Weblog Sin Pies

By Charley Daniels

Boston.com: In a bizarre series of events, the only people involved in the latest controversy over homosexuality are straight.

Two male-female couples in Lexington, Mass., claim their children were exposed to homosexual “indoctrination” when a teacher read to the class from “King and King,” a children’s book that tells the story of a prince who just can’t find the right princess, if you know what we mean. When his mother tells him he must marry, the prince says, “Very well, Mother … I must say, though, I’ve never cared much for princesses.” (It’s because he’s attracted to men, I think.)

After hearing the story, one of the young boys — a second-grader — went home to his family and marveled at how “absolutely fabulous” the book was. “It was exquisite,” he cooed, exhibiting the first indications of a lisp. “Ex-squeeze me, but wasn’t that fantastic?” he asked.

‘The reason why the defendants will not inform the Wirthlins is that the defendants’ specific intention is to coercively indoctrinate the children into moral belief systems that are markedly different from those of their parents,’ the suit reads.

True that. Schools obviously want to turn kids gay. Think about it. Gym class? Hello?

On NPR today, a school official claimed that educators have an obligation to teach kids about marriage, and because gay marriage is legal in Massachussetts it is among the topics that count toward that end. Parents argued that teaching children, especially young boys, about same-sex relationships at a time in the kids’ lives where they believe that “girls have cooties” is a dangerous proposition. I wish I just made that up.

Also named in the suit are the Bogey Man, two nasty genies, and goblins in general. No one is sure what monetary value the lawyers are going to come up with, but estimates (by me) range in the gazillions. After all, when teachers turn kids gay, they’re gay forever, right? Right?

By Charley Daniels

Entensity.net: This old lady totally punches this other old lady. It’s the little things, you know?

My favorite part about the video is its lack of context. It simply says, “Here’s a little slice of life for you. What happens before and after is irrelevant. This is the important part.”

All we voyeurs get is the wind up, the punch, and the stunned aftermath. Oh sure, there’s unintelligible grumbling, but only enough to set the tone.

It makes me wonder. Who are these ladies? Why is the puffy hair lady and her posse so angry? They’re obviously by the restrooms at the mall. Did the dark-haired lady buy up all the muu muus, maybe? Who are the men in suits in the background, and why are they at the mall? Who the hell filmed this and how long did it take him before he decided to check on the woman whose face was just pummeled?

The auteur leaves it up to you, the viewer, to decide.

By Charley Daniels

It’s a tough time to be a racist farmer or business owner in America.

“The Bush administration’s crackdown on illegal immigrants creates what many companies call a dilemma: Demand proof that workers are legal and risk bias suits or skip that scrutiny and run afoul of government prosecutors.”

The real dilemma is “Alright! Send all them illegals back to Mexico!” versus “Wait a minute, I have to start paying people some sort of minimum wage?”

Indeed. I’ve had the opportunity to see this ongoing debacle from the frontlines. I live in L.A., which boasts quite a large population of immigrants — both documented and otherwise — from all over the world. And I know how it feels to come here from somewhere else, as I moved from Oregon about a year and a half ago. Don’t raise those eyebrows, it’s quite similar. I didn’t register my car here for a year, so in a sense I was “undocumented” in a very public way. There’s just so much bureaucratic red tape to getting a car registered here. There are inspections and fees. It’s not easy. But, in the end, it’s better than the alternative.

Having Oregon plates in L.A. was like wearing the scarlet letter. Whenever I drove slower than two times the speed limit or waited for pedestrians to cross the street, people would roll their eyes or honk at me more often than they do now that I have California plates. With California plates people just assume I’m drunk or old. Or both. But with Oregon plates, I was a pariah. I remember one guy actually yelled at me — told me to go back where I came from. Well, that’s what his interpreter told me he said.

Assimilation is a necessary evil, I suppose, but I don’t have to like it. Now that I and my car are “legal” it’s only a matter of time before I start rolling my eyes at out-of-state plates like an asshole. But true to my roots, I will still brake for pedestrians, who deserve not to be run down. No piece of paper controls my destiny. I am an Oregon driver, goddammit! I came to this state, paid my $50 at the smog inspection, shook hands with the greasy mechanic, waited all morning at the DMV, filled out the forms, forked over an outrageous yearly registration fee, scratched my hand on the sharp metal plate as I loosened the screws of my former identity, got worried for a second when I had only one set of stickers for my new plates, went outside to inspect neighbors’ cars, came back relieved that only rear license plates have stickers in California, and drove away my now-anonymous Mazda. I’m happy to live in a state where assimilation is difficult, but not insurmountable.

As for undocumented workers? They’re almost certainly screwed.

By Trevor Ryan

I’ve been thinking about getting another degree recently. Mostly, I think, this is in reaction to the low, low prices offered on Internet college degrees, but it’s also because I saw it on TV. These are my two most trusty companions for reasoning.

But let me explain. Actually, the low price thing explains itself. Who wants to pay top dollar for a degree, when he can get one for $30? I mean, that’s less than most items at the average college bookstore. Why get a sweatshirt for $40 that says “Harvard” when you can fork over $30, and get a full four years worth of education?

But besides that, I can’t help but be reminded of the Scarecrow, from “The Wizard of Oz,” who upon receiving a piece of paper suddenly had memorized the Pythagorean theorem (among, we are to assume, other fun and useful information). Based on this, it seems reasonable to me that the Internet (which is far more advanced today than it was in 1939, when “The Wizard of Oz” came out) should provide a piece of paper that is a good deal more intelligent.

Now I have to wonder how much time and money I squandered back in college. Why, I could be a veritable encyclopedia by now. The other thing I wonder about these bargain-basement priced degrees is if they contain a full four years worth of partying in them. It’s sort of like the worm in a tequila bottle, I guess, and the myth about how it contains mescaline, or a bunch of alcohol. “Dude, did you ever try smoking your degree? I heard it gets you totally wasted.” “Yeah, man, but I heard there’s some bad, like all-night study session shit going around …”

Anyway, stay in school, kids. Otherwise, you have to pay back your student loans.

Related Link: Online Degree Online Degree Programs and Online College Degrees - eLearners.com

By Trevor Ryan

If you’re anything like me, you were shocked to learn that, yes, it happened: Barry Bonds broke wristband regulations. I guess we all should have seen it coming. It’s a slippery slope from steroid abuse. First you grow breast tissue, your testicles start to shrink, and then you fall into worse and worse habits.

I suppose what I’m trying to say is this: I hope Barry Bonds has hit what rehab people like to call “rock bottom.” Now, everyone’s rock bottom is at a different point. Mine was when I awoke in a pool of someone else’s vomit (Chet, if you’re reading, gimme a call bro!), but for Barry (can I call you “Barry”?) things got much worse. Before we knew it, he was showing up to practice in wider and wider wrist bands.

Now, even in what I like to call the “juicer circles,” which are of course the people who shoot anabolic steroids into themselves (and each other. Chet? You reading? Remember that one time …) wide wristbands are what many would consider a no-no. But not for Barry. He always has to be a rule breaker. Well, this time, it’s finally cost him. A lot more than that “over the shoulder boulder holder” that now cups his man-boobs in a whopping D, too. It cost him five G’s. That’s five large. That’s $5K, people.

Let this be a lesson to all of us. For the love of frickin’ god, people, know when to say when. If you’ve “previously run afoul of baseball’s uniform regulations” (yup, that’s a quote), then be careful not to do it again. Is this all a cry for help, Barry? If he shows up in a clown suit next game, how will any of us feel?