Category: Editorials

I’m part of an Evangelical Christian email list. Long story. Anyway, I receive from time to time email newsletters from various church-goers, often providing me and others on the mailing list with their own perspective on Canadian and world events. The following is one I found in my in-box this morning. I have removed the name of the its author.

Please keep in mind, I did not post this for the sake of ridicule. The voice of the writer, I believe evokes best of intentions. Whether these intentions have been properly placed or not I leave up to you to decide. Though I am trying to keep this preface short, I will state however, that if there is any doubt that religious groups like this are organized and active in Canadian politics as much as they are in that of the US, letters like this should put that doubt to rest. (Also, see Charles McVety )

I can’t state more without tarnishing the reader’s perspective on this letter. So I will save my second point until afterwards.

Dear Friends.

(sorry about the bold—I can’t fix it.) Just finished 25 hours of fasting, soaking, praying, repenting—-following is an account from Christians from Jerusalem re Yom Kippur.

These High Holy Days –from the Jewish New Year, to Yom Kippur to Succot or Tabernacles corresponds to a time which G-d, not the Jews, declared as Holy. Just cuz some emperor in Rome changed the months, date, Sabbath, etc in the 3rd Century does not mean that G-d has forgotten HIS calendar. It is no co-incidence that various Christian fasts and prayers times are going on now.

This New Year/ Rosh Hashana, is 7 years after Sept 11, it ends the season of 60th birthday for Israel and Jerusalem’s 40th. I knew change had to come—wow—look at the banks, stock markets, mortgages—Bankers in Paris are praying in their lunch times!

With 2 upcoming elections, Christians must pray and research and vote. This vote is critical. Since Sept 11 2001, (7 years ago) there has been a surge in anti-Semitism and backlashes against Jews. I used to walk through Thornhill Festival and see lots of Stars of David around necks. For some years now, I haven’t seen any (but there are lots of Muslim headscarves).

With the panic on the stock markets, and Jews heading the banking sector, we need to pray that a horrible backlash doesn’t occur. We MUST vote on Tuesday, and choose the only man who has the know how to protect our economy, and the only one with the courage to stand with Israel.

Stephen Harper saw this economic crisis coming and put in measures to protect Canada, a year ago! Wow. The US banks are approaching Canadian banks and asking for our help, cuz we are in good shape!

The National Post endorsed him as the only capable one.

Yesterday the Globe reluctantly endorsed him as the only capable leader—unheard of!

And I just read an enlightening article in the Sun about his high school reunion in Etobicoke last week. The reporter went looking for even one bad story about Stephen Harper in High School could find nothing bad about Stephen Harper—he was brilliant, shy, honest and well liked.

We MUST bring Stephen Harper back—make sure all your friends vote.

Just want to acknowledge all our Christian friends who are in Israel now, or en route, to celebrate Tabernacles. [section removed for privacy of names mentioned]

They are obedient to G-d’s word where it says in Zachariah that all the Nations/Goyim will go to Jerusalem to celebrate the Lord during Succot.

Pray that they have a wonderful time, that they fall even more in love with their G-d and understand HaShem’s heart for His Beloved Jerusalem and Israel. Pray that HaShem, who neither slumbers nor sleeps, will protect Israel, as His Word promises.

Blessings,
 
 

Ahem, now to the second and final point about this letter. I mentioned in a previous article, that reality has kindly removed most of my faith in a supreme being. But, if there is providence of any kind, it gave me a little nudge today – the same day I received the above newsletter – when I chose to listen to a podcast of Karen Armstrong. She is a British scholar in comparative religions. I only mention her because, more than the topic of the upcoming election, that of Israel dominates the letter. And one cannot mention Israel without mentioning something about Islam, as the writer does. Perhaps it was providence that also made one particular part of Karen Armstrong’s speech stick in my mind. It is as follows: People seem to equate religious faith with believing things. We call religious people often “believers”, as though that was the main thing they do. And very often secondary goals get pushed into the first place, in place of compassion and the Golden Rule, because the Golden Rule is difficult…because a lot of religious people prefer to be right rather than compassionate.

In 2008 Armstrong called for a council of Christian, Muslim and Jewish leaders create a Charter of Compassion, and agreement that would help push the current world ethos beyond mere tolerance. Upon listening to her speech, some have find her tone towards a multi-religion world quite balanced. Others do not. The following is a comment copied form the TED Talks website, and if it doesn’t peek your interest about Karen Armstrong, I don’t know what will:

I simply can’t believe what I read, if anybody here is impress in the slighest way by what this lady says, then they should bowing down 24 hours a day at the feet of Jesus. What kind of evil is this, they worship the saying of this lady, but Jesus was ok, I mean, you have got to give Jesus some credit after all, he is just the most famous person on earth, I mean just a little respect for Jesus, people.

Jesus is the only hero, everyone else pales in comparison, his teachings have no parallels. You God dammed people, I don’t believe in hell, but if there was such a place, I wish you would all end up there. The bible is right, you worship the creature, more than the creator. You don’t deserve to have a brain, let alone a mind.

You come here to listen to this lady and to listen to Richard Dawkins rant and rave about God, and you worship this people, and you expect me to think highly of you, you are trash of the lowest kind. Your compassion is an abomination to God and if there is no God, then your compassion is hypocrisy, it’s what you do in public so that others can say how compassionate you are. But then you turn around and commit adultery, or lie, or deciet others in business. Who the hell told you that you were good and holy, God dammed you people.

We have much work to do. The first step is to get out and vote.

Now, I don’t mean to mix politics with religion on my own site. But in my own defense, I’ll just take from my religious background and state that the lord moves in mysterious ways.

But for the Lord’s sake, VOTE!!

Jane Auer:

Voting is one of the few things where boycotting in protest clearly makes the problem worse rather than better.

This is embarrassing. After two decades of joining protest marches in Toronto and Vancouver, six years of professing my political opinions on Latchkey.Net, a one-year subscription to Adbusters, and a two weekends at an Alaho Valley Anti-Logging Camp, I must confess to you that I didn’t start voting until I was 28.

Reasons? It wasn’t apathy. I wasn’t shy of hitting the streets and demonstrating my political views with others. As well, my interest in politics had been strong since my early twenties; my curiosity was fervent enough to lead me to a communist cell meeting during my U of T years. But thinking about it, perhaps here, in this cell meeting, is a good place to start.

The interest in other systems was sparked by pessimism towards my own. An Elections Canada survey, published in 2003, lists the top ten reasons participants decided not to vote. The top three are: 1. just not interested, 2. didn’t like parties/candidates, 3. vote wouldn’t matter. Numbers two and three could best describe the reasons for my voter abstinence. Both reasons were fueled by my burning cynicism, and the culture of my twenties bolstered this cynicism. The books and magazines I read condemned any individual who dared to lead, regardless of their political party or persuasion. The system was a corrupt sham, and anyone who joined it was corrupt by having become a part of it. Looking back, it seemed that the only ones who were of any virtue to me were those who were trying to undermine the system. No wonder the original movie, The Matrix, resonated with so many people of my generation. When I think of the main character, Neo, pulling himself out of that tub of amniotic fluid, I can’t help but think of the front cover of Kalle Lasn’s book, Culture Jam depicting the back of a man’s head with a bar code tattooed to the back of his neck.

With the idea of culture jamming, popular methods of subverting the system come to mind. Faux slogans like “Is there a GAP in your life?” and collective boycotts like “Buy Nothing Day”. I see now that the operative word in the latter concept is “nothing”. Buy nothing from the system, contribute nothing to the system, do nothing for the system. If you don’t like a job, leave it. If you don’t like a newspaper, don’t read it. In the 1990’s we voted with our feet. The idea was to choke the system with our absence, and if the system failed to notice us gone, then stage a protest (with the municipalities approval, of course). Though this wasn’t social apathy, I’d call it aggressive apathy. I really did want change, but I was terrified of becoming part of the system and therefore selling out. What I had to sell, I have no idea, now. A few poetry chapbooks?

Regardless, the idea of aggressive apathy has two flaws. Let me explain. At the core of my twenty-something cynicism were evil multinational corporations like Monsanto and Philip Morris. (I haven’t thought of these companies for years, this brings back memories….sigh) As I saw it, these companies could do whatever they want, whenever they want, wherever they want. They had minor governments and armies in their pockets and they answered only to the shareholders. The public was powerless to stop them. Now, the connection I failed to make was that the public also has shares. Like shareholder, every individual, or citizen, to be more exact, is a part owner, not of a company, but of a country. And like the collective power of ownership shareholders have over their multinational corporations, as a taxpaying Canadian citizen, I OWN small part of Canada and I have a little bit of power over who runs this country. And I consider the Voter Information Card I received before an election proof of this ownership.

Now, in the aggressively apathetic mindset, the weapons of choice are subversion on a prankster-ish scale, public demonstrations, and boycotts. Here lies the second flaw. The single article of power I have over my country, I cannot execute through any of these methods. The years and energy I spent trying to force the system to change could have been better spent simply walking to my nearest polling station and casting my vote. This is not to say that public demonstrations and boycotts are ineffective, but they are useless gestures without the electoral participation of those involved. If you want to hit them where it hurts, vote. The rest is window dressing. This is what I’ve learned.

Now, if you take what I have learned and apply it to the American Gore/Bush election in 2000, you might cringe as much as I do. The voter-turnout in the US has always been dismal, and if only a few more people, disinterested youths perhaps (like myself, a Canadian counterpart at the time) would have cast their vote, things would have no doubt turned out much different in the world today.

VOTE!!!

In my teens, if someone were to ask me whether or not I believe in God, my response would have been: “Jesus Christ is my Saviour”. I kid you not. I was one of those evangelical, Christian-retreat-going, proselytizing youths. If any of you have seen the documentary “Jesus Camp”, I was a mellower, Canadian version of some of those kids. Not that I walked the streets trying to convert people, but I was tempted from time to time to do so.

By the end of my twenties, I had read enough of the Good Book to realize that the God of the Old Testament was a little too vengeful and insecure for my taste and Jesus of the New Testament wasn’t nearly as nice as the church ministers and Christmas TV specials portrayed him. (What’s the point of condemning a fig tree to death?) That I didn’t start reading the Bible myself until my twenties is unsettling to me now, considering that the age which I reached my height of belief (my teens), the Bible had mostly been something that was read to me, not by me, for the most part. By my late twenties, I had also dated enough non-Christians to figure out that my own religion is just one of several competing for elbow room in the Greater Toronto Area. That’s the thing about living in T.O., almost every neighbourhood has its own pathway to paradise. All in all, at this point of my life, if you were to ask me whether or not I believe in god, my answer would have been: “I believe in a god, though not the god of any Bible.”

I’m well into my thirties now, and the answer to that age old question has become: “I believe in a collective consciousness.” The sentient galactic overseer has been diluted to something on the level of The Force. But even this response smacks of a cop-out. I know the answer. It has been there at the back of my mind, even when I had Church ministers praying for the Holy Spirit to touch me as a teen. The devout would call it doubt, and they would be wrong. I have faith, faith in people to do good, most of the time. I’d call it a nagging sense of reality. Jacob and Goliath, Moses parting the Red Sea, Jonah and the Whale, stories that I took for truth as a child and teen, now fit so naturally into the category of myth, right up there with Zeus on Mount Olympus.

So, if I believe the Bible to be myth, than logically God should be about a real to me a Zeus. Right? Meaning there is no God, then. And no afterlife. Meaning, once we die, that’s it. End of story. No bright light. No pearly gates. Nothing.

Well, I’m not there yet. Though I have long since dismissed the concept of Heaven and Hell, a small part of me is clinging to this collective consciousness idea, wanting to believe that some of me will continue on, in some form of consciousness or another, after I kick the bucket. I’m simply not prepared to face the possibility of oblivion just yet, though some of its implications I find increasingly alluring.

For example, the idea that, if this life is not a dress rehearsal, than this brief time is all we have, and that we should make the most of it. Imagining life without an afterlife, in this respect, the world around me sometimes becomes a little more pure, a little more distilled. But that only happens sometimes. For the most part, pondering oblivion often evokes in me a mild feeling of vertigo, something a tightrope walker might feeling when he or she realizes that someone has removed the safety net.

This isn’t about me proving that God, or a god, doesn’t exist. This is simply about me slowly coming to terms not only with my own rationality, with what I can honestly allow myself to believe. It’s very ironic that while the Bible states “the truth shall set you free”, it is precisely the faith, the belief demanded from the Bible that I’m trying to liberate myself from.

I’m not there yet. Still, the scared little kid hangs on. But I can see where I’m headed, and in my forties, if you were to ask me this question, my response will be an honest, firm “No”.

This was originally a rant on Craigslist.

I think now I know why men take up ice fishing.

Language warning: foul language below!

Dear Men of Craigslist,

Look, I know you men have it difficult. Women are just about impossible to understand, much less please. In a post-feminist society, you never know exactly what you should be doing. Women are bloody picky, I know we are. It can be scary, too, when women freak out about what appear to be benign issues. And men who do their best to be respectful, female-positive humans, I salute you, I do.

But please, please just fuck me already. Honestly, I appreciate your thoughtfulness. I like that you want to take things slow. I can totally get behind the idea of emotional connection, but dearjesusinheaven, FUCK ME. We’ve done dinner and drinks. We’ve gone dancing. We’ve cuddled and watched a movie. I’m wearing a low cut shirt and you’ve been staring at my breasts all night. Goodgodalmighty, get to it and fuck me.

When we get hot and heavy, please take charge. Please, please fuck me. Trust me, I’m not going to just lie still – I’ll get involved. But don’t make me force your hand into my panties. That makes me feel like a rapist. We’ve been kissing for a half hour and your hand keeps grazing my ass. That’s nice, but it’s time to move forward. Get on top of me. Don’t make me get on top right out of the gate and start bobbing up and down on your cock like I’m practicing some crazy new aerobic yoga because YOU won’t go down on me. Roll on top and start dry humping like a good boy should. Don’t gently suck my nipples and then pull back when I moan with pleasure. You being coy is totally not what I want. It’s not what WE want.

OK, I know it’s scary. There are lots of women out there who make fucking really difficult. So, I have compiled some handy tips. Don’t think of this as complaining, or as schadenfreude for the Andrea Dworkins of the world. Just some simple tips, for timid men who have forgotten what it means to fuck like men:

1. Taking charge is not bad. Oh, there will be some women who feel that you are pushy. If you are making out with a woman, and she starts to push back, ask nicely if things are moving too fast. If she says yes, say something like “I’m sorry – you just look so fucking delicious. I’ll go slower.” Otherwise, skillfully move forward. If you start kissing a woman, and she responds well, and before long, you’re both on the floor with her skirt pushed up, and you on top of her, it’s not the time to roll onto your back and start awkwardly stroking the top of her head. Seriously, grow a goddamn pair. YOU’RE the man. Act like one.

2. Ohmyfuckinggod, please learn to respect the clit. It’s different for every woman, so ask what she likes. Do not, I repeat, do not just wiggle your fingers around her pussy like you’re trying to tickle her. Do not drum your fingertips against her vulva like you are impatiently waiting at the Sears Tire Center for your receipt. Do not push the clit like it is a doorbell at some house that you need to get inside of. Start by using all four fingers with firm yet gentle pressure against the outside of her pussy. Do not charge in with a single finger and start jabbing at things. And if you really don’t know what to do, ask her. Just ask. “How do you like it?”. It’s a simple question, and most women will answer straight out. If she’s being all coy, ask “Do you like pressure? Is it sensitive?” The clitoris is a varied item, indeed. Treat each one as though you have never encountered one before. Forget everything that your last partner liked.

3. Most women like to be fucked, and fucked well. Yes, there are women out there who want to “make love” every time – sweet, gentle, rocking love with lots of eye contact and loving kisses. Those women are not the majority. The majority like to be pounded. The majority like to have their hair pulled. The majority like a good, solid jackhammering. When a woman is bucking wildly against you, it’s not because she wants you to pull back and slowly swirl your cock around her vagina like you’re mixing a cake batter up there. It’s because she wants you to hold down her arms, or grab her hips, or push her legs above her head, and fuck her harder. Don’t be too afraid of what this means as far as gender equality goes – I am a raging feminist bitch, but I still want to be penetrated like you are planning on fucking my throat from the inside out.

4. A little roughness is nice. Do not pretend that you had no idea that some women like their hair pulled. Do not act shocked if she wants you to spank her (“Really? Spanking? Won’t it hurt?” – yes, it does. That’s the fucking point). We know you’ve read Stuff and Maxim, and that’s all those laddie mags talk about in their “How to Please Her” sections. Start with light, full handed smacks to the area of her ass that she sits on. Judge her response and continue on from there. You don’t have to bend her over one knee and tell her she’s a naughty girl and that Daddy’s going to punish her; save that for the fifth date. Women are less delicate than you think, so don’t worry about breaking her hip.

5. It’s OK for you to make noise. Otherwise, we feel like we are fucking a ninja. Unless you actually are a ninja, and have sneaked into our rooms with vibrating nanuchaku and zippered black pajamas, please, please make some noise. If you’re banging a woman, and she’s crying out and saying your name and moaning, and you can’t even manage a grunt, she’s going to feel like an idiot. You don’t have to make the sounds she is making, but do SOMETHING. You know how when you are watching porn, and the girl does something great to the guy and the guy kind of goes “Ah!”, half grunt, half yell? That’s HOT. Do that. Whisper our name (assuming you know it) gruffly. Groan against her neck when you’re in missionary position. You don’t have to grunt like a mountain gorilla, but if you are totally mute, she’s going to get worried.

6. Most women like dirty talk, in addition to the grunting. If you’d like to get some dirty talk going, ask her if she likes the way you fuck her. If she responds well, continue with something like, “I love fucking you. God, you look so fucking hot.” Is she still moaning in response? “Your tits are so beautiful.” Does that work? If she doesn’t respond well to the term “tits”, you might have to stop there. If she keep moaning or responding, pass Go and collect $200. Try the following:

“Oh, god. Your pussy is SO tight.”
“You’re so wet – are you wet because you like the feel of my cock ramming you?”
“I think I’m going to come inside you. I’m going to fill up your little cunt.” It doesn’t matter that you’re wearing a condom; we LOVE hearing this.

If all of those work, you can then progress to things like “sexy little bitch” and “dirty whore”. Tread carefully, but please, tread. Do not tiptoe. Do not sit down. Charge.

6. You’re not obligated to eat a woman out. In return, she’s not obligated to choke on your dick. Don’t skip one and expect the other. If you do eat a woman out, the only comment you should make about her pussy is how nice it is. The length of her labia minora, the color of her interior, her waxing job or full bush – you are not John Madden. No time for color commentary.

7. Do not bitch about condoms. Oh, we hate them. Trust us. They hurt us more than they hurt you. But we don’t want to be preggers, and you don’t want to catch anything, right? Don’t whine about condom sex. Do not explain that you can’t come with one on. LEARN to come with one on, or if not, help us figure out what to do with you once we’re satisfied and it’s time for you to let loose your load.

8. We really like it when you come. It’s called a money shot for a reason. Watching semen shoot out of you is one of the most gratifying things EVER. However, do not assume that she wants you to jack it off onto her face. She might, but don’t assume. Seeing and/or feeling you come is rewarding for us, so there’s no need to deprive us of it, but please do consult us before unleashing. “I think I’m going to come – how do you like it?” is a fair question that shouldn’t rob you of your testicles.

In recent memory, I’ve been fucked by a very aggressive, manly guy, and I’ve been… well, fucked is the wrong term here. I’ve been penetrated by a total and utter wuss. Who am I going to run back to when I’m ready for my fill? Manly McHardon, that’s who. —————————————————-

*New point of clarification – some people have brought up some really great issues in response to this post, so let me say this: I don’t mean to imply that all women like to be treated like whores. I do mean to say that most women I know have told me that they like sex rougher than most men give it to them. Rough does NOT equal chains and bondage. And this applies to the bedroom only, and does not mean that she wants you to choose her dinner for her, or treat her like less of a person. **Some women have said that they don’t like it rough and what the hell am I thinking? Well, girls, you’re in the minority. HOWEVER, all women need to remember that, in addition to be straight forward about your sexual desires, you need to be straight forward about your sexual limits. Don’t be afraid to ask for more, but when something feels wrong, say so. Don’t ever do something you don’t want to do in silence and then blame the guy. Silence is dangerous.

http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/561877622.html