The worst thing about being a fake convert is that this stuff, it follows you home.

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I mentioned this to a friend of mine yesterday because I found it hilarious and unexpected. I was then politely informed that I should rename my blog “Oblivious Pagan Stating the Obvious.” That name is much too long and stupid. I’m going to tell you about it anyway. Continue Reading

I can’t remember when I decided to become Catholic. I think it was that night I had too much Jameson during a Boondocks Saints movie night. Or it could be that time I was really drunk and started a word-fight with a Christian cookie-peddler outside of a campus bar. I still insist that she had it coming, being outside campus pubs peddling Jesus cookies, shukum it was!

Somehow, I had a plan. I would wander into the Catholic bookstore downtown and shly look at rosaries. The proprietor, about whom I had solid word was a friendly soul, would offer assistance. I would bat my big blue eyes and meekly explain that I’d like to know how to pray with it. A conversation would blossom, I would sell my aforementioned back story, and begin attending services. I would get baptized on April 1st and many lols would be had.

The first part of that worked like a charm. I even asked if Jesus would still be my friend if I had tattoos and divorces. I swear, I asked it just like that. This well-meaning woman earnestly answered all my questions with great sincerity that I privately, stoically brushed away, just like Momma taught me. She sure hated emotions, my Momma.

The second part was way off and much less fun, so much harder. I was actually just in time to start attending classes. Yes, convert classes. The program is called RCIA and involves three hours of my week be sacrificed to biting my tongue. I also try to make an appearance at Mass a few times a week.

There are so many rules and drills that go along with being a Catholic that lately it seems over whelming. It isn’t really though, I just ran out of coffee and enthusiasm for a little bit. I just have to show up, memorize a few things, and pretend to believe. They did give us this pop quiz the other week, though.

The other day I chanced upon, what may be the greatest video in the history of the Intertubes, which I wasn’t to share will all ya’ll.

It’s Justin Beiber getting RoboCop’d. For 10 hours.

Yes.

You’re welcome.

My name is Cera Blake. I grew up in a non-religious, anti-Christian household. However, my mother grew up Catholic. She left the faith before I was born, but her devout mother always hoped that I would be different. I didn’t know how much she had hoped for that until my youngest cousin handed me a letter she had written for me shortly before she died. It was scrawled on the hospital’s paper, and was barely legible. In this letter, she told me that she’d been praying for me to find the touch of God. Her letter appealed to me to give Catholicism a chance — to honor her by attending at least one Mass. I was so touched, of course I had to do it. I went to a Tuesday afternoon Mass, where I felt the power of faith and the wonder of the cathedral. It’s been two months, and I am now taking mandatory classes before I can be baptized and call myself a Catholic. I look forward to this journey of learning and discovery, and I’ll be blogging about what I learn and how it changes me.

My name is Cera Blake, and none of that is true. That’s just my cover story. In truth, I am a Pagan and strongly against organized religion. I do, however, have some free time. So I’m really going to blog about the mysterious inner workings of the church. I’m a philosophy major in a state university, single, tattoed, pierced, and opinionated. If I can keep my mouth shut and not mess up my back story until Easter, I will be baptized, and then I win at religion.

Sorry, about not blogging. I’ve been distracted between packing, sword-fighting naked lesbians, moving back to my ancestral homeland, building quality hardwood furniture, and helping Darren run his dojo. Amidst this, I got a message from my good friend Cera*. We haven’t talked in a while. She wanted to tell me that she was converting to Catholicism, which is funny, because she’s a witch. Sadly, being a witch is not nearly as awesome or boner-inducing as The Craft made it out to be.

She wanted to know if I wanted to blog her story, for my “dirty, heathen website.” I agreed, because as she explained, she’s converting to Catholicism, but with no real intention of believing in it; it’s just a hoop she has to jump through to hopefully snag some scholarships.

“I’m undercover,” she sold me with a wink emoticon.

“Better yet,” I told her, “You can just blog about yourself and use a false name. I can set you up on my site.”

That’s the great thing about SuperFunAdventureTime. We have no sponsors to get upset, we host ourselves, and we’ve no real expenses. (Those aren’t real ads; Kyle just finds them aesthetically pleasing.) As a part to our continued commitment to excessive free speech, Cera has been made a regular contributing author. There’s nothing holding us back from saying whatever we want, and there’s nothing holding you (yes, YOU) from writing on here if you’ve got something to say.

“I think that would be pretty awesome. You would be surprised the things they talk and pray for in mass. It’s a different world in there.” she said.

“As a former Catholic, I know all too well,” I tell her. “Yeah, blog about what you see. Hold a mirror up to Catholics from an atheist-pagan perspective.”

That kind of melted her brain, because she, like 40% of the people I’ve met in the last five years, thought I wore yellow hats every day because of the mistaken belief that I’m an eccentric Hassidic Jew.

Also, apparently atheism and Wicca can go together in an internally-consistent way. This was news to me, I always though that atheism and Wicca would mix together as well as ice cream and mung.

“Wicca, it’s not very organized, so there’s no doctrine. Most Wiccans believe in a god and goddess, and some like to pick from various pantheons and collect them like PokeMon or something. I personally have more of a respect for the duality of nature and I enjoy the philosophies of Wicca. So no, I don’t believe in gods or magic.”

I tried selling her on Taoism, which I think is what she’s after, and got to work making her an account.

“I will definitely be all up in this for a while. My least favorite thing about Wicca is Wiccans,” said Cera.

Well, at least everyone can agree on something.

So, enjoy our new sub-blog, “Cera Blake — Undercover Witch.”

______________

*Actually a pseudonym.

This post is a collaboration between Mike Brownstein of Politics and Pucks and myself. I’ve been staying on Mike’s couch the last couple of days.

The night was growing old. Mike was playing Return to Dark Castle; I was going on Wiki-walks. We were chatting politics, as we generally do, usually about the crazy Republicans and their horrid pasts. Michelle Bachmann popped up into the conversation, like she does.

So, we wiki’d her, and saw that Michelle Bachmann has been a keynote speaker for “You Can Run But You Cannot Hide International,” which is apparently the Christian Spinal Tap. You Can Run But You Cannot Hide International, or YCRBYCHI (no, seriously) is a ministry that goes into high schools and attempts to reaffirm “disappearing” Judeo-Christian values via the Christian rapcore/nu-metal band Junkyard Prophet. We could, and probably ought to write about them, but it’s a lot more effective to let them damn themselves by talking to you:

Junkyard Prophet (previously known as Reign of Kings) is the crux of their ministry and their primary media outler. Their leader, drummer, Bradlee Dean, is a de facto Tea Party advocate, with a “degree” from the Institute on the Constitution. He also has put together a movie entitled My War, which is apparently a documentary about many different facets of society as seen from Dean’s perspective. Fortunately, their ministry appears to have been contained to the Phantom Zone of reason which is the Midwest, and the deep South. Presumably the international part implies and only refers to the occasional jaunt into Canada, much like Erie International Airport.

You might also have noticed around 2:33 in the video, that this ministry is located in Real America, meaning Anandale, MN. Their headquarters is a storefront, next to the Pizza Works & Deli, across the street from a bowling alley, and around the corner from a Snooty Fox Adult store. So this neighborhood is surely one to be saved. Not to mention this is actually located within Rep. Bachmann’s Congressional District.

By their own running tally, they’ve performed 331 of their high school assemblies. This is one of their singles, “Betta Beware”

If this is truly their message, they should avoid the following:

-        Sean Hannity

-        Glenn Beck (actually, everyone should, in an abstract, general sense)

-        Fox & Friends

-        Infowars

-        Alex Jones

Because this group cannot heed their great advice, they have engaged the media. by recently, suing Rachel Maddow for defamation. The funny part is that the defamation suit can’t actually point out an act of defamation. You see, when there’s public information, and someone uses said public information negatively towards you, while citing it — that’s not “defamation” — that’s “news.” If Maddow claimed that YCRBYCH kills thousands of newborn children each day with their legions of invisible pink unicorns with laser-beam horns, that would be defamation*.

Bradlee Dean has been a guest on Alex Jones’ Infowars, and others shows that wish to support this right-wing patriot, who is trying to save America from its doom by endorsing the genocide of the LGBT community, noting that:

Our position is not libertarian because we cannot accept the idea that sex is a private language. But we are not authoritarian because we do not believe that persecution is going help homosexuals.

Okay, so that is kind of hateful towards GBLT individuals, but that’s not all!

Bradlee Dean is also a regular contributor of “Sons of Liberty,” an AM talk radio call-in show advocating a world where America is to defend itself from other governments to prevent the creation the New World Order.

So if these guys are using the media to put out their message, we figured that we might as well see what they have done on-line as well. To do this, Mike suggested using Klout scores**. Bradlee Dean has a klout score of 46, which, after some goofing around, was determined to be equal to the early-90’s monstrous balladeers, Nelson. Ryan still listens to some of their singles, even though he holds them accountable for the fall of hair metal.

“Really? I score better than Nelson — I mean, c’mon!” said  Mike, incredulous.

We kind of lost track of things for a while, wondering where they laid on the scale of influence. Then, we went one step further and compiled our findings into a table. We were kinda in the zone.

The point is, Michelle Bachmann is running for President of the United States. She has crazy friends, and that these skeletons will come out since she’s kind of out in the open. The fact she has not even made a press announcement about how she is going to distance herself is not surprising and should be taken as a note of merit for her background. Her silence speaks volumes. She endorses this behavior. She wants your kids to be subject to this during school hours — instead of learning science, math, art, music, or metal shop. These are the tomorrows she will create all over this great land. We must stop her, because metal shop was awesome.

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* Unless Maddow thought it to be true to the best of her knowledge after careful research.

** The Klout score is a poor metric, but Mike didn’t tell me until afterward, as I was having to much fun.

Falling in love is all the fun is all the fun of touching the stove, but with none of the valuable life lessons.

Every hubcap ever stolen is inexplicably now hanging on the wall in a bar somewhere.

Why has no one ever electrified the accordion? You could make oootz-oompah, or “Ootzpa.” If Folkno ever become as real thing, for whatever reason, Wikipedia better cite this page.

Just sayin’.

Sailor Jerry needs to stage a mutiny and kill off the wretched Captain Morgan. Just sayin’.

“I think this is guac? It better be guac, it’s green.” — JD, cleaning his minifridge after being away for a month.

My friend E.J. sent me this:

I’m not sure, but I think this is the best way to introduce children to the arts since the Scarface school play.

Edible panties never seem to come in Sour Cream & Onion.

What would a centaur cavalryman look like?

Could centaurs even form a cavalry? To me it seems like it would just be more infantry.

Moving sucks. Fortunately, you can get always some extra hands to help you lug your shit, for free. Go to http://mormon.org/missionaries/ to call them out.

In the perfect world of my wandering mind’s eye, Christopher Walken becomes the new lead singer for Cake.

Do not marinate chicken in a Wal-Mart bag.

Back in 2003, our parents and grandparents were distraught that our generation didn’t have a Vietnam. So, to rectify this, they consented to a needless and prolonged war, with the intention on dashing out  before the waiter came back with the check, to take refuge in their snuggly graves.

A couple of months went by, and I was still pretty angry about this, so I drove to Erie to get a good workout in. The people in my dorm told me that if I was going into Erie, that I ought to avoid Upper Peach, since it was blocked off. I didn’t have any business up there, and it didn’t seem like anything of consequence until I realized that Upper Peach Street being blocked off was the top story on goddamn CNN.

Thus began the strange tale of one of Erie’s biggest celebrities, Brian “Pizza Bomber” Wells.

Earlier in the day, a couple of people ordered some pizzas. When they came, they locked a time bomb around the deliveryman’s neck, and gave him a homebrew cane gun and a list of banks to rob.  For every bank he robbed, he would be given extra time. When time ran out, game over.

So he went to the PNC bank, o’er by the K-Mart on Upper Peach, and explained that he had a gun, and wanted $250,000 or his head would asplode. The teller explained that they didn’t have that much money in the drawers, and that they had to get the money from the vault. So, Wells told them to open the vault. The teller told him that she couldn’t open the vault, and that no one could. A timer was part of its locking mechanism, so the vault could open at the beginning and the end of the day.

So Wells left and kinda chilled in the parking lot.  Right around this time, the cops decided to make an appearance. Wells told him his side of the story, and after about half an hour, the cops realized he was serious. Then Wells blew up. Shortly thereafter, the bomb squad showed up. The local TV stations actually filmed his death, but never used that footage out of respect for the deceased, which is doublespeak for “the FCC won’t let us.” It was leaked onto the internet within five days. eBaum still has it, because it’s interesting and he didn’t make it.

I remember my mom, shocked and appalled at that news: “I can’t believe it! People would let something like that get out… and actually watch it?”

I too, was shocked and appalled: “I can’t believe it took five days for that to get on the internet. That’s waaaay to long…”

Well, the FBI stepped in, and seven years later, all guilty parties are jailed or dead. It’s a long and convoluted tale of extramarital affairs, bodies in freezers, hitmen, and killing your way into an inheritance. The FBI knew there were three people involved, and the twist in the plot was that the Pizza Bomber himself was in on the plot. I only knew it was a matter of time before the Pizza Bomber fiasco was made into a movie. I just always thought it would be a trailer trash version of Chinatown, and not a buddy comedy.

I’m still going go see it. I just think it would be better as a noir.