Comment PolicyThis is a humor blog. It is meant to make you laugh. If you are entertained enough to want to comment, feel free to do so. Just remember that this blog is not the place for trolls, mean-spirited comments, gossip, or endless repetitive speculation about all things Palin. Trolls don't get approved. Ever. Comments that cross the line I have established will not be approved, or will be deleted/edited. Don't make me close comments on certain posts. I don't actually like to do that.
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On a warm morning in late September, a bouncing baby boy barbie was born. Mary and Joseph, the happy parents, had had to stop at an old grotto barn in the Judean Hills because Mary’s water broke before they got to Bethlehem for the Carpentry Conference. The baby wasn’t due for a couple of weeks, and Bethlehem wasn’t far from home, so the couple thought they could fit in the conference. Baby boy barbie had other plans. Mary was going to miss the annual Carpenters’ Wives Potluck, and, as president of the CWA, her usual rousing speech would be missed. Joseph would be missing the windowsill workshop he had been looking forward to, but babies come when they decide to, and the hospital in Bethlehem was kind of scruffy anyway.
Lucky for them, Mary and Joseph encountered Myrrhy along the road to Bethlehem, and he told them his old barn and his new business were just around the bend. He also mentioned that he used to be a midwife, and that the barn was clean and comfy. Then he lent Joseph his cell phone so that Joseph could call Paul Revere and tell him that the time and location of the Birth Dinner would have to be changed. Paul was in charge of communications and security for PlasticLand, and he worked out of his mobile command center (red convertible). He promised to let the caterer know the new time and place.
Myrrhy got the couple settled in the barn, got some water boiling at his burger stand, and then coached Mary as she huffed and puffed and looked at her focal point. Joseph put some clean straw in the manger to use as a bed for the baby and coordinated a few more details on the phone with Paul while watching Mary push. Little boy barbie popped out and the couple rejoiced. Myrrhy rejoiced. Much rejoicing.
Paul arrived and rejoiced. He brought his favorite wench from 1775 and she rejoiced too. Just then, Erma One Hand, the senior partner of Three Chefs Catering, arrived with the food truck, the play tent for the kids, and some coconut water to hydrate the new mom. Erma had the tent up and the food out in no time. She got permission from Myrrhy to set up the bar at the burger stand, where it would be out of reach of the kids.
Tired new mom and dad brought little boy barbie out to enjoy the warm day and watch the party plans unfold. Their PlasticLand friends began to arrive, bringing more food and some presents. The sun was warm. Bees buzzed and birds twittered. The mood was festive as people welcomed the newest member of PlasticLand.
Paul left little boy barbie’s present with the wench while he dashed off to chase away the British.
“I’ll be back in a flash, wench!”
And so it came to be that another citizen of PlasticLand was born and was rejoiced. And Peace descended upon the land.
Good luck, good friends, good health, good cheer, I’m wishing to you for the coming year!
Away in a manger, no cap for his head
The little boy Barbie turns blue and not red
The Paul Revere doll looked over and cried
“The British are coming! The baby must hide!
I’ll ring my bell loudly to lead them astray!
Blam blam and ring ring will keep them away!
My fine steed is lowing, whatever that is
Warning & ringing is always my biz!
So I’ll jump in my command car
And with wind in my hair
I’ll lead those dang British
From here out to there!
Now that I’ve made such a rapturous noise
The angels on high will look after this boy
A hat for his head is what he needs most,
Angels don’t sew, yet miracles they boast!”
The Brits & their hounds soon thunder away
Blind to boy Barbie all snuggled in hay
Paul Revere cheers & knits a blue cap
To do so, the angels did find him an app!
For Picard fans. Ignore the weird commercial after the Picard song.
From Lee’s Bookshelf:
The Green Family, owners of the Hobby Lobby chain of craft stores, has asked the US Supreme Court to grant them ‘conscience protection,’ exempting them from their obligations under the Affordable Care Act. They claim that their religious convictions don’t allow them to cover employees’ birth control.
As it happens, I know a little something about conscience protection. I’m a Quaker–one of the groups for whom the first conscience protection laws were created.
Back in 2011, I wrote:
As a Quaker, I believe in Conscience Protection. I believe people should have the right to refuse work that violates their principles. If a draft were called tomorrow, I would wholeheartedly support people’s right not to serve.
But if someone serving in the military came to me and said they wanted me to defend their right to refuse military service, but that they also wanted to keep their job and be paid as if they were actually serving in combat, I would laugh in their face.
A pharmacist demanding the right to keep their job even if they refuse to dispense legal medication is like a Marine demanding to keep their job even if they refuse to follow lawful orders. That’s not “conscience protection,” that’s a handout to someone who wants to be paid not to work.
I feel the same way about Hobby Lobby’s Affordable Care Act stunt.
I will refrain from asking where Hobby Lobby gets the nerve to claim ‘conscience’ when their shelves are full of products from countries with appalling labor laws. I won’t even ask which version of the bible they’re reading where Matthew 25.36 reads “I was sick and you sued not to cover my medical care.”
Instead, I want to know exactly where they’re getting the idea that conscience protections are a consequence-free exemption from legal obligations.
During World War II, men who refused conscription for reasons of conscience didn’t get to go back to their normal lives. They were conscripted instead for difficult, dangerous jobs. They served as forest fire fighters (including smoke jumpers), psych ward orderlies, and subjects in medical testing.
That program formed the basis of the Alternative Service Program used during the Korean and Vietnam wars. If a draft were called tomorrow, the Alternative Service Program would start right back up again.
And Alternative Service applies to work that people are required to actually carry out themselves, not to things they’re only required to pay for.
Every year, I pay taxes to the United States government. I tell myself that I’m paying for roads and schools; food for hungry families and head start programs.
I am, of course. But I’m also paying for Guantanamo Bay.
I’m paying for two wars, and for racist immigration laws.
I’m paying for drone strikes, including those that kill and maim children.
I’m paying for federal executions, and for lawyers to argue that the government is not obligated to provide comprehensive medical care to Chelsea Manning.
I’m paying for the prison industrial complex.
All of those things violate my religious beliefs.
And if I refused to pay my taxes because of that? I would go to jail.
There are Quakers whose consciences really won’t permit them to pay federal taxes. Many of them manage that by making sure they don’t make enough money to incur tax liability. They live on far less than they could earn if they were willing to pay taxes, but they’re willing to make that sacrifice, because their conscience demands it.
Now along comes Hobby Lobby, demanding a consequence-free exemption to paying for birth control on the grounds that it violates their conscience.
Back in 2011, I wrote:
If your conscience prohibits you from dispensing legal medication, then your conscience prevents you from being a pharmacist. Full stop.
If your conscience prohibits you from performing abortions, then your conscience forbids you from taking a position where abortions are part of the job. Full stop.
I know firsthand that it can be hard to pass up opportunities that violate your conscience. But that is the price you pay for conscientious objection.
If you’re not willing to pay that price, you’re not a Conscientious Objector. Full stop.
If the Green family’s conscience really forbids them from meeting their legal obligations under the Affordable Care Act, then they have the option to arrange their lives so as not to incur those obligations. They can choose not to run a two billion dollar corporation.
But if they’re not willing to make those sacrifices–if their ‘conscience’ only compels them so far as they can follow it for free–then they are not conscientious objectors.
And they and their fake conscience objection can get the hell off my lawn.
And you thought you saw everything. Oh no. Not everything.
I could go on, but I’ll let you wander the Google by yourselves.
Yes, I know I’m early with the Christmas thing, but in spite of not liking the whole commercial thing, in spite of living with a mother who hopes in vain that I will produce and play out her version of Christmas, in spite of being a happy atheist, in spite of stupid winter, I STILL LOVE CHRISTMAS AND THE ENTIRE SEASON (except New Years. What a suckass holiday.). Shove that up your tight arse, Sarah.
So, for my husband, Happy Solstice! For my Christian friends, Merry Christmas! For everybody else, Happy Holidays, Kickass Kwanzaa, Happy Hanukkah, Festive Festivus, and Bah Humbug to all!!
My tree is up. My favorite Christmas music is playing, I’m scanning the TV guide for Rudolph, and my shopping is done (last month, early). Christmas dinner will be on Christmas Eve, because my present to myself is a trip to Oregon for 5 days, starting on Christmas, to visit my best friend. I don’t need “stuff.” I just want people to be healthy, content, passionate, and filled with good cheer (aka humor).
Wee fish ewe a mare egrets moose!