"Compassion is not weakness, and concern for the unfortunate is not socialism.” Hubert Humphrey

"“In Obama’s worldview, our trust is in government not in God. A denial of how God designed and created our economic and social systems to actually work in the real world."
Minnesota Family Council PresidentTom Prichard

Why is universal health care such a scary concept? Is it because it’s sometimes called socialized medicine? Why is that frightening? Because it contains the word social which makes people think of Socialism which, in turn, makes them think of Communism…which is dumb.

If people without access to health care are given access that doesn't mean that somebody is going to goose step into your home and start taking your stuff…unless they’re a National Socialist*. . . in which case you have bigger problems than who’s taking your TV. So, calm down and start thinking of ways to fake a Prussian family tree. But! I digress. Universal health care, at it’s core, is a very Judeo/Christian concept. The strong take care of the weak in order to hopefully turn the weak into the strong some day. It’s a do unto others kind of a deal.

And this is why the "religious right" are wrong. They stand there in their two thousand dollar suits and pumps and talk about family values and Christian ethics while proudly fingering their WWJD? bracelets and, basically, flip the bird to the poor. Hell, to the middle class! And if, God forbid, you’re gay? Get right outta’ town!

No.

Seriously.

Go.

They don’t want you in their town. Unless, of course, you’ve been to a “reprogramming” camp or seminar and men /women no longer hold any sway over you…except for in public bathroom stalls…and then they’ll elect you to congress. I digress. Again. Sorry.

How can people say they abide by and have no faith in any teaching but those of Jesus Christ (Yeshua Bar Yoseph…look it up.) behave in this way? It maddens me. They quote and they quote and they spout their hate for every kind but our kind till their faces turn red. And, the funny part, if there is a funny part, is that these people have, in fact, studied the bible. All of their quotes come from the bible. But they skipped some important stuff.

Blessed are the peace makers: for they shall be called sons of God.

If someone strikes you on the right cheek, turn to him the other also.

It is easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle, than for a rich man to enter into the Kingdom of Heaven.

Love thy neighbor as thyself.

These are the rocks of the faith as I understand it. let’s face facts, if Jesus was alive today they’d want him deloused before being allowed into their eminent presences. And then, after he gave the sermon on the mount, they’d call him a dirty, hippie, commie Jew…well, they’d leave out the Jew bit. . . But, come on, they’d think it.

My point, if I may be permitted to believe I have one, is that a true person of God, any God, doesn’t turn their back on the infirm. They don’t pull themselves above the muck and then kick the people down who are trying to pull themselves up as well. They try to help those people. Why? Because that’s what a person does. Anything else makes you a schmuck.

So, the question is simple, my fellow Americans, do you want to help your fellow man? Or do you want to be a schmuck? And if you, just for a minute, look down at that shiny little bracelet of yours and actually think about the question I think you’ll find the right answer.


*FYI - not Socialists but Fascists

15 Books in 15 Minutes

Rules: Don't take too long to think about it. Fifteen books you've read that will always stick with you. First fifteen you can recall in no more than 15 minutes.

1. To Kill a Mockingbird
2. Good Omens
3. A Christmas Carol
4. The Poetry and Short Stories of Dorothy Parker
5. Without Feathers
6. Maus: A Survivor’s Tale
7. The Selected Poems of Federico Garcia-Lorca Bilingual Edition
8. The Scarlet Letter
9. War & Peace (because I hate it so much)
10. Pride & Prejudice
11. Persuasion
12. The Color Purple
13. Daughters of Decadence: Women Writers of The Fin De Siecle
14. Lamb: The Gospel According to Biff, Christ’s Childhood Pal
15. Female Chauvinist Pigs: Women and the Rise of Raunch Culture

And, because you know I can’t just list 15 books…

Bonus Round!

16. The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy
17. The Handmaid’s Tale
18. The Ode Less Traveled: Unlocking the Poet Within
19. Right Ho, Jeeves
20. I, Claudius

What Heaven Might Smell Like

First, you should know that I took pictures for this post. 9 pictures. From mise en place to finished product! Sadly, I can’t find the damn cord to connect my I-Phone to my laptop. Damn. Damn. That’s right, double damn! Oh, well.

I found this recipe on NPR. I haven’t tasted it yet but if Heaven has a smell it smells like this cake. Make it. Now.

Lemon Pound Cake With Rose Water Glaze

CAKE:

1 ¾ Cups All-Purpose Flour
1 Teaspoon Baking Powder
1 Teaspoon Baking Soda
1 Cup Unsalted Butter At Room Temperature
1 Cup Sugar
3 Large Eggs At Room Temperature
1 Tablespoon Grated Lemon Zest
2 Teaspoons Lemon Extract
1 Cup Sour Cream

Preheat oven to 350.

Grease & flour a 12 cup bundt pan.

Sift the flower, baking powder & baking soda together into a small bowl.
Set it aside.

In a medium bowl beat the butter & sugar together until light and fluffy. If you have a stand mixer (it’s the only way to fly!) put it on medium high, set a timer for 1 minute & let it rip. After 1 minute scrape down the sides. Set the timer for 3 minutes & let it rip again. Golden.

Scrape down the sides of the bowl.

Add the lemon zest, rind and eggs. Beat for 2 minutes.

Scrape down the sides of the bowl.

Add half the flower & beat on low speed just till combined.

Add half the sour cream & beat till combined.

Scrape down the bowl.

Add the rest of the flour & beat on low speed just till combined.

Add the rest of the sour cream & beat till combined.

Scrape down the sides.

Spoon (the batter is way too thick to pour) the batter into the prepared bundt pan. Smooth it out and make it as even as possible.

Bake for 35 - 40 minutes.

Test cake with cake tester/tooth pick/uncooked piece of spaghetti (what? It’s what my grandfather used…of course, we had a lot of spaghetti in the house.). If it comes out clean it’s done.

Let it rest for 10 minutes in the pan then turn it out onto the plate or stand you’ll be using. The plate or stand must, I repeat must, have lip.

GLAZE:

2 Tablespoons Rose Water
6 Tablespoons Fresh Lemon Juice
1 ½ Cups Powdered Sugar

Sift the powdered sugar into a medium size bowl.
Add the juice & rose water.
Whisk until there are no lumps & the glaze has come together.

Poke holes in the warm cake with a cake tester/tooth pick/uncooked piece of spaghetti (agin, what?!).

Spoon or pour all of the glaze over the cake.

It will look like it’s entirely too much but the cake will absorb it, I swear.

Leave it for 5 minutes.

Go back to spoon the glaze that’s left on the plate & in the center over the cake again.

Leave it for 5 minutes.

You thought there would be glaze to spoon over it again didn’t you? Wrong! It’s all basically absorbed.

Done, chief!

Let the cake cool completely.

Sift some more powdered sugar over the cake.

Serve

Eat.

The Play's The Thing

As you all know (you do keep up with my life religously, don't you?!)
I've been doing some community theatre lately. I'm really quite
pleased to have gotten back into it. I am...big but coming in 5 4 3 2

But! Being on stage, even a community theatre stage, makes it
extraordinarily hard for me to care about my job. I know. I know!
Everybody has to get the bills paid & I'm lucky to have a job where I
get to help people. Hell! I'm lucky to have a job! I get that. I do.
And, as long as I had absolutely nothing to do with the theatre in any
way, shape or form, I was content with that. Now? I'm a malcontent. I
don't want to be but, sadly, I am.

There's only one thing I ever wanted to do (OK, fine, when I was 3 I
wanted to be a paleontologist. So, sue me!). But, due to a long
boring, daft story, I, for lack of a better term, crapped out & let it
go. But here's the thing - I'm over all that boring daft idiot crap.
The past, as somebody once said, is prologue. I'm concentrating on the
next act. The kid is trying to get back on track...I don't know how
yet but I'm inching my way forward, feeling my way along in the
dark...and other cliched phrases as well!

So, let's make a deal! If you catch me back sliding give me a kick in
the ass (it's quite close to the ground so this shouldn't be
strenuous) and, in return, I'll try to give a crap about my day job.
Because, if this isn't love it'll have to do until the real thing
comes along. Sound fair? Keen.

Yours In Christ,
Dark Furt

Three (3) Random Things

I’m trying to blog more frequently. I hope you appreciate this sacrifice on my part. You probably don’t though…you selfish bastards….

1 (one). Do Not Revisit The Past

On Friday night/Saturday morning I went to see an old (to me) movie. It was Evil Dead II: Dead By Dawn. Wow. I remember seeing it when I was a kid. My friend Julie and I would watch it all the time and laugh like drains. Needless to say it was not as we remembered it. Now, possibly, it had something to do with being drunk as a lord (that night not as children). But, generally, I think it just isn’t the same when you’re allowed to be watching a horror film, you’re not jacked up on all the sugar you can find and, oh, yeah! You aren’t ten anymore. Ah, well. It was still good to hang out with Julie and, bless her, she fell asleep so that I could make the let’s get the hell out of here call.

2 (two). Most Random Conversation Ever.

Yesterday I went to Burlington Coat Factory (Fancy!) to get some presents for my friend Elisa’s baby shower. While I stood in the longest line ever (always an issue at that place) I heard a voice behind me say “Excuse me.” I turned around and there was a rather lovely British gentleman standing there. He held up a mask and asked me “Would you say this is African or Asian?” I looked at the mask. “Asian.” I turned away. He then tapped me on the shoulder. “Well, are you sure? It was with all the African masks but it looks a bit Asian to me.” I looked at the mask. . . Again. “I believe it’s Asian. I may be wrong.” As I was turning I saw the made in sticker on the mask. “Especially since it was made in China.” I turned away. “Actually,” he said, “I believe that says Ghana.” I turned and looked at the made in sticker. Sure enough it was made in Ghana. “Oh, sorry. No glasses!” I turned away…yet again. “No worries,” he said, “where is Ghana?” I turned back to the Englishman, “Africa, I believe.” “So, the mask is African.” “Apparently.” I turned around. “So, excuse me,” he said. “Yes?” “What about these?” He held up the other two masks. “Would you say these were African as well?” I looked at the masks. They looked exactly the same as the first one. “I’d say they all come from the same place. Why? Is there a theme?” “Yes, there is a theme.” “Well, I don’t think anyone will notice if it’s wrong unless you’ve invited a lot of art historians and then, of course, there may be a problem.” I laughed. He laughed. “I don’t think I know any art historians.” “Then you’ll be fine.” “Do you think so?” Then it was my turn to check out. I completed my transaction and turned back to the Brit. “Yes, I do.” Then I walked away.

3 (three). Speaking Of Bad Movies….

I’m currently watching “Journey To The Center Of The Earth.” It’s crap. Absolute twaddle. But, the worst part? Brendan Fraser is going bald…quickly. And they’ve put him in the worst rug ever. It’s horrible. I can’t look away! It’s hypnotized me. I’m startled and confused by this piece of foolery. Brendan Fraser is, I think we can all agree, an attractive man. He will always be an attractive man. That is if he stops acting the fool and rips that rug off. Why can’t he/his agents/directors just accept the facts? The man is going bald. Big whoop. Did that hurt Bruce Willis? No. No, it didn’t. What hurt Bruce Willis? The bad hair plugs. There is a lesson there. Learn it.

Tipping, It Ain't Optional

Short But To The Point

Folks, tipping is not optional (unless, of course, you receive crap service). And tipping doesn’t mean two percent. Or three. Or even five. For restaurant service you tip 15 - 20%. I don’t care what Rachel Ray does. She’s friggin’ wrong. . . as usual. For personal services (hair, massage, mani/pedi) you better tip 20 - 30%. Why? Because those people have to physically touch you. Also, you should tip them well because, who knows? Maybe next time they might just leave that peroxide solution on a few minutes too long. Perhaps your spine just won’t align properly. Possibly they may forget to clean that nail file. And, honestly, what‘s less expensive? Tipping properly the first time or buying wigs, chiropractic appointments and fungal cream? Do the math. Shocking, I know but, hey! This is America. You get what you pay for.

Also, gents, never cheap out on the tip in front of a woman. It’s a bad idea. It’s like trash talking your mom. Big red flag! Just a tip from me to you.

So, Long Time No Blog...'Sup?

I apologize in advance. I promise to blog more tomorrow so that you can have a fun & frothy blog. However, in the mean time, I had some photos taken and I am not photogenic. This is not Earth shattering. This doesn’t effect my life in any major way. However, it does mean that every time I see a picture of myself I want to vomit up my lungs. Seriously. Because then I wouldn’t need to look at the picture anymore as I’d be in surgery (at minimum). Also, hopefully, the picture would be ruined by the lung goo. Sorry. That’s gross. But I think you got my point.

I think maybe I don’t know what my face looks like. Although, it should be said that in a few rare photos I do look like me. At least I look like I think I look…if that makes sense? Probably not. But, mostly, I look at a picture and think, wow. Is that my nose? Are my eyes that small? Are my lips that big? Good Lord! That’s not a forehead that’s an EIGHTHEAD!

So, why is that? Why do I recognize myself in some photos (even bad photos) but in most I could walk right past them & not know it was me unless I was told. I’d know they were related, obviously, but me? Nah. That ain’t me! That’s my aunt. That’s my cousin. That’s my ma. That ain’t me. Hu. Maybe it’s because we all look alike? And, from different angles, I look like different people?

Hu. It takes a village to raise a Fury. Perhaps it also takes a village to make a face. In that light it’s not so bad. In that light I can accept it. I still don’t like it but I accept it.