Who knows where thoughts come from...

Email forward from Mom:

Herewith at this happy time of year, a few confessions from my beating heart: I have no freaking clue who Nick and Jessica are. I see them on the cover of People and Us constantly when I am buying my dog biscuits and kitty litter. I often ask the checkers at the grocery stores. They never know who Nick and Jessica are either. Who are they? Will it change my life if I know who they are and why they have broken up? Why are they so important?

I don't know who Lindsay Lohan is either, and I do not care at all about Tom Cruise's wife.

Am I going to be called before a Senate committee and asked if I am a subversive? Maybe, but I just have no clue who Nick and Jessica are.

If this is what it means to be no longer young. It's not so bad.

Next confession:
I am a Jew, and every single one of my ancestors was Jewish. And it does not bother me even a little bit when people call those beautiful lit up, bejeweled trees Christmas trees. I don't feel threatened. I don't feel discriminated against. That's what they are: Christmas trees.

It doesn't bother me a bit when people say, "Merry Christmas" to me. I don't think they are slighting me or getting ready to put me in a ghetto. In fact, I kind of like it. It shows that we are all brothers and sisters celebrating this happy time of year. It doesn't bother me at all that there is a manger scene on display at a key intersection near my beach house in Malibu. If people want a creche, it's just as fine with me as is the Menorah a few hundred yards away.

I don't like getting pushed around for being a Jew, and I don't think Christians like getting pushed around for being Christians. I think people who believe in God are sick and tired of getting pushed around, period. I have no idea where the concept came from that America is an explicitly atheist country. I can't find it in the Constitution, and I don't like it being shoved down my throat.

Or maybe I can put it another way: where did the idea come from that we should worship Nick and Jessica and we aren't allowed to worship God as we understand Him?

I guess that's a sign that I'm getting old, too.

But there are a lot of us who are wondering where Nick and Jessica came from and where the America we knew went to.

In light of the many jokes we send to one another for a laugh, this is a little different: This is not intended to be a joke; it's not funny, it's intended to get you thinking.

Billy Graham's daughter was interviewed on the Early Show and Jane Clayson asked her "How could God let something like this Happen?" (regarding Katrina)

Anne Graham gave an extremely profound and insightful response. She said, "I believe God is deeply saddened by this, just as we are, but for years we've been telling God to get out of our schools, to get out of our government and to get out of our lives.

And being the gentleman He is, I believe He has calmly backed out. How can we expect God to give us His blessing and His protection if we demand He leave us alone?"

In light of recent events...terrorists attack, school shootings, etc. I think it started when Madeleine Murray O'Hare (she was murdered, her body found recently) complained she didn't want prayer in our schools, and we said OK.

Then someone said you better not read the Bible in school. The Bible says thou shalt not kill, thou shalt not steal, and love your neighbor as yourself. And we said OK.

Then Dr. Benjamin Spock said we shouldn't spank our children when they misbehave because their little personalities would be warped and we might damage their self-esteem (Dr. Spock's son committed suicide). We said an expert should know what he's talking about. And we said OK.

Now we're asking ourselves why our children have no conscience, why they don't know right from wrong, and why it doesn't bother them to kill strangers, their classmates, and themselves.

Probably, if we think about it long and hard enough, we can figure it out. I think it has a great deal to do with "WE REAP WHAT WE SOW."

Funny how simple it is for people to trash God and then wonder why the world's going to hell.

Funny how we believe what the newspapers say, but question what the Bible says.

Funny how you can send 'jokes' through e-mail and they spread like wildfire but when you start sending messages regarding the Lord, people think twice about sharing.

Funny how lewd, crude, vulgar and obscene articles pass freely through cyberspace, but public discussion of God is suppressed in the school and workplace.

Are you laughing?

With just a look, they shook...

Fall 2006: Top 10 Looks That Stole the Season

Lindsay Sammon Fri Mar 24, 5:52 PM ET


Fashion Wire Daily - New York - Much like the calm after the storm, the buzz of the Fall 2006 fashion season has settled and left a string of trends in its wake. From the good (Carolina Herrera's color burst) and the bad (just say "no" to D&G's knit bodysuit), several key trends emerged that have earned their place on the fashion "do" list. Here is a look back at the top ten runway styles that stole the season.

1. Layering
Who says less is more? This season gave us the green light to add vests, scarves, tops upon tops, and virtually anything over a pair of leggings or pants. Layers proved to be one of the more effortless ways to spruce up an outfit, but caveat! This trend can go from stylish to sloppy if done the wrong way. Always the one to hit it right, Marc Jacobs showed dresses over blouses topped with jackets fastened with belts. In Paris, Jean Paul Gaultier used corsets to secure long coats over pants. The layers of the season make way for a little grunge, a little boldness and a lot of options.

2. Volume
The bigger and the bolder, the better. At Richard Chai, models strut the runway in wrap sweaters and coats with oversized necks. Cynthia Rowley experimented with dropped shoulders and the puffball-shaped dress, while the bubble-shaped skirt took to the runway, in various lengths, at DKNY, Chloe, Missoni and Vivienne Westwood.

3. Tousled Temptress
Whether left down and flowing or loosely tied in a bun, disheveled hair brought a polished mess to the forefront of fall beauty, proving that the day-old look has never been hotter. Go ahead, skip a shower or two.

4. Boy Meets Girl
The gender bending that went on for Fall 2006 was among the boldest of trends. Masculine accessories like biker gloves made an appearance at Jose Ramon Reyes and even the glamorous duo at Rodarte strayed from their ultra feminine ways to create pantsuits with muted menswear influences.

5. Glam Rock
Just when you thought you thought your New York Dolls tour t-shirt had met its yard-sale fate, Fall 2006 showed a return to the glam rock roots that fueled fashion in the 1970s. Showy accessories and flamboyant themed-collections, like Jeremy Scott's food-inspired runway show, rocked the runway to the endorsement of many. At Burberry Prorsum, the rebel-chic reigned supreme with tight black looks, and Gucci revisited the glamour of '70s rock and rock with white shimmering suits reminiscent of David Bowie's old digs.

6. Leggings
We say leggings are a do, but be careful when incorporating them into an outfit - there's a science to bringing these back. Whether under a skirt, with or without feet, paired with an oversized sweater, or tucked into boots, leggings returned this season as the must-have functional fashion item (they actually do keep your legs warm). Either solid color leggings, like those at Derek Lam, or printed tights, like the looks at Rachel Comey are fair game for fall.

7. Where For Art Thou, Waistline?
The waist called the shots this season, receiving a lot of attention as designers used it as a focal point for the creation of many of the season's silhouettes. Fendi brought the waistline to new heights, whereas TIBI and Roberto Cavalli used belts to cinch the waist with bow details.

8. A Sci-Fi Style Invasion
Fall 2006 got futuristic on us. ThreeAsFour beautifully captured the science of fashion with huge superhero-like sleeves, trippy prints, and cape-like dresses in bright satin shades, while vivid neon prints, made from old scientific illustrations, took to the runway with Matrix-style capes at Basso and Brooke.

9. Excuse Me, There's Something On Your…
There was an obsession with dressing the face and head this season with various articles, from riding hats at Balenciaga, to eye masks at Comme Des Garcons. The greatest show stopping headpiece award goes to Alexander McQueen for his use of birds nests - complete with a batch of eggs - and even a gauze wrap for the face adorned with deer antlers.

10. Nuts for Navy Is navy the new black?
Donatella Versace experimented with navy throughout the entire collection from double-breasted coatdresses to the color of the model's smoky eye. Alberta Ferretti also focused on navy in her dark and deep color palette for fall, while Chado Ralph Rucci devoted several looks to navy this season as well, showing navy pantsuits spruced up with leather patchwork, dyed to match.

Best thing you never had... right you sell out

Its long, but good. Written by David Eggers:

You actually asked me the question: "Are you taking any steps to keep shit real?" I want you always to look back on this time as being a time when those words came out of your mouth.

Now, there was a time when such a question - albeit probably without the colloquial spin - would have originated from my own brain. Since I was thirteen, sitting in my orange-carpeted bedroom in ostensibly cutting-edge Lake Forest, Illinois, subscribing to the Village Voice and reading the earliest issues of Spin, I thought I had my ear to the railroad tracks of avant garde America. (Laurie Anderson, for example, had grown up only miles away!) I was always monitoring, with the most sensitive and well-calibrated apparatus, the degree of selloutitude exemplified by any given artist - musical, visual, theatrical, whatever. I was vigilant and merciless and knew it was my job to be so.

I bought R.E.M.'s first EP, Chronic Town, when it came out and thought I had found God. I loved Murmur, Reckoning, but then watched, with greater and greater dismay, as this obscure little band's audience grew, grew beyond obsessed people like myself, grew to encompass casual fans, people who had heard a song on the radio and picked up Green and listened for the hits. Old people liked them, and stupid people, and my moron neighbor who had sex with truck drivers. I wanted these phony R.E.M.-lovers dead.

But it was the band's fault, too. They played on Letterman. They switched record labels. Even their album covers seemed progressively more commercial. And when everyone I knew began liking them, I stopped. Had they changed, had their commitment to making art with integrity changed? I didn't care, because for me, any sort of popularity had an inverse relationship with what you term the keeping 'real' of 'shit.' When the Smiths became slightly popular they were sellouts. Bob Dylan appeared on MTV and of course was a sellout. Recently, just at dinner tonight, after a huge, sold-out reading by David Sedaris and Sarah Vowell (both sellouts), I was sitting next to an acquaintance, a very smart acquaintance married to the singer-songwriter of a very well-known band. I mentioned that I had seen the Flaming Lips the night before. She rolled her eyes. "Oh I really liked them on 90210," she sneered, assuming that this would put me and the band in our respective places.

However.

Was she aware that The Flaming Lips had composed an album requiring the simultaneous playing of four separate discs, on four separate CD players? Was she aware that the band had once, for a show at Lincoln Center, handed out to audience members something like 100 portable tape players, with 100 different tapes, and had them all played at the same time, creating a symphonic sort of effect, one which completely devastated everyone in attendance? I went on and on to her about the band's accomplishments, their experiments. Was she convinced that they were more than their one appearance with Jason Priestly? She was.

Now, at that concert the night before, Wayne Coyne, the lead singer, had himself addressed this issue, and to great effect. After playing much of their new album, the band paused and he spoke to the audience. I will paraphrase what he said:

"Hi. Well, some people get all bitter when some song of theirs gets popular, and they refuse to play it. But we're not like that. We're happy that people like this song. So here it goes."

Then they played the song. (You know the song.) "She Don't Use Jelly" is the song, and it is a silly song, and it was their most popular song. But to highlight their enthusiasm for playing the song, the band released, from the stage and from the balconies, about 200 balloons. (Some of the balloons, it should be noted, were released by two grown men in bunny suits.) Then while playing the song, Wayne sang with a puppet on his hand, who also sang into the microphone. It was fun. It was good.

But was it a sellout? Probably. By some standards, yes. Can a good band play their hit song? Should we hate them for this? Probably, probably. First 90210, now they go playing the song every stupid night. Everyone knows that 90210 is not cutting edge, and that a cutting edge alternarock band should not appear on such a show. That rule is clearly stated in the obligatory engrained computer-chip sellout manual that we were all given when we hit adolescence.
But this sellout manual serves only the lazy and small. Those who bestow sellouthood upon their former heroes are driven to do so by, first and foremost, the unshakable need to reduce. The average one of us - a taker-in of various and constant media, is absolutely overwhelmed - as he or she should be - with the sheer volume of artistic output in every conceivable medium given to the world every day - it is simply too much to begin to process or comprehend - and so we are forced to try to sort, to reduce. We designate, we label, we diminish, we create hierarchies and categories.

Through largely received wisdom, we rule out Tom Waits's new album because it's the same old same old, and we save $15. U2 has lost it, Radiohead is too popular. Country music is bad, Puff Daddy is bad, the last Wallace book was bad because that one reviewer said so. We decide that TV is bad unless it's the Sopranos. We liked Rick Moody and Jonathan Lethem and Jeffrey Eugenides until they allowed their books to become movies. And on and on. The point is that we do this and to a certain extent we must do this. We must create categories, and to an extent, hierarchies.

But you know what is easiest of all? When we dismiss.

Oh how gloriously comforting, to be able to write someone off. Thus, in the overcrowded pantheon of alternarock bands, at a certain juncture, it became necessary for a certain brand of person to write off The Flaming Lips, despite the fact that everyone knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that their music was superb and groundbreaking and real. We could write them off because they shared a few minutes with Jason Priestley and that terrifying Tori Spelling person. Or we could write them off because too many magazines have talked about them. Or because it looked like the bassist was wearing too much gel in his hair.
One less thing to think about. Now, how to kill off the rest of our heroes, to better make room for new ones?

We liked Guided by Voices until they let Ric Ocasek produce their latest album, and everyone knows Ocasek is a sellout, having written those mushy Cars songs in the late 80s, and then - gasp! - produced Weezer's album, and of course Weezer's no good, because that Sweater song was on the radio, right, and dorky teenage girls were singing it and we cannot have that and so Weezer is bad and Ocasek is bad and Guided by Voices are bad, even if Spike Jonze did direct that one Weezer video, and we like Spike Jonze, don't we?
Oh. No. We don't. We don't like him anymore because he's married to Sofia Coppola, and she is not cool. Not cool. So bad in Godfather 3, such nepotism. So let's check off Spike Jonze - leaving room in our brains for who??
It's exhausting.

The only thing worse than this sort of activity is when people, students and teachers alike, run around college campuses calling each other racists and anti-Semites. It's born of boredom, lassitude. Too cowardly to address problems of substance where such problems actually are, we claw at those close to us. We point to our neighbor, in the khakis and sweater, and cry foul. It's ridiculous. We find enemies among our peers because we know them better, and their proximity and familiarity means we don't have to get off the couch to dismantle them.

And now, I am also a sellout. Here are my sins, many of which you may know about already:
First, I was a sellout because Might magazine took ads.Then I was a sellout because our pages were color, and not stapled together at the Kinko's.Then I was a sellout because I went to work for Esquire.Now I'm a sellout because my book has sold many copies.And because I have done many interviews.And because I have let people take my picture.And because my goddamn picture has been in just about every fucking magazine and newspaper printed in America.

And now, as far as McSweeney's is concerned, The Advocate interviewer wants to know if we're losing also our edge, if the magazine is selling out, hitting the mainstream, if we're still committed to publishing unknowns, and pieces killed by other magazines.

And the fact is, I don't give a fuck. When we did the last issue, this was my thought process: I saw a box. So I decided we'd do a box. We were given stories by some of our favorite writers - George Saunders, Rick Moody (who is uncool, uncool!), Haruki Murakami, Lydia Davis, others - and so we published them. Did I wonder if people would think we were selling out, that we were not fulfilling the mission they had assumed we had committed ourselves to?
No. I did not. Nor will I ever. We just don't care. We care about doing what we want to do creatively. We want to be interested in it. We want it to challenge us. We want it to be difficult. We want to reinvent the stupid thing every time. Would I ever think, before I did something, of how those with sellout monitors would respond to this or that move? I would not. The second I sense a thought like that trickling into my brain, I will put my head under the tires of a bus.

You want to know how big a sellout I am?

A few months ago I wrote an article for Time magazine and was paid $12,000 for it I am about to write something, 1,000 words, 3 pages or so, for something called Forbes ASAP, and for that I will be paid $6,000 For two years, until five months ago, I was on the payroll of ESPN magazine, as a consultant and sometime contributor. I was paid handsomely for doing very little. Same with my stint at Esquire. One year I spent there, with little to no duties. I wore khakis every day. Another Might editor and I, for almost a year, contributed to Details magazine, under pseudonyms, and were paid $2000 each for what never amounted to more than 10 minutes work - honestly never more than that. People from Hollywood want to make my book into a movie, and I am probably going to let them do so, and they will likely pay me a great deal of money for the privilege.

Do I care about this money? I do. Will I keep this money? Very little of it. Within the year I will have given away almost a million dollars to about 100 charities and individuals, benefiting everything from hospice care to an artist who makes sculptures from Burger King bags. And the rest will be going into publishing books through McSweeney's. Would I have been able to publish McSweeney's if I had not worked at Esquire? Probably not. Where is the $6000 from Forbes going? To a guy named Joe Polevy, who wants to write a book about the effects of radiator noise on children in New England.

Now, what if I were keeping all the money? What if I were buying property in St. Kitt's or blew it all on live-in prostitutes? What if, for example, I was, a few nights ago, sitting at a table in SoHo with a bunch of Hollywood slash celebrity acquaintances, one of whom I went to high school with, and one of whom was Puff Daddy? Would that make me a sellout? Would that mean I was a force of evil?

What if a few nights before that I was at the home of Julian Schnabel, at a party featuring Al Pacino and Robert DeNiro, and at which Schnabel said we should get together to talk about him possibly directing my movie? And what if I said sure, let's?

Would all that make me a sellout? Would I be uncool? Would it have been more cool to not go to this party, or to not have written that book, or done that interview, or to have refused millions from Hollywood?

The thing is, I really like saying yes. I like new things, projects, plans, getting people together and doing something, trying something, even when it's corny or stupid. I am not good at saying no. And I do not get along with people who say no. When you die, and it really could be this afternoon, under the same bus wheels I'll stick my head if need be, you will not be happy about having said no. You will be kicking your ass about all the no's you've said. No to that opportunity, or no to that trip to Nova Scotia or no to that night out, or no to that project or no to that person who wants to be naked with you but you worry about what your friends will say.

No is for wimps. No is for pussies. No is to live small and embittered, cherishing the opportunities you missed because they might have sent the wrong message.

There is a point in one's life when one cares about selling out and not selling out. One worries whether or not wearing a certain shirt means that they are behind the curve or ahead of it, or that having certain music in one's collection means that they are impressive, or unimpressive.
Thankfully, for some, this all passes. I am here to tell you that I have, a few years ago, found my way out of that thicket of comparison and relentless suspicion and judgment. And it is a nice feeling. Because, in the end, no one will ever give a shit who has kept shit 'real' except the two or three people, sitting in their apartments, bitter and self-devouring, who take it upon themselves to wonder about such things. The keeping real of shit matters to some people, but it does not matter to me. It's fashion, and I don't like fashion, because fashion does not matter.

What matters is that you do good work. What matters is that you produce things that are true and will stand. What matters is that the Flaming Lips's new album is ravishing and I've listened to it a thousand times already, sometimes for days on end, and it enriches me and makes me want to save people. What matters is that it will stand forever, long after any narrow-hearted curmudgeons have forgotten their appearance on goddamn 90210. What matters is not the perception, nor the fashion, not who's up and who's down, but what someone has done and if they meant it. What matters is that you want to see and make and do, on as grand a scale as you want, regardless of what the tiny voices of tiny people say. Do not be critics, you people, I beg you. I was a critic and I wish I could take it all back because it came from a smelly and ignorant place in me, and spoke with a voice that was all rage and envy. Do not dismiss a book until you have written one, and do not dismiss a movie until you have made one, and do not dismiss a person until you have met them. It is a fuckload of work to be open-minded and generous and understanding and forgiving and accepting, but Christ, that is what matters. What matters is saying yes.
I say yes, and Wayne Coyne says yes, and if that makes us the enemy, then good, good, good. We are evil people because we want to live and do things. We are on the wrong side because we should be home, calculating which move would be the least damaging to our downtown reputations. But I say yes because I am curious. I want to see things. I say yes when my high school friend tells me to come out because he's hanging with Puffy. A real story, that. I say yes when Hollywood says they'll give me enough money to publish a hundred different books, or send twenty kids through college. Saying no is so fucking boring.

And if anyone wants to hurt me for that, or dismiss me for that, for saying yes, I say Oh do it, do it you motherfuckers, finally, finally, finally.

I dont wanna be a "Stupid Girl"

Well, this journal has officially become a place where I place articles I think are interesting. The following is by J.K. Rowling:


"So the issue of size and women was (ha, ha) weighing on my mind as I flew home to Edinburgh the next day. Once up in the air, I opened a newspaper and my eyes fell, immediately, on an article about the pop star Pink."


"Being thin. Probably not a subject that you ever expected to read about on this website, but my recent trip to London got me thinking...

It started in the car on the way to Leavesden film studios. I whiled away part of the journey reading a magazine that featured several glossy photographs of a very young woman who is either seriously ill or suffering from an eating disorder (which is, of course, the same thing); anyway, there is no other explanation for the shape of her body. She can talk about eating absolutely loads, being terribly busy and having the world's fastest metabolism until her tongue drops off (hooray! Another couple of ounces gone!), but her concave stomach, protruding ribs and stick-like arms tell a different story. This girl needs help, but, the world being what it is, they're sticking her on magazine covers instead. All this passed through my mind as I read the interview, then I threw the horrible thing aside.

But blow me down if the subject of girls and thinness didn't crop up shortly after I got out of the car. I was talking to one of the actors and, somehow or other, we got onto the subject of a girl he knows (not any of the Potter actresses – somebody from his life beyond the films) who had been dubbed 'fat' by certain charming classmates. (Could they possibly be jealous that she knows the boy in question? Surely not!)

'But,' said the actor, in honest perplexity, 'she is really not fat.'

'"Fat" is usually the first insult a girl throws at another girl when she wants to hurt her,' I said; I could remember it happening when I was at school, and witnessing it among the teenagers I used to teach. Nevertheless, I could see that to him, a well-adjusted male, it was utterly bizarre behaviour, like yelling 'thicko!' at Stephen Hawking.

His bemusement at this everyday feature of female existence reminded me how strange and sick the 'fat' insult is. I mean, is 'fat' really the worst thing a human being can be? Is 'fat' worse than 'vindictive', 'jealous', 'shallow', 'vain', 'boring' or 'cruel'? Not to me; but then, you might retort, what do I know about the pressure to be skinny? I'm not in the business of being judged on my looks, what with being a writer and earning my living by using my brain...

I went to the British Book Awards that evening. After the award ceremony I bumped into a woman I hadn't seen for nearly three years. The first thing she said to me? 'You've lost a lot of weight since the last time I saw you!'

'Well,' I said, slightly nonplussed, 'the last time you saw me I'd just had a baby.'

What I felt like saying was, 'I've produced my third child and my sixth novel since I last saw you. Aren't either of those things more important, more interesting, than my size?' But no – my waist looked smaller! Forget the kid and the book: finally, something to celebrate!

So the issue of size and women was (ha, ha) weighing on my mind as I flew home to Edinburgh the next day. Once up in the air, I opened a newspaper and my eyes fell, immediately, on an article about the pop star Pink.

Her latest single, 'Stupid Girls', is the antidote-anthem for everything I had been thinking about women and thinness. 'Stupid Girls' satirises the talking toothpicks held up to girls as role models: those celebrities whose greatest achievement is un-chipped nail polish, whose only aspiration seems to be getting photographed in a different outfit nine times a day, whose only function in the world appears to be supporting the trade in overpriced handbags and rat-sized dogs.

Maybe all this seems funny, or trivial, but it's really not. It's about what girls want to be, what they're told they should be, and how they feel about who they are. I've got two daughters who will have to make their way in this skinny-obsessed world, and it worries me, because I don't want them to be empty-headed, self-obsessed, emaciated clones; I'd rather they were independent, interesting, idealistic, kind, opinionated, original, funny – a thousand things, before 'thin'. And frankly, I'd rather they didn't give a gust of stinking chihuahua flatulence whether the woman standing next to them has fleshier knees than they do. Let my girls be Hermiones, rather than Pansy Parkinsons. Let them never be Stupid Girls. Rant over."

source: JKRowling.com

Things that make you go hmmmm...

Survey: U.S. trust lowest for atheists
By Jeannine Aquino


Atheists are America’s least trusted group, according to a national survey conducted by University sociology researchers.
Based on a telephone survey of more than 2,000 households and in-depth interviews with more than 140 people, researchers found that Americans rate atheists below Muslims, recent immigrants, homosexuals and other groups as “sharing their vision of American society.” Americans are also least willing to let their children marry atheists.

“It tells us about how Americans view religion,” said Penny Edgell, an associate sociology professor and the study’s lead researcher. “Many Americans seem to believe some kind of religious faith is central to being a good American and a good person.”

The study will appear in the April issue of the “American Sociological Review.” Professor Joseph Gerteis and associate professor Douglas Hartmann are study co-authors. It is the first in a series of national studies conducted by the American Mosaic Project, a three-year project that looks at race, religion and cultural diversity in the United States.

Edgell said Americans traditionally have been a religious people and associate faith with being a good citizen. The survey results indicate that this belief hasn’t changed, Edgell said.

Those surveyed tended to view people who don’t believe in a god as the “ultimate self-interested actor who doesn’t care about anyone but themselves,” Edgell said.

Cole Ries, the president of the Maranatha Christian Fellowship said he does not agree with that perception.

“Atheists seem to be concerned with the human good,” he said. “Where I differ as a Christian is that I’m more concerned with God’s will than man’s will.”

Still, Ries said, “I don’t believe that anybody is really an atheist. I believe that deep down everyone knows there is a god.”

Robert O’Connor, a sophomore and member of Campus Atheists and Secular Humanists, said he was not surprised by the survey results.

Americans generally are very religious, O’Connor said, and people usually are suspicious about those who do not share the same beliefs.

“People really strongly believe that religion and good morals are one and the same,” O’Connor said. “Increasing problems of society — for example, juvenile delinquency — are being blamed on lack of religious value.”

Joe Foley, co-chairman for Campus Atheists and Secular Humanists, was not surprised by the results, either.

“I know atheists aren’t studied that much as a sociological group, but I guess atheists are one of the last groups remaining that it’s still socially acceptable to hate,” Foley said.

First-year pharmacy student Amanda Wawrzynia, however, found the study reasonable.

She said she would have ranked atheists at the bottom of the list of those sharing the same vision of American society.

“I would rather have my kids marry someone of a different religion than someone who has none,” she said.

Yet Benjamin Abrams, a member of the Jewish student center Hillel, said he was surprised people would have reservations about their children marrying atheists.

“I understand if people want to marry someone of a similar faith, but I don’t understand why it would be any different from marrying a Muslim, a Jew or a Christian,” Abrams said. “It’s another religious belief. I don’t understand why atheism would have negative connotations.”

Abrams said Judaism teaches that people’s actions, not one’s beliefs, are what matter most.

“(Atheists) should have the same rights to not believe as someone would have the right to believe,” he said.

First-year biology student Joe Reutiman calls the results a “sad state of affairs.”

“(Atheists) have the right to believe whatever they want, even if that belief is nothing,” Reutiman said. “They shouldn’t have to fit in with the clean-cut American life like a Norman Rockwell painting.”


I say if you wanna be an Atheist, then people should respect that. And I don't think it makes them untrustworthy.

We're still young

Come on, take a step towards me so you can figure me out. I've been hoping and praying for a single way to show you what I'm all about. And I know, and I know this is the only way of pleasing the crowds. But when this is over and done with and we walk away, there should be no doubts.

So let's get a little closer now, let's get a little closer now...

You say, you say that we're all tied up and wrapped around in useless, useless states of mind. But at the same time we're still young. We have the time to realize that we were wrong.

Come on, love, run with me, get the hell out of this town so we can get a better feel for each other. I'll take you back to when you remembered how you used to be. Just live your life a little for me. Take the time to let it go, step away and watch me grow.

So let's get a little closer now, let's get a little closer now...

You say, you say that we're all tied up and wrapped around in useless, useless states of mind. But at the same time we're still young. We have the time to realize that we were wrong.

You can stay if you want to and I write to you and tell you how you've always been so special to me. You can stay if you want to, and I'll try. You can stay if you want to and I write to you and tell you how you've always been so special to me. You can stay if you want to, and I'll try... To keep you close to me. To keep you close to me. To keep you close to me...

You say, you say that we're all tied up and wrapped around in useless, useless states of mind. But at the same time we're still young. We have the time to realize that we were wrong...

City of Evil

I had to stick this somewhere due to myspace blog editing....:

blah blah blah... Avenged Sevenfold, or as aforementioned generous person likes to refer to them- Avenged Sevenfucks. Haha. And the obsession is in part to do to Syn, pics posted a few posts below.

So you guys don't think that I'm just this crazy girl obsessed with boys in bands, I have to tell you that he is the most amazing lead guitarist... that I just happen to find attractive also. His solos, on cd, are enough to make me cry, but actually seeing his fingers FLY across those strings in their live vids make me insane. Apparently he was a jazz student and he says, "I love jazz from a metal standpoint" Ummm, ok. But just wait b/c in regards to his style, he goes on to say he likes, "Crazy arpeggios with tons of altered notes, but equally palatable as the straight-ahead stuff. Anything to make it heavier, goofier, funnier. I'm a big climax guy. I want every song to be a rollercoaster ride, but to never forget about structure and melody. And I'm a guitar geek, so its always technical." Yeah... I think you know where I'm going with this. He basically turns me into a puddle of goo. *sigh* I love crushes. For your viewing and listening pleasure, here's a vid of him playing a solo... not his best regarding both speed and melody (my opinion at least, I think his best is his solo in "Beast and the Harlot" which can be found on MTV overdrive... or downloaded below), but just him going crazy on his guitar none the less:

Syn's Solo (upload expires)

Beast and the Harlot (upload expired)(if you don't wanna watch the whole thing, which I think you should, except for the fact that his backup singing sucks towards the end, his first solo starts about 1:58... and the mtv one is alot easier to watch, this cam jumps around too much... and upon watching again, i think he plays the end a key higher, so yeah, go watch the mtv one too)

And if you bother to download and watch those, you will understand, or maybe if you go watch the live Beast and the Harlot vid mentioned previously. If not, and you still think I'm just a stupid fan girl, then please shut the fuck up and don't bother ever bringing it up to me. :o)

Hey Chris, you were our only friend.

Well, this is interesting. A post from Chris of "Hey Chris":

an open letter to pete wentz. [Feb. 28th, 2006|03:50 pm]

it takes a lot to make me mad.
it takes even more to infuriate me.

so, after all this time i finally learned the truth. that it was you telling my ex girlfriend lies and secrets. despite even giving you the pass card after i caught you trying to talk dirty to her online, this is how you repay me? no wonder why you couldnt look me in the eye on the bus last summer and no wonder why you avoided me every chance you got.
you hug me and tell me you love me then you tell lies to my girlfriend behind my back to lure her away from me? you tell her i cheat on her and then you tell me to come stay on the bus?
you are a spineless fucking sham.

i regret every second i spent defending you and your selfish ways.
dont forget, i know you. not that shitty glammed up poser image you present to the masses to consume. the dude i knew never would have worn a fucking dinosaur shirt or sold out one of his friends. the dude i knew had heart and fucking loyalty. well lil buddy, you are fucking done.

you want to sell me out to the most important person in my life and then have the audacity to make ME think I did something wrong to not deserve your friendship? you fucking arrogant bastard.
since we're discussing sellouts lets discuss how when kids give you presents you laugh at them and throw it straight in the trash. oh yeah, ive seen it many times. lets talk about how you talk shit about the fat girls that are your fans and mock their letters. you are fucking undeserving of every ounce of attention you've ever gotten. from every one of your calculated business moves to your "spontaneous" jumps in the crowd parts to your well rehearsed cliche lines you've been spouting for 400 shows in a row. you're boring, contrived and old. "oooh, no one loves me, its sooo hard being on magazine covers and tv shows. someone save me from me." what are you, fucking 12? go light your little candles ask yourself why no one will ever truly love you. its amazing no one has caught on to your little fucking show. you're nothing more than a shitty opportunist business man with even shittier fashion sense.

so pack up and move to whatever million dollar house you've picked out in california paid for by your lies and hypocrisy and deceit and selfishness and over medicate yourself like youve been doing for years...because guess what? no one wants you here anymore. you are not welcome.

oh yeah, hows that straight edge tattoo doing? as well as the tattoo for your "crew" who now refer to you as a fraud and a con? stay gold dude, stay gold.

remember this each night of the tour when you play the lie, "hey chris, you were our only friend."
downplay it all you want by saying the song is about "friends", but guess whos fucking name you're saying each and every night? mine. thats right. what a bunch of fucking phonies. sing the songs you dont even believe in anymore. fucking liar.

you know the friends i have and you know how we feel about loyalty.
you know who im talking about and you know they're not happy either.
so dont get caught slipping and you better make damn sure you watch whos on your guest list because a plus one might come backstage to punch your fucking teeth out and tear the windpipe from your throat.

you fucking sell out.




oh, and next time you decide to write another song about me, do it right you fucking coward.

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Well then... carry on.