All Alone, Or In Twos

So yeah. Once or twice a year, I put up a post where I try and elicit comments from readers everywhere, only to get maybe two, and we learn nothing about each other in the process. This post will be another of those.

Only this time, I have an additional perk: Over yonder on the right, just after my Cool Stuff links, sits the newest addition to my +2 Sidebar of Inernet Snazziness, the Live Activity Feed. Powered by a company called Wowzio, it didn't take much to get it running. They only give out 25 invites a day, though, so depending on when you catch them, getting one of your own might prove a small challenge. But hey, why not try, right?

So yeah, now that we can all see ourselves coming and going, wouldn't it be nice if we all stopped in and said hello? Come on, can't be that hard! It's Blogger! It's either Google IDs or an OpenID, it's not like you're going to get spammed to hell, because you're simply not. I'm not a douche like that.

No, I'm a whole other kind of not a douche at all.

All I've ever wanted to know is who reads from where, and why. I know I'm probably pissing alot of people off with my recent Atheism-related Rants, but that's who I am. With the recent rash of Christian and Muslim extremism, I just feel its time to stand up and try to be the unbiased voice of reason, sanity and compassion amid the crossfire of crazy.

So let's hear it, right? Sound off in the comments section! Please? Anyone?

Yes, Virginia, there is a Christian Extremism

This man is Stephen T. Johns. He was a security guard at the DC Holocaust Museum, and was working when James W. von Brunn - a Christian/Neo-Nazi Extremist - walked in and immediately opened fire on the museum. Johns was shot, and later died from his injuries.

This article from the Washington Post offers descriptions of Johns, from those who knew him. What follows are some quotes borrowed from the article:

"A soft-spoken, gentle giant." - Former co-worker Milton Talley

"A wonderful individual . . . a truly jovial human being," - Museum Director Sara J. Bloomfield on Good Morning America

"He was like a Care Bear. He wouldn't harm anybody. Sometimes he was so nice that people would try to take advantage of his niceness." - Friend and former roommate Brian Lennon

As an extra special note that I'd like to point out: Johns was in the process of getting closer to his son, who lives with his mother. This man was trying his best to be the father that all men should be. That was taken away from his son by this heinous act, committed by this man:

Say hello to James W. von Brunn. According to various reports, he is between 87 and 89 years old. He is a World War II veteran. And he is outspoken member of the Aryan Supremacist movement. I would link you to his website, which I viewed myself yesterday after this happened, but it has been taken down, and you're met with a Directory Access Denied message.

What I saw, though, only serves to solidify my belief that Religion is evil. In a constant theme, he's called "a credit to the Christian White race" by a former commanding officer (what are these people doing in the military?!?), and uses that "fact" as justification for his rantings and ravings, usually against the Jewish and Black communities.

He is a Christian Extremist.

That's right, kids, the Muslims aren't the only religion with a lockdown on the Extremist title.

Christian Extremism has been around a very long time, actually. During the crusades, the arrogant European Christian establishment saw themselves so righteous that they just HAD to go and liberate "The Holy Land" from the Infadel Muslims. So, they invaded, and they slaughtered. This act only solidified the Muslim hatred for the Christian Infadels. This dovetails into centuries of violence in the name of God.

Also known as Christian Extremism.

But nobody wants to say those words together. It's almost like its a taboo. "Not Christians," you shout. "Certainly not we who are peaceful and loving in the name of our likewise peaceful and loving God!"

Sorry, kids. But yes, even you "Good Christian People" have your extremist nutjobs. Like James W. von Brunn. Whether you want to admit it or not, your so-called benevolent God has inspired this man - and even more frighteningly, thousands to millions of others - into this mindset. A mindset that has led to the shedding of innocent blood.

Scott Roeder, a Christian Extremist of the anti-abortion variety, gunned down Dr. George Tiller barely two weeks ago. Ironically enough, Tiller was serving as an usher in his Lutheran church when Roeder burst in and gunned him down.

Every abortion clinic bombing or shooting? Christian Extremism.

The violence in Ireland? Christian Extremism. Strangely enough, its basically against other Christians.

It's time that we recognized it for what it is: Christian Extremism.

And as you use Muslim Extremism as a pretense for a general distrust and hatred of pretty much any Arab (or even Indian depending on religious practices), so shall it be used against you. You use their extremism as justification to call them "Pakis," "Towel Heads," "Camel Jockeys..."

With Christian Extremism, according to your logic and justification, we are now in our rights to call YOU names. To discriminate against YOU. Bible Beaters. Jesus Freaks. Lunatics. Madmen. And a whole host of other colorful nicknames that I'm sure my readers can come up with on their own.

Clean up the fringes of your own faith before you condemn the fringes of another.

And to the mainstream media: GROW SOME FUCKING BALLS AND REPORT THIS FOR WHAT IT TRULY IS: CHRISTIAN EXTREMISM.

Deny Your Maker

[soapbox]

It's a well-known fact that I'm not a religious person. At all. What I've never gotten into is why I am this way. Well, the answer is simple, but it might also be a bit unbelievable, given what I'm about to tell you.

I have questioned God since the age of six.

Yep. Six. See, supposedly, I'm smart. Like scary smart. The last time I had my IQ checked legit, it came back 146. One of those internet IQ tests spat out a 142, which isn't that far off given how wildly inaccurate they are. That's the number I display on my MySpace page.

Back then, I understood alot of the concepts of life that most parents try to hide from their children as long as possible these days. By six, I could read quite well, and with my dad being a physical therapist, he had alot of basic medical and biology books in his collection.

It was in this way that I learned the nature and purpose of the act of putting on some Barry White and making sweet love down by the fire all night long to a woman you love. Awwwww, yeah!

Armed with the knowledge of where babies come from, I began to compare it to what I was hearing in Sunday School class. You see, my parents - devout Evangelical Lutherans, sadly - thought, like all other misguided souls bound to the cross, that God was the way, the truth, and the light for me. Therefore, I spent alot of time in the basement of the Faith United Lutheran Church here in Houtzdale.

There, a kind old women named Katherine taught me about the story of the nativity, the supposed devine conception and birth of one Joshua of Nazereth, who's name has been perverted over time to be phonetically spelt JEE-zus. I also learned about the 10 Commandments: God's 10 big rules to follow, and are not to be broken, lest your soul be damned to something and such nonsense.

Now, stop me if I'm wrong, but the alleged events surrounding Joshua's birth themselves violate the 10 Commandments, specifically two:

Thou shalt not commit adultry.

Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's wife.

"How," you ask, "could this possibly be so? How could the Divine Maker have violated his own laws?"

Quite simple really, all explained by rational, scientific historical study. In fact, part of this real, rational, scientific historcal study proves other nifty things, like Joshua's status as a bachelor! But I digress - here's where this kicks in.

Adultry is defined as one spouse cheating on another, or the act of being with another person's spouse.

Now, I don't care how you dress it up, how you word it, how you picture it. If someone gets pregnant, there's some sort of fucking going on there. So, God fucked Joseph's spouse, supposedly resulting in her pregnancy with Joshua.

"But hold on," you say, "Mary and Joseph weren't actually married! They were just companions!"

Sorry, but you're quite wrong again. Here comes the science:

You see, marriage as we know it today, while ages old, isn't exclusive to the realm of the big religions. Pagan rituals included coupling rites, predating Christianity. Ouch, I know, they don't like that, do they. But yes, things pre-date Christianity. And Judeism. And Islam. This is why Fundies should quit crying about gay marriage.

The word "companion," back then, was used quite widely as a term equal to spouse, husband, wife, whatever. While an official ceremony - which you blindly think is necessary - may not have happened, it was recognized that Mary was the companion - and therefore spouse - of Joseph.

So yeah, that brings us to point of contention #2: God supposedly chose Mary - whom in his divine all-knowingship MUST have known that Mary was Joseph's spouse - to carry his supposed son.

In other words, he coveted someone else's wife. And since God is supposedly everywhere, he would, in fact, be Joseph's neighbor, thus literally and figuratively violating the ever-loving heck out of that commandment.

Even in my six year old mind, this created a paradox: How can a God impose his laws on people, and yet not himself follow these same laws, thus leading by example? How can it be "Do as I say, not as I do?" How can I be expected to follow the example of a God who willfully violates his own simple rules, yet at the same time be expected to not violate them, lest I be damned?

Does not compute. Even to a six year old.

Afterwards, as I grew older, they exposed us to the more violent parts of the bible: The plagues visited upon Egypt (I thought you were supposed to love thy neighbor as thyself), the smiting of Sodom and Gommorah (I thought God said "Thou shalt not kill?"), the great flood that supposedly drowned the entire Earth, again showing no love to their sinful neighbors and killing a whole bunch, even thou he ought shalt not to. Or something.

I found myself with more questions than answers. And then, it hit me: That's what it's all about. That's how it works. It's a crutch. It's easy answers to questions that don't have any, presented in a frightful and totalitarian manner as to elicit the submission of the masses, get them all thinking on one page, and then exploiting it for finincial gain and power.

God will love you, but don't piss him off or he'll wipe you and your whole sick sinning family of the face of the Earth. But don't worry, if you're a good little sheep, he'll be a nice God and only kill the Bad People. But he doesn't want you to kill the bad people, no no. That's a sin.

Feel safe, but be very afraid. Be comforted in times of need, but be afraid.

It's a sham. A ruse. It plays on people's fear of the unknown, giving them false hope and false comfort. It's the world's oldest form of scoial engineering.

Obviously, I was a voracious reader as a kid. And thankfully, I wasn't limited to medical journals. No, I too had my share of literary classics, works of fantasy and sci-fi and historical fiction and all kinds of myths and legends.

Now, there's two interesting words: Myths and Legends. It seems that we, as a supposedly Christian society, have managed to classify certain things as being in the realm of whimsy and unbelievabilty! Imagine that!

Now, if I walked into a church and said I believed in Faeries and started clapping my hands and what not, everyone in that congregation would think I was a loony! "How silly," they'd say, "things like gnomes and faeries and the like don't even exist!" In fact, I'm pretty sure they'd have me put away.

And yet, invisible bearded men in the sky? People with wings who sing a whole bunch and live in the clouds? The dead coming back to life and achieving near-earth orbit? An evil bodybuilder with a goat's head presiding over a pit of fire and flames that exists right beneath our feet?

"Yeah, fine, come on in, we'd love to talk about it with you!"

And Christians wonder why we of the secular humanist community call them hypocrates. How can you excuse one piece of fiction as such, and yet glorify another as if it were absolute fact and truth? How can you disbelieve one fantasy, yet believe another? You simply can't have it both ways.

Myths, legends, and Bible storys all share common elements: they're all well beyond the realm of obvious reality. I just can't jibe with buying one piece of fiction and laughing the other off as whimsy. Truth is, they're both whimsy. Neither has any basis in reality.

By the time I was eight, I was demanding that my parents quit making me go to church. I was sure by then that I didn't believe in God, or Satan, or any of that rot and rubbish. It was as goofy as Sirens in a Homeric Epic, and I wasn't buying it anymore. And yet, they told me that I would have to continue to go "until you're a confirmed member of the church."

Now, by confirmed member of the church they mean thus: As was the tradition when the human life expectancy was nowhere near what it is today, people had to grow up faster. 13 was the norm back then. By then, a human child has either been through or is going through puberty, and is thus able to reproduce. Medical science being crap back then, the younger a human produced offspring, the better the chance of survival for all involved.

As is with the Jewish Bar Mitzva, Evangelical Lutheran Confirmation - both the acts of becoming an adult in the church's eyes - began when I reached the appropriate age, and I knew what I had to do.

And so, swallowing my pride and my convictions, I did everything I possibly could to make my youth leaders and pastors happy, to the point where they would ensure my confirmation as an "adult" in their little club. I memorized Bible verses. I even memorized the books of both testements, in order. Jump through the hoop and you'll get a treat.

Only the treat for me came the day I was confirmed. There, before the whole congregation, my parents beamed as I became an adult in the church. And as soon as I was handed my certificate and the ceremony declared over, I promptly turned their beaming into disappointment as I walked out of the church, laughing, never to return.

Since that day, I have professed my adamant secular humanism. Call it Atheism, call it Agnosticism, call it me being a dirty, hell-bound heathen, I don't fucking care.

What I call it is freedom. Freedom from having my mind clouded by doctrine based on fiction. Free from having my mind tainted by the hate and rhetoric spouted by the leaders of the fallacy. Freedom to see the world the way I choose, and ground that view in reality.

Freedom to be a human being who does something with the time he's given now, not worry about what happens after I've died.

I'm not concerned with being immortal. If my name lives on, so be it. But I don't have to please any invisible man in order to feel better about death. Sure, I'm afraid. But I've accepted the reality of it all.

You know. One less thing, right? I've got enough problems as it is. Religion is one that I clearly do not need. That's why I am the way I am. That's my story. One voice among a growing number of voices who are rejecting the ghosts and leftovers of our primitive past and ready to face the future unbiased and full of hope: Hope for humanity.

But apparently, all this makes me some sort of sub-human. Way to love your neighbor, Christianity...

[/soapbox]

Newt Sensation

Call it NewtFAIL.

Former Speaker of the House and still-obnoxious pundit Newt Gingrich (@newtgingrich), is all butt-hurt over the fact that Twitter allows people to tag his name onto things he doesn't like. Now, because he feels that he was duped into agreeing to an EULA that he claims didn't mention that this could happen (even though, by its nature, its a natural and obvious function of Twitter), he and his pundit buddy Saul Anuzis (@sanuzis) - who himself sounds like an evil Bizarro Egyptian High Priest - are threatening to sue (FT).

Somebody call the WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAmbulance, and make sure they bring enough manpower to cart Newt's fat ass to the Whine-ery.

Newt, you fucking twat: You should KNOW BY NOW how Twitter works, seeing as how you love it so much. It's Twitter, not rocket science! Any idiot can plainly see how Twitter functions, crystal clear as a cloudless blue sky, just by looking at their preferred Twitter client. FAIL.

And now, to help further Newt's ire and angst, I present to you a handy batch of "canned" tweets for you all to post on Twitter, thus further angering him and making him do many more silly things that Republicans do when they don't get their way. They also include the #efca hash tag, just because the EFCA ticks Newt off even more. Just copy and paste into your favorite Tweeting interface! First off, a suggestion by Wonkette:

Join @newtgingrich for Nazi-themed gay child rape party @ his mom’s house

And now, some from my earlier escapades:

Breaking News: @newtgingrich announces "Specter is my Homeboy," will switch parties after his 5 o'clock colonic. #efca

I totally caught @sanuzis and @newtgingrich snogging at FOX News. Talk about ewwwwwwwww... #efca

Hey! @newtgingrich wants to sue Twitter! @newtgingrich is also the top supporter of gay marriage! @newtgingrich even likes Jon Stewart! #efca

Dd you know that @newtgingrich loves Stem Cell Research? @newtgingrich is also a staunch environmentalist! #efca

And @newtgingrich thinks GWB is a retarded cowboy! @newtgingrich supports all of the Obama administration's policies, too!

Yeah, that'll do quite nicely. Now, let's show Newt what real Americans can do when they organize!

Caturday Comes Early

Before I turn over my PC cycles to the task of DVD video production, I thought I'd share a couple of pictures of two individuals who haven't graced the digital pages of this blog in well over a year. So, without further delay, behold the evolution of the Rogue Squadron!

First off, there's Dak, being lazy on my old home-made blackjack table...

And then there's Wedge, being Mr. Indifferent Kitty as he sits on my lap...

Sometimes, though, the boys can behave themselves, although Dak looks like something down on the floor interests him more. Wedge, though, he finally got the idea and mugged for the camera.

Thanks to Jill for coming over and taking these! I can't believe how big these boys have grown in only a year. Yeah, I know cats mature in a year, but damn, these two are straight mountain lions! I love them to death, though, even though it's shedding season.

More Twitter Fun

I've been on Twitter for a short time, maybe two months tops, but already its been a ton of fun!

As a WWdN:IX Monkey in good standing (or at least I hope I'm in good standing), Twitter has allowed me to connect with other Monkeys, two in particular that I gotta give props to: First of all, the incomparable Angie K. (@angiek42), also known as She of the Cookie Monster Gloves! The other is Danyiel (@disasterpiece73), a fellow PA-based Monkey and lover of all things musical! These two gals are good people, and following them comes with a full LP endorsement!

Last night, though, was rather nifty. For those of you unfamiliar with Mike Doughty (@MikeDoughtyYeah), he's the once-frontman of Soul Coughing, and continues to produce some fine quality non-commercial music. Well, I guess he got to hear both Death Magnetic and Master of Puppets - Metallica albums - for the first time yesterday.

While I find it odd that someone like him would wait 23 years to hear the awesomeness that is Master of Puppets (which came out in 1986), I find it even more odd that he'd think a post-commerical Metallica album (commercial albums from Metallica started with the Black Album) is better than what most people consider to be Metallica's best work. Hmmm...

Especially after hearing them both for less than a few hours...

Either way, he and I had a small back-and-forth, and in the end, I'm hoping that both parties can just agree to disagree. I know that's my stance (Puppets is still the better album, though), and I'm pretty sure he considers me insignificant enough to not care. But I'm still a fan, and I'll continue to purchase and listen to his music, Metallica opinions be damned!

The Twitter Celebrity Interact-a-thon continues!

Tweet Reduction Bloggery

So yeah, rather than Tweet each video as it comes, I think it'd be more economical to just toss up one here, and tell everyone that the Karaoke Contest Videos are online on my YouTube Channel. Yay, right? Right. Now that I've got all this posted, I can send one link out to Twitter. Meantime, here's my little surprise a capella number from Friday night...

Down to Business

It all boils down to this week.

On Friday, the finals of the Karaoke Contest happen. (Warning - The Bowling Alley's website sucks ass, view at your own risk) On Friday, I'll go up against five other people (four girls and one other guy) for the top prize: $500 cash money. Already, I'm worried.

Why am I worried? My singing skills are sound, and I highly doubt I'll flub much of my performance at all. I'm sticking to my big guns selection, too, the best songs I do period. I'm not nervous, performing in front of crowds is old hat for me.

No, the worry comes from, once again, what I perceive to be some seriously shady judging. Allow me to explain.

Last time, it was some bitch of a judge that decided talent wasn't important; it was more important to be politically correct and send one male and one female winner off to the next round. Forget talent, we had to be fair! Fuck that. But I endured, and came back this year to find: biased judges yet again, only this time, they're not gender-biased.

Nope, they're apparently genre-biased.

Here are the results for Semifinal 1:

1st place - Female, sang a Country song.
2nd place - Female, sang a Country song.
3rd place - Me, sang a Rock song ("Come Sail Away" by Styx).

And the results for Semifinal 2:

1st place - Female, sang a Country song.
2nd place - Female, sang a Country song.
3rd place - Male, sang a Rock song.

It's kinda hard to NOT notice a pattern. And then, there were flaws in the judging for the qualifying rounds as well. One night, Jill and I tried to get Andy qualified for the contest. When it came time for Andy to sing his chosen competition song, the judges were... Well, not at their table paying attention, that's for goddamned sure. Two of them were up and about, drinking beer and talking to their friends. The others? Who knows, I didn't see them again til they sat back down some 20 minutes later.

Look, I'm not pissy because I didn't win, or that there's a chance I might not win. That always exists, and I'm all kinds of cool with it. But when I don't win because people can't be objective and do the job they were asked to do - like judge a contest based on singing talent, stage presence and overall performance - THEN I get pissed. It's not just me that's getting ripped off

For example:

How can a girl score higher than me at all when her Stage Presence (did she move around, make contact with the audience?) consisted of standing there like a statue, occasionally bobbing up and down during instrumental sections, and staring at the screen like a deer in headlights? Stage Presence is also factored into Overall Performance, and if you're just going to stand there, well, your score is most likely going to be affected.

Something tells me the judges have no concept of what "Stage Presence" is, let alone how to judge it and couple it with singing talent to form Overal Performance Voltron.

And to favor one singer over another simply by their choice of genre? What about those of us who can't stand Country music, and refuse to sing it? Because you like Country more than Rock and Roll or Hip Hop or R&B, that means you have to favor those who sing nothing but Country?

Dirty pool, not cricket - in a word, WRONG.

So, to counter this, I'm doing two things: blabbing about my discontent here, on my world-stage soapbox, and taking over the Electric Avenue stage for practice sessions designed to improve my performance. If I lose on Friday, it won't be because I can't sing or can't perform, or can't deviate from any sort of set path. No, I'm bringing extra spice, aspects of my performance that I rarely bring out at all, even with Buck-It. My stage presence will be central to the performance as well. There won't be any statuesqe views of Eric that night.

No, if I lose on Friday, it'll be because of the same reason I lost last year: Shitty, stupid, inconsiderate, biased, clueless moron judges.

For those outside of Central PA who are interested in seeing me perform and deciding for yourselves whether I'm just being an egotistical blowhard or can actually walk the walk, I invite you all to check out my YouTube Channel. There, you can find both Karaoke and Live Band performances I've done over the past two years. But I'm not limited to those two years, mind you! I've been in the game for over 18 years at this point! Ever since the days back in Fred's garage when we were all kids...

Keep an eye on the YouTube Channel, too, because I'm planning on posting video of my practice sessions - provided Justin isn't being a douchenozzel about the whole thing. He's put me off practicing for an entire week because he wants help making his ManCave awesome. I've been decent and gave in, so this week, it's his turn...

Return of the Geek

For some reason, I'm compelled to write, and something more than 140 characters.

For the past week, being on Twitter has been something of an inspiration, I guess, to write more. The concept of short, on-point tweets (answers to the question "what are you doing now?") allows for more updating, especially since it only takes a few seconds with the right software. And, if you do it right and structure your tweets just so, you can evoke quite a few thoughts in the minds of those reading them.

On top of that, though, there's been more of a desire to be long winded as of late. Although I haven't said much of worth yet (mostly just Twitter gushing), I do feel the typing bug coming back. There are plenty of stories to be told, too, because apparently my blog has been voted a "storyblog" at Blog$hares, so I kind have an image to keep up.

This in and of itself is a story, really. My disillusionment with life in general over the course of the last, I don't know, six months, has been a rough river to shoot. Changes, fights, wins, losses, ups, downs, left hooks and right crosses; I've been running the gauntlet quite a bit. But somehow, I'm still here, living to take society on kicking and screaming another day.

Part of what keeps me going is the growing promise of Buck-It. We're ALMOST ready to go. The next few weeks involve set practicing, going over our performance sets, sorting out songs, and getting our game faces on. We're ready to come out and play and, more importantly, melt some motherfucking faces. ROCK AND FUCKING ROLL!

Why yes, I'm a little excited much, thank you for noticing!

The past few days have been spent trying to finish more of Justin's half-baked brilliant schemes involving the ManCave (TM). That man has the patience of a light particle and the planning skills of newborn lemur. But we endure, I guess, and try to do the job as best we can in light of his ever-changing designs. He still doesn't grasp the concept of space constraints, which is very frustrating. Also, if he does get a plan, he often fails to share all of the details with everyone. Chaos, but it pays the bills...

Motion: Rename April Fools Day to National Rickrolling Day

The Evidence (TM), brought to you via Twitter, from Wil and Elite WWdN Monkey Angie K.:

@wilw: My son Nolan set an alarm on my phone last night when I wasn't looking, and it just went off, Rickrolling me. Best April Fool's EVER.

@angiek42: @wilw Dude, that's awesome. Nolan wins at April Fool's Day.

Seconds, anyone? Anyone? Bhuler? The Great Depression...

Twitter-pated

-1 for the obvious lame joke title, but it fits, and its the only one I could think of. Yay me.

So yeah, four days on Twitter, and I'm already addicted. It's a nifty little service, really. So far, I've kept up on what Wil Wheaton (@wilw) is reading, Brent Spiner's (@BrentSpiner) adventures in - well, I don't know if its rehab or just a sort of psychotherapy, he hasn't been too clear on that one, and Weird Al Yankovic's (@alyankovic) down payment on his Tesla Model S, which he says will arrive in 3-5 years (much like Verizon FiOS in my neck of the woods). I also caught the tweet announcing the name of Alyson Hannigan's (@alysonhannigan) newborn baby: Satyana.

PS: Alyson and Alexis - Congratulations, and that has to be one of the most unique and beautiful baby names I've ever heard!

I was going to write in this post about a new Twitter-related quest, to get a celebrity response. But, as of this writing, that's already happened! Turns out that there's a bug on Twitter which causes your personal icon to go either totally gray or totally black, which some figure is a result of switching your icon image. A tweet came in from author Neil Gaiman (@neilhimself) on the subject, and I tweeted in reply that the same thing had happened to author John Scalzi (@scalzi) and is still happening to author Corey Doctorow (@doctorow). Scalzi replied to both Neil and me! How awesome is that? Quest achieved even before I announced it!

A screencap before it goes the way of the digital dodo...

Awesomeness!

So yeah, I'll be adding I've added a Follow Me on Twitter link to the sidebar sometime soon. Everyone can thank Twitter for forcing my return to the blogosphere, and making it fun to blog again!

Addendum: After I posted this, I checked out my Clustermaps archive. With a hit last week from Africa, The Lost Prophyt Blog has been officially read on six of seven continents, the only exception being (not surprisingly) Antarctica. Thanks to everyone who has ever stopped (or will stop) by: You helped me go global, and for that, you have my thanks!

... in which Eric signs up for Twitter...

Yep, I'm on the Twitterwaves now. I tweet. Or however that's supposed to be, I don't know. I'm always late to the hip stuff...

You can find me @lostprophyt. It's quick and clean, so I'll update it more than I do this blog. But then again, that won't devalue this blog, either. Some things just can't be said in less than 160 characters...

Karaoke Contest 2: Electric Boogaloo

So yeah. Remember last year, when I got ripped off by a single judge because I wasn't female?

This year, not so much.

The first semifinal of the 2nd annual Karaoke Contest at the Moshannon Valley Super Bowl was last night. And wouldn't you know it, both of last year's winners - Autumn and Mike - were competing alongside me for the coveted three spots in the finals (the other three will be decided this coming Friday).

And in a not-so-stunning non-upset, BOTH WENT HOME.

That's right: I made it, they didn't. Or to be more specific:

AUTUMN WENT HOME.

That's called Karma. Autumn, while talented, did NOT best me either night. The first time, she got lucky because one judge wanted a female to go on to New York. This time, Autumn didn't have that safety net. She was judged on what she was supposed to be judged on (unlike last time), and she got the final answer: Sorry, honey. You're just not good enough to beat me in a fair fight.

Your decision to compete last night sealed your fate: There were way too many talented people in the field for you to even think you'd have a chance. Honestly, you would have fared better had you waited til next week. That's what Tim did: He took one look at the field for this week and said "Holy crap, not good, I gotta change up."

I have a feeling that's why Tim - who has been a most awesome friend of mine since way back in elementary school - will be joining me in the finals. I know I'm going to cheer him on this coming Friday.

And what the hell were you thinking?!? Jill had already sang "What's Up," and I might add, she did it a hell of alot better than you did! That decision right there only added an extra nail to the coffin. You sounded like a copycat: Especially given how many times you went up to Rhett's table to (apparently) consider a replacement song (three by my count)!

I can blame my apparent failure last year on a judge. This year, you can only blame your failure on yourself.

Me? I came in third last night, so I have some work to do. I wasn't expecting this Michelle girl to come out of nowhere and dominate the evening! And I had declared Tim's friend Barb a dark hourse after her warm-up performance, and I was right - she came in second! Congrats to both ladies on fine performances!

See? I'm not a conceited douchenozzel, am I!

But seriously: I've got my work cut out for me for next week. A straight performance simply won't be enough. Last night's two-for of power ("Fat Bottomed Girls" and "Come Sail Away") was good, and I had a ton of fun doing it, but it lacked something. I think I know what that something is, and I think I know how to correct it. So, for the next 14 days, it's practice time.

Meanwhile, I present the table's general concensus on what you have to do next time:

1) Branch out. Find some new songs. I have yet to do a single song I've done in this competition twice, and that includes songs I did last year. A good variety is the spice of life! Don't stay in your comfort zone, grow a pair and try new songs.

2) Ditch Homie. That advice goes for the rest of $9 Porno as well: You guys are awesome musically, but you need a new singer. Seriously.

3) Don't Copy. Also, don't do "Rapper's Delight." As we discovered last night, that song is tantamount to Contest Suicide.

4) RickRoll the crowd. I did, and from that moment on, I had lots of fun. Fun, in the end, is what it's all about.

OK, it's about fun, but its also about the difference between $500 cash money and a $100 gift certificate to the bowling alley. Daddy needs a new XBox 360, so Daddy wants cold hard Benjamins. All five of 'em...

Boycott 2: Electric Boogaloo

Scroll down a bit, and you'll see the prequel.

You know, I'm not really surprised. Of all the people who've talked to me about Corey's situation, only one has held the opposite belief. They accused me of being nosey, butting into other people's lives, and a bunch of other useless drivel that you'd expect from someone who would defend a heinous act.

The point is this: I don't care how you try to justify it. What Corey did was selfish and oh-so-very wrong on so many levels. He's taking advantage of the genuine sympathy shown by other people and using their generosity to further his own ends. The money they give, they give for Chloe.

Not for Corey to order a Yuengling.

Once I learned what happened, I was sickened. Here's a guy I've called one of my best friends for well over 16 years, and he's doing this? And he did this WHILE CHLOE WAS ALIVE. He took money meant for her bills and used it to get his buzz on.

How the fuck can you possibly justify that?!?

The only correct answer is, you absolutely can't.

I don't care how much stress the situation puts you under. Anyone - especially a child - dying is NO FUCKING EXCUSE to take money donated to them (and them ALONE) and use it to get drunk.

Don't tell me about stress. Don't tell me about depression. Don't tell me about how it was only a few bucks, it wouldn't matter.

I may never understand the horror of losing a child - Hell I don't even know if I'm really a father yet. But I DO understand that losing a child is no excuse to behave like this. People won't simply "understand" why you're using Chloe's money to get yourself a beer. They'll think "Hey, that's money for Chloe's expenses. You shouldn't be using it like that."

And you know what? That's EXACTLY what everyone thinks. It's not just me. I'm not doing it for personal attention. What can I possibly gain from pointing this out? Corey hasn't done anything wrong to me, so I have no motive for petty revenge. You know what this is about? This is about DOING THE RIGHT GODDAMNED THING.

Now, let me make this perfectly clear: I am IN NO WAY demeaning Chloe's life and memory. As I said before, no child should ever have to endure the painful nightmare that is any type of cancer, let alone just Lukemia. It wasn't fair to her that she developed this condition. It wasn't fair to her that she was robbed of being a happy, healthy little girl. It wasn't fair to her that she didn't get to grow up, play with other kids, go to school, find a career, fall in love, get married, have kids of her own, grow old, have grandkids, maybe even some great-grandkids, live out her life in peace and happiness and die as most folks do.

It also wasn't fair for Corey to take money given to support her and head to the bar to get himself a cold one.

Think about it this way: All those things taken away from Chloe? Corey will experience them. But he'll have to do it knowing that he leeched of a little girl - his own daughter - when she needed the help the most, both before and after she died.

How is that fair to Chloe?

This isn't about me. This isn't about you. This is about Chloe, and for once, being fair to her, and to the people who gave of themselves for her - the people who's kindness Corey abused.

Dear Mom and Dad

I hope the two of you die in a fire.

Seriously. I hope you do.

With no love anymore,

Your once-upon-a-time son,

Eric.