Thursday, September 27, 2012

ROBBLOG #449

I’ve been told to be careful.
Don’t upset the “you-know-who’s” whose religion is tantamount to untouchable. They may come to my door one day and run me through, stone me or set me on fire. Just don’t write about them. They’ll be on your tail I’ve been told.
You’ll be followed and some dark night…
No! I am not talking about the Catholics or the Baptists/Born Agains- although there is a history of torture and bloodlust there to be sure. I am referring to that other bunch. They are always in the news these days. Someone is always sketching, filming, making fun of them or degrading their religion.
I swear if there is another world war, it will be between this religion and everyone else on earth. I don’t know enough details to speak of the religion except to say that they would sooner "stone ya than look at ya" unless you live in a little house on the Prairie. What disturbs me the most is the need for this sect to change our country…and that’s what’s it’s doing.
I don’t believe it’s a question of freedom of religion. It’s more a question of give us this, leave us alone or else there’ll be H E Double Hockey sticks to pay. Now their God must be in a more exalted position in the ever-after than any Christian God-like entity. I mean this God means business. He also has a stable chock-a-block full of thousands of female virgins to reward those mortal men who do his bidding.
He’s quite the collector it would seem. That’s a big bunch of virgins for any religion.
These virgins are all women type virgins- since the religion has no homosexual type folks in the flock, there's no need for Gay Virgins. Unlike the Mormons who pretend that “Gays” just don’t exist, these folllowers just flatly refuse to believe it.
 Very handy, I must say.
Too bad we just couldn’t snap our fingers and believe Hunger
Or pain,
Or poverty,
Or disease,
Or clear-cutting forests doesn’t exist.
 
However, they do. They all exist and it appears neither mortal man nor Religious Figurehead is working on changing any of those conditions anytime soon.
So, I am not about to name names or make snide, rude or indifferent comments about them. I stick to annoying the Hell out of the Catholics and Presbyterians- pretty much any organized religious tribe. Religion is great if it’s kept close by those who practice it. It becomes a problem greater than itself when it creeps beyond the tabernacle doors.
Jeffery Hitchens said- “If you want to make good people do evil things- you need religion.”
How true.
 

Sunday, September 23, 2012

ROBBLOG #448

News has surfaced that Jesus Christ may have been Married.
Cripes!
Yet, how sweet!
Just watch the Catholic Church rip this one to shreds.
 
OK. It’s not 50 Shades of Grey and it’s only a tiny sliver of papyrus but already they’re calling it the “Gospel of Jesus’ Wife.”
A small fragment that has set tongues to wagging and Catholic Priest Father Harry to the closest jeweller to buy an engagement ring for Father Ronnie.
 
So, how about that? Christ was nit-picked and pussy-whipped!
Oh, Good Lord.
Say it isn’t so.
 
 
 
Ah, but it could be.
That piece of papyrus that looks like a Shreddie has theologians and scientists are speculating. Christ may have married Mary. You know- that Magdalene woman. Mind you most women back then were named “Mary”.
Strange.
I thought he had the “hots” for John or Simon.
In the past, I have read that it would have been unusual for a Jewish man- like Jees, to remain unmarried. Maw and Paw would have forced him into it.
Mary- his Mother, might have said-
“I don’t care if you like swimming as nature intended with those other Jewish Boys. You just keep your hands off each other svanstuckers…and find yourself a real girl. Settle down. Have kids. Buy a house in the suburbs. Make a Mother proud!”
 
So, it may have happened as a sort of cover in his overt operation to tell people he WAS the Messiah and they should follow him.
Homosexuality- although present in “Biblical Times”, was kept on the back burner.
Besides Christ hanging with 12 men in loose clothes for three years, he also spent some time with Lazarus- alone, after he raised him up.
~ahem~
Raised him up from the dead- I mean. Spent 30 days or so alone with old Laz. It says so in the book.
 
I thought I would compose a little story.
Make a story up- just like the Bible, which will indeed be called “The Gospel of Mrs. Christ”- even though all its verses are contained on a slice of shredded wheat.
 
 
 
The story...
 
Once upon a time in Galilee, there lived a man called Jesus.
Friends called him Jees.
He was a travelling saleman- of sorts.
Never home.
Always on the road.
His wife back stayed back at the house dusting, mending his sandals and playing bridge with the girls Thursday afternoons.
 
Oh, she’s go to the occasional stoning but like everything else, rocks were becoming expensive. Not like in the old days when they were three for a shekel. That’s what happens when you let the Coptics control the show.
Occasionally, Jees would slip into a flower shop and send her a bouquet of wildflowers. For the shreddie says:
 
Verse 3: Mary is worthy of it.
(Now, that verse- so the experts say, could also be translated as Mary is NOT worthy of it. Got to love Biblical translations eh?)
 
One day while Jees was tromping around the countryside with “the boys” he said-
I think we need a woman’s touch…”
 
“A woman’s touch?”- One of the Disciples cried, “What about me, I’ll touch you. You always say how much you like my hair and…and… my firm buttocks? Let me touch you Christ.”
 
Jesus answered. “Yes, Simon, while I do appreciate a pair of firm buttocks….still, maybe it’s time to have Mary come for a visit”
“Mary?”- The boys sang in unison. “Mary? Really?”
 
“Yes, Mary.”- Christ said with a smile.
 
Verse 4: My wife…
 
“Oh well, that’s just great Lord- isn’t it. How are we going to go skinny dipping and bury each other’s appendages in beach sand with a girl present?”- said John.
 
“Boys! Boys! Quit whining. You sound like a bunch of little Jewish Schoolgirls!”
Christ had a point there.
 
Verse 5: “She will be able to be my Disciple…”
 
Mark, the young handsome Disciple chimed in- “Your bloody what? Your Disciple? I thought we were your gang of disciples?”
 
“Ya!”- says Luke. “What are we chopped liver? Last time I wash and kiss your dusty feet if that women shows up here!”
 
Jesus answered:
Verse 4: My wife…
 
“Yes. We’ve all heard that before Jesus. We know she’s your wife but you’re on a trail of discovery here” Luke was clearly agitated.
“That’s not Kosher Luke.” Jesus replied sweetly, “Not a nice thing to say at all!
Verse 6: Let wicked people swell up…
 
“Oh don’t you preach to me about swelling up Lord.” Luke pointed a tanned finger at Christ. “I’ve curled up close to you during cools nights in Bathsheba. I know all about you and your swellings!”
 
“Look Boys…”- Jesus attempted to smile and show his love for each and every one of the men standing in front of him. “Look Boys…” He pauses and looks towards Simon.
“Uh, Simon. Put your pants back on, please. That’s a good lad! Look you know why I married Mary…
 
Verse 7: As for me I dwell with her in order to…
 
The Disciples answered Jesus before he had a chance to continue-
“We know. To keep your house insurance rates low! What a cop-out!”
 
“I’m sorry guys.”
Jesus spread his arms wide and encouraged the disciples to suckle to his breast.
I have a duty to Mary too and you all knew that before you joined up for this tour!”
 
Simon spoke first.
“We know Jees. It’s just so hard because we all love you so and we like touching you and we all love that “mind-fuck thing” you do when you’re talking to the multitudes. It’s just that we want you all to ourselves.”
 
Christ threw a long, lean arm about Simon and sayeth:
“I guess you’ll just have to get used to sharing me with the world then- and the occasional woman. It doesn’t mean that I love of any of you less or enjoy our “man times” together any less- does it?”
 
He playfully pulled at Simon’s hair and slapped him on his hard butt.
 
Then, they all headed down to the Sea for a cool dip in the azure blue waters.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Wednesday, September 19, 2012

ROBBLOG #447

What is this world of our coming to?
 
The Separatists dans la belle province took the Maple Leaf Flag out of the legislature while they were sworn in the other day.
It was put back less than 24 hours later when the Liberals and that other Quebec party- the one that can’t make up its mind whether to separate nor not to separate, was sworn in.
 
There’s any easy fix to that.
 
Take their money- the bills with the Prime Ministers and Queen on the one side, along with their Federal Grants and anything else they get from Ottawa away- pronto and see the smile dissipate from their smug French faces. That woman- I hesitate to use bitch but it was a thought, who leads the rabble-rousers should be placed in a time capsule.
Don’t open ‘till Christmas 2050. I sure don’t want someone like her in my country- English, French of otherwise.
I see her picture and I instantly want to draw a moustache above her lip.
Hmmm. Probably one there already.
 
Hey, there’s even more pictures of The Future King’s “Little woman” showing off her nipples and boobies.
No. I don’t want to look!
You can’t make me!
However, if William’s private member was swaying in the tropical breeze- unfurled and unrestrained, I’d take a gander at it.
Maybe a long gander.
He is quite tall so if it’s true that “things” are in proportion, it might just be ever so satisfactory.
 
Shows you the media is mostly men and straight, doesn’t it?
I mean would a lady want to splash a Royal’s Boobs across the Net or on the front pages of a less than classy magazine?
No sir.
It’s a man. A straight man that did that.
I’ll bet there are a lot of straight men who typed the words “Kate’s Tits” into a Google search this week.
 
I suspect William’s Weenie would take a back seat even if it were being flopped about in public. Still, I’d stand in line to have a quick boo. Not often you get to see a royal one-eyed monster. Hasn’t happened yet. If there was such a photo we would learn a quick lesson.
 
The lesson we would learn is this:
Female tits trump a Royal Sausage.
 
That’s a shame because I’d like to see it.
Wouldn’t you?
I might even like to touch it.
But like the Van Gough’s hanging in the Musee d’Orsay, it is off-limits!
Hands free!
 
We almost saw Harry’s- didn’t we.
Not that I cared. Those pictures of Prince Harry’s lily-white ass and the frontal shots of him cupping his man-boys and penis were laughable at best. However, the pictures that have surfaced showing British Army fellas standing in the nude lifting their dicks up and cupping them in their hands were much more amusing and titillating.
 
Maybe more “cock-sure” than titillating, now that I think of it.
 
What is the connection here between these two stories you ask?
Quite simple.
You’ll find boobs here in Canada as well as on some tropical Island being visited by Royals.
 
Over to you Dick…
 

Saturday, September 15, 2012

ROBBLOG #446

Baby Jane and Blanche
 
It’s mid-morning on Bleeker Street. About 930. We join Blanche looking out her favourite window onto the front yard.
 
Blanche: Jane! Oh Jane. Come quick!
 
Jane: Why? ~puff, puff~ is Jack Nicholson standing on our lawn in his gonchies?
 
Blanche: No Jane, of course not.
 
Jane: Then, what’s yer F*ck** rush ~puff, drag, puff, cough~ Besides I’m busy.
 
Blanche: Really? Doing what?
 
Jane: Reading my women’s magazine.
 
Blanche: You mean porn! Come here and look.
 
Jane: What? ~puff, puff~
 
Blanche: There’s that nice Mr. Finnigan walking along the street picking up trash again.
 
Jane: Yes! That’s because he’s nuts! Gone Lulu! Bonkers!
 
Blanche: Jane! Really! I think he’s a very nice man and look what he’s doing for the community and our neighbourhood.
 
Jane: Of fer Christs sake Blanche, all yer doing in starring at his ass!
 
Blanche: What? Starring at his ass? Nonsense!
 
Jane: Then why’s yer cheeks and neck all red? ~puff, drag, puff~
 
Blanche: Why is my…er…what…they are?
 
Jane: Hot Diggity they are! Why don’t ya take yourself out that front door and roll yerself down yer ramp and say hello. You jist might get lucky. Hah!
 
Blanche: Jane!
 
Jane: ‘Course you’d probably ferget what to do with it- even if ya had the chance.
 
Blanche: Really Jane. Sometimes you are just so mean spirited.
 
Jane: All in a day’s work Blanche Dear! ~puff, puff, puff~ All in a day’s work!
 
 
 

Wednesday, September 12, 2012

ROBBLOG #445

Here we go again.
 
Religion trumping common sense.
 
It would seem some Conservative Christian and Muslim parents are telling Ontario schools they need to know when big, bad Homosexuality, birth control, evolution and “environmental worship” is being discussed in classrooms.
 
Environmental Worship? That’s a new one for me.
Not to mention, why are right wing conservative Christians sharing a lollipop with Muslims? The sky is falling the sky is falling as Chicken Little would say.
 
Yes, these parents want to pull the wool over their kid’s eyes when the truth or the real world rears its ugly non-Christian head in the classroom. The real world contradicts traditional, thousand year-old beliefs.
There’s a reason for that.
Beliefs founded on limited knowledge of the world from two thousand plus years ago are just that- limited.
It’s just a fantasy that worked at the time.
Jesus doesn’t work today.
Oh, the stained glass is nice.
It’s art. It's culture.
Many religious structures are historic.
That’s good.
It helps us remember times past but it’s a fantasy if you actually belief Christ and his Daddy are up there in Heaven listening to your prayers.
Help me pass my test.
Get me a new car.
Make people like me.
Cure my cancer.
 
These groups wants conservation tied in with God- their creator.
I can see my recycle bin now- “I recycle for Jesus!”
 
They want the “real world” to be hidden from their kids. They want to steer them in the right direction before the kids can see it all for themselves.
They have to be carefully taught.
It’s God’s Holy ordinance.
Ignorance, hate, differences.
That’s what religion does.
It separates.
Separates friends and family.
Communities.
Countries.
The world.
 
I’m hoping the Ontario Educational System hangs tight on this one. I wonder, if a child is asked to draw “family” and he or she draws two Mums or two Dads, is this accepted?
I am sure it is.
However, in a Catholic School the child may be ridiculed for upsetting the Catholic apple cart-
“No little Johnny, God doesn’t like two men and two ladies together. Now draw a penis on that one and boobs on this one and we’ll call it a day!”
 
Grownups in the real world know their religion is hanging by a thread. Common sense is trumping a nice story from a couple of thousand years ago. In another generation it’ll be gone the way of the Edsel.

Friday, September 7, 2012

ROBBLOG #444

I just read a story about a Toronto man with Huntington’s Disease who decided to take his own life before the disease took control of him.
 
It was a tough story to read.
It made me cry but I think the tears were happy tears since I know he is at peace.
This is what the Gentleman wanted.
His reasons are all documented and he explained further in a letter he left behind.
His wife knew and so did two others from a group called “Dying with Dignity”.
That’s what it’s all about- isn’t it?
Dignity.
We hold our head high for a lifetime. Then along comes a disease that means- towards the end of life, being tied down to a hospital bed.
There’s great pain and discomfort and the agony of waiting for it all to be through.
 
Could I do it?
I don’t know.
I don’t think any of us know until we are faced with the prospect of dying a terrible, painful death at the will of an incurable disease.
 
I have seen three people in my life in the hours, days and moments before they leave this earthly plane for the next.
It isn’t pretty.
 
One asked- “Why is it taking so long?”
 
Another- “I’m dying but I’m having nice dreams now.”
That was my Dad.
 
Another- My Aunt, looked at me through eyes I scarcely recognized as she thanked me for coming by her hospital bed day after day to feed her.
To this day, I don’t know how I did that daily.
 


 
 
Should assisted death be legal?
I believe so.
It’s the final decision we can make for ourselves.
Before the pain.
Before the mind is taken.
Before the body crumbles.
 
There should be a place.
A wonderful place filled with music. Soft light. Pleasant scents.
A place for family to be.
After all, family gathers around a casket to see a dead body- so why not before that time?
 
It would be a time when the terminally ill person is still able to think clearly and has time for a proper goodbye.
Hugs.
Kisses.
Laughter.
Smiles.
Togetherness.
 
When someone special has decided it’s time to say farewell, we should leave them to their own quiet dignity. Their final wishes are just that- their final wishes.
They need to be respected and carried out.
 
Standing in the way is the law of the land and probably organized religion.
 
In the near future I am sure it will be viewed as being normal and the right thing to do.
These decisions take time and taking one’s self into eternity is the biggest decision of all.

Monday, September 3, 2012

ROBLOG #443

I know I’ve told you I was a Radio Broadcaster on Terrestrial Radio for 25 years or so. Of course, I am still a radio person since I have Swisssh and Starlite Radio.
 
A day ago, I was reading on a site for “old” radio people about the changes in radio today as compared to what it was like in yesteryear. Now, some of this stuff will be foreign to those of you who were never broadcasters but back in the day I was familiar with these terms and associated equipment. I understand all these things that pertain to radio.
None of them exist in today’s high tech radio world.
Computers rule!
 
So here goes.
 
Back in the day we didn’t have computer programmes or digital recorders.
We use tape machines.
Think Black and White TV.
8 Tracks.
Cassettes.
All have disappeared from the face of the radio broadcasting world today.
 
 
At various stations I used Ampex and Otari reel-to-reel tape machines. We used 8 inch reels of tape for the most part but sometimes we used 10” reels to run a programme for 6 hours or so. The 10” reels were massive and were held on the Ampex machines with big grey-coloured things we called “hubs.”
 
The tape was made- for the most part, by Ampex or Scotch.
After the tapes were used for a few months, they would get brittle and break.
This caused many problems especially when I worked at a station in Midland that ran two hours of religion every weeknight.
I “prayed” that the tapes would not break while playing.
Occasionally, they did.
I would quickly try to re-thread the tape back onto the machine.
By the way, the tape split- usually, when I took a pee break.
Anyway, I would get the programme back on air as the phones were ringing off the hook. The calls were usually religious cronies telling me I was going to Hell and that Satan was forcing me to break the tapes.
Indeed!
Like I needed that agro!
 
On tapes liked these, production was also accomplished.
Usually the 8 inch size tapes or smaller.
Items like grease pencils, splicing tape and razor blades were all used to produce radio commercials. There was no quick, easy editing done on a computer like in today’s world because- like big screen TV’s, it just didn’t exist.
Hey, we never even had cell phones in the 70’s and 80’s.
Imagine….and phones had holes on them to dial a number- not buttons.
That’s another blog right there!
 
In the studio music was played on records placed on turntables.
When one played a 45 rpm disc, a 45 adapter had to be placed on the turntable to fill in the big hole. Long playing albums didn’t require the adapter- nor did 78’s- which I never played on the radio.
Thank goodness!
 
Commercials?
 
We played those on machines called “cart machines”. They sort of looked like 8 tracks but had only small bits of tape on them.
20 seconds. 40 seconds. A minute or two.
Some stations recorded top selling, charted songs onto these carts and played them on the cart machines to save wear and tear on the 45 vinyl discs.
Discs could sound scratchy after a hundred plays.
Some 45’s were made of better quality vinyl than others.
 
We had “pots” on our boards in the studio.
Not of the kitchen variety.
These were knobs used to turn levels up or down for mics, turntables or cart machines. When I first started in radio I operated an old RCA board with big black knobs and tubes inside.
The tunes frequently burned out and you would lose sound to a turntable or cart machine. While you struggled being “live” on air with only one turntable, the station engineer would crawl overtop of you, open the back of the board and replace the tube.
Fun times!
 
Do you remember typewriters?
They kind of looked like computers- only without the tower and the internet.
We used to type words on typewriters.
They didn’t “save” the information we wrote however.
News stories.
Show prep.
Death notices.
Stuff like that.
 
Typewriters also had something like a tape inside, only it was called a ribbon. The ribbon had ink on it and when a typewriter key hit the ribbon, the letter of the alphabet you hit on the typewriter keys displayed on the piece of paper you had rolled into the typewriter’s innards.
Sounds confusing- doesn’t it?
The keys looked just like today’s computer keyboards and are in the same place- except for digits such as the dash or the dollar sign- which one always had to search for along the keyboard.
 
In the newsroom we had a huge Teletype machine that brought us up to the minute news and weather. It was like a computer only it was large, gray in colour and made of heavy metal. It clacked away all day and all night. Now and then one had to re-fill the teletype machine using huge rolls of flimsy paper.
I remember the paper would get stuck as it was printing the 1030 News Summary which you needed in order to read the 11 o’clock news!
Oie!
 
We had another phone dial that was used twice a day at radio stations. It was on the transmitter board usually out in the hallway at the radio station. One had to “dial” up the power of the transmitter in the morning and “dial” it down at night.
In Canada AM stations had to cut power at night so as not to interfere with other AM signals. AM signals travel quite far at night. That’s why in the Central Ontario area we were inundated with signals from big Radio stations in the U.S.
That’s when our music industry was lost.
Everyone listened to the big American stations because local stations played religion or some crap music at night- like Peggy Lee or Percy Faith.
Funny, today I like that “crap” music. Problem was this gave our music an American twist. We gave up on our own artists.
Things have changed in the last few decade though.
We have our own Canadian music stars who not only sell records across Canada but perform around the world.
Still, many stations rely on American Stars and content.
Just looks at their station websites.
Pictures of Artists are usually 90% American.
Canadian Music and artists still take a back seat today to anything American.
I don’t know why. I blame it on Music Departments, Programme Directors and music surveys.
 
Patch cords were used to bring in programmes from national networks or to take one studio off the air and put another studio “live” to air.
It looked like a Bell Canada board.
“Number, please…”
That is- if you know what an old Bell Canada board looked like.
 
There have been many changes technically over the years.
It’s a whole new ballgame with computers and computer programmes.
That’s why I can run two radio stations from one studio using 3 or 4 computers. My stations can be heard all around the world whereas a station like CFOR in Orillia- where I worked on-air back in the 70’s, barely got as far south as Barrie.
 
Oh yes, finally, to end our broadcast day we usually played O Canada when we went off the air at midnight. It was usually pre-recorded on a cart and played on a cart machine. The National Anthem was pre-ceded by an announcement saying something like:
 
“CFOR 1570 in Orillia has now completed its broadcast day. We will return to the air at 6 a.m. Have a good evening.”
Cue music: O Canada.