I call him “Evil”.
|« Jul||Sep »|
D.Sidhe was kind enough to give WO’C first crack at publishing her review of Piranha 3D, and naturally we leaped from the water and snapped at it. Enjoy!
You know, I’d say I was disappointed with Piranha 3D, but that would require me having expected it to be good cinema or filmed with an actual script or something. It was 90 minutes of naked tits, in 3D. The second half, there was blood on them.
In terms of plot-oriented-excuse-for-blood-and-nudity, you have an inland lake, a pile of drunken college kids, a female sheriff (Elisabeth Shue), her teenage son (Steven R McQueen), his underten precocious sister and stubborn brother, and some random chick the teenage son sort of likes, and the random chick’s jerk boyfriend. Also, Eli Roth, who is not required to act but merely to spray water on drunken t-shirted college girls (and what the point of that is, I dunno, we’ve got naked fucking tits across the screen for much of the film, and we’re supposed to be in any way interested in clothed ones? Who bothers to hold a wet t-shirt contest with chicks who’ve spent all damned weekend in string bikinis in and out of a lake to begin with? It’s like watching a porno director dismiss the stars to film ten minutes of drawings from bathroom walls). And you have the guy from Sliders, who is pretending to be the guy from Girls Gone Wild with the serial numbers filed off him. (It’s been noted in some reviews that this is an attempt at satire, but I would suggest it’s actually just an excuse for gratuitous sex and violence. Robocop may have managed satire in its over-the-top violence, but this is closer to asking your sister’s friends to take off their shirts so you can satirize men who want women to take off their shirts.)
The creepy director (Jerry O’Connell) hires the teenage son of the sheriff to be his location scout around the lake, despite the teenage son having already agreed to watch the underten siblings. The kids agree to lie to mom and stay home and out of trouble, for cash, of course, and promptly decide to hop into the canoe and go fishing on some little barren island in the lake, thus setting up a future rescue of adorable kids rather than just drunken sluts, who, frankly, mostly do not get saved. See? A moral message!
You also have some random earthquake which releases a bunch of prehistoric piranha into the lake who, while crazed with hunger and attacking everything in their path, actually eat surprisingly little of it, and in The Scene You’ve Already Heard All About actually spit food out. Because, you know, millennia in an underground lake and resorting to cannibalism is one thing, but when someone sets out a buffet, it’s only polite to try a little of everything.
Without spoiling it too badly, I will say Eli Roth would probably have wanted to go that way, though he might have preferred going the way that guy from Sliders did. Elisabeth Shue has three kids and no discernible belly, to my partner’s delight. And, holy fuck, people, they make transparent swim fins for a reason! For THAT reason! That reason right there, the two naked chicks making out underwater with the stupid blue flippers on. Man, spend a little cash.
Everybody dies who you’d expect to die (Another pointed theme of the movie: Men who refer to women as “bitch” will die, and people who try to save themselves rather than others mostly will die as well. Who says horror can’t be morally upstanding?), and also a whole lot of people you never see before they die, and now I’m considering a theory that there’s a specific number of people you can kill in a horror movie to hit the sweet spot between too-few-boredom and too-many-boredom. I mean, apocalypse movies are different, having the whole world end seems disturbing on some level, but when they’re killing several hundred people in ten minutes or so, you basically don’t give a damn after the first dozen or so, especially not if they’re people you know damned well you’d fucking hate to begin with. Also, attn: directors. When you’ve got fish killing and maiming several hundred people in ten minutes, it’s fairly stupid to (almost) pause the carnage around minute seven so you can play sad music and kill someone you think we’re supposed to care about. Because, you know, we really won’t.
The resolution of all this caused actual groans of annoyance from the people sitting behind us, being the sort of plan MacGyver might come up with after repeated head trauma. It’s basically the same ending as Piranha 2, with added stupid. (My God, what they can do with advanced movie technology nowadays!)
Also, try not to let your marketing people fuck up the last scare by stuffing it in all the damned commercials.
None of which is to say I didn’t like it. It definitely benefits from low expectations, and I personally will watch anything that involves aquatic creatures eating humans, because I am easily amused. Piranha 3D isn’t My Dinner with Andre, but it’s not Mansquito either, and it is absolutely watchable if bafflingly high budget. To be scrupulously fair about the movie, when it was over I couldn’t remember any lines from it, and neither could my partner. Just an awful lot of boobs and blood. We remember laughing, and at things that were even intentionally funny, but don’t remember what any of them were. So it’s a great movie if you’re looking to waste a couple hours in an amusing and entirely pointless way.
It would actually probably be the best piranha movie I’ve seen if I was, you know, really into blondes or big tits, but I’m not. My nod still goes to Siffy Channel’s Mega Piranha, starring Greg Brady and what turns out to be a surprisingly hot aging Popstar Tiffany (After seeing this one and Debbie Gibson in Mega Shark vs Giant Octopus, I can’t wait for them to cast Britney Spears opposite a hoard of slowly invading venomous sea cucumbers), if only because of the sheer missing-the-pointness of the whole piranha concept. Look, piranha are scary because they’re small enough to sneak up on you, and while one can’t do that much damage, they tend to bring their buddies. If you have piranha big enough to leap from a river and destroy buildings and bridges and naval destroyers, you wind up with a movie where most of their victims die from being crushed, and you have to wonder why they didn’t just CG in, say, meteorites or rains of elephants or something. Killer bees, for example, are scary. But if you’re alone with one of them the size of a polar bear, how much scarier is that than simply being in a room with a pissed off polar bear? Decide what kind of money shot rampage you want your beasts to go on before you pick a genus, is all I’m saying. Especially when the plotlike pseudoreason you’ve decided to go with is, “Well, we wanted to make giant fish to feed the hungry! So, you know, gigantic pack killers who’ve been known to attack humans! I mean, sure, pacu might taste better–or even, say, cows–but what’s the fun in that?” (If you haven’t seen it, do try. Tiffany can’t act and toward the end simply dissolves into a puddle of her own hilarious melodrama, screaming about how she just wants all the fish dead, in amazing imitation of 13 year old girl “I hate you! I wish I was adopted!” tantrums.)
My partner wishes to note that the very worst most unbearably stupid part of this movie was the scene where Agent Taciturn McJaw is attacked by giant piranha who leap from the water, and defends himself by falling on his back and kicking them away one after the other. Also watch for the magically morphing getaway cars in the jungle chase scenes. Given Mega Piranha‘s provenance ( The Asylum–yes, the people who just announced they’ve signed Urkel to star in Mega Shark vs Crocosaurus) it’s possible at least some of the laughs were intentional.
Piranha 3D is inexplicably referred to by assorted reviewers as a remake of the 1978 Joe Dante-directed Piranha (now rereleased on DVD without closed captions), which I guess it sort of is, if you assume they were concerned about being sued for infringement if their plot made any sense. (Director Alexandre Aja says it’s not, but who listens to what the director says?) The original movie, you may recall, involved a climax at a summer camp full of underten girls and significantly less–not to say no–nudity, or for that matter violence. Ah, we were more innocent back then, sort of.
Plotwise, Piranha 3D is actually closer to Piranha 2: The Spawning. But I would say James Cameron still gets to keep his line about the best flying killer fish movie ever, since these guys don’t fly, they just sort of jump. Piranha 2, a largely troubled film that is apparently what scared James Cameron off of attempting plots more complicated than his graphic effects, is a passing fancy, most notable for early eighties hair, Lance Henriksen, and fish that squeak and actually flap their pectoral fins to leave the water. It is not without gratuitous nudity, though we now know that there’s a point far beyond gratuitous.
I’m completely ignoring the 1995 remake, as I haven’t seen it and Wikipedia suggests it’s basically new actors reading the 1978 script, with special effects footage actually lifted from the first movie.
I’ve decided not to see anymore movies in 3D, though. I don’t think my brain works that way. All I got was blurry edges, and flat but layered dimensional effects. It was like ninety minutes of watching crew carry standees of the actors back and forth past each other. Like when your Bible study teacher cut out those pictures of the apostles and pasted them to popsicle sticks for the puppet show, only with T&A and more swearing, though possibly a similar amount of drinking.
In any event, probably the best part of the movie was seeing a great many small children being brought into the theater. It was a matinee, but still. Some eight year old girl was brought in by what was clearly her dad and that friend of her dad’s who her mom thinks is such a bad influence. We moved to sit two rows behind her, because, frankly, I hate kids, and I thought her reactions would be entertaining. In retrospect, we’d have been better off behind the three thirteen-ish boys who were escorted in and abandoned by someone’s mother’s lackadaisical parenting skills. They clearly enjoyed the female nudity (giggles, smirky nudges, “Dude, you’re gettin’ a boner, I can see it!”), the male nudity not so much (gagging, farting noises, “That’s gay!”), and The Scene You’ve Already Heard All About had them yelping and hunching over their laps. That said, the kids all clearly knew what they were in for, and none of them seemed unduly traumatized, which, actually, might mean they’re already fucked up beyond where a movie like this can take their little psyches, but there you go.
The saddest part was the trailer for Tron: The Legacy, at which no one in the theater hooted derisively. Really, audience? Really?
You’ll be delighted to know that the guy at BigHollywood with the silly macho name just loved this movie, especially the naked chicks making out underwater, which for whatever reason didn’t annoy him the same way it annoyed me. Either he was willing to overlook the clunky blue swim fins, or he wasn’t actually focusing on the actresses’ feet. Meanwhile, the Movieguide.org people have apparently elected not to review it at all, which is just as well, I suppose, since they think Eat, Pray, Love is going to lead you into new age darkness. Also, their “high” profanity count is 25 instances, which I’m pretty sure we hear in the first three lines of Jerry O’Connell’s dialogue. After twenty five “fucks”, Ted Baehr probably goes over like a fainting goat and neg-3s your appalling worldview just on principles. If they get around to it, I would expect them to make much outraged note of the fact that Elisabeth Shue’s husband is not in evidence, and possibly to note that the young daughter declares bras unwearably “itchy” as part of its feminist worldview, because they have a way of picking out the weird shit to freak out over.
Focus on the Family’s Pluggedin.com, however, took the hook, and is choosing to look on the bright side, at least briefly–they note that various characters behave heroically in saving the unsaved partiers. Hilariously, they offer as “spiritual content”: “The Wild Wild Girls director whispers to a girl, ‘Your body is a temple and now is the time to give thanks,’ as he licks her bikini-clad and tequila-covered body”. Credit where it’s due, at least they remembered some lines.
The much-touted girl-vomits-at-the-audience-in-3D scene is highly overhyped, but the other Scene You’ve Already Heard All About is gratuitously everything they say it is, even if it makes no real sense. If you want more details, the good folks at themoviespoiler.com provide. There’s also an official movie website piranha-3d.com and, in case you can’t find brief flashes of bare tits anywhere else on the web, a site for the movie’s “Wild Wild Girls” content linked from there. Me, I’m hoping the already-announced sequel (“Piranha 4D: Ad Infinitum” *) will include candiru.
For the record, there are quite a few real life piranha species and some of them… eat fruit. And I have now, in addition to crushing your joy, taught you at least one thing. Unless you already knew that. Lastly, let me show you something pretty, from Ray Troll (No boobies, but if you wander his site you will see a few in paintings, generally in the form of visual puns.) This picture of the prehistoric megapiranha is not yet available on a t-shirt, but lots of other cool things are.
* Yes, I made that up. Not about the sequel, but the title. I’m actually guessing they’ll go with “Piranhas” and skip attempts at sorting out what sequel ordinal this deserves.
Moondoggie: I don’t remember my — probably violent — past. I only know that my name is…Wolverine! SNIKT!
Of course, I also don’t remember what I had for lunch today, even though it’s the same thing I always have, for every meal…
Damn that Weapon X program!
Also, maybe you shouldn’t leave X-Men 2 in the DVD player, and the remote where I can lay on it.
Riley: Welp…guess I better get back at it. Those underpants aren’t gonna fondle themselves…
Before we get to the Pastor’s thoughts on U.S.-Persian relations, I wanted to take a brief moment to nag D.Sidhe about posting her essay on Piranha 3D.
LIAR AHMADINEJAD THIRSTS FOR FIRE
Iranian thug President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad said: “The bottom line is we do not need a bomb. The time for nuclear bombs has ended,” per AP.
Then is he going to wipe out Israel with a teaspoon?
The jawbone of an ass would be more traditional, although it’s not as handy if you suddenly need to eat soup.
Is he going to welcome back his adored Islamic messiah with fireflies?
I don’t know, but I have to wonder: how much do you really adore your Islamic messiah if you plan to greet him with nuclear weapons? Have you thought about baking him a cake, or getting him a gift certificate to Chili’s?
Ahmadinejad is the typical Muslim zealot: liar, liar and more liar.
In Dante’s Inferno, “Alchemists, Counterfeiters and Falsifiers of Words” are condemned to the Eighth Circle of Hell, where they are forced to wear the Persian President’s Flaming Pants, which burns their flesh away, and are uncomfortably snug in the crotch.
He champions peaceful uses of his nuclear plants while daily stapling his own citizens to misery and hopelessness.
Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad in undated file photo.
Why are there Iranians in exile who constantly warn the free world of Ahmadinejad’s madness? They do so for they have suffered first-hand from his clones and himself.
Members of the Iranian Parliment Subcommittee on Pensions and Tax Policy.
Ahmadinejad is surrounded in his executive suites by his satanic cronies. They are murderers, rapists and stealers, like unto their fiendish prophet Mohammed.
Talk about union featherbedding! Why, back during the Bush Administration, we had one guy to handle all three of those jobs! (In the interests of full disclosure we should point out that Dick Cheney seems to have outsourced the rape to private contractors, but we should also note that his cybernetic life support implants aren’t nearly as fancy or efficient as Darth Vader’s — so he can’t be hands-on about everything. Still, his pulseless, electrically-driven, frequently reanimated body is pretty versatile; for instance, after John Kerry conceded the Presidential election in 2004, Cheney celebrated by drinking three Amstel Lights and farting the Imperial March.)
Therefore, when Ahmadinejad courts the UN audience with promises of laying down his bombs for picking up peace doves, he lies superbly.
I am, as you know, a huge fan of the pastor’s work, but the line “laying down his bombs for picking up peace doves” strikes me as particularly poetic, like a Pete Seegar song written by Latka Gravas.
Yet Ahmadinejad and his clique are far more frightening. They lie in order to gain time to construct the final bomb. They smile while delivering hope-filled speeches about peace, all the while craftily scheming the planet’s last hour.
I’m also a bit worried for him. The pastor’s not a young man anymore, and he really needs to stop watching James Franciscus films and eating Mexican food just before bed. Or at least limit himself to The Valley of Gwangi and just one Fresco Bean Supreme.
Ahmadinejad is so married to his messiah’s return that he has spent millions in erecting edifices in the messiah’s honor.
While Pastor Swank’s congregation, the New Hope Church of Wyndham, Maine, meets on a couch (although it can get a little crowded during Easter services, and sometimes the choir has to sit on the ottoman).
Muslims believe in the second coming. They hold to that tenet with all their longings. They say that the messiah left the planet at age 5, only someday to come back when the globe’s surface is on fire.
With the Islamic messiah’s return, Islam World Rule will be secured.
So they’re going to pick up the planet cheap at a fire sale. Smart.
In contrast, this is the biblical Christians’ hope: Jesus followers hold to a second coming of Christ.
The Bible states that Christ Himself forecast His own return to His property, planet Earth.
Unfortunately, much like William Rehnquist’s two homes, there’s a covenant in Earth’s deed prohibing the sale or transfer to “‘members of the Hebrew race.” Sorry, Jesus. Should’a read the fine print.
Christ stated that He would return when the world was caught up in wars and rumors of wars, famines, the increase of sin, family members increasingly taunting one another, persecution of Christians, pestilence, earthquakes, and the gospel preached globally.
If my little sister’s brattiness wasn’t enough to bring on the Apocalypse, I’m beginning to think the Book of Revelations may not be 100% accurate.
Christ stated in Matthew 24:29-31 that His rapturing (“gathering together unto Him”) of the believers from the four corners of the planet would coincide with His open appearance in the atmostphere above the planet.
“Messiah One, this is Houston Capcom…You are cleared for re-entry.”
First up I just want to say thanks very much for the many lovely anniversary wishes. Secondly, I’d like to say I’m sorry to be repaying you with a Doug Giles column, but as you’ve probably noticed, I have absolutely no sales resistance when it comes to jive and alliteration.
Doug can’t understand it. He found a good spot to put up his stand, he laid a burka on the game trail and sprinkled it with doe estrus, and yet he’s been crouching here for two hours and he hasn’t seen a single feminist (although he did take a shot at a guy wearing a plaid shirt and an orange safety vest on the theory it was probably a lesbian).
Given Islam’s enslavement of women and the Sharia erection of the Cordoba Initiative’s chief con man, Abdul Rauf, you’d think N.O.W. and their ilk would now be raising more Cain about this Ground Zero Mosque than they are about Sarah Palin.
Doug poses an interesting question. Why can’t a women be more like a man, if by “man” we mean “a social, easily panicked animal which can, under the right circumstances, be persuaded by a single screaming man on horseback to follow the rest of the herd over a cliff.”
Why should one think this?
Because one is a moron?
Well, it’s principally because Sharia kind of sha-whizzes on hard-won women’s rights, that’s sha-why.
Duh. Yet we’re not hearing a whole heck of a lot from the fiery feminists regarding this Ground Zero affront and what it could entail for the girls among us. Yep, we’re hearing crickets from the virulent vixens of the lovely Left who vie for women’s rights.
And Hollywood, where are the bra burners of Tinseltown?
Given that they’ve lately been replaced by the Koran-burners of Gainesville, I’m feeling a little nostalgic for the innocence of incendiary lingerie. By the way, Doug, since you’re demanding the National Organization for Women adopt a position on a lower Manhattan community center — something a bit outside their bailiwick – what’s your opinion on the torching of religious texts? As an ordained cleric with a hobby church, that would seem to be within your area of competence — or, if that’s overstating it, at least your field of interest. So where do you stand, Doug? You’re fine with lighting up the Koran, but you draw the line at incinerating the Book of Mormon? You’re okay with the medieval penchant for burning the Talmud, but you object to stoking the furnace with the Avesta, or the Icelandic Sagas?
I figured they’d be on this topic of Muslim mama oppression like Clinton on a chunky intern, but alas … nada.
Which is weird, because I thought they’d be on this topic like Ted Haggard on a woman. Which is to say, not at all.
Why the silence, pussycats?
Well if you don’t know, I’m not going to tell you.
Does it not jive with your agenda?
I just checked the NOW website and here are their “Priority Issues:”
Constitutional Equality Amendment
Violence Against Women
So no, it would appear that “local zoning issues” are not a major part of their agenda. It’s like calling PETA a bunch of sell-outs because they’re not demanding more stringent safety regulations for recumbent bicycles.
Y’know, the fact that some rapscallion like Rauf can actually table support for Sharia law and then go balls-to-the-wall with building a Mosque within spitting distance from where we were attacked on 9/11, and then you—the supposed champions of chicks everywhere—do not go Twisted Sister over this bloody BS is both odd and revealing.
It sounds like Pastor Giles just applied a fresh coat of lip-glossolalia.
Nope, the fems’ fixation remains on Palin. Palin is the threat. Palin is the She Devil. Palin is the one who gets the nasty jabs—and not Islam and the potential spread of Sharia from sea to shining sea.
You ladies really have to learn to pick your battles — preferably imaginary ones, like Helm’s Deep, or Mons Badonicus.
I know what you fembots are thinking:
“That guy must get penis envy every time that little red meat thermometer pops up on the turkey.”
Sharia can’t happen here, right? Cha?
No, it’s Che.
Yes, we’d never allow Muslims to take us back to Bedrock legislatively. And I’m equally sure that’s what our snaggle-toothed feminist cousins in the UK thought right up until September 2008.
Facts be damned, however. For the feminists, the menacing foe they have to stave off remains Sarah and not Sharia.
Maybe the girls will more properly calibrate their hysteria once Sharia starts appearing frequently as a Fox News commentator. And what with the influx of Wahhabist money into News Corp, it shouldn’t be long now. Say, wait a minute, Doug…you’ve appeared on Fox News too! So along with that Scripture-burning question, maybe you’d like to tell us just how long you’ve been lining your pockets with Saudi gold.
Last time I checked, liberal lassies, Mrs. Palin does not believe that …
- Women are inferior to men.
- Women should have fewer rights and responsibilities than Larry the Cable Guy.
But she does apparently think that Larry the Cable Guy should have more rights than American Muslims.
- Women should be horse whipped if they ever make their husband feel like a dork.
Given that there are a billion and a half Muslims in the world, our best chance for peace is an attitude of mutual respect, and the cultivation of ties with liberal and moderate members of the faith, and the best way to do that is to imply that every Muslim holds extreme fundamentalist views.
- Victoria’s Secret Miraculous Bra (with extreme level 5 cleavage) makes God angry.
That reminds me of the time I saw four women in chadors emerge from the Frederick’s of Hollywood flagship store on Hollywood Boulevard, laden with shopping bags.
- Girls can be wed beginning at the ripe old age of frickin’ nine.
Really? All of them? Everywhere? Because in the world’s largest Muslim country, Indonesia, the marriageable age is 21 (16 with parental consent). It’s 18 in Doug’s home state of Florida, 16 with parental consent. In Iraq it’s 18, but only 15 with the parents’ blessing, which is undoubtedly due to our civilizing influence. Under the previous, secular government, it was probably legal to wed a zygote.
- Women should be cool with hubby having a couple of hoochies or female slaves on the side.
Doug, I refuse to continue this conversation until you put down the Gor novel and zip up your pants.
- Women, on the pretext of “honor,” should be locked up, isolated and unable to have a girls’ night out at Mango’s on Ocean Drive.
Doug’s a little bitter, since back in the 90s he made some decent money moonlighting at Mango’s. However, he’s gotten a little older and a touch craggier, the pecs aren’t quite as perky as they were, but he still picks up some spare change laundering and Bedazzling the younger dancer’s cock-socks.
Yep, last time I checked, Miss Sarah ain’t down with the above, but you know who is? I’ll tell you (because your lack of Ground Zero Mosque angst is auguring for the return to the cave man era): the Crapslinger Extraordinaire, Ground Zero’s grand zero, male chauvinist Imam Abtool Rauf. He likey Sharia.
And you, as you’ve oft told us, are down with Leviticus — sounds like you have a lot in common. You two should go have a pork-free boys night out.
So, my question is this: From an equal rights standpoint, why in God’s name do you, the Liberal ladies who are supposedly so earnest for fair treatment for the fairer sex, go after Palin and not the women’s rights-refusing Imams who think Sharia is the shizznah?
It’s hard to believe that major feminist organizations decline to take their cues on women’s rights from Doug Giles, but hey — that’s pussycats for ya.
It’s Saturday, which means it’s time to answer the many Google queries that have brought people to World O’ Crap. This week, the human body seems to be a source of enormous confusion, rather than the usual shame and tingling.
1. witch’s teat plant: I’m guessing this is a decorative shrub which sprouts little buds in cold weather.
2. sword of the new world moppet: A mid-70s Japanese anime series, this was a perhaps ill-conceived attempt to meld the Pippi Longstocking books with Robert E. Howard’s Conan the Barbarian stories.
3. lipbalm is it a cure for homosexuality: Um…Yes! Yes it is. In fact, we’re selling it right now in our CafePress store (“It’s the Chapstick for Chaps Who Wish They Didn’t Love Another Chap’s Stick!”) and there’s a bulk discount available for members of the House Republican Caucus.
4. vagina with bullhorns: According to his therapist’s notes, this is a recurring nightmare suffered by Newt Gingrich.
5. father in law hairy chest: Really? The World Wide Web’s only been around since 1991, and we’re already out of good ideas for porn?
6. After chewing tobacco skin feels dead: Well, perhaps you should chew skin first, and then chew the tobacco afterwards for dessert. Unless you intended the skin as a palate cleanser.
7. jew penis slideshow: As I recall, this is how we passed rainy days in Junior High.
8. ann coulter tits: I’m sorry Googler, but as Ponce de León learned, you can’t discover what doesn’t exist.
9. build a boner: Despite many requests from prominent Furries, Build-A-Bear is still failing to provide adequate genitalia options.
10. man sitting showing junk less is more: I don’t think this is a question, I think these are simply words to live by.
And now we come to our Open Source Q&A section. What do you, the WO’C reader at home think?
11. Doug Giles the cussing pastor?
12. prettiest duggar girl
13. DAN PEEK – DOER OF THE WORLD
14. sex woman shooting guns
15. dick cheney explodes
It’s World O’ Crap’s seventh blogiversary today, and with s.z. back and sharing her unique brand of brilliance (not available in any store!), I’m feeling particularly festive. So here’s a special Pre-Post-Friday Multimedia Beast Blogging…
SEE! Moondoggie as the repressed and conflicted Jimmy Stewart part!
GASP! at Riley, as the wild and sexually adventurous Euro-babe! No man can own her! No underpants can tame her!
Do you dare click and watch…?
Thanks to reliable farm club WorldNetDaily, we have another rookie wingnut to scout today: Meet Dr. Nancy Pearcey. Dr. Pearcey “is editor-at-large of The Pearcey Report,” which seems to be a sort of Huffington Post for people who’ve had a tamping rod blown through their left frontal lobe like Phineas Gage. A sample of articles gracing the front page at press time:
Prop 8 Ruling Could Criminalize Christianity, Leaders Warn
FAKE HOMELESS Rake in Thousands
Prop 8 judge called ‘tyrannical activist devoted to satisfying himself’
CAN Black People Think for Themselves?
‘Faggot’ Easy to Defend
So it’s not like they’re trying to push an agenda. Come one, come all; if you’ve got a pierced frontal lobe, whether from an industrial accident, or that lobotomy your parents were talked into when you were a rebellious teen, then you’re welcome at The Pearcey Report. By the way, when I say “Dr. Pearcey,” I’m following the form of address favored by Philadelphia Biblical University, Langhorne, Pennsylvania, in their press release announcing Pearcey’s appointment as “scholar for Worldview Studies at the Center for University Studies.”
Dr. Nancy R. Pearcey, Christian scholar, educator, author and speaker, has been named Scholar for Worldview Studies at the Center for University Studies at Philadelphia Biblical University.
Dr. Pearcey will teach, speak and write on the integration of Christian thought with scholarship and the application of Christian perspectives to the academy and across the culture.
The release wraps up with the good doctor’s academic credentials.
Pearcey earned a Distributed Studies Degree from Iowa State University and Master’s Degree in Biblical Studies from Covenant Theological Seminary in St. Louis. She then pursued graduate work in the history of philosophy at the Institute for Christian Studies in Toronto.
But it outran her.
In addition, she holds an Honorary Doctorate in Religious Education from PBU.
So PBU appointed Dr. Pearcey a scholar after appointing her a doctor. Now that’s the kind of vertical integration that would have made Andrew Carnegie blush. Meanwhile, her Wikipedia bio tells us that:
Pearcey is a senior fellow of the Discovery Institute‘s Center for Science and Culture, the center of the intelligent design movement. Pearcey has played a role in a number of controversies surrounding the institute’s campaign to challenge and ultimately unseat the teaching of evolution.
[She was] a contributing editor for the young-earth creationist Bible-Science Newsletter from 1977-1991
…which would suggest that, despite her honorary degree, she’s a moron. But hold on a second! According to Nancy’s much longer bio at The Pearcy Report, she was also:
Heralded as “one of the few female intellectuals in evangelicalism” (Evangelical Outpost), Nancy has ad- dressed staffers on Capitol Hill and at the White House; actors and screenwriters in Hollywood; sci- entists at labs such as Sandia and Los Alamos.
So even though she spent 14 years pushing the young-earth hypothesis, she’s not stupid enough to think the planet is 6000 years old. She thinks it’s more like 6 million years old, but just looks really good for its age.
Anyway, now that we’re acquainted with the Honorary Doctor’s bona fides, let’s see how a female intellectual handles those flesh-dissing queers:
After a chilly reception from the crowd during a two-night stand in Key West, Abbott and Costello stopped doing this version of their classic Vaudeville routine.
The ruling by Judge Vaughn Walker to strike down Proposition 8 raises a host of issues that go far beyond the California case. Especially troubling is Walker’s view of gender. His ruling makes the sweeping assertion that “gender no longer forms an essential part of marriage.”
However, “gender remains a part of this complete breakfast.”
This declaration is being quoted in astonishment for its sheer breathtaking exaggeration. Yet it reveals a pivotal element in the liberal view of human sexuality.
Liberal ethics is based on a fragmented view of the human being that pits biology against choice.
And biology hates choice! It was perfectly happy keeping the four piece bedroom set, but the studio audience kept yelling at biology to “take the curtain!” and then it turned out to be a years supply of Rice-A-Roni.
Its roots go back to the French philosopher Rene Descartes, who proposed that the body is a machine controlled by a completely separate thing called the mind. The ghost in the machine.
That’s why his Syfy show, Rene Descartes: Ghost Hunter! mostly consists of colonoscopy footage.
As philosopher Daniel Dennett explains, “Since Descartes in the 17th century we have had a vision of the self as a sort of immaterial ghost that owns and controls a body the way you own and control your car.”
Thanks to the sub-prime lending crisis, however, your body is worth a lot less than you paid for it, and some ghosts are just choosing to walk away from their mortgage.
In other words, the body is no longer regarded as an integral part of the human person but as sub-personal, functioning strictly on the level of biology and chemistry – almost like a possession that can be used to serve the self’s desires.
That’s the most the elaborate euphemism for masturbation I’ve ever seen.
This is the philosophy that underlies arguments for same-sex “marriage.” The assumption is that our bodies have nothing to do with our identity as persons. And that, therefore, anatomy can be overridden by sheer self-expressive choice.
You see, homosexuals? Your body isn’t gay; it’s just haunted by the ghost of Franklin Pangborn.
The denigration of physical anatomy does not stop with same-sex “marriage.” The cutting edge issue today is transgenderism, a movement that rejects the distinction between male and female itself as a mere social construction – and an oppressive one at that.
According to the New York Times, several universities now offer separate bathrooms, housing and sports teams for transgender students who do not identify themselves as either male or female. Some schools no longer require students to check male or female on their health forms. Instead, they are asked to “describe yourgender identity history.”‘ In other words: Which genders have you been over the course of your lifetime?
This opens many new opportunities for the makers of romantic comedies. Instead of having to engineer patently artificial devices to keep a couple apart (she’s getting married — to another man! He’s just gotten circumcised at age 30 and can’t use his penis for 90 days or he’ll void the warranty!), writers can just keep the characters out of gender sync for the first two acts:
HARRY: And it’s not because I’m lonely, and it’s not because it’s New Year’s Eve. I came here tonight because when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.
SALLY: Well that’s great, but as of the first of the year, I’m reclassified as neuter.
Gender has become a postmodern concept – fluid, free-floating, completely detached from physical anatomy.
Apparently, gender has become Slimer from Ghost Busters.
“What we have here is what we call a non-repeating phantasm, or a class-5 free roaming gender. Real nasty one too.”
Several states have already passed laws mandating that schools and workplaces accommodate transgenders, and supporters are pushing hard for the same laws at the national level. In 2007, California passed a law requiring schools to permit transgender students to use the restroom or locker room of their preferred gender, regardless of their anatomical sex.
This is shocking, and an outrage! Unless you follow Dr. Pearcey’s link, in which case you’ll see that the law actually just adds gender identity to the state’s non-discrimination law. But hey, if an idiot like Janet Folger could get away with lying about a similar law in Colorado, then surely “a scholar for Worldview Studies at the Center for University Studies,” can pull off a little legislation legerdemain.
The new law redefines sex as socially constructed gender: “Gender means sex and includes a person’s gender identity and genderrelated appearance and behavior whether or not stereotypically associated with the person’s assigned sex at birth.”
As an intellectual and an expert in young-Earth issues, Dr. Pearcey believes that gender is determined by genitals, because they both start with “gen.” Also, she rejects the notion that gender dysphoria is a serious problem deserving of legislative attention, when Congress still hasn’t dealt with the threat of pteranodons plucking us from our yards and carrying us off to their high, rocky aeries.
Note the assumption that your sex is “assigned” to you, as though it were purely arbitrary instead of an anatomical fact.
Assigned sexing is too rigid for me. I prefer festival gender.
The law is being used to impose a secular liberal worldview that dismisses physical anatomy as insignificant, inconsequential and completely irrelevant to gender identity.
As I show in “” this represents a devastatingly disrespectful view of the physical body. It alienates people from their own bodies, treating anatomy as having no intrinsic dignity. No dignity is accorded to the unique capabilities inherent in being male or female.
Yes, but as long as we’re bringing Descartes into the conversation, let’s not forget that in The Description of the Human Body (1647), he wrote that “neither the manroot and its fecund spheres, nor the feminine cleft possess an innate dignity in and of themselves, unless they happen to be wearing spats.”
Ironically, Christians are often dismissed as prudes and Puritans because of their “repressive” sexual morality – and yet the Christian worldview actually affirms a much higher view of the body than the liberal, utilitarian view. It offers the radically positive affirmation that the material world was created by God, that it will ultimately be made whole by God and that God was actually incarnated (made flesh) in a human body.
So stop getting married, homos! It’s causing confusion, and now Jesus doesn’t know what restroom to use.
In the ancient world, these claims were so astonishing that the Gnostics rejected them, and tried to turn Jesus into an avatar who only appeared to have a human body. They could not accept the idea of a Creator who celebrates our material, biological, sexual nature.
I’m predicting the next sentence will be a link to Nancy’s Jesus/Judas slash fiction.
Today’s liberal elites such as Judge Walker may pose as enlightened liberators, but in fact they are secular Gnostics, treating physical anatomy as having no intrinsic dignity or purpose. In an unexpected twist of history, it is once again Christians who are defending a high and holistic view of the human person.
I don’t know, Nance. You guys have had some luck with using “judicial activism” as a rallying cry, but I don’t really see “secular Gnostics” sweeping the nation. Maybe you should just stick to defending “faggot.”
Female, male…Can they get along, without driving each other crazy?
“Guns don’t kill people — looks kill people. Fortunately for you, I have my eyes set on Stun.”
“You ever have one of those days where you just can’t get the Old Spice theme out of your head…?”