I’m at a friend’s cabin for the weekend. The same cabin I was at the day I made my very first post way back in July. Nostalgic! Everyone else is out running errands, but I opted to stay behind and blog by the warmth of the fireplace. Not because my calves are killing me from the punishment I inflicted upon myself at the gym yesterday. No, sir. I stayed because I care. About the Quran. And writing about it. Yup. Nothing to do with my inability to walk. It’s Quran time.
Wow. I got an email from a reader named Ray (hi, Ray!) saying he’d nominated me for a 2009 LadyBlogger awards at Culture 11, which is run by religious conservative Bill Bennett. Yup. I’m repping the atheists in the Best Religion Blog category. I’d never heard of LadyBlogger or Culture 11 or Bill Bennett until just now, but it’s still pretty cool. If you feel like voting for me, you can do it here. If you don’t feel like doing it, that’s cool too, you lazy summabitch. No wait. It isn’t. Vote for me.
By the way, check out the criteria for nomination:
Someone thinks I have professional-level grammar and style? The fuck? Seriously??
HolyDude emailed me this comic and — oh em eff gee — I had to share it with you guys:
Whathefa? Seriously? Seriously?? Mo actually ordered people to drink camel piss? News to me! I looked up the verse to verify that this is actually what it says, and guess what? The full hadith is waaaaay more fucked up than just a little urophagia.
Narrated Abu Qilaba:
Anas said, “Some people of ‘Ukl or ‘Uraina tribe came to Medina and its climate did not suit them. So the Prophet ordered them to go to the herd of (Milch) camels and to drink their milk and urine (as a medicine).
Mohammed ordered a tribe to drink a camel milk-n-pee smoothie to cure their aversion to dryness? OK. I get that. According to Wikipedia, urine therapy was a form of alternative medicine in several ancient cultures. See? Alternative medicine was just as silly and kooky then as it is now. People are advised against drinking urine because it might — besides just being plain old gross — give them a rash. Or, as in the case of the ‘Ukl / ‘Uraina tribe, it might cause….urine madness.
So they went as directed and after they became healthy, they killed the shepherd of the Prophet and drove away all the camels.
The pee-drinkers turned into pee-zombies and killed a guy. Then they chased away the camels, which is dumb considering that’s where their “medication” is coming from.
How did the good prophet react to all of this? With vengeance, of course!
The news reached the Prophet early in the morning and he sent (men) in their pursuit and they were captured and brought at noon. He then ordered to cut their hands and feet (and it was done), and their eyes were branded with heated pieces of iron, They were put in ‘Al-Harra’ and when they asked for water, no water was given to them.”
Did you catch all of that? One more time, in bulleted form:
- Mo had the tribe captured.
- He had their hands and feet cut off.
- He branded their eyes with hot iron.
- He dumped them in Al-Harrah (a large volcanic field near the Jordanian border)…
- …with no water. So they can’t even make more piss to drink.
Wow. Just wow. And in case you’re thinking maybe Mo wasn’t such a nice guy after all, the hadith ends with some good old fashioned enabling:
Abu Qilaba said, “Those people committed theft and murder, became infidels after embracing Islam and fought against Allah and His Apostle.”
It’s never Mo’s fault when he has to torture and murder someone. It’s their fault. It’s always their fault. He’s great, you’re crap!
Anyway, here’s what seems more likely to me. Mo tells the tribe to drink the “medicine” and they believe him. They believe in him enough to drink warm camel milk (desert, remember?) mixed with warm camel pee (pee’s warm). This does nothing for their climate woes, and they realize just how full of shit Mo was. They got pissed (no pun intended), killed the shepherd and chased away the camels in revenge. And you know the rest.
And with that, I’m off to make a pee-milkshake to cure my aching buttcheeks. I had one of those killer workouts yesterday that left everything from the waist down in agony. Hurts. So. Good! Have a lovely Saturday and I’ll be back soon with more desert fun. Stay tuned!
Felicia Gilljam, who happens to be a beekeeper(!), tagged me for this meme that I filled out over my morning coffee. I have to take a second here to complain about how horrible the coffee at work is. Worst. Coffee. Ever. I’ve had to sacrifice my morning coffee time at home so I can hit the gym and get all buff. So I wait till I get to work to have my first awful cup. The good news is that I’m saving a fortune by drinking free coffee at work. And, because the work-coffee tastes like shoe, I tend to drink less of it. The bad news is I think endorphins might be my new coffee. Sweet lawsie mercy, I can’t wait till tomorrow when I can have a cup at home.
Anyway, meme time.
Here are the rules:
- Link to the person who tagged you.
- Post the rules on your blog.
- Write six random arbitrary things about yourself.
- Tag six people at the end of your post and link to them.
- Let each person know they’ve been tagged and leave a comment on their blog.
- Let the tagger know when your entry is up.
- I keep my shoes in clear plastic shoe boxes I got from the Container Store. I have 20 boxes, and my rule is to never have more shoes than I can fit in the boxes. I stuff 3 pairs of flats into 1 box and pat myself on the back for finding a loophole.
- I got my cat from Craigslist. A hippie was moving to Alaska to live in a tent and grow organic food for himself. At the very last minute, he realized a tent was no place for a cat. He was 6 at the time. The cat, not the hippie.
- I am an awesome baker. Cookies, cakes, pies, brownies, damn near anything. From scratch. But…
- …I don’t eat sugar. I just really enjoy the process of baking. You’d think KafirBoy would weigh 300 lbs the way I shove cookies down his gullet.
- I collect urban vinyl toys. This is my favorite little lady:
Gag! Cute overload.
- I live in NYC. Yup. I’m outing myself. I still feel anonymous, though, since there are a bajillion brown folk in the city. Booyah!
I’m going to go all rebellious middle child on ya’ll and break the last 3 rules. I’m not tagging specific people. I’m tagging everyone. Share 6 random things about yourself. Gimmie something to read when I get bored and antsy at 3:00. It’s Friday, after all. Annnnnd go!
I’ve re-read chapter 16, but haven’t really had the time to write anything about it. Alas, I’ll just have to update you on how life is going.
I followed through with my new year’s resolution to join a gym. I’ve gone every day this week for a 30 minute morning workout. Still getting used to the whole being-naked-in-front-of-strangers / locker room thing. I would be the worst stripper ever. Seriously, if you ever needed to be reminded of how puritanical Americans are, the locker room’s the place to do it. A friend of mine shared her experiences in a Paris gym lock room — naked women hanging out, having conversations, showing one another dance moves they’d picked up in class. Yeeeeeeah. I need to be woman enough to do that.
Speaking of ye olde flesh, I’ve got the itch again. No, not that kind of itch. Gross. I’ve got the itch to get another tattoo. And I’ve already come up with the idea for it.
A couple of years ago, my mother and I were watching some nature show. They did a segment on peacocks mating — the males all feathered up and strutting, colors everywhere. My mom watched in awe and then sighed, “God truly does favor the men, doesn’t he?” In case you didn’t know, peahens don’t have the colors or the tail. Everybody’s always oohing and aahing about peacocks, and I doubt most people even know what a peahen looks like.
Anyway, what my mom said got under my skin. It pissed me off and made me sad at the same time. It’s one of those things that bothered me — probably a lot more than it should have, but whaddyagonnado? I argued with my mom for a while and finally convinced her that the stupid tail makes the peacock stick out and thus more likely to be killed and eaten.* Screw those guys. Viva la peahen.
For whatever reason, when I think feminism, I think peahens. (Don’t ask me — I’m not sure how my brain works either.) And it kinda bothers me a little when I see girls with peacock tattoos (pretty common, Google that shit). I’m not sure what keyword triggered this, but Google gave me this yesterday: Female Peacocks Not Impressed by Male Feathers. Pssh. Go, girls!
That got the old noggin whirring, and a decision was made: for my next double-middle-finger to the “good” lord, I’m getting a peahen inked on me. I told a friend about my plan and she had this to say: “It’s like telling society, ‘up your nose with a rubber hose.'” My friends are weird.
Anyway, chapter 16 will be up just as soon as I get around to writing about it. Stay tuned. And stay warm…it sucks out there.
* I don’t really know if that’s true, but those fuckers are just asking for it.
Like I said in the last post, there isn’t much excitement in chapter 15. It’s mostly just a regurgitation of the same boring old bullshit. The story I’ll break down in this post has come up a few times already. I thought it was worth examining in detail, because — come on! — it’s about the devil.
He may well be the only interesting character in the Quran. And, as I learned in this chapter, he may not be such a bad guy after all. If he actually existed, I might feel kinda sorry for the guy. Shit, I might even invite him over for a beer & ice cream pity party. We probably have a lot in common; hating God and all.
…OK, fine I’m not really dying. But I do feel like shit. I have the flu. I got it when I was telling a sick co-worker of mine to feel better, and she coughed in my face mid-sentence. No joke. I had my mouth open and everything, and she coughed in my fucking face. She didn’t cover her mouth. She didn’t turn her head. She looked me in the eye and went *A-HACK!* Ugh. I’m getting all queasy just thinking about it. I’m taking a couple of sick days and using them to blog from my couch. Whoo!
Something to not Whoo! about: apparently I’ve already read chapters 15 – 18. I read them way back before my work life took over my life life. I made a ton of notes in the margins and everything. The sad part is that I don’t remember any of this, and I have to sit through those same fucking chapters all over again. Boo! Hiss! I guess that’s what I get for procrastinating. …still. Boo! Hiss!!
Lets get chapter 15 over and done with so we never have to think about it ever again. OK? OK! Jump on in.