Oregon should take assisted suicide a step further.

I'm pretty much pro-choice across the board. Live and let live, you know? As long as you don't unreasonably infringe upon the personal rights of your fellow man, more power to you.

Gay marriage? Cool. I don't necessarily want to marry another man, but I like to know that the option is there for me. Especially if some 99 year-old billionaire ever takes a liking to me. I don't understand what all the fuss is about when it comes to gay marriage. If a couple of queens tie the knot in Boston, how is that going to have any impact on a couple's marriage in Dayton?

In fact, I submit that heterosexuals have such a lousy track record when it comes to marriage that it might be time to ban straight marriage for a while. Seriously, can gays screw it up any more than straights have? I don't think so. Let them have exclusive rights to marriage for a few years and see how it works.

Abortion? I'm not a Christian, but I know enough about Christianity to understand that there's this guy everybody calls God who pretty much runs the show. Apparently he evaluates your life and decides whether you get to go to heaven and sing hymns with Pat Robertson and Mother Theresa, or burn in hell with Pamela Anderson and The Rolling Stones.

You see, there's a debate about abortion in this country. Some people say that life begins at conception, which is to say that a human being is created the moment sperm meets egg. Whatever. The point is that the people complaining loudest about abortions are Christians and Christians believe that this God of theirs will judge everybody for their sins. If abortion really is a sin then why not let this God deal with it at the end of the proverbial day?

I don't want to debate the subject at length, but I know for a fact that I would definitely get an abortion if I got pregnant. Oh, I'd milk that pregnancy for what it was worth. I'd go on Maury and Oprah, and maybe even let Regis and Kelly feel my belly, but after the checks cleared I'd have that little monkey terminated. I don't know nothin' 'bout birthin' no babies. And I'm not going to learn either.

I know. It's highly unlikely that I would ever face such a dilemma but if abortion was illegal and I did get knocked up, I would be forced to carry that thing to term and I don't know how it would be getting out. I don't even want to think about it. Kidney stones are frightening enough.

If I were a Christian I wouldn't get involved in the abortion issue. Why would I care? God's making the tough decisions so all I have to do is mind my own damned business and follow the rules. It's hard enough staying out of secular trouble, so subscribing to a theocratic dogma is almost impossible. I would think most Christians would be too busy keeping themselves in God's good graces to worry about the sins somebody else is committing. Besides, you don't want everybody going to heaven, do you? Wouldn't that get a little crowded? Less is more.

That brings us to the Oregon assisted suicide thing. Apparently the Supreme Court upheld an Oregon statute that allows doctors to assist terminal patients in attaining a peaceful resolution to their suffering. Christians are outraged at this. Again I think that Christians would be content to sit back and let these people answer to God.

There are some people who think that this is a violation of the Hippocratic Oath. Maybe it is, maybe it isn't. The doctor has a right to decide which treatments he or she will prescribe, and if the individual doctor is opposed to the suicide solution, so be it. Others worry that legalized assisted suicide will open the door for non-terminal patients to avail themselves of professional help when they decide to off themselves.

This is where I get a little weird. I think that we should have suicide clinics for everybody. Why limit suicide to those who are on death's door? People kill themselves everyday. It's not like the law is a deterrent. A depressed man doesn't refrain from blowing the top of his head off because he's worried about the legal ramifications and of all the cases of attempted suicide I am not aware of one person who has been convicted of attempted murder or felonious assault. That would be a hoot, though. Talk about adding insult to injury...

In Columbus two people tried to kill themselves by driving into oncoming traffic. Every week somebody calls the police to investigate a horrible smell emanating from an adjacent apartment only to find that a neighbor did himself in. Hikers stumble upon the decaying remains of those who choose to end it all in the seclusion of the woods. The bottom line is that do-it-yourself suicide inconveniences everybody. If you don't hurt others in your attempt, you annoy them when they have to clean up your final mess. I know that's cold, but we're talking about people who don't want to be around anymore.

So let's have open clinics where people can get professional assistance in ending their lives. Who are we to tell somebody that they have something to live for? Maybe they don't. We all know somebody who really would be better off dead, why force them to prolong their misery(or ours)? Open suicide clinics would eliminate the horrific mishaps that occur when people don't get the job done right.

The world is getting a little crowded and we really don't need valuable space being taken up by people who don't want to be here. The reality is that most suicidal people aren't very fun to be around and wouldn't be missed a whole hell of a lot when they're gone. Sure there are exceptions, but not many. Sadly, not enough insufferable people are suicidal. We all have a co-worker or two who would do the world a favor if they took firm hold of the third rail, but they never would. They get too much joy out of making the rest of us suicidal.

This really would open the door to a new brand of therapy too. A suicide doctor could be a specialist that regular doctors would refer patients to. That morbidly obese diabetic who won't lose weight? Refer him to doctor death. Why prolong the inevitable? Psychiatrists could refer problematic patients to suicide centers as well. There are just some people who have nothing going for them, why waste their time? Why waste ours?

Frankly, I'm surprised that Oregon has this suicide issue on the books at all. This is the state that has a pretty flexible medicinal marijuana provision at its disposal, so I would think that most terminally ill patients would rather be baked than fried, but to each his own. Personally I'd take the pot.

The more I think about it, the more I like Oregon. I have to make a few calls.

Beyonce's Butt Love.

Beyonce loves her butt and if we're being honest with ourselves she does have a nice bum, but her latest offering is yet another ode to her ass and all the men who want to press up on it.

Look, it's great that she has such wonderful self-esteem. Really. A lot of girls in her position get paranoid with how they look and develop eating disorders. How about that chubby Lohan girl? Maybe that's a testament to the black standard of beauty. White girls can never be too thin, while black women are careful not to lose too much weight. When a black girl asks you if her butt looks big the appropriate answer is Hell Yeah. Say that to a white girl and you'll spend the next six months listening to her purge every meal. Maybe it's the color. Darker clothing is slimming, so maybe dark skin has the same effect. Pasty white skin reflects more light and makes the object look bigger. Perhaps that's why Lara Flynn Boyle still looks a little pudgy at 92 pounds and Nicole Kidman looks like a cow even though we can count each one of her ribs.

But Beyonce goes too far. We all loved Bootylicious where Beyonce and the girls warned us all that we simply weren't ready for all that jelly. Her body was too bootylicious. Now she's telling us we can check up on it. The good news is that she's not too bootylicious anymore. If we play our cards right and keep our hands off it, she might decide that we are ready for that jelly. The only catch is that we have to put it on her. Like no one's put it on her. The girl is a freak, guys. She loves her butt and wants you to love it too. You know what she's talking about. The back lot is open, parking is free.

Look, it's cool to drop a nonsense song for the sake of fun and games. Black Eyed Peas released the hilarious My Humps, which was a not so subtle jab at the Beyonce-inspired love my butt sub-genre, but Beyonce doesn't come off as having a little fun. It's marketing; Beyonce is selling sex. She's already made her money... she's famous and is at that point in her career where she could do something truly meaningful. Instead of taking her career to the next level and exploring something deeper, she's asking the world to objectify her and appreciate her for her physical attributes. I'm sure her parents are enormously proud. The money's nice, but is it really worth watching your daughter advertise her butt as a playground?

The thing is her butt isn't all that. She's not all that. Kelly Rowland is prettier and more vocally talented than Beyonce, but Kelly's not as willing to pimp herself out the way her bandmate has. And when it comes to butts Jennifer Lopez is the undisputed heavyweight champ of the world. J-Lo's rump is like Ali, where Beyonce's is more like Riddick Bowe. It's big and has good form, but it's mostly hype. Jo-Lo's butt is versatile... it can stick and move or stand there and take a beating. Moreover her butt has a tremendous personality. It really sells itself. Beyonce's butt just goes out there and does the same thing everytime and if it weren't for Beyonce taking the time to tell us all how great her butt is we wouldn't even know about it.

What makes Beyonce's butt so appealing is it's availability. She wants us to love her for her butt and she puts it out there. It's like Twinkies. We know there are better snack cakes to be had, but everywhere we look there are Twinkies, so we eat them and we're almost always disappointed. The same thing holds true with Beyonce's butt. J-Lo's is better, but Beyonce's is everywhere so we settle for her's by default just like we settle for those stale old Twinkies when we'd rather have a Cinnabon.

J-Lo knows she's got a great ass but she doesn't beg us to worship it. In fact, she almost seems intent on managing her career without a lot of help from her ass. Her butt's got a tremendous following and if she ever collaborated with it on a large scale the partnership formed would be unstoppable, but J-Lo's butt only enjoys the occasional cameo in her performances. It's actually a little disappointing. Kind of like Backdraft with Robert Dinero. I respect J-Lo for not singing a song about her butt, but since she's really such a lousy singer it would actually make sense if she used music as a reason to promote her ass. What I'm saying is that the roles are reversed. Beyonce should be focused on the serious singing career while J-Lo should be forcing her gigantic ass on the world. J-Lo's ass should be like a Death Star holding the entire planet hostage. Who needs Carrie Fisher on a leash when you've got J-Lo's butt? It's time for J-Lo to stop screwing around and embrace her ass. It's part of her and should be part of her career.

I'm not saying I want Beyonce to put her ass away for good. I love a good butt as much as the next guy, but sometimes you need a break. Mix it up a little for us. Do you have any other body parts worth crooning about? Ear lobes? Elbows?

Ooh Boy your looking at my arm, I see... Do you like how it bends more than 96 degrees?

Pity Party for Jennifer Anniston needs to stop.

So Brad Pitt's a jerk and Angelina Jolie is a homewrecker. I can buy that, but it's high time for Jennifer Anniston to stop wallowing in her very public misery and move on. With Pitt formally adopting Jolie's international brood and his own bun in her oven, the nation's eyes have turned to Jennifer Anniston. It's one of those trainwrecks we have to watch unfold. Personally I don't watch it. What I would like to see is these three kids patch things up and video tape a little 3-way action before Angelina Jolie starts to show. I'd pay good money for a copy of that tape.

Jen's got a strong base of moronic female fans who have this odd high school brat pack mentality. It's very much like listening to a group of cheerleaders gab and gossip. Like, Oh my god, he's such a jerk. I can't believe he left you for that slut. Anniston kept quiet on her breakup with Brad Pitt for a while...until the time was right. Then she sold an interview and revealed how hurt she really was. A nation of women who somehow see themselves as localized versions of Jennifer Anniston have offered their empathy, knowing full well they would have snatched Brad Pitt from Anniston's clutches if Pitt had expressed a vague interest in any one of them. When did Anniston become an every-woman? I dare say the same women identifying with Anniston would have gladly trampled her to death to get a whiff of Brad's dirty underpants. In fact, some of those woman would probably leave their husbands for Angelina Jolie as well. Jolie's just got a magnetism that everybody is drawn too...like her brother, for instance.

If she would have asked me I could have warned her that Brad Pitt was not a relationship guy; the fact is that most celebrities aren't wired for real relationships. The traits that provide them with the audacity to presume that everybody wants to look at them are the same that render them emotionally incapable of loving anybody else. That dance card is full. Most celebrities can have sex with another person, but they only have room in their hearts for themselves.

If you did a little digging you might find that Jennifer Anniston broke her share of hearts too. There was a time when she was a little chubbier and a lot less famous. Do you suppose she suddenly reevaluated her relationships when she became Ms. Thing? I bet she did. There are probably a couple of guys out there who found themselves left out in the cold as Jennifer Anniston climbed up through the varying degrees of celebrity status. Sorry Adam Duritz, but Ms. Anniston doesn't date c-listers any more...especially when you haven't released a hit record in ten years. Good luck with the band, though.

Still that doesn't mitigate Brad Pitt wiping his chiseled little butt with her heart, does it? No. But Jennifer Anniston is wrong to assume she should cry on the public's shoulder. She's the one who thought she could manage a relationship with a man who has a billion women lined up to get into his pants and a lousy relationship track record. Besides, we're talking about Angelina Jolie. 95% of all straight men in this country would leave their wives for Angelina Jolie. In fact, their wives would insist on it. We're talking about Lara Croft, here!

And Jennifer didn't exactly show Brad up did she? He dumps her for a woman whose lips are the answer to J-Lo's butt and she rebounds with Vince Vaughn? Gross. The man looks like a bag of skin with legs. Dude, find that gym membership card and put the Pringles down. Step away from the butter. She really needed to hook up with somebody hot. Like a younger version of Brad Pitt without the acne scars. That would show him. Or better yet, get jiggy with a black guy. Nothing makes prissy white guys more uncomfortable than knowing their ex has developed a taste for chocolate. It makes them wonder if they were inadequate. It's too late now, the damage is done. You can bet that Brad had a good laugh over Vince Vaughn. I know I did.

The public felt bad for Nicole Kidman when Tom Cruise dumped her, but Nicole didn't have her publicist release a statement disclosing Nicole's misery every time Tom showed up in public with Penelope Cruz. Nicole moved on. Take a cue, Jen. You loved, you lost. At least you're not 50 pounds overweight, stuck with five kids and a double mortgage. It could have been worse. Much worse. Most women don't get paid three million dollars to tell Vanity Fair how bad they feel when their man leaves them.

So suck it up, Jen. You're hot, you're rich and you're famous. Life is good. For you anyway. The rest of us would love to be saddled with your troubles. Except for that whole Vince Vaughn thing. We'll take Brad Pitt dumping us, you keep V-2.

American Idle

January is here and that means it's time for Fox to roll out another installment of American Idol. All the regular players are back. Pretty boy Ryan Seacrest is vamping on the street with the latest batch of wannabes, Paula looks as plastic as ever, Simon is surly and Randy is dropping street vernacular with the ease and mastery of the whitest country bumpkin. Yo, dog, that was hype. Note to Randy, when you look the black version of Woody Allen, the hip jive comes off as forced.

Of course the plants are back. You know what I'm talking about. Those hopeless buffoons who come out for no purpose other than to act as comic relief. For some it's the best part of American Idol, but for those who actually enjoy normal cerebral function the plants are painfully obvious. It's almost as orchestrated as the outlandish antics of professional wrestling. Even Simon's comments seem scripted, and Paula Abdul's schtick as maternal empath is tiresome.

Make no mistake, the show does round up some talent and through the next few weeks the vocal tests will reveal some strong singers, but eventually the contest will fall victim to the subjective nature of the members of the viewing audience who actually take time to vote. Tween-aged girls will see to it that hunky boys and non-threatening girls climb to the top regardless of true vocal talent. People with good judgement aren't going to waste an hour of their lives voiting for their favorite.

Over the years American Idol has not produced the inspiring acts it promises to deliver. With the exception of Kelly Clarkson, who didn't really take off until she whored up, the finalists have not exactly burned up the charts. Part of the reason is that the level of talent that makes it into the finals isn't that good, part of it is thanks to lousy management from the American Idol team and the primary reason the contestants fail is that they simply don't have the intangible to make it in the business. A big part of making it in the music business is having the courage to bust your ass, most of the kids heading for the American Idol auditions want to make it big in what really amounts to be a sweepstakes. It's hard to compete with people who live their music 24 hours a day when you broke through because you hopped off your couch to win a popularity contest.

The exception is Kelly Clarkson who does have talent and charisma. Once she shook off the shackles of her American Idol contract and delved into a slightly darker version of cookie cutter pop, her presence became obvious. She's not breaking any ground, but she's putting out some hit records and should be able to sustain her career for a few more years.

I was certain that Bo Bice had the chops to knock the socks off the charts. He has that old school rock vibe going and it would have been easy to cover some classic rock hits, slip in a few original offerings and cash in on his popularity. To date I haven't heard a peep out of Bo. Maybe he's hammering out some sort of contract, but if he doesn't get cracking the ship will have sailed and he'll be back on the forklift loading trucks in Alabama.

Last year's winner had no business winning. She's just a little hick girl with one of those twangy country voices. Carrie Underewood's got some talent, but let's be honest; she won because she's just a cute little corn-fed white girl who doesn't offend anybody. We haven't heard much out of her yet, but she'll undoubtedly pop up in the country music scene opening for popular redneck attractions such as mega-skank Gretchen Wilson. Yahoo.

Inxs struck gold with their foray into the nationally televised casting call. The audition featured seasoned performers who were vying to become part of an established band. The show focused on music and left the trivial human interest garbage at the door. Each night was a cranked up rock show and even the elimination episode stayed true and gave the audience musical performances.

I don't know how the new front man will workout for the band in the long term. He's a great fit because he brings that sleazy Jim Morrison-like quality to the stage just like the previous lead man, but J.D. Fortune is not just some Michael Hutchence wannabe. He's got enough of his own charisma to give the bad a new identity. Sadly, I don't know if the band is good enough to stay relevant. They'll squeeze out a few hits on the strength of the television exposure and J.D. Fortune's sexuality, but musically speaking this is not one of the great bands of all time. Can they adapt to the current market, or will they get stuck in that late 80's Euro-trash mode they made a name for themselves with?

A nifty idea would be to bring current pop performers into an American Idol type stage and see how they stack up with each other. Who's got real talent and who is faking it (Ashlee Simpson, your vocals are ready.)One thing's for certain, a lot of the top acts out there today seem as thought their looks have more to do with their success than their vocals do.

This visual era of musical entertainment is killing music. Video killed the radio star. There's no way musical legends like Janis Joplin or even Aretha Franklin would have topped the charts had image been such a major factor in music back in the day.

Strange weather patterns.

What a horrible start to the month of January!

I'm not one who happily suffers fools who complain about the weather, but typically the people who whine about it are lamenting the normal state of climatic affairs for their particular area. Moreover, the same people who gripe about winter's frigid fury also see fit to rage against the rains of spring and huff over summer's heat and humidity.

Living in Ohio I understand what each season brings. Spring and fall offer up and down temperatures and often contrasting extremes in precipitation. Summer is hot and humid. I know it gets hotter in the south, but we get more than our fair share of sizzling heat and quite often it comes with dense humidity that leaves a person feeling wilted. Conversely in winter it gets cold...or at least it should get cold.

Growing up with one television, no cable and a pestering mother, my childhood involved a lot of getting outside. We would wake up, grab a few bowls of cereal and head for the woods behind the house before mom could assign a list of humiliating tasks to occupy our time until dad got home to issue our daily spankings. Neither rain, nor snow nor dark of night could discourage us from retreating to the outdoors to seek salvation from our cranky mother. Since we grew up in Northeastern Ohio, that meant we had to endure a wide variety of weather.

To this day, I enjoy being outside in the cold. Since it tends to send most people scurrying for the thermostat I often have the outdoors to myself. This love of the frosted outdoors made me easy prey for the seductive siren song of those neatly groomed white lines of powder so many people lose their lives too. You see, the people who make the white stuff their livings don't take a season off and since the prospective customer list is so short during the winter months, they sink their claws into anybody they see out and about. I know I'm an addict and every year I tell myself I'll quit, but winter rolls around and I find myself itching to get a fix. At least I limit indulging this hunger to the three coldest months of the year. Some people get hooked and find themselves in a perpetual downhill state throughout the year.

When this winter began to settle in, it was promising. It was cold and the snow came early. I organized my old contacts and began that dance, checking in everyday to see what the relationship between quality and quantity was. Most of my contacts were slower than expected in refining their final offering, but I headed out early in the season to hook up with a local supplier to get my first hit of the year in.

It was great, everything I had hoped it would be. I ended up getting a little more than my fill and paid the price the next day, but I recovered quickly and made plans to find some better stuff right after Christmas. I wanted to run a few lines on Christmas day, but time got away from me and I just chilled.

I shouldn't have. Now it's warm and I feel like bugs are crawling under my skin. I just want a big mound of that white stuff dumped in my backyard so I can have it to myself the rest of the winter. The extended forecast is calling for temps in the 50's and rain through most of the rest of the month and the prospects of getting my hands on any of the quality powder are becoming nil.

I wish I never would have taken up skiing, it's turned me into one of those people who lives and dies with the latest cold front.

Intro

First and foremost I have to thank Deena for setting up this blog. It took a little work to track down the password/username, but after a little deductive reasoning I finally got it. For the record, 1971 doesn't mean a damned thing to me. 71 does and 1970 carries some weight, but 1971...nope. Nice try. But I got in and that's what's important... Right? Cool.

So what am I supposed to write? That's a good question. I'll ponder that subject from time to time and hopefully I'll come up with things that will amuse, amaze and astound all who might venture to this blog. Which is not going to be many people because everybody seems to be blogging. There are some real doozies out there too. Some people can barely form a complete sentence and they enter crap into a blog everyday. And it is crap...a lot of it doesn't make much sense. Whenever I start to feel like a complete and total loser I wander through the internet and read some of the more inane blogs out there. Sometimes it's scary.

I have to tell you that this whole blogging thing really disappoints me. Somehow I don't think that this is what Al Gore had in mind when he invented the internet. I know that he saw a future where useful information was exchanged in the blink of an eye and now we have people electronically obsessing over Lost.

That show has to be the most irritating piece of contrived garbage out there. I think the guys who wrote it had a great idea for a miniseries and some network executive didn't read the treatment and assumed it was a regular series. So now the shows writers mine the internet for the latest theories and work them into the show. Brilliant.

It's obvious they have no idea what's going on because they have dropped a number of themes used early in the show and picked up new story lines that don't seem to fit. What happened to the monsters in the forest? What was up with that black vaporous object that snatched people under ground? It's almost as if each episode is written by pulling two or three themes out of a hat and loosely tying them together through a combination of bad acting and tedious flashbacks.

I started off intrigued by the show, then I was irritated by it, and now I find myself watching it because I think the whole thing is hilarious. I know that this show is going to end in a way that disappoints everybody. The writers will simply wrap the whole thing up by passing it off as a dream and defend the cop out by telling viewers that it's not about the destination, but the journey where we find true satisfaction.

I can't believe people are eating this show up. Yes, they have a wonderful array of eye candy for both sexes to enjoy and they do try to give the viewer a cliffhanger ending each week, but they don't seem to fill the spaces in between with anything substantial. If they aren't going to stimulate my mind then the least they can do is hook me up with more skin. Get a 10 pm time slot and take a cue from NYPD Blue: give everybody a butt shot. Especially that fat bastard Hugo. If Dennis Franz dropped his drawers, anybody can.

Seriously, what was the deal with that? I can go along with a little foul language but nudity? What were they trying to prove? Cops have asses too? And don't get me wrong. Some of the women on that show looked really good in the buff ( Sharon Lawrence) and I enjoyed getting a look at Jimmy Smits' butt as much as the next guy, but did I need to see Gordon Clapp's flabby red cheeks? Did anybody? Then you had that pasty little elf David Caruso baring his bony little ass for the camera. Not exactly Emmy material. And Kim Delany naked isn't a big deal. Hang out in her neighborhood and you'll see her naked at least twice a weak. More if she's drinking.

The great thing about Lost is that the nudity would make sense. They're on an island and clothes would wear out. Best of all just about everybody on the show is skin-worthy and those who might not be hot in the nude would still be interesting. Sadly, Lost seems to be bumping off their hot women, but Evangeline Lilly is still there and Emilie de Ravin's character popped that baby out so she's got a centerfold body too. Don't forget about the hot Asian couple and the butch Anna Lucia played by the butch(er) Michelle Rodriguez. Better get her out of her clothes before she ends up in jail. And I'm not gay, but I wouldn't mind seeing Matthew Fox and Josh Holloway finally let their mutual animosity get the best of them in a sweaty greco-roman grudge match. Who wouldn't want to watch two hunky guys go at it in the hot island sand?

However, even nudity would eventually wear thin and the weak writing, bad acting and meandering plot would render the show boring and the only resolution would be a move to Showtime where the characters could explore more graphic relationships. Of course there they would have to go totally gay because that's the only way to get a series on a premium channel.



Damn, it's late and I see that Evangeline Lilly page just loaded so I'm off to test a theory. See you soon.