Despite its grand size, the Bemis Paramont is designed to fit snugly on standard or elongated toilet bowls--and accommodate all sizes of users, from little lads to dainty ladies to large linebackers. That's because the seat opening is the same as a conventional toilet seat; just the outside diameter is bigger.The Bemis Paramont offers a sleek, contemporary ergonomic design for maximum comfort.
I was 7 when ET came out the first time. I don't remember if I cried or not, but I do remember that the younger kid in our daycare group peed all over our daycare mom while watching the movie. I guess that might've summed up my thoughts on the movie, too.
I was happy to have the opportunity, though, and very happy that our daycare mom took us!
The real priestly scandal is that she's a parishoner at a Church here in town, and the clergy has yet to my knowledge to publicly admonish her for holding such anti-Catholic views and at the same time conisdering herself to be a Catholic.
Seriously, there doesn't seem to be any reason now why childless couples shouldn't be able to sue the makers of the abortificant, artificial estrogen pills. I don't suppose there's any reason, either, why they shouldn't be able to sue those who use the pills, either, for contaminating the water supply and pissing us into extinction.
Anyway, here's something I wrote up last month:
*** FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE ***
PRO-LIFE ZEALOTS SMEAR, BUT PP ACCEPTS TRANSGENDERED FISH
As pro-life zealots aggressively and maliciously attacked the weakest and most ostracized members of the aquatic community this Thursday with yet another anti-woman, Taliban-esque rally ("CAVIAR EMPTOR -- Why do our male fish have eggs?") members of the Planned Parenthood Federation of America, rallied to defend the rights of those fish who have elected to exercise their rights in exploring their true and unhindered sexuality.
"Merely by urinating into their toilets," states Gloria Feldt, President of Planned Parenthood Federation of America, "American women are providing an unprecidented opportunity for our nation's fish: an opportunity to be free to be the fish they feel they were meant to be. Be they one fish, two fish, red fish, or blue fish, our acquatic friends are now able to explore their sexuality in ways unimaginable just a generation ago."
"Walter Cod, or 'Wendy,' as we call her now," says Feldt holding up a jar containing one of PP's success stories, "is now free to choose her mates from any of the other fish in her pond -- the way nature intended -- not just from a select few based on some arbitrary 'gender.'"
Feldt indicates with a pointer the eggs growing on what had previously been Wendy Cod's testes. "Manhood coming into womanhood. Look at that. Isn't that beautiful?"
In order to increase the rate at which Walter/Wendy's lifestyle choice may be available to other members of the lake-and-river-dwelling community, Coca-Cola and drug-maker Organon have generously agreed to provide pre-teen and teenage girls at the nation's public schools with complimentary two-liter bottles of Surge and a course of estrogen/progestin oral contraceptives.
"We're asking our sisters to think globally and act locally," Feldt concludes. "Sure, a lot of people may feel that the idea of their urine actually causing fish to mutate is something, well, icky, but we're asking everyone to go beyond themselves and think of those exploited and ostracized members of our community without voices -- or lungs for that matter."
Okay, everyone doubted me when I blogged something similar to this a month or more ago. Well, here's a "real," news report for you which says pretty much the same thing:
"Furthermore, an investigation by the BBC's Countryfile and The Independent on Sunday has revealed research, to be published this month, that shows that artificial oestrogens, used in contraceptive pills and emitted through sewage works, appear to be changing the sex of half the fish in Britain's lowland rivers.
"Scientists and environmentalists fear that the powerful chemicals are getting into drinking water and affecting human fertility. One third of Britain's drinking water comes from rivers; most of it is taken from below sewage works."
So now that Rachel's read my novel, that's one vote in favor of not letting it collect dust. Apprently the characterizations are quite good. This is terrible. If it just outright sucked, I could let it die, but since there might be something to it, well, I feel obligated to do something with it. So we'll start this week with Regnery and go from there, I guess.
UN Issues Report on Declining Fertility, Populations So the UN has finally woken up to this. However it may already be too late to counteract the lie-oft-repeated of the anti-Human ZPG crowd. Human beings must be the only animal so deluded that they are capable of making themselves extinct.
We just watched A.I. And while it's an easy movie to hate (for any number of reasons) it has to be admitted that it's an outstanding piece of filmanship. It's very well-crafted, well-executed (except for the last 20 minutes, which was crap: "Now that your dad and older brother aren't here, you can be happy all day with Mommy!" Hel-lo! Paging Dr. Freud!), and well... I don't know yet if I hate it or not. I probably won't be watching it over and over again. Not, that is, unless they release a director's cut with more Teddy! And why do I feel Dr. Know will be given his own trivia game on CD-ROM? It just has to happen....
Anyway, it's encouraging (well, more amusing or entertaining) to see Mr. Speilburg try to wrestle with questions of eternity, questions (it seems) with which he's realising more and more frequently (judging from his films) he's been ill-equipped to cope.
1. What makes you homesick? I haven't left home for any reason in about two-and-a-half years. If I had to leave home now (meaning my wife and son) I would miss kissing both of them very very much.
2. Where is "home" for you? Is it where you are living now, or somewhere else (ie: Mom & Dad's house, particular state/city)? Our house in Plymouth, MI. Up until about a year ago, it would still be considered to be my parents' house, but now Plymouth is my home. Yay, Plymouth!
3. What makes it home for you? People? Things? cf. #1 above: my wife and son. Also, my Nintendo GameCube lives there.
4. Where is the furthest you've been from home, miles-wise? 4653 miles (7488 km) (4043 nautical miles). That's the distance from Ann Arbor, MI, to Rome, Italy.
5. What are your plans for this weekend? So, what? Do we just assume everyone's weekend begins on Friday and ends on Sunday? Well, we're seeing my friend Rachel, from College, tomorrow. And we haven't seen her in years. I guess that counts :)
So last night, for the first time, I went to the Catholic Men's Group over at Domino's Farms. Now, I'm not a very big "group," person (and my own personal ideal Catholic Men's Group would undoubtedly have as its model the old order of the Knights Templar), but it was actually quite an enjoyable time. There were about 80-100 men there ranging in age from just a little younger than myself to folks in their mid-50s or 60s. The discussion after Mass was "Holy Sex," a talk by Gregory Popcak, whom I'd seen on TV and heard on the radio (despite the fact that his show comes on the air at the inconveniently early hour of 9am). Anyway, his comments on "Holy Sex," aka. Real Sex, which is to say the sexual act un-robbed of its unitive and procreative qualities weren't anything I hadn't already figured out over the past few years (chiefly by reading, folks!!!), and I did appreciate his comments on what passes for sex to most people these days, eroticism. Afterwards I asked him if, since the hot, new topic for Catholics these days, Theology of the Body, seems to borrow its language heavily from the 20th-century continental phenomenlogist existentialists (cf. Merleau-Ponty and our current pope -- Carol Wojtyla was and is no slouch as an existentialist philosopher and playwright!) and eroticism seems to be heavily rooted in a sort of Anglo-Saxon puritanism, if this new wave of body-oriented theology can't be seen as sort of a reclamation -- at least in this country -- of Catholicisms more continental flavoring from the largely puritan culture. He seemed interested in that, but since he is a licensed psychotherapist, I suppose he's gotten pretty good at seeming interested in a number of things ;)
Anyway, I don't expect anyone to be convinced of anything from my brief post here. I'll be expanding on this topic, hopefully, once I get some time. But then, there's the new album I want to do, and the screen adaptation of the novel -- and all of this has to wait until I clean up the basement and the computer room here, which I suppose I can do, now that the baby's asleep -- so it may be a while coming.
Got a very helpful and considerate reply to my post immediately previous to this one. Thank you, Jocelyn!!! I'll look into putting up some sort of comments section straight away. Okay, that was actually quite easy! But now Blogger has gone all wonky and won't let me update my template. Soon. There. Fixed.
Suddenly the whole idea of a weblog is offensive to me. Perhaps it is its unilogical format, there's no opportunity for dialgoue. If you don't like something I've written here (or if I don't like what I read someplace else) there's nothing to do but to fume -- there's no discussion. I think weblogging has become so popular in certain circles by and large because all of those people share the same ideological (or should that be idiotic?) outlook. They read and agree and are smug and satisfied that they've found another independent-thinker who agrees with them.
Last night's Angel episode was, I think, the darkest single hour ever for either that show or Buffy, The Vampire (s)Layer. It was quite good. Just the first three minutes were enough to give me nightmares, what with the woman with the posessed, freaky face. Bleah! It's too bad we probably need to wait three months now to see what happens: does Wes live (obviously)? What becomes of Holtz and Connor? We shall have to wait and see.
Well, unlike some people, I personally don't hate music. And I think more public servants should break out into song, more often. For example, during the Clinton years we could've heard:
"Don't call it a raid, Please ignore all those flames, The burning children that you hear, Are really nothing, dear, And please, ignore all those flames.
"Don't call it a raid, Please ignore all that blood, That dead mother and her child, Our actions here were mild, And please, ignore all that blood.
"Don't call it a raid, Please ignore all the guns, We're just here for Elian, Just hand him over, we'll be gone! And please, ignore all that blood."
(Sung by Janet Reno, a contrabasse, if ever there was one).
Or how about:
"Is. Two little letters, One big meaning to hide behind. What's your definition? Excuse my prediliction, For the truth just now excapes my mind.
"Is. Two delicious little letters, Sex is just something that you define, Two consenting grown-ups, Can't believe how this got blown-up, Now excuse me while I lie my ass off and perjure myself, costing the taxpayers of this country millions, and oh, I'm threatened with impeachement (see aformentioned perjury under oath), so let me bomb the hell out of of Bosnia to draw attention away from my crimes. Boop-boop-de-doop."
(That was Bill Clinton, in case you couldn't tell, and he would probably have a better song, but it's not like I have all the time in the world to work on my weblog).