Mack Hall
Americans generally sneer at the religions of others. I think this is a fine tradition that we should maintain, for in some other nations folks cut off each other’s heads for not agreeing on professions of faith.
But maybe religious persecution by our own government is now upon us, as it is in little kingdoms ruled by little men with badly-dyed beards.
In Oklahoma the local Equal Employment Opportunity Commission, also known as Unemployable Liberal Arts Graduates Living on Your Tax Dollars and Bothering You, is suing Abercrombie and Fitch for religious discrimination against a teenybopper. The allegation is that said child was denied a job at A & F because her Muslim head scarf would be a violation of A & F’s dress code.
The horror!
And you thought William Tyndale had it rough.
The lawsuit contends that A & F discriminated against Samantha (yes, that’s her name) on the basis of her religion.
The problem is, they didn’t.
Anyone who has seen an Abercrombie & Fitch ad – resulting in awkward explanations to one’s children as to what those teenagers in the pictures are doing with and to each other – will understand that A & F is not about religion. A & F wants to sell clothing – tho’ their models aren’t wearing any -- and cruises on the south side of pornography in doing so.
Apparently A & F are wholly uninterested in Samantha’s profession of faith in anything; they simply expect her, if hired, to follow their dress code just like all other employees. That is so totally equal. And anyway this dress code is clearly far more modest for A & F’s store employees than it is for their models.
Samantha, naturally, is humiliated and distressed and suffering grievously. Yes, I can imagine that’s pretty much how Thomas More felt as he heard the executioner touching up the old axe with a file and whistling a happy worker’s tune.
I think Abercrombie and Fitch should neither defend themselves nor apologize; they should sue Samantha and all the little prissycrats at the EEOC, for it is they who are persecuting on the basis of religion.
Imagine a Christian teenager working at Abercrombie and Fitch and saying to a customer "Sure, I’ll be happy to sell you this hootchie-mama outfit, but first I’d like to share with you some words from St. Paul regarding modesty…"
The subsequent interview with the supervisor would end with the words "…and we’ll mail your final paycheck to you."
And so it should. No one applies for a job with A & F unaware of how they do business.
Or consider another girl applying for a job as a dancer at Rocky’s Elegante’ Gentleman’s Club, and then demanding, on religious grounds, to remain stationary and fully clothed while on stage.
Ain’t happenin’.
What Samantha, her religion, and the Equal Opportunity Blah-blah seem not to understand is the concept of freedom.
No one has a right to a job at Abercrombie and Fitch or anywhere else. If the applicant and the company agree on terms, then they contract with each other as free Americans. If they do not agree, then they are both equally free to ignore each other.
This applies to all of us. If a business can be prosecuted by the United States government simply for being itself, and required to spend immense amounts of money defending itself against religious hatred, so can you. If you were to say (and I’m sure you wouldn’t) "I disapprove of Islam" – or maybe "I sneer at Catholics" or "I think Methodists are goofy" or "Baptists are rotten singers" – would you be hounded into poverty for it by your government?
The United States Equal Opporploppery-Something says yes.
Freedom of religion must of necessity include freedom from religion. If I am vouchsafed a vision of The Cosmic Bubba out by the dairy barn, then I am free to walk about the public streets and maintain that the one true religion is the Church of The Cosmic Bubba, and that I am Cosmic Bubba’s holy prophet. My fellow citizenry are equally free to dismiss me for being almost as off-the-planet as Glenn Beck, and my boss is free to require me not to wear my one-foot-high pectoral image of The Cosmic Bubba on a day-glo chain while on the job. Under the Constitution I have no legal claim against others for not believing in The Cosmic Bubba and accepting me as The Cosmic Bubba’s prophet, curses be upon their pancreases.
Hey, folks, we gotta vote. Voting makes freedom work. We may have to walk around the armed thugs in berets to get to the ballot box, but as Jerry Clower said in another context, "They can kill us but they sure can’t eat us."
Saturday, September 19, 2009
Freedom from Religion -- Thank God
Mack Hall
Americans generally sneer at the religions of others. I think this is a fine tradition that we should maintain, for in some other nations folks cut off each other’s heads for not agreeing on professions of faith.
But maybe religious persecution by our own government is now upon us, as it is in little kingdoms ruled by little men with badly-dyed beards.
In Oklahoma the local Equal Employment Opportunity Commission, also known as Unemployable Liberal Arts Graduates Living on Your Tax Dollars and Bothering You, is suing Abercrombie and Fitch for religious discrimination against a teenybopper. The allegation is that said child was denied a job at A & F because her Muslim head scarf would be a violation of A & F’s dress code.
The horror!
And you thought William Tyndale had it rough.
The lawsuit contends that A & F discriminated against Samantha (yes, that’s her name) on the basis of her religion.
The problem is, they didn’t.
Anyone who has seen an Abercrombie & Fitch ad – resulting in awkward explanations to one’s children as to what those teenagers in the pictures are doing with and to each other – will understand that A & F is not about religion. A & F wants to sell clothing – tho’ their models aren’t wearing any -- and cruises on the south side of pornography in doing so.
Apparently A & F are wholly uninterested in Samantha’s profession of faith in anything; they simply expect her, if hired, to follow their dress code just like all other employees. That is so totally equal. And anyway this dress code is clearly far more modest for A & F’s store employees than it is for their models.
Samantha, naturally, is humiliated and distressed and suffering grievously. Yes, I can imagine that’s pretty much how Thomas More felt as he heard the executioner touching up the old axe with a file and whistling a happy worker’s tune.
I think Abercrombie and Fitch should neither defend themselves nor apologize; they should sue Samantha and all the little prissycrats at the EEOC, for it is they who are persecuting on the basis of religion.
Imagine a Christian teenager working at Abercrombie and Fitch and saying to a customer "Sure, I’ll be happy to sell you this hootchie-mama outfit, but first I’d like to share with you some words from St. Paul regarding modesty…"
The subsequent interview with the supervisor would end with the words "…and we’ll mail your final paycheck to you."
And so it should. No one applies for a job with A & F unaware of how they do business.
Or consider another girl applying for a job as a dancer at Rocky’s Elegante’ Gentleman’s Club, and then demanding, on religious grounds, to remain stationary and fully clothed while on stage.
Ain’t happenin’.
What Samantha, her religion, and the Equal Opportunity Blah-blah seem not to understand is the concept of freedom.
No one has a right to a job at Abercrombie and Fitch or anywhere else. If the applicant and the company agree on terms, then they contract with each other as free Americans. If they do not agree, then they are both equally free to ignore each other.
This applies to all of us. If a business can be prosecuted by the United States government simply for being itself, and required to spend immense amounts of money defending itself against religious hatred, so can you. If you were to say (and I’m sure you wouldn’t) "I disapprove of Islam" – or maybe "I sneer at Catholics" or "I think Methodists are goofy" or "Baptists are rotten singers" – would you be hounded into poverty for it by your government?
The United States Equal Opporploppery-Something says yes.
Freedom of religion must of necessity include freedom from religion. If I am vouchsafed a vision of The Cosmic Bubba out by the dairy barn, then I am free to walk about the public streets and maintain that the one true religion is the Church of The Cosmic Bubba, and that I am Cosmic Bubba’s holy prophet. My fellow citizenry are equally free to dismiss me for being almost as off-the-planet as Glenn Beck, and my boss is free to require me not to wear my one-foot-high pectoral image of The Cosmic Bubba on a day-glo chain while on the job. Under the Constitution I have no legal claim against others for not believing in The Cosmic Bubba and accepting me as The Cosmic Bubba’s prophet, curses be upon their pancreases.
Hey, folks, we gotta vote. Voting makes freedom work. We may have to walk around the armed thugs in berets to get to the ballot box, but as Jerry Clower said in another context, "They can kill us but they sure can’t eat us."
Americans generally sneer at the religions of others. I think this is a fine tradition that we should maintain, for in some other nations folks cut off each other’s heads for not agreeing on professions of faith.
But maybe religious persecution by our own government is now upon us, as it is in little kingdoms ruled by little men with badly-dyed beards.
In Oklahoma the local Equal Employment Opportunity Commission, also known as Unemployable Liberal Arts Graduates Living on Your Tax Dollars and Bothering You, is suing Abercrombie and Fitch for religious discrimination against a teenybopper. The allegation is that said child was denied a job at A & F because her Muslim head scarf would be a violation of A & F’s dress code.
The horror!
And you thought William Tyndale had it rough.
The lawsuit contends that A & F discriminated against Samantha (yes, that’s her name) on the basis of her religion.
The problem is, they didn’t.
Anyone who has seen an Abercrombie & Fitch ad – resulting in awkward explanations to one’s children as to what those teenagers in the pictures are doing with and to each other – will understand that A & F is not about religion. A & F wants to sell clothing – tho’ their models aren’t wearing any -- and cruises on the south side of pornography in doing so.
Apparently A & F are wholly uninterested in Samantha’s profession of faith in anything; they simply expect her, if hired, to follow their dress code just like all other employees. That is so totally equal. And anyway this dress code is clearly far more modest for A & F’s store employees than it is for their models.
Samantha, naturally, is humiliated and distressed and suffering grievously. Yes, I can imagine that’s pretty much how Thomas More felt as he heard the executioner touching up the old axe with a file and whistling a happy worker’s tune.
I think Abercrombie and Fitch should neither defend themselves nor apologize; they should sue Samantha and all the little prissycrats at the EEOC, for it is they who are persecuting on the basis of religion.
Imagine a Christian teenager working at Abercrombie and Fitch and saying to a customer "Sure, I’ll be happy to sell you this hootchie-mama outfit, but first I’d like to share with you some words from St. Paul regarding modesty…"
The subsequent interview with the supervisor would end with the words "…and we’ll mail your final paycheck to you."
And so it should. No one applies for a job with A & F unaware of how they do business.
Or consider another girl applying for a job as a dancer at Rocky’s Elegante’ Gentleman’s Club, and then demanding, on religious grounds, to remain stationary and fully clothed while on stage.
Ain’t happenin’.
What Samantha, her religion, and the Equal Opportunity Blah-blah seem not to understand is the concept of freedom.
No one has a right to a job at Abercrombie and Fitch or anywhere else. If the applicant and the company agree on terms, then they contract with each other as free Americans. If they do not agree, then they are both equally free to ignore each other.
This applies to all of us. If a business can be prosecuted by the United States government simply for being itself, and required to spend immense amounts of money defending itself against religious hatred, so can you. If you were to say (and I’m sure you wouldn’t) "I disapprove of Islam" – or maybe "I sneer at Catholics" or "I think Methodists are goofy" or "Baptists are rotten singers" – would you be hounded into poverty for it by your government?
The United States Equal Opporploppery-Something says yes.
Freedom of religion must of necessity include freedom from religion. If I am vouchsafed a vision of The Cosmic Bubba out by the dairy barn, then I am free to walk about the public streets and maintain that the one true religion is the Church of The Cosmic Bubba, and that I am Cosmic Bubba’s holy prophet. My fellow citizenry are equally free to dismiss me for being almost as off-the-planet as Glenn Beck, and my boss is free to require me not to wear my one-foot-high pectoral image of The Cosmic Bubba on a day-glo chain while on the job. Under the Constitution I have no legal claim against others for not believing in The Cosmic Bubba and accepting me as The Cosmic Bubba’s prophet, curses be upon their pancreases.
Hey, folks, we gotta vote. Voting makes freedom work. We may have to walk around the armed thugs in berets to get to the ballot box, but as Jerry Clower said in another context, "They can kill us but they sure can’t eat us."
Sunday, September 13, 2009
I Pledge to...
Mack Hall
Sycophants in an Echo Chamber
A flock of the fashionable, like guinea-hens yakking in middle of the road, recently made public pledges to be the President’s servants in all things dim and dutiful. Naturally they made a MeMeMeTubeMyFace video, and appear to have employed an echo chamber ("I pledge…I pledge…I pledge…"), though perhaps that is merely an effect of vain repetition.
As a response to those craven obedientiaries I propose somewhat more meaningful pledges:
I pledge…pledge…pledge (ya like that echo effect?) to be no man’s servant and no man’s master.
I pledge…pledge…pledge to use real bulbs until Dear Leader’s Light Bulb Czar’s Special Incandescent Action Unit catches me and prosecutes me into oblivion.
I pledge…pledge…pledge to buy the biggest car I can afford and to make frequent and unnecessary trips.
I pledge…pledge…pledge to buy coffee without a Fair Trade label.
I pledge…pledge…pledge always to love America and to remain unsophisticated and non-Euro.
I pledge…pledge…pledge not to pay much attention to Rush Limbaugh or Glenn Beck. The best of folks suffer flaws, but I see no reason why any responsible, self-disciplined American should sacrifice a minute of God’s precious gift of life to a couple of impenitent, dysfunctional, draft-dodging, chemically-dependent, wholly self-centered, shrieking nutters. They seem so European.
I pledge…pledge…pledge to turn the thermostat in my house to where I want it, not to where The Thermostat Czar wants it.
I pledge…pledge…pledge to eat chunks of dead animals more often. Vegetarianism is for Manichaeans.
I pledge…pledge…pledge to employ chemical pesticides and fertilizers on my yard and garden.
I pledge…pledge…pledge never to drink coffee brewed from the excreta of cats. I love ya, Al, but not that much.
I pledge…pledge…pledge to repudiate and resist the edicts of any of Dear Leader’s thirty-three or so extra-Constitutional czars. We don’t need no stinking czars.
I pledge…pledge…pledge that when the grocery store asks me "Paper? Or plastic?" I will ask for both so that I won’t miss a chance to overheat the planet and stress the whales and polar bears.
I pledge…pledge…pledge to do my best to avoid companies who advertise that they are environmentally friendly. If they want me to pay them money for a product or service they’d darned well better be Mackly friendly.
Unlike the rich and slovenly, I pledge…pledge…pledge to dress in clothes that don’t look as if they have been stolen from a Salvation Army donation bin.
I pledge…pledge…pledge to vote, vote, vote. Always.
Sycophants in an Echo Chamber
A flock of the fashionable, like guinea-hens yakking in middle of the road, recently made public pledges to be the President’s servants in all things dim and dutiful. Naturally they made a MeMeMeTubeMyFace video, and appear to have employed an echo chamber ("I pledge…I pledge…I pledge…"), though perhaps that is merely an effect of vain repetition.
As a response to those craven obedientiaries I propose somewhat more meaningful pledges:
I pledge…pledge…pledge (ya like that echo effect?) to be no man’s servant and no man’s master.
I pledge…pledge…pledge to use real bulbs until Dear Leader’s Light Bulb Czar’s Special Incandescent Action Unit catches me and prosecutes me into oblivion.
I pledge…pledge…pledge to buy the biggest car I can afford and to make frequent and unnecessary trips.
I pledge…pledge…pledge to buy coffee without a Fair Trade label.
I pledge…pledge…pledge always to love America and to remain unsophisticated and non-Euro.
I pledge…pledge…pledge not to pay much attention to Rush Limbaugh or Glenn Beck. The best of folks suffer flaws, but I see no reason why any responsible, self-disciplined American should sacrifice a minute of God’s precious gift of life to a couple of impenitent, dysfunctional, draft-dodging, chemically-dependent, wholly self-centered, shrieking nutters. They seem so European.
I pledge…pledge…pledge to turn the thermostat in my house to where I want it, not to where The Thermostat Czar wants it.
I pledge…pledge…pledge to eat chunks of dead animals more often. Vegetarianism is for Manichaeans.
I pledge…pledge…pledge to employ chemical pesticides and fertilizers on my yard and garden.
I pledge…pledge…pledge never to drink coffee brewed from the excreta of cats. I love ya, Al, but not that much.
I pledge…pledge…pledge to repudiate and resist the edicts of any of Dear Leader’s thirty-three or so extra-Constitutional czars. We don’t need no stinking czars.
I pledge…pledge…pledge that when the grocery store asks me "Paper? Or plastic?" I will ask for both so that I won’t miss a chance to overheat the planet and stress the whales and polar bears.
I pledge…pledge…pledge to do my best to avoid companies who advertise that they are environmentally friendly. If they want me to pay them money for a product or service they’d darned well better be Mackly friendly.
Unlike the rich and slovenly, I pledge…pledge…pledge to dress in clothes that don’t look as if they have been stolen from a Salvation Army donation bin.
I pledge…pledge…pledge to vote, vote, vote. Always.
Thursday, September 3, 2009
The Japan-Venus Axis of Miyuki
Mack Hall
Japan’s new first lady, Miyuki Hatoyama, claims to have travelled to Venus on a space ship and to have known Tom Cruise in a past life when he was Japanese.
Oh, yeah. And maybe she took her kids shopping in Paris aboard a Japanese government matter-displacement-machine-thingie.
I think we can agree that the batteries in this woman’s E-meter need replacing.
Mrs. Hatoyama has enjoyed a number of careers, including writing cookbooks. Hey, lady, ya gotta watch those mushrooms in the next edition, okay?
One imagines what the wives’ part of a state visit to the USA might involve, with Mrs. Obama opening the conversation by asking "Hey, would you like to visit the kids’ vegetable garden?"
Mrs. Hatoyama might reply with "Oh, yes! My 2,452 transmigrated oversouls and I had such a lovely garden on the planet Venus several million years ago. That’s Venusian years, of course, not Earth years."
"Er…okay. And perhaps we can have a nice cup of tea outside on this lovely Washington day."
"I’d like that, Mrs. Obama. Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the starship Enterprise used to serve me tea in a galaxy far, far away. A 1960 Ford Galaxy, I think. He always said I would have been his first choice for ship’s counselor, you know."
"Umm…"
"And where are your lovely children, Mrs. Obama? I always say that children make the nicest window ornaments. I just love children; they go so well when stir-fried over charcoal and served with a nice red wine."
"Oh, well, gosh, they had lessons late at school today. I’m so sorry you’re going to miss them."
"Oh, too bad. I was looking forward to telling them about being a Cosmic Geisha at the Space Academy when Tom Cruise was a mediaeval emperor of Japan and well on his way to becoming The Lord High Master of the Universe until he was magicked into a lime-green toadstool by the jealous perfidious chamberlain Snargborth employing the spell-casting Klingon wand he stole from the tormented Keepers of the Blue Cave on the Planet Forsooth in the Fourth Dimension of the Gatekeepers of Doom. He addressed the children on the first day of school, you know. Before he was a toadstool, I mean."
"Oh, yes, my husband did that this year. Rush Limbaugh and Glenn Beck turned red and purple, and almost died of strokes. Not that you could tell any difference with Glenn Beck."
"I so wanted to address all the children of Japan on the first day of school this year, but when my husband the prime minister read my speech about the importance of daily nuclear colon cleansing he suggested that I needed a nice vacation at this darling resort in Switzerland. They had the nicest injections there, and I got to meet Elvis Presley and Michael Jackson. They have such intriguing oversouls, and naturally have visited all the poshest planets. I gave them autographed copies of my children’s cookbook. Hmmm…I wonder who did address the children."
"I’m sure it worked out for the best, my dear. I wonder where our husbands are?…pssst…Secret Service…my location, now…set phasers on stun…"
Japan’s new first lady, Miyuki Hatoyama, claims to have travelled to Venus on a space ship and to have known Tom Cruise in a past life when he was Japanese.
Oh, yeah. And maybe she took her kids shopping in Paris aboard a Japanese government matter-displacement-machine-thingie.
I think we can agree that the batteries in this woman’s E-meter need replacing.
Mrs. Hatoyama has enjoyed a number of careers, including writing cookbooks. Hey, lady, ya gotta watch those mushrooms in the next edition, okay?
One imagines what the wives’ part of a state visit to the USA might involve, with Mrs. Obama opening the conversation by asking "Hey, would you like to visit the kids’ vegetable garden?"
Mrs. Hatoyama might reply with "Oh, yes! My 2,452 transmigrated oversouls and I had such a lovely garden on the planet Venus several million years ago. That’s Venusian years, of course, not Earth years."
"Er…okay. And perhaps we can have a nice cup of tea outside on this lovely Washington day."
"I’d like that, Mrs. Obama. Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the starship Enterprise used to serve me tea in a galaxy far, far away. A 1960 Ford Galaxy, I think. He always said I would have been his first choice for ship’s counselor, you know."
"Umm…"
"And where are your lovely children, Mrs. Obama? I always say that children make the nicest window ornaments. I just love children; they go so well when stir-fried over charcoal and served with a nice red wine."
"Oh, well, gosh, they had lessons late at school today. I’m so sorry you’re going to miss them."
"Oh, too bad. I was looking forward to telling them about being a Cosmic Geisha at the Space Academy when Tom Cruise was a mediaeval emperor of Japan and well on his way to becoming The Lord High Master of the Universe until he was magicked into a lime-green toadstool by the jealous perfidious chamberlain Snargborth employing the spell-casting Klingon wand he stole from the tormented Keepers of the Blue Cave on the Planet Forsooth in the Fourth Dimension of the Gatekeepers of Doom. He addressed the children on the first day of school, you know. Before he was a toadstool, I mean."
"Oh, yes, my husband did that this year. Rush Limbaugh and Glenn Beck turned red and purple, and almost died of strokes. Not that you could tell any difference with Glenn Beck."
"I so wanted to address all the children of Japan on the first day of school this year, but when my husband the prime minister read my speech about the importance of daily nuclear colon cleansing he suggested that I needed a nice vacation at this darling resort in Switzerland. They had the nicest injections there, and I got to meet Elvis Presley and Michael Jackson. They have such intriguing oversouls, and naturally have visited all the poshest planets. I gave them autographed copies of my children’s cookbook. Hmmm…I wonder who did address the children."
"I’m sure it worked out for the best, my dear. I wonder where our husbands are?…pssst…Secret Service…my location, now…set phasers on stun…"
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