Savior of penises

ALMOST SIXTEEN years ago, I improved a young boy’s life by saving him from circumcision as a baby. He did not learn of this huge favor till yesterday. He was very appreciative and rightly so.

And, yesterday too, I repeated the favor for another youngster, also a relative as is the first fellow.  The first boy is a nephew. This second one is a relatively newborn grandson of a sister-in-law. The child’s mother casually mentioned that her baby would soon be circumcised.

Oh, no! I erupted. Don’t torture the child for absolutely no good reason, or any other reason, for that matter. Child abuse!

new imageSince I am in good standing in the family, the Old (Wise) Gringo, I prevailed, and the child will be spared the razor.

That this ancient Jewish religious rite not only continues into modern times but has been picked up by much of Western Civilization, people who aren’t even Jewish, is incredible. The good news is that in recent decades opposition has been growing. There is a Movement!

It’s for hygiene, many doctors still parrot. Poppycock! If you can wash behind your ears and between your toes, you can wash there too. And if you’re still in diapers, your mother can do it for you.

I wish someone had saved me from the blade those many decades back, but no one did. No one cared enough.

But I can save others. I owe it to my brothers.

Yea for Islamophobia!

islam
The true War on Women.

IS ISLAMOPHOBIA bad? Not at all. But it’s not the preferred term due to phobia’s definition as an irrational fear.

And trepidation in the face of this so-called religion — a beast philosophy — is quite a rational response.

The photo shows a young Indonesian woman who broke the Mohammedan rule against being alone in a room with a man to whom she was not married.

Just being in the room. That’s all.  Gadzooks!

She is a lucky one. She only received a public lashing instead of stoning to death or the ever-popular beheading.

Or being drowned in a cage. Or being thrown off a cliff. Or being hanged from a construction crane. Or being burned alive.

You can read the details here. It’s important to publicize this stuff in order to spread “Islamophobia” far and wide.

These are the people President Barry embraced in 2009 as he kicked off his term with the infamous Apology Tour.

Perhaps you voted for him. Not once, but twice.

Gadzooks! Bet you’re red-faced now.

Music and bread

torture

PACHELBEL’S CANON played as we ate bagels and Philly cheese lite this morning. The dining room window to the terraza was open to enjoy the 58-degree air in almost-August under blue skies at 8 a.m.

I took the photo with my new camera yesterday. It’s a 16th-century church on the outskirts of town, little visited and usually locked. I have read that Spaniards tortured an influential Indian chief in there. Racist Latinos!*

I’ve been inching through the manual of my new Canon SX520 and, as usual, sighing and rolling my eyeballs at how much technology can be crammed into a small space these days. Whereas I am in favor of high technology, my enthusiasm wanes when I have to deal with its innards personally.

The first day after the camera’s arrival discouraged me. I only wanted a far better zoom, and simpler cameras with great zooms are available. I began to wonder why I had not purchased one of those simpler options.

I woke up for a spell in the middle of Thursday night, thinking: I’m gonna sell that thing and buy something easier.  I have pulled similar stunts.

About three years ago, I bought a Samsung Smartphone. I sold it at a significant loss within the week. Didn’t care for it. My main objection was the ringtone, which was too pissant for my tastes. Didn’t ring long enough. Yeah, I know. You can add others. Learned that later.

I returned to my previous, ancient, Nokia phone. You would laugh at it. It does two things only. It makes calls. It sends messages. Period. It does have powerful ringtones that would startle the dead.

Back to the camera. So I woke up yesterday and continued reading the Canon manual (online) while fiddling with the camera. I began to like stuff more and more. It’s pretty incredible, things it does. I stood on the upstairs terraza and took a closeup of the chimney on a house down the street, crystal clear. No wobble at all. How’s that possible?

I also removed the neck strap, which was a colossal annoyance. I went back to Amazon, the U.S. version this time, and ordered a perfect wrist strap and a beefier memory card. They are en route, no import tax due, I’m told.

Looks like I’ll keep the camera. I took it downtown yesterday afternoon for my daily coffee siesta at a sidewalk table facing the beautiful plaza with towering trees. I snapped a few shots, but nothing notable. Then I got in the Honda and drove home, passing the small church above.

* * * *

We finished the bagels and Philly cheese lite. I watered the plants on the downstairs terraza. It’s a lovely day. I wonder what kind of day it was when the Spaniards tortured the Indian chief in the church.

Maybe there are still blood stains on the stone floor. Maybe that’s why the church is usually locked. Catholic shame.

* * * *

* Don’t they know that #indianlivesmatter?

Noah’s abuse

Ark

(What follows is the first, and possibly last, movie commentary to appear hereabouts.)

WE WENT to the cineplex yesterday to see Noah, the film movie about you know who. Though we have Netflix at home, it’s often best to see disaster flicks on the really big screen.

And Noah  is a disaster flick with giant science fiction monsters thrown in. I am not, as Dave Barry says, making this up. Huge, stone critters that talk and growl.

The movie was slow, boring and long, a too-frequent combination. And it was quite PC, which was beyond silly. The word God was not uttered once. References to God were “the creator.” This, of course, is more “inclusive,” and will not offend Mohammedans, Hindus or Zoroastrians who prefer other names for God or their gods. Good Lord!

Brace yourselves: Noah and his family were vegetarians. As Dave Barry says, well, you know.

That’s all I have to say about the movie. It was long, boring, politically correct — Noah and his family only ate veggies — and there were science-fiction monsters.

The real action was down in the audience. Unknown to me, we were entering a new sort of movie theater, something called 4DX. Since it says 4D, one might assume that it was 3D and more, but it was not. There was no 3D.

4DX means you’ve entered a movie auditorium that pummels and spits on you.*

Literally.

There are scads of big black boxes aligned high on both walls. These are, perhaps among other things, fans that blow on you when there is wind blowing in the movie. Get it? When there are fights, the seat bounces around and pokes you, literally, in the back.

Ouch!

At one point, Noah, who is really a pendejo, slays a bad guy by slitting his throat. The “blood” shoots out from God the creator knows where and spits in your face!

I had to remove my glasses and wipe them. No lie.

Perhaps worse than the ongoing abuse you receive, the high-tech seat simply is not very comfortable. You cannot recline as you do in most modern theaters. It doesn’t rock. It is locked into place — until it assaults and/or wets you, of course.

This was my first 4DX experience, and it will be my last. I’m no masochist.

* * * *

* What Dave Barry says.