The dirty little secret

The weather is finally nice here in Cowtown, and that means one thing: Mormons. They're always lowering around in pairs, wearing short-sleeved white button-downs, skinny black ties and bicycle helmets. I wondered where they were coming from and it turns out there's not one, but TWO LDS churches within a 10-mile radius of my residence. And there's a whole lotta ungodly fuckery going on in this neighborhood, let me tell you. So they're double-timing the door-to-door. WTF, LDS? I'm sick of ignoring them when they knock on my door and shoving the tract under the door back out at them. So I'm going to make fun of them on my evil heathen blog.

This loosely (pun intended) ties in with a creepy phenomenon I recently became privy to: Secret Keeper Girl. What is Secret Keeper Girl, you ask? You're going to regret that question!

Secret Keeper Girl is a series of books, but it's also kind of an organization. It was created by a woman named Dannah Gresh, author of such feminist classics as And the Bride Wore White and Lies Young Women Believe. Would you like to know what these books are about? Regret number two! Well, Bride is chock full of "how-to-say-no skills that can reduce the risk of a young woman's heart being broken" and Lies preaches the message that sex, drugs and rock n' roll iz badz.

Which brings us to the big secret that Secret Keeper Girls wants you to keep. Just take a wild guess what it is. That's right: vag. Well, they call it "purity," but they really mean vag. Girls, a broken heart is the least of your worries...

On her website, Dannah reveals that she didn't keep her pants on when she was in high school and a radio sermon from (of all people) James Dobson reduced her to tears and spurred her to confess: "It took me three hours to tell my husband in the darkness of my bedroom. Satan had me cornered into a prison of blackmail until the very moment that my lips uttered a long-awaited confession."

Gee, Dannah, dramatic much? Christ, it's not like she killed someone, ate their brain and made jewelry out of pieces of their skull, like some people we know. OR DID SHE? Anyway, Dannah somehow found the strength to overcome her sordid past and now coaches moms on how to guilt their daughters into keeping it closed.

Dannah's website is enticing with its hot pink, orange and green color pallette, flowery flourishes and girly fonts. It looks very Hannah Montana... that's the show that stars that little hobag Miley Cyrus! Stop confusing me, Secret Keeper Girls!

SKG puts a big emphasis on modesty and dressing age-appropriately, which is something even I can actually get behind. However, I can't get behind the site's Truth or Bare section, which gives girls helpful "modesty tests" to help them tell if their outfits are too skanky. Let's try it! To find out if you're showing too much tummy, do the Raise & Praise! "Stand straight up and pretend you are going for it in worship, and extend your arms in the air to God. Is this exposing a lot of belly? Bellies are very intoxicating, and we need to save that for our husband!" Drunk off belly...that's a new one to me. And what exactly are you supposed to be "going for" in worship? Sounds a little sexy to me...but then again, I'm tainted by rock n' roll and the media so everything sounds dirty to my Satanic ears.

Now, if you think that last test was bad, check out the one known cryptically as "Grandpa's Mirror": "Get in front of a full-length mirror. If you are in shorts, sit Indian style. If you are in a skirt, sit on a chair with your legs crossed. Now, what do you see in that mirror? OK, pretend it is your Grandpa! If you see undies, or lots of thigh, your shorts or skirt is too short." Um, GROSS? How about if Grandpa is staring at your crotch, call the police? Or Chris Hansen.

Like I said, I don't think the message of dressing age-appropriately is bad at all, but why does it have to be tied up in all this good/bad, virgin/whore shit? And why is it always up to the girls to keep people from looking at them? Are boys being forced to make creepy purity pledges to god and pretend their mirrors are Grandpa? Of course not! Boys are rabid, hormone-charged beastmasters. Look alive, girls! You're surrounded by randy wieners! Don't let anyone get intoxicated by your belly! You might get your heart broken! Or AIDS! (Oh, wait, only gay people get that!) Worst of all, you might get a Bad Reputation! And you might find yourself one day crying over James Dobson sermons and making a heart-wrenching confession to your hubby in a dark bedroom. And it will all be because you couldn't keep one measly little secret...

Hey, speaking of randy wieners, I wonder what happened to my favorite website NoMoHo? It's gone! I refuse to believe they couldn't sell enough NoMoHo chastity belt buckles to keep the site in business. Because chastity belts are so popular! In fact, Lauren Conrad is coming out with a line of them, exclusively at Kohl's.

Once again, I've written an entire post with no real point, other than to make fun. If sarcasm was a sin, I believe Satan himself would hand the pitchfork over to me when I die.

It did make me feel a little better about the return of the Mormons...

Astonishing panorama of the end times

The holidays are over, but in celebration of today's post, I've included a picture of Krampus. Just because it seemed fitting.

So I mentioned a while back that I sometimes listen to this conspiracy kook podcast called Peering Into Darkness. I do this purely for shits and giggles. The podcast is hosted by this intensely creepy couple named Derek and Sharon Gilbert, who somehow manage to function enough through their smothering paranoia to be both published authors and legitimate radio show hosts. In their spare time, they produce this little show from their home (or, as they refer to it, "The Bunker").

The topics of the day are those typical conspiracy tidbits—everything, no matter how small, means something. Favorite topics include prophecy, high-level government conspiracies, the apocalypse, the number 33, and "suspicious gas." Did you know the little white lines of smoke you see following jets in the sky are actually trails of chemicals that are slowly poisoning us into submission? Did you know that a gargoyle in the shape of Darth Vader sits on a wall of the Washington National Cathedral? (And do you know what that is supposed to suggest? Because I don't.) And most importantly, did you know that the U.S. government has placed brainwashed killbots all around the country who are poised and ready to blow our heads off on command?

Matthew Murray, Seung-Hui Cho and Robert Hawkins are just some recent examples of people Der and Shar postulate are "cult multiples," meaning they were kidnapped by the feds, made into Manchurian Candidates and then released back into the wild. Their subsequent shooting rampages were triggered by the push of a button to divert attention from larger, more nefarious goings-on in the world.

Every time some kind of violent tragedy hits the news, you can bet these two are on it. They just love to smugly announce how they're not surprised and how everyone is going to be sorry they weren't paying attention and how the Bilderberg Group is behind it and how cancer researchers are actually trying to GIVE people cancer and how the weather is being controlled and how we're totally on course for the apocalypse. One wonders how they manage to make it through a day, let alone hold down regular jobs. With all that on your mind, how can you possibly function?

Here's a picture of Derek and Sharon, because I'm sure you're dying to know what they look like. What, pray tell, is wrong with this image? Doesn't it look totally fake? First of all, Sharon is obviously Photoshopped into the picture. Secondly, she's colorized! And is it just me or is that beard the work of MacPaint? This picture seems to suggest that Derek and Sharon are not even real, but IMAGINITIVE FIGMENTS created by the government to infiltrate and destroy the Christian right! Unfortunately, reality is not nearly that sexy, and neither are Der and Shar...

Not that I care that much, but I'm sort of morbidly curious about how these two managed to find each other. I mean, could you imagine the first date convo?
Sharon:So what do you like to do for fun?
Derek: Hide in my basement and record myself babbling endlessly about large-scale government conspiracies.
Sharon: ME TOO!!!!!!

Feeding the paranoia and adding some of the most hilarious/crazed commentary is frequent guest Russ Dizdar. Russ runs a "spiritual warfare" ministry and is a freelance exorcist. That's right—when the devil's spinning your head around and causing you to coat the room with green pea soup, who ya gonna call? Russ!

What I love about Russ is that he's obviously suffering from delusional disorder, but Derek and Sharon hang on his every word as if he were God himself. He thinks everyone is out to get him personally and there is an underlying subculture of people hell-bent on putting a stop to his good works. Check out his website for more evidence (but only if you're not epileptic because all that shit on his page is enough to cause a seizure)—yowza. If anything, he's definitely wordy.

The recent Halloween episode of Peering Into Darkness featured Russ as a guest and it's especially hilarious. We get to learn all about the simple magic satanists can perform to fuck shit up. See, objects can be "charged" with good or bad energy and when you touch something that's been fused with bad energy, then the "lucifarians" get stronger and you will probably become possessed. Or something.

Bottom line: it's fucking absurd. But it sure is fun to listen to! Among other awesomeness in the Halloween ep, we learn:
• Every once in a while Derek and Sharon get something in the mail that they don't expect which they automatically assume is a demonized object meant to make them sick, corrupt or confused.
• There's no question that rituals work.
• Demons can come out of your mouth and they look like insects.
• Candy and trick-or-treating is a part of a large-scale stunt to get kids interested in Halloween and then lure them over to the dark side.
• Paganism is not cool.
• The earth knows it is subject to bondage (yeah, I didn't get it either).
• The more fake blood spilled in a movie, the more "highly charged" the movie is.
• Marilyn Manson manifested into a demon right before Russ's very eyes. Manson was also wearing a thong and Russ didn't want to touch him. Hm, methinks he doth protest too much....

Part of me wants to send Derek and Sharon some "ritualistic" object just to fuck with them. Or just any object, because obviously they think everything is loaded with nazi powers. How about a Gordon Little People figurine? Can you imagine what they would do if they opened a package and there was nothing in it but Gordon? One second Gordon's playfully swinging on the little tire swing of his Fisher Price™ Sesame Street® Clubhouse Playset...the next second he's telekinetically taking down humanity.

As for good and bad energy and charged objects and all that crap, why can't I keep my iPod charged? Does that mean the battery is shot? I wish someone would charge that. I can't be expected to go to the gym if I can't listen to "Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go" on the elliptical.

Seriously, I'm not so naive as to believe that the U.S. government isn't hiding shit, but a worldwide bot conspiracy? Think about it: people can't even organize a birthday party or a fucking potluck without it spiraling into chaos. Who knows. Maybe they're right and I'll have to someday pay for making fun of them. But if I'm going to burn hell for this, at least let me get that stupid iPod charged so I can bring it along. I really want to listen to WHAM.

Jesus doesn't want me for a sunbeam

So I heard that I Know Who Killed Me, Lohan's last movie before she went back to the drug hole, may possibly be the worst movie ever made. I admit that I kind of wanted to see it. And now, after hearing this, I want to see it even more. That link will take you to the hysterically funny audio review offered up by the guys of the Reel Horror podcast. Seriously, I laughed so hard at the description of this movie that I almost puked. Rest assured that when it comes out on DVD in November that I will watch it and offer up a review of my own.

To hold you over in the meantime, here are a couple of reviews in honor of the season. For the record, I am sick and I have a lot of time on my hands this week, so I thought about catching a couple of docs I've been wanting to see, coincidentally both "godly." What does this have to do with the season? Um, one's sort of about Halloween, I guess...

Anyway...

First off, we have the Oscar-nominated Jesus Camp, a film about an evangelical childrens' camp and ministry called (wait for it...) "Kids on Fire." It's far scarier than Zodiac (which I totally loved, by the way, and if you haven't seen it, please do), but provided me with so many laughs that I actually felt a little bit bad. I think it's safe to say that no matter what your belief system is, if you are a rational person, you will find this movie as laughably fucked-up as I did. I mean, these are kids and they are not old enough to really know exactly what they are saying. When you weigh that depressing aspect against the hilarious double standards and other crazy shit the adults around them are squawking, it's hard not to snicker at least a little bit. Especially when the kids really get going to appease their elders.

One of the campers, a 9-year-old named Rachael, parrots to the cameras that Jesus doesn't like "dead churches" and prefers to "be there" for congregations that are jumping around, shouting and singing, an idea I'm sure she came up with all by herself. The organizers make the kids say a blessing to a cardboard cut-out of George Bush ("Talk to him. Say, 'Welcome, President Bush! We're glad you're here!'"), then later on, Pastor Becky Fischer (who runs the camp) tells a radio talk show host that she's "not going after [her] kids politically." They all finish up with the exact same smugly satisfied grins and with the exact same mission statement that they're just on a crusade to "win the lost."

Here are a few fun quotes from the movie:
At five I got saved because I just wanted more out of life.
—Levi, a 12-year-old with a rat tail

I can go into a playground of kids that don't know anything about Christianity, lead them to the Lord in a matter of, just no time at all, and just moments later they can be seeing visions and hearing the voice of God, because they're so open. They are so usable in Christianity.
—Pastor Becky Fischer, operator of the camp. Later in the movie she admonishes the devil for "going after the young, those who cannot fend for themselves."

Father, we pray over the electrical systems, we pray over the electricity will [sic] not go out in this building in Jesus' name, because of storms or any other reason. I just pray over this equipment, we speak over the PowerPoint presentations, all the video projectors and we say, 'Devil, we know you love to do in meetings like this' and we say, 'You will not!' No microphone problems in Jesus' name!
—Becky, while praying over the meeting hall before camp

Warlocks are enemies of god...and had it been in the Old Testament, Harry Potter would have been put to death!
—Becky, to a roomful of campers. She later accuses the kids of being "a phony and a hypocrite" for calling themselves Christians when they KNOW that they are one person at church and an entirely different person at school, where they "talk dirty just like all the other kids." This causes the majority of the kids to beging crying and pleading for forgiveness.

It's like, we're being trained to be warriors, only in a much funner way.
—Rachael

Next to the speaking in tongues scenes, the best part is when meth fag Ted Haggard shows up in an interview to smarmily discuss how kids love the evangelical scene and then actually declare straight to the cameraman, "I think I know what you did last night! If you send me a thousand dollars, I won't tell your wife!" Do I really need to make fun of that? It goes along with the clip that I think unintentionally sums up the entire movie: little Rachael prays to Jesus to help her roll "a good one" during a church bowling trip and he answers her petty request by granting her a big, fat gutterball.

Speaking of gutterballs (or gutters, I guess...or balls), I also recently watched the documentary Hell House, which chronicles a Halloweenie season with a Texas church that puts on a "real-life" house of horrors every year. This is one haunted house that won't feature Freddy, Jason, Leatherface or even clowns. No, these are scenes of horror and carnage that can occur to those who don't accept Jesus Christ as their lord and savior. This movie is a little more breatheable than Jesus Camp, which I found stifiling from all the rigidity, but it's still drenched with folks full the same self-congratulation and dumb-ass stereotypes. Oh, the stereotypes in this one. I couldn't stop laughing at those crazy stereotypes!

The movie starts out with the planning of the latest Hell House and, since they already did Columbine and Padukah recreations, a discussion of how they're going to cover the school-kid-goes-nuts-and-kills-himself scene commences. One perv helpfully suggests, "Why don't we have a gay bar scene with two girls hitting on each other?" and the pastor shoots it down by saying they "don't want to go there." As in Jesus Camp, "reaching the lost" is mentioned ad nauseum.

Tryouts come next and we're treated to lots of overacting and more fun typecasting. The church members will be acting out vignettes in each horror scene. A Latino kid approaches the casting committee and says he wants to do anything but the drug-deal scene because that's all he ever gets. "If the spirit leads you," he says, "let it lead you for me to not do the drug deal scene." True life is far funnier than fiction, everyone.

The rehearsals of the scenes also showcase more woefully archaic ideologies, including the ever-popular "one wrong choice that seems innocent can lead you on a downward spiral straight into the hands of beezlebub" rap. The Trinity Church's twist on this old favorite is how Harry Potter leads to Ouija boards, which leads to Magic cards, which leads to RPGs, which leads to—dun-dun-DUNNNN!!!—the OCCULT!

I was chiefly annoyed by the "cool dude" at the church, Thaddeus, who is a DJ and has actually been to raves so he knows what they're like and what goes on there. He appoints himself in charge of the completely bizarre rave/suicide scene (which I'll get to in a minute) and he keeps blowharding to all the younger kids how at raves "people will take what is put in their hand" and, when one girl starts acting spastic after she pretends to take ecstasy, smugly directs "I've seen people on this drug and it doesn't make girls spaz out. You need to act more like you're really relaxed." I wished someone would have punched this douche nozzle in the face, but you know...it's, like, church and everything.

The group records voiceovers that will be played in the final, epic "hell" scene of the sinners repenting. Naturally, the "alternative lifestyle" voice guy performs in a slurry, high-pitched tone with accompanying mincing gestures. You'll never believe it: the truth is that when the gay guy was a kid he was touched inappropriately and he made the wrong choice in life, thinking it was natural! The voiceover guy also expresses fears that people out in the hall might hear him. Uh-oh, they might all think you're gay!

The final hour shows the actual opening and operation of Hell House, so we get to actually see some of the scenes. Surprise! More pigeonholing! We see what happens with a gay guy with AIDS (of course, because in Trinity's world, only gay men can get AIDS) doesn't accept Jesus into his life on his deathbed, and conversely, what happens when a girl who has just gotten an abortion does. She's saved, baby! Miracle! Oh, and in case you're wondering, the Latino boy did not get the drug dealer part...instead that role went to one of the few black guys in the church. So, you know, progress.

OK, now for the rave scene, which pissed me off to no end. Thaddeus hams it up as a ghoulish DJ and some innocent chick is slipped a mickey and then gangraped at the rave. The next scene shows her wailing in her bedroom with some twat in a demon costume chastising her that she has "no idea how many guys had you!" and "no boy will ever want you now!" and "remember when daddy used to touch you?" The girl then pretends to commit suicide and she is condemned to hell. OK, what the motherfucking fuck are they trying to convey here? It doesn't make an iota of sense! Why is *she* going to hell for being drugged and gang-raped while the rapists get away from hell scot-free? And why in the world was everyone molested?? What kind of fucked-up logic dictates that a victim of sexual abuse is sinful? Even more troublesome is that the young lady who played "suicide girl" interviews that one year she saw the guy who raped her two years earlier standing in line to view Hell House and, that night, she did the "best acting of [her] life." WHAT??? They don't give any more information than this, so to be fair, I don't know if she reported this crime or what. However, the guy is free walking the streets and seemingly not required to stay away from the victim, so the only conclusion I can draw from this is that perhaps Hell House (and the condemnation that goes along with it) is all too real for some of these kids. Perhaps *she* herself is also being typecast.

Happily, some of the attendees of the haunted house weren't buying it. One group of teens starts ranting to one of the church members about the hypocracy and stereotyping. Then one girl makes the most coherant comment I heard from either one of these films: "What we saw in there is why people are turned off by Christianity. You make it black and white; there is no gray area, which is what life is."

Amen, sista!

(Psst...if you want to check out these docs for yourself, go here for Jesus Camp and here for Hell House.)

All the news that's fit to print (that's not about Blohan)

Breaking news in the world of Shit That Is Unimportant In The Grand Scheme Of Things But Reverse The Earth On Its Axis In RockitQueen's World. And none of it has anything to do with Bret Michaels! So here we have three news items and a rant:

• The goddamn Duggers are at it again. And by "it", I mean they just can't stop humping. The Arkansas power couple Jim Bob and Michelle, who you may remember as the winners of the 2006 Most Morbidly Fascinating Stupie, delivered their 17th child. Ha, ha...delivered! The kid probably just fell out as she was walking to the car! And then I'm sure as soon as the umbilical cord was snipped, Jim Bob jumped her right on the gurney to get started on #18. And then immediately after that, they called the Discovery Health channel to get the film crews out and shoot yet another documentary about them and their buddy-system lifestyle and Michelle's Treet, Tots n' Mayo Bake recipe. The special they SHOULD do is obvious: the four oldest kids are now 19, 17 (twins) and 16. We need to see them interacting with potential mates. Chaperoned, of course.

• Good news for one of my fave people ever: Dog the Bounty Hunter is free! The charges that were brought against him, Tim and Leland for bounty hunting in Mexico have been dropped. Hurray! There is still a chance that an appeal can be filed, but what's the point? Anyway, the thought of Leland under arrest is totally hot.

• So a horrifying report came out this week that Tool King Pete Wentz has signed with something called "One[M]" as a model. I thought that this place must be one of those sketchy kiosks you see in the middle of every dying mall in the Midwest that boasts the homecoming queen from your high school as their top client, but it turns out it's simply a branch from his band's management agency. I would say thank god, except that this place seems to be kind of legitimate and represents some well-known mannequins, including Iman, Angela Lindvall and Helena Christensen. The only explaination is that there was some kind of clause Pete's manager snuck into Fall Out Boy's contract to ensure there wouldn't be another suicide attempt until the band bombs. OK, that was mean. But come on, the guy looks like some unholy mixture of Jeremy Piven, Jay Leno, and a lowland gorilla that's been punched in the face. I just don't get it.

• For the record, I don't smoke. In fact, I hate smoking. Ohio recently implemented a smoking ban in public buildings and I love it. I may come home from the bars shitfaced and puking my guts out, but at least I don't smell like an ashtray! With that said, I hate those obnoxious "Truth" ads more than I hate smoking. I would go as far as to say that I would rather smoke a case of Kools with no break than spend any amount of time with the douchebag pictured at left. You know who he is: the bespectacled jerk that puts unsuspecting interviewees on the spot with smug, loaded questions about Big Tobacco. To a gun store employee: "Do you sell any bullets that are 38 lights?" To a dairy farmer: "Is milk more dangerous than second-hand smoke?" To a drug counselor: "Do you treat jogging addictions?" Yeah, don't ask. It's meant to be funny, but it's all so convaluted that annoying that I want to smoke a cigarette just to piss them off. They have now implemented the "hip", "edgy" catchtag of WHUDAFXUP, as in "WHUDAFXUP with sweet smokes?" Ug! I want to send him a smoking monkey. That's WHUDAFXUP!

Whew, that was cathartic! Now I can get back to my 'round-the-clock skank coverage guilt-free!

A lower level of consciousness

So I got another piece of hate mail! I'm so excited! Actually, it's less hate mail and more "You're wrong and you're an idiot and here's why" mail. The best part is that it is in regards to my snarky assessment of DNA activation from way back in March. I knew that would get the new-agers riled up! For people that are allegedly so enlightened and connected with the universe, they sure are testy.

I actually received this a while ago and posted it right away (as double-dog dared by the author), but didn't really get around to commenting on it until now. I had originally planned to reply to each of "Jake's" points with the appropriate spelling corrections, wry assessment, and basic scientific theory, but decided instead to just post it for all to enjoy and to draw your own conclusions. Here it is in its entirety (note: I added line breaks for easier reading 'cause I love you):

It is ammusing but also sad to see how disconnected to the true reality we live in most people are. Their is much information now out on DNA activation, higher dimensional and sensory awareness, and higher vibrational states.

Take the wave length of infrared, x-ray or gamma ray for instance: these exist in higher frequency, science tells us they do exist, yet we can not see them. Do you ever stop to wonder WHY we do not see them? Have you not considered that our perceptions are restricted to 3 dimensions of awareness because we only have 2.5 - 3.5 strands of the corresponding DNA strands active at present? Or have you just accepted that we can not see these things because we can not see them? If this is indeed the case, and we are restricted to this level of awareness, then it is understandable why there would be such sceptisism yet that does not mean we can not grasp the concept and look into it further.

Take a look around with even one of your eyes and you will see how much bullshit there is in the world. And people accept it, because they are not aware of anything greater. If you opened up to and set your intent to receiving higher dimensional awareness, you would then give yourself the chance to realise something else and gain an outline of what is really going on with our planet right now.

You would then also start to understand and have the deepest respect for people like Toby Alexander, the modern day heros who despite the ignorant criticisms, stand strong and do the work that they are here for. Only a fool comments on someting they know nothing about. I would challenge you to leave this feedback so other readers have something else to consider.
With love and respect. Jake

It's tempting for me to accuse "Jake" of actually being Fake Doctor Toby Alexander himself, especially considering they very suspiciously spell "sceptic" the same way. But that's catty and I want this guy to know that I'm honestly touched that he took the time to tell me off. And I thought you all would like to read what he had to say, in case you missed the original posting of this note in the comments section. What can I say? My aura's tarnished and I totally deserve it!

BREAKING: Everyone's an indigo!

I hope that after reading my recent post about indigo children that you didn't walk away from your computer suddenly feeling bad about yourself because you wished you were special, too. You ARE special! In fact, according to this article, we're all so fucking extraordinary that human beings as we know them are going to be rendered obsolete. We're on the road to becoming the extreme species! Kind of like how freestyle moguls is extreme skiing, or how Jolt is extreme pop. In fact, there is going to be so much high performance shit going down that we'll be lucky if the whole world doesn't just blow up.

Speaking of blowing up, your ego is going to be out of control when you find out that every single person has the power inside to be an indigo. Yes, it's true! Indigos don't just come in kid-size, adults can be just as obnoxious and entitled by using unprovable pseudoscience as an excuse for their douchebaggery! According to the web page above, it's all a matter of tapping into the hidden power of your own DNA. Here's the pitch: "Imagine if you woke up one morning and realized that you had dormant superhuman abilities that were waiting to be unleashed. That once you activated these abilities, you could manifest anything you desired in your life, live a life without drama, create your ideal physical body, become immune to all dis-ease [sic], and REVERSE the aging process. Imagine if you realized that you could actually change your blueprint of life, your DNA, to enable you to expand your creative potential, provide access to your subconscious mind, and become intuitive, clairvoyant, and know instantly what your purpose is in life."

After you've finished having a laughing fit and picked yourself up from the floor, prepare yourself for what comes next: the claim that humans are only using "3 percent of our two-strand DNA" causing us to live in a world "where people are sick, unhappy, stressed out, create wars, have difficulty experiencing love, and are totally disconnected with the universe." The solution to all these problems is simple: all you have to do is use 100 percent of your DNA and in MULTIPLE STRANDS!!!!!!! And as an added bonus, you won't even have to hit the gym as much because all of this positive thinking makes you physically stronger!!!!

Now I know some of you might be "sceptics" (as it says on this site) because this all sounds too good to be true. I mean, if this is real, then why aren't accredited medical doctors and shrinks recommending this technique to everyone that comes through the door? I expect it's because scientists are too closed-minded and concerned with proven facts to open their minds to something so new agey and cutting edge. Because what these stiffs don't realize is that all that stress business that is holding us back isn't our fault to begin with...it's demonic possession. From the same site: "Have you ever had an argument with your mate and they said something so bizarre that you didn't know where it came from? As if it was someone else talking. Well, it probably WASN'T them. It was one of their entities talking."

Ooh, wow. I wonder what entities I have. Maybe it's someone famous, like Abraham Lincoln or Joan of Arc or Tiny Tim. Don't get those entities going at once or you're screwed because this shit is deadly! "Emotions are VERY powerful. They can kill you if left unchecked. This is why people die. Their emotions eventually 'burn up' the body."

Wait, wait, wait. Let's pause and summarize: it sounds as if they are saying a bad attitude can kill you from the inside, but it's not your fault because you might be possessed by John Wayne Gacy and you can save yourself by doing something as simple as, oh, just completely changing the nucleic acid that contains the genetic instructions for your development and functioning. Yeah, I'll get on that right after "Idol."

Sounds like quite the undertaking. But of course you don't have to embark on this journey alone—"international spiritual teacher, reiki master, Soul Wisdom Psyche Doctor, distant healing specialist, co-founder of the Higher School for Conscious Evolution, and author of the Great Master (available in 2007)" Toby Alexander is here to feel you up and declare you healed! This is the guy who is going to help you tap into your secret DNA-fueled potential. Don't worry, he's totally qualified; in fact, "he has been initiated into Babaji's ancient Kriya Yoga tradition and received initiations (shaktipat) directly from Babaji" and "was initiated as Mahaswami Shivananda Brahmananda into the Maitri Violet-Silver Chord Order." You're probably asking "what the fuck does that even mean?" and how dare you question someone of such stature in the "healing facilitation" field. He's a gifted man who is just sharing his gifts with the world, for the low, low price of just $100 per session. His generosity is unmatched! Of course, the Tobester requires an Auric Clearing and a Karmic Session FIRST and once you are free of pond scum, then the DNA activation can begin.

Not only is Toby a big helper, he's also humble: "I am committed to help activate others into their own mastery, with the highest possible intentions through Divine Love, removing all energetic blockages so that all human beings may choose to EMBODY their Higher selves, so that they can then live in line with their soul's purpose, and do what they truly came here to do."

I have a question. So let's say we go through with our auric clearing, karmic sessions, DNA activation and whatnot and it turns out that our soul's purpose is to waltz into a children's hospital and mow down a few cancer-stricken tots and nuns with an AK-47. What happens then? Can we blame Brahmananda? Will the Maitri Violet-Silver Chord Order hire Mark Geragos to defend us?

Another question: is all this legal? It's kind of like having the ring in "Lord of the Rings", isn't it? It seems that W needs to appoint this guy as surgeon general or something. Maybe we should direct Toby to Norway so he can give the Count a little karmic session so he won't be so testy all the time. That would go over well. And why isn't he helping Britty? Her aura is all out of whack lately and you would think that a soul wisdom psyche doctor would be of great help to a 12-stepper. Who knows, maybe insurance won't cover it and this shit gets expensive.

Anyway, the point of all this is: if you think you've heard the most ridiculous thing of all time, you can always find something to top it. I really need to stop writing about this now because Tiny Tim is starting to act up and I think I'd better tranq up fast.

Beware the little children

I'm completely fascinated by the colossal squid. I think it may be my new favorite animal, or at least my favorite sea-bound creature. The colossal squid has eyes the size of dinner plates and tentacles as big around as tractor tires. The specimen caught yesterday by New Zealand fishermen is estimated to be 33 feet long!

Do not confuse the colossal squid with the giant squid or the jumbo squid, and fear what else may be out there. Can you imagine what is lurking along the sea floor? Be warned: the fucking ginormous squid (Ginorchoteuthis fuckisus) may be down there, and when it's found, then god help us.

While this elusive creature haunts the ocean deep, and even more impalpable and far more dangerous (and waaaaayyy less cool) specimen darkens the doorstep much closer to home. That specimen is the cryptical indigo child. What is an indigo child, you ask? Only the next big step in human evolution! If you think that big squid is amazing, wait until you hear about this madness.

According to this somewhat shady website, indigo children are "highly sensitive and psychic" little ones with a "collective purpose to mash down old systems that no longer serve us; they are here to quash government, educational, and legal systems that lack integrity. To accomplish this end, they need tempers and fiery determination." These special kids (or "starchildren") are meant to bring down The Man and launch all of humanity into a kindler, gentler third dimension where everyone can read minds and levitate and set the whole school on fire at the prom if they want to.

How are they going to do this, you inquire? By acting like little demons straight from the bowels of hell, of course! Also, having gullible enablers as parents helps. Here is a quick checklist to help you determine if you have an indigo child on your hands:

• They come into the world with a feeling of royalty (and often act like it).
• They have a feeling of "deserving to be here," and are surprised when others don't share that.
• Self-worth is not a big issue. They often tell the parents "who they are."
• They have difficulty with absolute authority (authority without explanation or choice).
• They simply will not do certain things; for example, waiting in line is difficult for them.
• They get frustrated with systems that are ritually oriented and don't require creative thought.
• They often see better ways of doing things, both at home and in school, which makes them seem like "system busters" (nonconforming to any system).
• They seem antisocial unless they are with their own kind. If there are no others of like consciousness around them, they often turn inward, feeling like no other human understands them. School is often extremely difficult for them socially.
• They will not respond to "guilt" discipline ("Wait till your father gets home and finds out what you did").
• They are not shy in letting you know what they need.

The site also points out that indigo kids are often "misdiagnosed" as having ADD or ADHD and that their "gifts" are often misunderstood and not respected. So in other words, they're hyperactive brats with wusses for parents. Don't ever babysit for an indigo kid! They don't believe in time out and they'll let you know it, you big meanie. Wonder how they would deal with getting a swift beating from a non-indigo child?

As you can well imagine, care and feeding of these delicate creatures is highly specialized. I'm certain they simply will not eat lima beans or quietly sit and play with Colorforms like we had to. Luckily the site above offers helpful tips to nurture your indigo by allowing them to help make the rules, teaching them how to meditate and advising them on how to "heal." This last one is particularly important, as is teaching them "energy shielding" and "grounding skills", 'cause "they will have severe mood swings caused by picking up on the energies of others around them." Here's one example of effective parenting offered by this helpful website: "I need you to help me get to the doctor on time. We have to go in five minutes to make the appointment, so do everything you need to before we go, like go to the bathroom if you have to. Also, since grandma is coming later we need to pick up your toys either now or as soon as we get home. You decide which."

I can't stop giggling. This is the absolute stupidest thing I've ever heard in my life. I am not a parent, but I was a kid once and I'm going to venture a guess and say that "you decide which" is not quite as effective as something along the lines of "get in the car now or Hokey Pokey Elmo sleeps with the fishes". If I'm annoyed by simply reading about these kids, imagine what it would be like to be in a room with one. Or at a fucking conference.

Besides all that, is it just me or is this all sounding suspiciously Scientological? If you check out both of those sites you'll see all manner of meaningless spiritual woo-woo being bandied about. Higher self, lower self, divine essence, multi-dimensional consiousness, gold rays, existensial depression, third-eye chakra...SERIOUSLY. God, I wish I was making this up. Are people so desperate to think of their kids as special and different and to acquiesce parental leadership that they will actually believe this ridiculous con artistry? You'd think at least the drug companies would be speaking out. But maybe they are doing even better; I know I'd be on a nerve-calming cocktail of valium, ativian and any horse tranqilizer I could get my hands on and if I had to deal with this shit on a daily basis.

Luckily, there is a physical charicteristic you can watch for: indigo children often have "large, penetrating blue eyes that are wise beyond their years. Their eyes lock on and hypnotize you, while you realize your soul is being laid bare for the child to see". OK, I'm officially nervous. Don't think a tin foil hat will help...these kids have managed to pull off a large-scale hoax on their parents, finally making them believe that their temper tantrums and general mayhem are indications of brilliance rather than just obnoxious. It's both admirable and horrifying. And even more incomprehensible than the colossal squid. An ocean creature the length of Manhattan Island I can believe. But indigo kids...now you're talking crazy.

I believe further research into this disturbing phenomenon is necessary, however I can't bring myself to do anymore right this moment. My stomach hurts from laughing and anyway I think we've had just about enough crazy for one day. OK, one more, but that's it, I swear.

SON OF WORLD EXCLUSIVES: Seeing Suri

Dear RockitQueen,

Some big things have happened this week. Iran made progress in UN sanctions, British PM Tony Blair announced that he will resign within a year, and the world lost beloved conservationist and TV personality Steve Irwin. Now, I'm just a baby so maybe I don't understand how things work in the world. I mean, I chew on my own feet for god sakes. But I gotta tell you, I'm not so naive I can't at least realize that these stories are kind of newsworthy. I simply can't comprehend why my first trip outdoors is newsworthy, other than the fact that it's MY FIRST TRIP OUTDOORS IN FOUR MONTHS.

That's fucking crazy, is it not? Apparently, it's another one of Tom's Scientology things—he's afraid that I'm going to be tainted by the outside world or some such shit. Dude, I can't even hold my own head up. The most traumatizing thing that happens to me on a daily basis is that I'm spending a good part of the day marinating in my own waste. So what does he do on my first trip out into the world? He sticks me in front of a camera and makes some shady deal to get me on the cover of one of the country's most popular magazines? I don't think I have to tell you that I've already booked a one-way ticket to Dysfunction Junction.

I also probably don't have to tell you that it's no fun having a camera shoved in your face when Tom Cruise is around. He lives for that shit. As soon as the lens cap comes off, that Chiclet-tooth smile lights up and then the laughing starts. You know exactly what I'm talking about. Loud, brazen, never-ending laughter. Now imagine he's holding you and hoisting you up in the air and doing that blowing-on-your-tummy-to-make-a-fart-noise thing—well, it's horrifying when that shit's right up in your face.

As for Mommy, the Fischer-Price Baby Activity Center hanging on my crib has more going on, if you know what I'm saying. The 926,457th time she says, "I'm so happy! Tom is the most amazing man I've ever met! I'm so happy!" you kinda start to think that maybe the Scientology CDs she's been listening to have been skipping or something. Don't get me wrong, I've still got hope for her, but the robo-babe routine is getting old fast.

So, to sum up: everything blows. Again, I'm not asking for pity—just some understanding. And a binky. Is it too much to ask to get a fucking binky?? You can't tell me that's another Scientology no-no. It's total fucking bullshit!

Until next time—and if you see Granny and Gramps Holmes, tell them "the eagle has flown". They'll know what I mean.

Your friend,
Suri Holmes Cruise

Finally, help for all you godless whores

OK, so I totally thought this was a joke, but unfortunately it seems to be all too real. I never imagined I'd find something that was so blatantly easy to make fun of, but here it is.

There doesn't seem to be any real information on this "NoMoHo" organization, except its' asinine "clever" name, the fact that they only seem to deal in the sale and distribution of ugly, shitty belt buckles and that it's spearheaded by former Real World killjoy Matt Smith, who if you'll remember (or if you have any kind of life whatsoever, you won't remember) was the albino religious zealot from the New Orleans season. It was during a search to find out more to make fun of that I found this compelling info. From the NoMoHo FAQ:

Q: Why chastity belts?
A: Because easy is sleazy.

Q: Are your chastity belts strong?
A: We don’t make the belt. We make the buckle. And NoMoHo® belt buckles are very strong. Not all buckles are made the same. Many are made of plastic that can easily chip, warp, or even break under duress. NoMoHo® buckles are made of 100% metal, making them virtually indestructible. Other buckles are made with ineffective clasping mechanisms. NoMoHo® buckles have quality hitches that are difficult to pop out of your belt holes. These buckles are rugged and ready for use.

I have a Q for you, NoMoHo FAQ: are you fucking kidding? I sat here staring at this for about 10 minutes because I thought I had been sucked into some kind of Victorian-era third dimension—it wasn't until I was distracted by a rerun of "Laguna Beach" coming on TV that brought me back into brutal reality. Scary but true: NoMoHo promotes the useage of CHASTITY BELTS. That are extra-strong and durable. And won't break under duress. Because when you've got a randy erection heading your way, you need all the high-quality protection you can get, and the official NoMoHo belt buckle is your first line of defense.

But I'm confused, because these buckles are also "rugged and ready for use." Precisely what kind of use are you suggesting that wearers of the indestructible NoMoHo® belt buckle might be engaging in that it would need to be rugged and ready for? And what about that pimped out, pseudo-chrome font they are using for the logo, not to mention the customized Caddy with the big back seat they've got pictured? How are horny little christian kids supposed to keep their pants on when the first thing they see on the page reminds them of all those gluttonous rock and rap videos featuring oiled up video hos pouring Moet on themselves and humping the hoods of expensive cars? Stop teasing us, Matt Smith!

Speaking of teasing us, Matty is also the mastermind behind another inspirational website, Porn Destroys Women, that doesn't seem to really have an aim, other than to trot out countless statistics, such as "80%—15–17 year olds having multiple hard-core exposures" and "26—Children's characters linked to thousands of porn links (including Pokemon and Action Man)." First of all, what does this even mean? Second of all, only a handful of these stats include reference citations, only a couple of which sound like they might be from legitimate sources and not just Matt's minister. Third, sounds like Smitty did his research, if you know what I'm sayin'. The big perv.

And, finally, of course "Action Man" is connected to thousands of porn links. He's Action Man, for god sakes!

I think what Matty is trying to tell us through these sites is that if you happen to be a chick, you are a brazen hussy by birth and you must do all you can to keep boys away from your danger zone, because they just can't control themselves. It's a test from god. If you "let them" fuck you, well then you, Hester, have no respect for yourself and you'll instantly be branded as the town whore. Sage advice from a former Real Worlder. I think if he wants to promote abstinence, he ought to just post a few pics of himself. One look at his washed-out, doughy mug and that's pretty much all you need to never want to have sex again.

God, what a prick. Maybe Matt should also be the spokesperson for Wholesome Swimwear. Because all those bikini-clad tramps on the beach need saved from errant penii, too.

YET ANOTHER WORLD EXCLUSIVE: TomKat fetus on the outside

Hey there, RockitQueen,

Sorry it's been so long since I've been able to get back to you, but Tom just took my Mom out for a walk and a Starbucks so I have a few to jot off a quick note. And I WILL make it quick: L. Ron is watching! Ha ha!

Well, "the outside" has been just as expected, and unforutnately my Mom hasn't been instantly snapped out of her lobomized state at the sight of my adorable little round head, although I've been trying my darndest. Believe me, I've been cooing, gurgling, smiling, and basically trying everything to break that spell, and to be honest with you I'm starting to think that her entire brain has actually been removed from her head. Seriously. All she does is walk around the house repeating "I'm so unbelievably happy; Tom is the most amazing man I've ever met" over and over. Once a week, she hosts a luncheon with Kelly Preston, Kirsty Alley, Jenna Elfman and Pricilla Presley where they trade recipes and discuss such pressing topics as Tide vs. All.

The good thing is that Tom hasn't been around much since he's been out promoting "Mission: Impossible 3", also starring Philip Seymour Hoffmann, Keri Russell and Ving Rhames, in theaters now. For the record, it's waaaaaay better than "The DaVinci Code". Heh—that's a bit of an inside joke that I'll let you in on. My nannies are required to say that to everyone who asks where Tom is "with appropriate enthusiasm" according to the contract. But you didn't hear that from me.

Anyway, he seems to call a lot, as I hear my mom on the phone about 20 times a day saying, "I'm so unbelievably happy; you are the most amazing man I've ever met." And the few times he's been around he's picked me up and exclaimed, "Outstanding! The plan is working perfectly!" with a cackle—you know the one. OK, is it just me, or does Tom have the biggest teeth EVER? Yeah, it's pretty scary, especially close up. But don't worry, every time he's done that, I've succeeded in launching the biggest case of explosive diarrhea on him that I can possibly manage. While I find it perversely satisfying to do, he doesn't seem too bothered by it, and his lackeys usually run in immediately to remove me from the situation and to provide him with a clean black V-neck tee. Mission accomplished, I say!

Oh, shit, I better sign off because I think I hear voices, one of which is saying what sounds like "amazing man"...so I think we all know who that is! Anyway, thanks again for letting me bitch, and I'll try to get back to you sooner than later. In the meantime, keep fighting the good fight and Save Sean Preston! I think that kid has it worse than me!

Sincerely,
Suri Holmes Cruise

ANOTHER EXCLUSIVE: No, sir, the TomKat fetus doesn't like it

Good day, RockitQueen, and Happy Easter! Did the Easter Bunny visit you? Unfortunately, he seemed to have skipped my house. I'm sure Scientology has some kind of retarded edict banning marshmellow peeps and Cadbury creme eggs so the thetans don't get too hopped up on sugar, because my mom hasn't been consuming anything delicious like that. Guess I'll have to do without this year.

I just wanted to say thanks for letting me bitch. My current situation is less than satisfactory and if you haven't noticed, the shit hasn't just hit the fan—it's splattered all over the walls and is soaking into the carpet. Believe me, I'm trying to figure out a way that I can just stay in Mom's belly, not only because I know the world is going to be scrutinizing me upon my emergence, but also because my dad is batshit crazy and is preparing to use me on some kind of PR jag to promote his stupid new movie.

In fact, he's already started. First, there was the publication of this embarrassing picture in GQ magazine with his hands all over my mom trying to look manly and like he's way into chicks. Come on, I'm not stupid and neither are you. I'll be raised by this guy and I'll call him "Dad" and everything, but you and I both know that my real father is a turkey baster. Seriously, remove your hands from Mom and knock it off with all the mania and mind-melding.

My mom is not exempt from this rant, and I'm going to be frank here: bitch is greedy. All you need to do is show her the money and she's a vacant-eyed Stepford girl with built-in robotic responses and a permanent glazed expression. Yeah, yeah, I love her and all that jazz, but let's face it: she wasn't going to win any Academy Awards and, now that Michelle Williams is a Hollywood golden girl, the chances of a "Dawson's Creek: The Post-College Years" series are pretty much nil. What's a girl to do? Hmm, how about get embroiled in a freaky high-profile "relationship" with a fading A-lister, fake like you're in love with each other and gallavant around the world awkwardly kissing and making well-calculated public appearances. Then, just add a baby (me!) and voila! Instant tabloid darlings!

Which brings me to the most humiliating portion of my week: my dad's overenthusiastic public declarations about how great it is to do it with my mom! Let me tell you, the embarrassment I feel at his eager blatherings is unparalleled. In the same GQ article he shoots off at the mouth about how "spectacular" you-know-what is and how they have such great communication, yada yada yada. Gross! Imagine hearing your dad talk about what a great lay your mom is—that's bad enough. Now imagine he says it in a national magazine to be permanently on record for your friends to pull out and use against you later in life. I know how it is, and this is just setting me up to be mocked and ridiculed. As you can well imagine, I'm not happy about it!

I guess there is not much I can do at this point, but you better believe I am fully prepared to save the most spit-up and bad poopy diaper incidents for him. Hopefully, I can drop a good load on the red carpet or at an auditing session or somewhere else of equally bad timing.

I also think my first word will have to be "help". Lord knows I need it. Thanks again for listening. You rock.

Sincerely,
The TomKat Fetus

P.S. I heard a little bit of the dailies of Mission Impossible 3 and I cried for the first time.

WORLD EXCLUSIVE: Message from the TomKat fetus!

This is truly a monumental (albeit unusual) day for Stupid & Contagious. I have no idea how this is possible (the pregnancy itself is mysterious enough), but the world's most famous unborn child has sent a message up the tube, if you will, to this little blog! That's right: the fetus of Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes has emailed me. And because everything I do, I do it for you, I will reproduce it in full here in a STUPID & CONTAGIOUS WORLD EXCLUSIVE—what is revealed in this letter is sure to shake the entertainment world to its' very foundations, so prepare yourself for some seriously shocking revelations.

I must say that I'm impressed with the fetus's impeccable grammar and lack of spelling mistakes. I expect if this one is not immediately taken hostage by the Sea Org, we may have an English major on our hands. Behold and get ready for tomorrow's buzz. Remember, you saw it here first!

Good day to you, RockitQueen, and greetings from in utero!

I am currently floating here, enjoying my evening thumb suck, mulling over my impending emergence into the world. As you can well imagine, I'm quite ready to get out of here as things are getting a little bit hot and cramped and I'm a little tired of suffering through the Chanticos and herpes simplex 1 outbreaks. Plus, I'm anxious to see if my mom will take one look at me and become inspired to run away, change her name and assume a new identity.

I've been getting a bad rap in the press because everyone thinks I am demon seed and that I'm going to burst directly through my mom's belly, "Alien"-style, and leer at all the doctors and nurses. I can assure you that I am a very normal, very typical baby. But once I make my appearance, I know those Scientology creeps will be waiting for me with eager, greedy anticipation. I wouldn't be one bit surprised if they even pushed down on my mom's belly to shoot me out, catch me like a football and then whisk me off to their big desert boat. Since I still won't be able to see real well or grasp anything, nor will I be able to speak beyond screetching and gurgling, there isn't much I can do to escape.

Additionally, I am sure you've heard all the buzz about Scientology's "birthing rituals", i.e. the silent-birth-with-no-drugs method. What do you think of that? Because I think it's completely fucked up! The woman is pushing something the size of a watermelon through an opening the size of a quarter—I think she has a right to make as much noise as she wants! And no drugs? Forget her, what about me? I mean, you've seen my dad right? I think I'm going to need some good tranqs if there is a possiblity he might start jumping from bed to bed in the hospital while palming my little head.

So as you can see, I am pretty much doomed right from the start, unless my mom can pull it together and get the two of us on a plane to Costa Rica, STAT. I guess all I'm asking is for an outlet to vent my frustrations on my family situation, and I thought you might be understanding, and perhaps even sympathetic. I may only be the size of a small cat, but I have feelings, too, and I'd just like to express them in some avenue before they all get audited away.

One more thing: I may be giving you an exclusive peek into my world, but that does not include a peek at my junk. That exclusive will be going to Star Magazine. Just so you know.

Thank you for your time and consideration.

Sincerely,
Tom Cruise & Kate Homes' Fetus

P.S. Help...me...

I thought this post would be more exciting than it is

Trent over at Pink is the New Blog has the scoop of the week and if you haven't seen it already, well then click over there right this minute, missy. It's a photo timeline of Katie Holmes' "pregnant" belly—hilarious photographic evidence proving that even though a baby might appear in a few months, it sure didn't emerge from her womb. Who does she think she's fooling? There is totally some poor woman being held against her will in a $cientology compound somewhere until she gives birth. The baby will immediately be whisked away, her mind will be erased Men in Black-style and she'll come to somewhere in the desert 124 miles outside of Reno. I envision all kinds of pomp and ceremony in the presentation of the baby to Tom and Katie by the sea org members in their fake navy uniforms, with a wall-sized portrait of L. Ron looming over them all.

This seems like a great time to mention that $cientology is something else that sickly fascinates me. It's not so much all the cultish tendencies, the auditing, the weird ship-shaped building they have secret meetings in, the mind-melding, the crackpot "Xenu" theory, the e-meters, the "sea org", the psych- and med-bashing, the personality tests, the dianetics books and the general asshattery. It's that it's really just too easy to make fun of—it's almost as if it was made specifically for people to point and laugh at. Don't forget: the first letter in "$cientology" is not an S...it's a dollar sign! Get it? 'Cause they pay celebrities to align themselves with the madness, while the plebians shell out their lunch money to sweat and starve in some unmarked, windowless building in the middle of nowhere. All in the name of clearing away those pesky thetans.

I thought this was going to be more fun to write about, but I'm starting to get bored. I can tell when a post is crashing and burning. I'll leave you with this ponderance: why does the Geiko lizard have a British accent? Or is Australianan? Either way, it doesn't make any sense.