Jesus Calls Mel Gibson

"Hey, Mel. Yeah, it's me - Jesus. Yeah, long time. So, 'sup? How's business? Uh huh. Cool. How's the wife? ... Oh. Sorry, man. Yeah, I know, can't live with 'em... But, listen, about that - kind of the reason I called. I've been hearing some things... Yeah, I know. Rumors. Doctored tape. I'm sure. Hey, you march to your own drummer, the haters try to bring you down. Trust me, I know. But, still, the things I'm hearing, they've got people upset...  I'm not saying which people, but I think you know what I mean. Anyway, I just thought I'd call, maybe chat a bit. Cool. Now, put your ear a little closer to the phone, I want to make sure you hear this: So, Mel...  WHAT THE FUCK IS YOUR PROBLEM, ASSHOLE?! YOU JUST DON'T FUCKING GET IT! I DON'T KNOW IF YOU'VE CRACKED OPEN THE BOOK LATELY, BUT I'M JEWISH, YOU SHRIMPY LITTLE FUCK! SO, THE JEW-HATER SHIT! NOT COOL WITH ME! AND, WHILE YOU'RE AT IT, MAYBE YOU WANT TO REEL IN THE 'N-WORD' SHIT, TOO, 'CAUSE I DON'T KNOW WHICH PICTURE OF ME YOU'VE GOT HANGING IN THAT SURVIVAL BUNKER YOU CALL A CHURCH, BUT TAKE A CLOSER LOOK AT IT! I'M NOT EXACTLY SWEDISH, KNOW WHAT I'M SAYING?! I'M ON THE DARK-SKINNED SIDE, SO WHEN YOU START TOSSING AROUND THE ETHNIC SHIT, IT REALLY GOES UP MY ASS SIDEWAYS! AND AS FOR SMACKING AROUND WOMEN -- NOT FUCKING COOL! ... I DON'T GIVE A SWEET SHIT WHAT SHE SAID! YOU DON'T HIT WOMEN! ... NO, IT WOULDN'T MATTER IF SHE PUT THE KID DOWN FIRST! YOU DON'T HIT WOMEN! YOU DON'T HIT ANYONE!  WHICH PART OF 'BLESSED ARE THE PEACEMAKERS' DON'T YOU GET, SHRIMPZILLA?!  ... DON'T GIVE ME YOUR FUCKING EXCUSES?! NOT MY PROBLEM YOU CAN'T HANDLE YOUR HIGH. HOW 'BOUT YOU LAY OFF THE SACRAMENTAL BLOOD OF ME FOR A NIGHT AND CRACK OPEN A SNAPPLE?! HOW MANY TIMES ARE YOU GONNA FALL DOWN THE SAME 12 STEPS?! ... OH, YOU LIKE BAR-HOPPING!? HOW DO YOU FEEL ABOUT CROWBAR-HOPPING, 'CAUSE I HEAR ABOUT ANY OF THIS SHIT AGAIN, I WILL TAKE A FUCKING CROWBAR AND GO ALL JOE PESCI ON YOUR FUCKING HEAD! THAT'S RIGHT, SUGAR TITS, THIS TIME I REALLY WILL COME BACK FROM THE DEAD AND HEAD STRAIGHT TO MALIBU JUST SO I CAN KICK YOUR ASS UP AND DOWN THE PCH FROM GLADSTONE'S TO ZUMA! NOW, MAN UP, SHRIMPENSTEIN! YOU HAVE THE BALLS TO CALL YOURSELF A CHRISTIAN?! YOU TALK THE TALK? NOW WALK THE FUCKING WALK! ... WHAT? ... OH, PLEASE, DO NOT BRING UP THE MOVIE! PASSION OF THE CHRIST, MY ASS! THANKS FOR THE VALENTINE! YOU REALLY THINK THAT'S A CHAPTER OF MY LIFE I NEEDED TO RELIVE!? YOU ALSO MADE LETHAL WEAPON 4, YOU WANT PROPS FOR THAT, TOO?! ... I THOUGHT SO. LISTEN, MAN, I DON'T LIKE MAKING THESE CALLS. I DON'T LIKE PLAYING THE HEAVY. I'M A PEACEFUL GUY, BUT SOMETIMES YOU PEOPLE REALLY FUCKING PISS ME OFF! WHATEVER PSYCHO SHIT YOU'RE WORKING OUT, WORK IT OUT, MAN, JUST WORK IT OUT ...  OK. PEACE OUT... OH, BEFORE I HANG UP, ONE MORE THING: YOU GOT PAT ROBERTSON'S NUMBER?

(The preceding transcription was not excerpted from my new book: "Deconstructing God - A Heretic's Case For Religion." It would have been if I'd thought of it before the book was published and put up for sale on Amazon. $14.95. Get yours today.)

DECONSTRUCTING GOD -- A Heretic's Case for Religion -- ON AMAZON

Deconstructing God -- A Heretic's Case for Religion

My new book will be out on Amazon in a few weeks but is available now at the CreateSpace estore. https://www.createspace.com/3424145. Please buy it. This is my initial low-key marketing effort. More aggressive efforts to follow.

"Although I don't agree 100% with Ian Gurvitz's analysis of religion -- who does on this subject? -- I loved reading this insightful, funny, and illuminating book. And we both think Pat Robertson is a douchebag." Bill Maher

The “Lamestream Media" – AKA Dr. Palinstein

So now Sarah Palin is complaining that NBC News broke their promise to her for not broadcasting the content of her written statement regarding the journalist who moved next door while he writes a book about her. In her Facebook rant, she pouted that NBC didn’t intend to air her comments, preferring to interview her instead, adding “which was their aim all along because journalism today is about ratings and not the truth.”

First off, Sarah, I agree with you. To a great extent, TV news is about ratings. Which is the only reason they ever report on anything you do, anywhere you go, or anything you say. You should be kissing their asses daily for all the news stories they’ve run about you. Why do they do it? Because, as you say, they are about ratings. And, putting your face on the news gets ratings. ‘Cause you’re popular. You’re folksy. You say cutesy things like ‘hopey/changey” and “lamestream media.” By the way, that “lamestream media” line. I hope you gave Trig an extra cookie for writing it, ‘cause you’re certainly getting some mileage out of it.

But why do you hate the media so much? For almost two years it has been nearly impossible to turn on the news without a story beginning with “Today Sarah Palin said…” During the campaign it was your smirky, winky cracks about hockey moms, and Barack Obama “pallin’ around with terrorists,” The answers you gave to legitimate questions were so remarkably dumb, it was like someone walking on stage with the New York Philharmonic and doing armpit farts. And the most frightening thing is that you knew you were unqualified, uninformed, and intellectually outgunned, yet you still thought you deserved to be Vice President. But you lost. But you didn’t go away, which is one way to reclaim your privacy. You just go away. But, instead, we’ve been treated to “death panels” “mama grizzlies are comin’ to getcha!” and, oh yeah, how’s that “drill, baby, drill” thing workin’ out for ya?

Your comments are still reported in the news. But why? You’re not a politician. You quit. Then you made some speeches. You went on Fox. You spoke at a liquor convention. And you put out a book. Oh, and by the way, the only reason a publisher put out a book with your name on it is because you’re popular and could get booked on the “lamestream media” shows to promote it. Because just as news is about ratings, publishing is about marketing and sales. Even if your own people gobbled up thousands of copies so you could claim to have written a best-seller. You are, because you sell.  

But the news still reports on you. And every time you’re on the news I ask myself the same question: why are you on the news? Why does the media care who moved next door to you or how big a fence you built? (By the way, are those Russian jets still flyin’ over your house? Maybe you need to build a dome as well as a fence.) You are not news. You are yesterday’s news. Or you would be, if the “lamestream media” would stick to airing legitimate news stories instead of reporting every smirky, snarky, hopey-changey crack you make to whatever inebriated liquor salesmen or collection of Dick Armey’s fat, pasty tea baggers you make them to. But they don’t. They air what you say right up front. They don’t even save it for the last two minutes of the broadcast where they usually stick the amusing video. The piano-playing cat. The singing dog. The waterskiing squirrel. The blind skier. The 80-year-old skydiving granny. You know, the novelty acts that aren’t real news, but are just there because they’re popular. You’re right up front. With the real news.

Some speculate that you’re on the news because you’re contemplating a run for 2012. But to do that you’d have to venture out of the Fox cocoon and dip your toes in the Sunday morning talk shows. And we both know you’ll never do that. Because that is a venue generally reserved for serious people, on both ends of the political spectrum, commenting on serious issues. You can’t smirk, snark, grin, wink and soundbite your way through that. Your people know that. You know that. So you save the soundbites for the tea baggers because you know they’ll get reported in the news because the news loves soundbites.

Of course, tomorrow, some network news producer could decide that until you sit down for an interview with an actual journalist, as opposed to those reach-arounds you do with Hannity, Beck and Oprah, they’re not going to report on you or the things you say. But no news producer will do that. Because, you’re popular and you get ratings and, as you say, news is about ratings. Which is why you’re on the news. So, instead of carping about the “lamestream media,” you should be sending them flowers. Daily. They only report on you because you’re popular. And by reporting on you, they have legitimized you. John McCain may have created you in his lab. But the “lamestream media” has given you life. 

The Miss U.S.A Pageant -- The Best in Network Broad Casting

I was sitting in my kitchen after dinner, desperately trying to find something to watch, now that 60 Minutes was over. I even made it through Andy Rooney, who was less demented than usual. I understood what he was talking about. And he wasn't drooling. But there was just nothing on. Then I tripped over Trump's Miss U.S.A pageant, which is the Miss America pageant without the class. Penthouse, as a response to Playboy. Still, I thought the cheese factor alone might be worth it, so I gave it a shot. But as these grinning show ponies, these future Stepford wives glided across the stage like they were trying to sneak into the White House, my ability to regard this as a perverse pleasure began to evaporate, replaced by a sudden queasiness about being American. It reminded me of a line from Lawrence of Arabia, about the Arabs being "a little people, a silly people. Greedy, barbarous, and cruel." Ok, maybe we're not little. Or barbarous and cruel; well, not all the time, but if this show was any indication of our collective taste, we are awfully silly. Even the current trend in reality shows -- which has changed the definition of a Jersey girl from someone you might meet on the dance floor of The Stone Pony leading to a summer romance, to someone who could turn a hot tub into a Petri Dish by simply wading into it -- is a modern phenomenon. Sure, they're dumb. And sleazy. Mindless, talentless clowns jockeying for fame as an end in itself, irrespective of possessing any talent that might have traditionally lead to it. But, shit, at least it's modern sleaze. But this... beauty pageant ... was a grotesque throwback. Broadcast TV reeling from a complete loss of direction. Or any mission statement, other than increasing ad dollars. What once was broadcasting is now just throwing shit against the wall and seeing what sticks. Even if it's anorexic gazelles in gowns with Vaseline on their teeth prancing around in some bizarre, anachronistic ritual. And to what end? It's not a mating dance. They're not being auctioned off. Maybe if a door opened and hungry lions vaulted out and chased them around, at least that I would get. Or if they put these girls through their paces and then brought Snooki out from the wings and stuck the crown on her head just to screw with them -- I could see the entertainment value in that. Psyche! But this made no sense. This was something out of another era. Something you would think modern network television would look at and say, "nah, we're past this now." Also, since I'd been living under the assumption that the women's movement had made a few strides over the last half century, I couldn't help wondering what these girls were thinking. Was it about the cash? Was this the crowning achievement in a lifetime of Little Miss pageants? Were they hoping this would propel them to better things? A career in modeling or broadcasting? A spot on Celebrity Apprentice? Being governor of Alaska? It was a mystery. Yet, as inane as it was, I kept watching, while fantasizing about how much I'd like to see Donald Trump do the Ned Beatty role in a remake of Deliverance, only in real life. Besides, I was eager to hear how they'd handle the gay marriage question. Then they cut to Joan and Melissa Rivers, offering commentary on the contestants. Joan and Melissa Rivers ... offering commentary... on a beauty contest. That's when I threw up in my mouth and turned it off. Now I know why the terrorists hate us.

NO BUSINESS LIKE HO BUSINESS

STEP ONE: MEET MARRIED CELEBRITY.
STEP TWO: FUCK MARRIED CELEBRITY.
STEP THREE: CALL GLORIA ALLRED.
STEP FOUR: EXTORT MILLIONS FROM MARRIED CELEBRITY.
STEP FIVE: GET FAMOUS FOR FUCKING AND BLACKMAILING MARRIED CELEBRITY.

IT'S A WONDERFUL WORLD.

The Arizona Law Doesn’t Go Far Enough

Arizona is on the right track. But what good is passing a law that makes it legal for law enforcement to stop anyone who appears to be Mexican when those people can blend right in with people of Mexican heritage who are here legally? It’s one thing to untie the hands of law enforcement to give them the power to stop anyone they might suspect of being illegal, but even if they catch one, it will just result in deportation. And, as we know, these are wily, resourceful people who have the proven ability to slip back across the border and, once again, blend right in. All this law will accomplish is continuing this cat-and-mouse game, or juego de gato y raton. We need a way to identify illegals permanently, so that even if they sneak back across the border, it will be impossible for them to hide in plain sight. That is why I am proposing what I consider to be an effective solution: paint them.

Of course, the first question that comes to any rational person’s mind is: Sure. But what color? Mexican people are identifiable by their brownish skin tone, which makes them indistinguishable not only from legal residents of Mexican heritage, but from most white people coming out of tanning parlors. Perhaps we could use the colors of the Mexican flag: red, green, and white. Though, obviously, white is out ‘cause that’s what we are. That leaves green and red.

But that still leaves problems. Even painted a distinctive red, Mexicans might be able to blend in with Native Americans at their many casinos. And the green might be problematic, because it would have to be a green that would make them stand out in a crowd of Irish-Americans on St. Patty’s Day or face-painted Packer fans on any given football Sunday. Given the free-wheeling, helter skelter atmosphere of most tailgate parties, a green Mexican might be able to disappear in the Packer crowd by cleverly tossing aside his trademark big dingle ball hat in favor of the popular yellow cheese tri-corner hat. So red by itself won’t work. Nor green alone. That leaves one obvious solution: stripes. Painting Mexican illegal aliens with green and red stripes would instantly identify them in any American crowd, whether at a Packer game, St. Patty’s Day parade, or Indian casino. 

Yet, while this tactic will ID any illegal in the daytime, what about at night? A clever alien might steal into the country in the dark of night, stay indoors during the day, and then take one of our more desirable night jobs as, say, an office building janitor, and then scurry home before sunrise. How do we deal with that? This brings in the second line of defense: tattoos. Of course, they would have to be somewhat ethnic specific, as tattoos among Americans have become increasingly popular. No Chinese characters, naked women, tramp stamps, or Born To Raise Hell graphics. A natural choice might be the Mexican flag emblem but that raises another problem. Their flag has a picture of an eagle. Sure, it’s not a bald eagle, like ours. Theirs is an eagle eating a snake; yet, if not seen up close, the eagle tattoo might make them seem just like ordinary, patriotic, albeit striped Americans. The tattoo would have to be something noticeable. Something that could be seen by law enforcement, even at a distance, or while passing by in a patrol car. The solution: a large “M” on the forehead. In glow-in-the-dark paint.

Combining these two devices -- red and green stripes, along with the large day-glo “M” on the forehead -- illegals would now be permanently identifiable, day or night, and only the most brazen among them would try to sneak back into the country, as they would be spotted a mile away, either by law enforcement, or by a concerned, armed citizenry now on the lookout for red and green-striped people with a glowing “M” on the forehead. Even a clever attempt to hide the tattoo, say, by wearing the traditional large, dingle ball hat to cover it would be futile, as it wouldn’t exactly be tough to spot a red and green-striped person wearing a large, dingle ball hat. 

Now, I imagine, to some bleeding heart liberals, the painting and forced tattoing of illegal immigrants will come off as extreme, even barbaric, inviting lawsuits, as well as protests by individuals concerned about individual rights and basic human decency. But, it’s just a suggestion. A stopgap measure. Eventually Congress will have to take up the issue and arrive at an effective, yet compassionate immigration policy, not just for those who are entering the country illegally, but for those who are here already. After all, this is the United States of America. Not some kind of crazy free-for-all.