One Million Moms Don’t Like Schweddy Balls

“One Million Moms” are marching
In the grocery stores and malls
To protest execution? No!
To protest Schweddy Balls!

They’ll send their waves of emails,
With their keyboards at the ready;
It’s not the excess calories—
The name says “Balls” and “Schweddy”

“We’re looking for a million moms”
They have not got them yet
But still, they’ll claim their million
Lest the media forget

Health care? Bullying? Abuse?
Education? Gun control?
A million moms could take a stand
But that’s not how they roll

They want their Christian values
On the television screen
While death, and pain, and prejudice
Are blissfully unseen

Via NPR, the inspiration for Schweddy Balls in the first place.

Seriously, go take a look at their “other issues”; if ever there was a group dedicated to tone and not substance, this is it.

And nowhere do they state their actual numbers. How many moms do you need before you can legitimately call yourself “one million moms”?

Edit–if you are the type who never reads comments, make an exception! Interesting information about the Million Moms, from commenter “freebird”. (thanks, freebird!)

Advice For An Executioner

Brush away the doubts you had
If ever they existed
Forget the hints of innocence
You must be iron-fisted
Forget that seven witnesses
Were pressed, they say, to lie;
Cos someone killed a cop, you see
So someone’s got to die.

Push aside the arguments
Of bias in the system
The courts have heard them all before
And this time, they’ve dismissed them
Forget the lack of evidence
To say he is the one
It’s eye for eye, and life for life,
And justice must be done

Sleep with guiltless conscience
That’s assuming that you can
Do what it takes; convince yourself
You’ve got the guilty man
You may have killed the man you blame
But in your dreams, you’ll see
The man you killed was not the one…
The killer has gone free

If Cole Porter Were An Evolutionary Psychologist…

It’s a reproductive message
And I’m passing it along
I read it in my DNA
And wrote it in this song
It’s just a reproductive message
A reproductive message to you

It’s an imperative of nature
It’s not just my excuse
There is no greater calling
Than “survive and reproduce”
It’s an imperative of nature
A reproductive message to you

I’m enamored of your phenotype
I’d love to share your genotype
I never thought I’d see no type like you
Your lovely physiology
Has triggered my biology
And now, no simple “golly gee” will do

So now my message is embedded
In meter and in verse
With music as the medium
I guess it could be worse
So long as someone gets embedded…
A reproductive message to you

We all are in the bidness
Of reproductive fitness
But now I fear I’m witnessing the end
Biology is boom or bust
And when it comes to love and lust
No future comes from being just a friend

And that’s the purpose of my singing
You’ve probably deduced
The music is irrelevant
Unless you’ve been seduced
And that’s the purpose of my singing
My reproductive message to you

Sciency stuff after the jump:
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Blag Hag

Ok, so for people like me who obsess over meter and verse, some things are weird. Symmetry is one of them.

So go and welcome “Blag Hag” Jen McCreight, who has upset the symmetry of our FTB homepage, and tell her Cuttlefish has a nervous tic that’s all her fault.

Ok, you don’t have to do that last bit. But go, read, comment, enjoy.

I’ll get over the lack of symmetry.

The Unknowable and the Unknown

I ponder the unknowable
I do it all the time
I introspect and navel-gaze
And most of it in rhyme
It gives me job security—
A niche to call my own—
Unknowables are permanent,
Unlike the mere unknown.

Unsolvable conundrums
Are my favorite sorts of stuff
Impossibly attractive, I
Just cannot get enough
They have no real solution,
So you can’t get too involved—
It’s really so much easier
Than solving the unsolved.

A question that’s unanswered
Is an open invitation
To poke around, to sniff for clues,
Begin investigation
I much prefer unanswerables
And have since just a pup
Cos none can know the answer, so
I get to make shit up.

A bit of context, after the jump:
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No News On Mabus

Today is the day Dennis Markuze, AKA David Mabus, was scheduled to appear in court after his 30-day psych evaluation. No reports yet in Quebec news outlets; if you know of anything, I would love to hear it. I hope it went well for him, whatever the outcome. Secondarily, I hope we’re not about to be inundated with new rants.

Update, of sorts– His evaluation is not over yet, and so he cannot be indicted at present. Perhaps the best source to follow is @stephaneincourt on twitter.

Headline Muse, 9/18

Though the church fears the atheist danger
There’s more risk from a friend than a stranger
And when pastors compete
With the church down the street
Best beware of the dog in the manger!

Headline: Man accused of killing wife, wounding 2 pastors

Ok, it might be a stretch–Aesop’s “dog in the manger” basically growled “I can’t have it, but neither can you!”; in this terrible tragedy, the motives are not yet settled. The shooter and his wife were former members of the church the two pastors ran; it may not be such a stretch to think there was some envy involved.

I hate church shootings. I hate all shootings, but church shootings are a special case. Growing up, church was presented as a sanctuary; if you came in, you were welcomed and treated with kindness. Today, I read a headline like this and know (of course I don’t know) that the shooter was a member or former member of the congregation, and that tears me apart. And some day, perhaps some self-identified atheist will be the shooter, and that will make everyone forget all the other shootings, and forget that the fights within religion are far more representative of history than the recent atheist surge.