than just masking it with treatment. And certainly better than continuing to donate to Astra Zeneca’s colossal profits each quarter. So after a few months of experimenting with some simple dietary and lifestyle changes, I finally managed to cure my acid reflux.

The solution was simple: All I did was cut back on heavily refined and processed foods. No more potato chips, fast food burgers, and other foods laden with preservatives, additives, and overly processed flours, sugars, and grains. I started eating more whole foods, such as lean meats, vegetables, and healthy fats. I also added a few sessions of moderate exercise each week. This helped my gut to heal from the dietary abuse I had inflicted on it over the years and also had the side kicker of helping me lose a few unwanted pounds, a much better side-effect than those of proton-pump inhibitors.

Will this work for everyone? I don’t know. I’ll still get a bit of recurrence if I eat the wrong thing, but 99% of the time now I am completely reflux free. What I do know is that reflux is a common problem and that a lot of us are eating crap that might be better left on the store shelves or the fast-food heat rack. Maybe our bodies are trying to tell us something about refined and processed foods that manufacturers and retailers would rather we didn’t know. It already seems generally accepted that these foods have contributed to the obesity epidemic. Maybe it’s not a stretch to wonder if they are involved in many other ailments and diseases as well.

It’s bad enough that the person behind the counter is often struggling to function, but when the customer is also only two or three evolutionary steps beyond a slush puddle, it’s enough to burn your ass with rage.

Okay, maybe just mine. But you know what I mean.

The other day I’m at a mall food court (I’m not proud of it, but sometimes ya gotta eat). There is only one lady ahead of me. Mind you, she has four young kids with her, but I figure things will still move somewhat quickly. After all, there is plenty of time to look at the large menu that is proudly displayed overhead in large letters and bright colors, listing all of the available food items and prices. There are even pictures for those who don’t know what “chicken” or “hamburger” means.

For some reason, this lady decides to wait until she gets to the cash to figure out what she wants. Even though she’s been standing in front of the menu for several minutes, it’s as if she is now just seeing it for the first time. First she asks the kids to choose what they want, an event that proceeds in a calm and orderly fashion. Much like your average soccer riot.

Time drags and drags, stops for a bit, and then drags some more. Finally, everyone seems to agree on what they want. But she is not satisfied. Now she feels the need to start mucking things up.

“How much would this be?” she asks. “How much would that be? Can I get this if I get that? Do I have to have this if I order that? Does that come with pickles? Could he get a large juice instead of a medium? How much mayonnaise is on that?”

I swear this went on for years. Even the young girl working the cash, after tapping in orders, canceling orders, answering questions, then tapping in orders again, looked ready to either break down and cry or blow her brains out. In the line-up, you could glance around and see the murderous thoughts lurking in everyone’s eyes.

First of all, figure out what you want before you get up to the cash. If you cannot figure it out, or need more time to contemplate such an earth-shattering decision as to what fatty, shitty food to stuff in your mouth, kindly step aside and let the other hungry people who do know what they want go ahead of you. This is called “courtesy”. It’s the same thing that keeps all of us who patiently wait from smashing your skull against the counter.

Second, stay home and wait for the trucks. They will be around to pick you up shortly.

Coca-Cola is defending itself from a lawsuit alleging that they have misrepresented their vitaminwater product as a “healthy” beverage. Interestingly, their defense is the statement that “no consumer could reasonably be misled into thinking vitaminwater was a healthy beverage.”

While their advertising and marketing has no doubt played into the “water + vitamins = healthy” assumption of the average consumer, anyone who looks at the nutritional label (it only take a few seconds and a minimal effort) can see that a bottle of vitaminwater contains around 125 calories and a whopping 33 grams of sugar.

What else would you expect from a company whose entire product line revolves around the shoveling of sugared water down our throats?

John Robbins at Huffington Post has asked: “How many people with weight problems have consumed products like vitaminwater in the mistaken belief that the product was nutritionally positive and carried no caloric consequences? How many have thought that consuming vitaminwater was a smart choice from a weight-loss perspective?”

The answer is: Who cares?

If you are watching calories or interested in controlling your weight, read the damn labels before you stuff it in your mouth. Don’t expect corporations to be truthful and forthcoming or hold your hand when it comes to making dietary choices. Don’t believe advertising hype, do your own research, and be responsible for the things you put into your own body.

It is not Coca-Cola’s fault that some people are either too stupid or lazy to read the labels.

By contrast, the Sunfire was a complete piece of crap. I think the “Check Engine” light came on as soon as we drove it off the lot. We must have paid for a dozen engine scans (which never found anything conclusive, but always seemed to warrant the replacement of various sensors and other expensive parts). The ABS brakes acted up, making an ominous grating sound and shaking the car violently if we applied pressure to the pedal at low speeds. Once, during a routine checkup before a long road-trip, the technicians informed us that the brake lines would need to be flushed and repaired. Trip = postponed, wallet = empty.

Of course, it seemed to be GM policy at every dealership (from BC to ON to NS, as the car followed us during our moving adventures) to up-sell and gouge us for as much as they could get. “Oh, you need this…” or “Oh, you need that…” Always something. I don’t think we ever just paid for the oil change or services we booked, they always found something to charge us extra for. Hell, MacPhee Pontiac in Dartmouth wouldn’t even shuttle us home (we live 20 mins away). But they did value our business so much that they offered us a rental to use while we waited for the servicing to be completed. Thanks, assholes!

When we got tired of the greedy and useless GM dealerships, we started taking the car to Coast Tire. For the most part, they did a good job, until this one time they gave it an alignment. During a trip to Magnetic Mountain in Moncton, they actually refunded our money because the car would not play along and be dragged up the hill by the “mysterious” magnetic forces (i.e. a “mysterious” slight downhill slope). We didn’t know it at the time but the alignment was way off, and after a few weeks the tires ended up being stripped to the steel. It seemed we couldn’t win with that car.

For five years now we have been taking the vehicle to the Hyundai dealership for servicing and not once have they found “issues” that required extensive billing and repairs. The servicing has been professional, courteous, and always completed on time. They have no problem shuttling us around or giving us a loaner. This is how loyal and repeat customers are made. Suck it, MacPhee.

I’d recommend the Santa Fe to anyone who wants an affordable, decent rig to truck around in. Sure, you won’t be able to waste money on premium fuel and outrageous parts prices like you would with a so-called “luxury car”. But it will get you from A to B safely and reliably. And after the servicing nightmares we faced with GM and their craptacular vehicle, its nice to have a dealership that actually sells a decent product and seems to take customer service seriously.

Everyone has certain regrets in life. One of mine is that I’ve never made the trek to The Amazing Meeting, a get-together for skeptics, rabblerousers, atheists, and debunkers, originally organized and hosted by James “The Amazing” Randi. Randi is 81 now and has intestinal cancer, so the sad reality is that he will likely be leaving us before we’re ready to let him go. But his legacy, the influence he has had on thousands, is undeniable and will last for decades to come.

During my first year of high school, I found his book Flim Flam in the school library. The book exposed all sorts of frauds, such as the cousins Elsie Wright and Frances Griffiths, two young girls who had supposedly photographed fairies in their garden. Many people were fooled by the hoax, including Sir Arthur Conan Doyle of Sherlock Holmes fame.

Randi also revealed the chicanery behind all sorts of paranormal claims, such as mindreaders and psychics, and showed how easy it is for someone with the right kind of skills to fool people into believing almost anything. Even scientists, who were supposedly too smart to be duped. But duped they were. Repeatedly, in fact.

Shortly after that, I saw a NOVA special where, among other things, he demonstrated the techniques astrologers and religious “faith healers” use to deceive an unwitting public (watch some segments on YouTube). Suddenly, I was looking very differently at all the things I had, to some degree, believed in. Information wasn’t as abundant in those days, and if you weren’t looking for it, chances are you wouldn’t come across it. It was easy to remain intellectually idle about the weird and wonderful things we saw in magazines, tabloids, and daytime talk shows.

But Randi taught me that things aren’t always as they seem. The mind and the eye can easily be fooled, and we must always approach any extraordinary claim with a demand for extraordinary evidence. It wasn’t too long before religion also found itself under a more scrutinous eye, and my feet were planted firmly on the road to secularism.

Whether it is seeing him face off against “psychics” on talk shows, reading his columns in Skeptic Magazine, or recognizing his influence on shows such as Penn & Teller’s excellent Bullshit, Randi has been educating and entertaining me and countless others for years.  He truly is a legend of the skeptic community and his works have left a lasting impact, one that will no doubt continue to reverberate for generations to come.

Though the Roman Catholic organization attracts many decent and morally-abiding people to its professions, it is also attractive to those who are harboring certain sexual tendencies, such as those with an unhealthy interest in children. It’s not a stretch to wonder if Lahey’s own feelings of guilt and self-loathing might have played a part in reaching the agreement with abuse survivors.

For centuries, the priesthood has been a safe hiding place for men confused or disturbed by their developing sexuality. Perhaps they feel that by burying themselves in celibacy and “service to God” that they will overcome what, to them, are highly disturbing thoughts and desires. After all, no one will question a priest as to why he is not married or without a girlfriend. Yet the desires never completely go away and combined with easy access and the ability to psychologically manipulate and intimidate followers, it’s inevitable that slip-ups will occur.

The Roman Catholic organization has always known this, has always made it easy for offenders to slip in and out of parishes and dioceses, has always left a wake of abused and traumatized children wherever it sets its claws. So why the surprise that yet another of its ranks has fallen to these kinds of accusations?

Letting priests marry will solve nothing. A pedophile is a pedophile; gay or straight, married or single, it makes no difference. Pedophiles are attracted to the Roman Catholic Church because it provides them a safe haven to prey on victims. When they get caught they are simply moved somewhere else and the files get buried or vanish entirely. Or, if there is publicity, victims are paid off.

Either way, the practice has been widespread for centuries and the highest-ranking church officials right up to the Pope have always been aware of it. It’s only been in relatively recent times that the Church has been confronted with any type of consequences from the crimes it has perpetrated. Before that, it was open season on children (and anyone else) with complete impunity.

So no, I’m not shocked that ex-Bishop Lahey was allegedly found with a laptop full of child porn. What shocks me is that people still willingly support and endorse this long obsolete and abhorrent institution, this organization that feeds on guilt, ignorance, and fear, this unrepentant and remorseless destroyer of children. That’s what really shocks and surprises me. Who can take this organization seriously anymore? Who really thinks that they have any interest in anything other than the pursuit and protection of their own wealth and power?

My brother and I were beaten all the time as kids. I remember being held down and burned with cigarettes, thrashed with belts and wooden spoons, and being confined to a 3×3 foot cage until I “learned my lesson”. Did I learn it? Of course! To this day I sit quietly with my hands folded, and always say “Yes, sir” and “No, sir” when I am spoken to (and ONLY when spoken to). My parents loved us. I mean, how many other parents would take the time to teach the lesson of the hot stove by actually placing your hand on the scorching hot burner? Ours did.

And how many parents these days help keep their kids fit by chaining them to a trailer hitch and driving so fast that you either keep up or end up being dragged along the road? Ours certainly did. My brother and I excelled at track in high school, and though our parents never attended our events or awards ceremonies (they didn’t have to—they knew they had trained us well), we knew they were proud. And when we forgot to go out into the yard and clean up the dog poop one day, our father simply took the dog away. We don’t know where ol’ Sam went, but we had learned our lesson. Thanks Dad!

So I say go easy on this guy. He’s only trying to do what’s right. Now excuse me, I have fires to set and small animals to torture.