Hell: not-fun for kids of all ages

So think about what Hell is, if you believe in Hell. What's bad about it? Well, the fundamental suffering in Hell, and the only one that matters, is that you know to a certainty that you have been completely abandoned by God. Sure, we talk about tortures and things, but that's an immature way of thinking about it (okay, so a "mature way of thinking about Hell" is an oxymoron, granted; just go with it). That stuff is irrelevant. It's why Mephistopheles declares to Faustus "why this is Hell, nor am I out of it." It doesn't matter that he's not currently being poked by spiky things; he is suffering the torments of Hell as intended.

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Oh, NO! Not Hallmark!!

The latest newsletter from ChickCO brings some extremely old-school homophobia, straight no chaser:

The first thing I have to say: if the flippin' Hallmark Channel--that outfit that people keep on in the background as sonic wallpaper in the knowledge that nothing that's shown is going to be too challenging or require too much attention--had really been serving as some sort of emotional ballast for you...you might want to reexamine your life.  What are you even DOING?

The second thing I have to say: given the number of right-wing goons in power, it would pay not to be TOO complacent about the status of LGBTQ rights.  But what I CAN say is that the forces of regression that ChickCO represent have very definitively lost this particular part of the culture war.  Don't get me wrong; I know there are still redoubts of homophobia throughout the country, and you've gotta fight against them, but mainly you've just gotta roll your eyes at them continuing to babble in 2020 about sinful "alternative lifestyles" &c.  Way to make yourself even less relevant than you ever were, guys.  I'm sure you're gonna win a lot of souls this way.

The third thing I have to say: "David W. Daniels' newest paperback, NEW KING JAMES - THE BRIDGE BIBLE contains over 10 pages detailing how the word "sodomites" was changed to "perverted persons," and "temple prostitutes," etc.  First: OVER TEN PAGES?!?  Slow down there, Proust!  How much free time do you think I have?!  Second: ...seriously, what in white cis-gendered heterosexual male God's name are you babbling about?  If you think your message is so vitally important, maybe you could take a few moments to ensure that it doesn't come across as complete gibberish?  I'm not saying, I'm just saying.

The Worst Thing About Democrats

Don't worry; this isn't going to be a post attacking Kamala Harris. Am I wildly excited about her? Well, no, obviously not. My politics are what they are. But I guess with all the time it took to sink in that we actually chose Biden as a nominee, I've had time to resign myself. Realistically, once we chose him, there was never any chance that there was going to be anyone really exciting to vote for on the ticket, from a left perspective. She's fine for what she is, and I can easily see how she would excite some people. If it matters, which it doesn't, she'll absolutely lay waste to Pence if we have a VP debate this year. Whatever. You know what I think about mainstream Democrats; there's no need to rehash it here.

So I should preface this by saying that I actually think identity politics are very important. You can say that Obama didn't govern in as progressive a way as you'd've liked, but there is something very powerful and important about the cultural message: look, a black President, and it's totally normal and okay. Normalizing that idea is no small thing (of course, it's then somewhat undermined by Republicans deciding, "okay, if you get to elect a black President, then we should get to have a white supremacist"--but you know).

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Weird Chick Tract Fan Fiction

That's the thing about writing a post like the below: how do you go back to silly posts like this one without looking like a crazy person? Do you have to do a few semi-serious posts first to sort of transition neatly back? Let it be known: I'm still mourning, but that doesn't take up all my time, and you still have to do other things, like write this post.

As I think I've said, I don't really read Chick tracts anymore: I'm just not as into reading trash ironically as I was. I think that's good. But I'm still on their mailing list, and as such, I received this extremely bizarre story. It doesn't seem to be available online, so I thought I should give it wider circulation. Here you go:

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Carole Ann Moses, June 30, 1947-July 21, 2020

The above is a picture of my mother pregnant with me. She died early in the morning a few weeks ago, and I feel like I'd need to be a way better writer than I am to get my jumbled thoughts in order, but I can't say nothing about it. We knew it was coming, but it was unexpectedly sudden. She had been diagnosed with terminal cancer back in October; we were able to be sort of in denial about it for a while, but by the end, she was totally helpless and needed constant care. The cancer, it should be noted, was aided and abetted by the Parkinson’s that she'd been living with for the past fifteen-odd years, so she was more or less immobilized even before the cancer diagnosis. When I say that I bitterly regret that her time had come, the "regret" applies to her having developed the Parkinson's and cancer in the first place. Given that she had done these things, it was clearly a mercy for it to end when it did rather than drag on for another few painful months. My brothers had been here to visit before she died; the second of them left on Sunday evening, and Tuesday morning it was over. My dad, her widower, theorizes--and this seems extremely plausible--that she was holding on while they were here, and after, she just let go.

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