Offended by the Offended by the Offended

Christmas is over! Maybe we can have some peace around here!

Since I have another early deadline and no idea what new wars might break out, let’s gossip about Christians!

We just spent an entire holiday season listening to various Christians gossip about non-Christians. “Non-Christians are offended by Christmas trees, you know.” “Really? I heard they melt at the sight of Nativity scenes.” “I’m not surprised. And the way they hate it when you say Merry Christmas to them, my word, what thin skins they have! I think they’re all hemophiliacs.”

I don’t want to ever hear one more single person tell me what offends other people. No third party declarations of offense. Also, they prefer to be called the “Christianity-Free.”

Here’s news you won’t get on FOX: it’s possible to object to Christian images in public places paid for by public funds without being in the slightest bit offended by the images themselves. Of course, reducing all such objections to imaginary offenses taken is very convenient. You can tell people they just have a Weak Constitution. “Have a hanky and go cry in the corner until Christmas is over.”

Actually, because I have some small say about what gets printed in Real Change, religious wars don’t end with Epiphany for me. Submissions come in all year round that speak glowingly of some religious figure or another.

Who am I kidding? They all speak glowingly of Jesus. Apparently, nobody that cares deeply about Ahura Mazda thinks of Real Change when they are looking for an outlet to express their feelings. But Jesus moves people to want to publish here.

Since I have only one vote in about six I make it a policy not to tell folks how I’ll vote, because it could be misleading. So if you ask, “Does Real Change publish fiction?” I’ll say, “What do you think we are, the New York Times?” and laugh insanely.

Otherwise, imagine how it would be. I’d say to someone, "No, Mr. Manson, we're not about to publish your 'If I Had It To Do All Over, Here's How I Would Slaughter Them This Time' in thirteen weekly installments." As sure as I'm sure we won't, that's just how surely the editorial committee will vote 5 to 1 in favor of slaughter. Or supposing I said, "Yes, Ma'am, we would be thrilled to print your detailed explicit graphic memoirs as a life-long callgirl specializing in rare requests," I can just bet the committee will vote 5 to 1 against good fun. I'm not naming names, but some people on the editorial committee are not me. Not in any way me.

All of that said, I’ve decided to break my long silence on this one subject in order to fill up the rest of my space today. Now, remember, I just have one vote in six, and my opinions are NOT the official opinions of Real Change or any other decent organization.

First, the rumors are not true. I do not hate Jesus. Not only that, but I have been known to vote “yes” on submissions that mention Jesus and say good things about Jesus. I am not bothered by any utterance of the names “Jesus,” “Christ,” or those of His Relatives or Associates.

I am in fact very much interested in your touching story about how you and your pet goldfish Simon and your shared love for Jesus Christ saved you both from the well during the flood. Or how thanks to Jesus your fifteen years of homelessness have been joyous throughout, or that you don’t even consider yourself homeless because, with Jesus in your heart, wherever you are is Heaven, and Heaven is nothing if not home. It really really interests me to read things like that.

I do however insist that any submission that gets my vote say something other than, “I’m a Christian; you be one too.”

Take a look at my picture on this page. Does that look like a cheerleader outfit I’m wearing?

The Ghost of Christmas Future

Now that the Christmas trees are back up at SeaTac, or those are up that haven’t since blown away, and now that people have calmed down a bit, I feel the need to work them into a frenzy again. That’s why this year I’m calling for all good Americans to stop recognizing foreign winters, and start recognizing American winters.

What I’m talking about is the fact that practically every calendar you can find around here, including calendars designed and printed right here in America, even right here in this city, show winter 2006 as beginning on the 22nd of this month! This is an outrage!

In fact, winter begins at a little past 12:20 AM Greenwich Mean Time. Did you know that’s code for British time, also known as ZULU time? Do we live in Britain? Do we live in Zululand? NO! We live in a city 8 hours ahead, or behind, depending on whether (math joke alert!) you’re positively or negatively oriented, ha. In any case winter starts on the 21st all across America from Maine to Hawaii, AND ANTI-AMERICAN CALENDAR MAKERS DON’T WANT YOU TO KNOW IT. Are you paying attention, Lou Dobbs, or don’t you care about the American Way of Life? It’s time we celebrated Freedom Winter! No more Brit Winter!

OK, now that I’ve got that out of the way I can do what I came here to do. Apparently nobody else noticed it last week but me, but a huge shift has occurred in the culture wars across this land, a shift that promises to make the crooked straight and the rough places plain.

I am speaking of the fact that Senator Tim Johnson of South Dakota came this close (see pinched fingers, crushing the head of a flea) to needing a living will and testament. Fortunately all is well, this time. I’ve read that Senator Johnson has been seen by no less than three highly qualified Democrats, who all say he’s “looking good” and has an excellent prognosis until at least January 2009, so it won’t be at all necessary for South Dakota Republican Governor Mike Rounds to appoint anyone to take Johnson’s place.

This is great because it means that I can forget about the bad scenario I have in mind happening to Tim Johnson. I can imagine it happening to a fictitious Democratic Senator. So let’s do that together, shall we?

There are 51 Senators trying to keep the Senate in Democratic control. Actuarially speaking, they are most of them old, and no one would be surprised if they didn’t all last the next two years. The same can be said for the other 49, less the difference. But what happens when, sometime in the middle of next year, the Democratic Senator William “Willy” Orrnot from the great state of South Macadamia, governed by a Republican, slips and falls in an off-duty hula competition and gets himself concussed and then doesn’t wake up from it, ever?

I’ll tell you what happens because I can see it coming as plain as a car hurtling south on a northbound one-way in rush hour, what with all the screeching tires and the smashing glass and crushed metal. At first everyone will sit back respectfully and watch as the life support system is put into action, “the way he wanted it.” Then someone will leak the man’s actual living will, which will turn out to stipulate “no unusual life-prolonging measures” be taken. Then lawsuits will fly, at first involving only the family and the wife.

When it starts to look like the plug could be pulled, that’s when you’ll see a cultural war realignment.

I don’t know about the rest of you die-hard liberals out there, but I for one am ready right now to sign a GetOnWithItAlready.org petition calling for my Congresspeople to support “An Act for the relief of the people who don’t want Democrats’ plugs pulled.”

Did I say that the Schiavo Bill was unconstitutional? I must have been smoking something.