About Me

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Miami, Florida, United States
Every time I eat whole fish I fear for days that I have swallowed a bone. Perhaps my abdomen is absolutely lousy with them, I would have no idea. Thanks for coming and remember to take off your shoes before coming into the living room, I'm quite fond of the carpet.

Monday, December 10, 2012

Adventures in Atheism: In which the author pisses off 350 million people and hopes they are as peaceable as their religion dictates


Buddhist Bigotry: A look at the patriarchal beliefs of America’s “liberal” faith
            “…of course, some women can be difficult! I sympathize with feminists, but they must not merely shout. They must exert efforts to make positive contributions to society” – His Holiness, the Dalai Lama.
            If that quote sounds to you more like an excerpt from an Ann Coulter book than the prepared speech from the leader of one of the world’s largest religions, you’re not alone. When Buddhism first gained ground in the U.S. some of its first converts were liberals, hippies, feminists and gay men and women who were disillusioned by the conservative beliefs of evangelical Christianity [Boucher]. To this day, Buddhism still counts among its number many influential liberal celebrities and enjoys the reputation of being a religion of peace and equality. However, the core teachings of the church are as patriarchal and oppressive as the society in which it originated, and to this day the practice of the faith is extremely gendered. Buddhism may have started as a progressive alternative to Brahmin Hinduism, but even with the influx of thought from Western religious thinkers, it remains staunchly patriarchal.
            The Bahudhātuka-sutta, one of Buddhism’s central texts, states outright and repeatedly that a woman cannot achieve Buddhahood, the goal of all practicing Buddhists. A woman’s body, the text claims, is poorly suited to achieving enlightenment and women have to wait until the cycle of reincarnation brings them back as a male human [Murcott]. Women should still dedicate themselves to the faith, the text goes on, as it increases their chances of a male reincarnation [BDEA]. Basically, the best fate a woman can achieve in Buddhism is to be reborn with a penis, a sentiment so blatantly sexist the G.O.P. will be running it as a Senate candidate in 2016.
            Women who seek to become ordained in the Buddhist faith face an uphill struggle. First, they will have to have the good fortune to not be an adherent to the Theravadan school of Buddhism, as that sect has not had a process for women to become nuns for several hundred years [Slone]. Given the treatment of Buddhist nuns, this may be a mercy. Nuns must obey many more rules than are imposed on monks, and must bow to every monk they encounter. Jutsun Kushala, who is widely respected as a spiritual leader and educator in the West, must work a full-time job to fund her practice while her male counterparts are provided for by the faith [Gross].
            The faith also imposes no shortage of restrictions on laywomen. Though one of the faith’s central teachings is the rejection of binaries and absolutes in favor of the “middle way”, abortion [Harvey], homosexuality [Lau] and sex work [Peek] are all seen as absolute moral wrongs. If mental gymnastics was an Olympic sport, Buddhism would be disqualified for doping.
            An encouraging trend in Western activism and feminism is an increased solidarity with minority groups fighting for civil rights and equality. A practitioner of Buddhism will have to look somewhere other than their faith for guidance in this struggle, as the faith argues that individuals who possess dark skin do so because they showed they were unworthy of fair skin in their past incarnations [Gethin]. While typing that sentence, I became very concerned for the residents of Montgomery, Alabama as I was nearly certain their city would be destroyed by all the rolling in Dr. King’s grave.
            Those who look to Buddhism as an escape from the severe gender roles enforced by Christian faiths will also find themselves disappointed. As Rita Gross points out, Buddhism views “compassion” as a “masculine” trait and “wisdom” as an inherently “feminine” one. I, for one, could not create something so arbitrary without punching my keyboard, so I suppose I must commend Buddhism on its creativity.
            Despite the assertions by celebrities and hippies alike, Buddhism is not some egalitarian alternative to the Abrahamic faiths. It is a religion founded in patriarchy that proudly perpetuates that patriarchy. While radically egalitarian in its original setting, in modern day Western societies, it has a more reactionary outlook than even most conservative political dogmas. The only thing it has to offer those serious about gender equality is a splitting headache.

Works Cited
Boucher, Sandy. Turning the Wheel: American Women Creating the New Buddhism. Boston, MA: Beacon, 1993. Print.
Murcott, Susan. The First Buddhist Women:Translations and Commentary on the Therigatha. Berkeley: Parallax, 1991. Print.
"Buddhist Studies: 3. Q & A on Women in Buddhism." Buddhist Studies: 3. Q & A on Women in Buddhism. BDEA, Inc., 2008. Web. 28 Nov. 2012. http://www.buddhanet.net/e-learning/history/wbq03.htm
Jason Slone, D., and Joel Mort. "Sexism vs. Superhuman Agency in the Theravada Buddhist Ritual System." Method & Theory in the Study of Religion 17.2 (2005): 134-48. Print.
Gross, Rita M. Buddhism after Patriarchy: A Feminist History, Analysis, and Reconstruction of Buddhism. Albany: State University of New York, 1993. Print.
Harvey, Peter. An Introduction to Buddhist Ethics: Foundations, Values, and Issues. Cambridge, UK: Cambridge UP, 2000. 311-20. Print.
Lau, M. P., and M. L. Ng. "Homosexuality in Chinese Culture." Culture, Medicine and Psychiatry 13.4 (1989): 465-88. Print.
Peek, John M. "Buddhism, Human Rights and the Japanese State." Human Rights Quarterly17.3 (1995): 527-40. Print.
Gethin, Rupert. The Foundations of Buddhism. Oxford [England: Oxford UP, 1998. Print. P.121 and others.
Gross, Rita. "What Went Wrong? Feminism and Freedom from the Prison of Gender Roles.: An Article From: Cross Currents [HTML] [Digital]." Amazon.com: What Went Wrong? Feminism and Freedom from the Prison of Gender Roles.: An Article From: Cross Currents: Rita M. Gross: Books. N.p., n.d. Web. 28 Nov. 2012. <http://www.amazon.com/Feminism-freedom-prison-gender-roles/dp/B0008DMKF2>.

Thursday, December 6, 2012

I've been listening to too much "This American Life".

My first car was a red 2001 Kia Sorento. The day I got it was one of the best in my life. I took her on the road immediately. She had some miles on her, she had bad gas mileage and she had the dings and dents you'd expect. I saw none of that. To me, this car was perfect, a shining beacon of hope on four wheels.

When I took her on the highway for the first time, my heart felt like it could burst. As we hit 90 together, she was shaking almost as much as my hands but I wasn't scared. We could do this. We could do anything. For the next few years, we were inseparable. Me and my Kia were like Joanie and Chachi, Burt and Ernie, the Citizen and his cane. As my friends could attest, I would barely make it any further than the mailbox without her.

She never had any trouble on the long, hard drives I took her on, so I kept right on thinking she was invincible. The fender benders we got in barely left a scratch on her. She was tough, and I was too young and too damn dumb to even know what fear was.

Time took its toll, but in my eyes, it was the kind of toll you pay on some back-country road with no name. If I had really looked, I would've seen what my friends were already kind enough to inform me of every time they braved a journey in the old girl: it was more like taking the Jersey Turnpike and losing your ticket. The scratch along the right side from a particularly sneaky fence, the stud marks on the roof and hood from people who cared more about looking cool than about my precious ride, the dent on the bumper from when a tire gave out south of Yonkers and left us stranded in North Jersey. From time to time, the check engine light started coming on, and before I had time to worry, off it would go again.

The first time it started acting up, I just threw some more fluid in the radiator, changed the oil, replaced a couple belts. When the mechanic warned me of the cliff up ahead, I just threw on my blindfold and slammed the accelerator harder.

The damage started adding up. She was no longer the hyper-responsive blaze of glory I had made my first road trip in all those years ago. I laid off the gas some, I no longer attempted the ambitious 40 mile an hour U-turns I had become somewhat infamous for. Too little, too late.

One day I was taking her home from work and everything went wrong at once. The heat started rising, the steering gave out and the suspension took the day off. I pulled over for a while, thinking a little time to cool down would somehow fix the unfixable and that she would get me home safe, as she always had before. We made it a few more miles before she gave out entirely. I stayed in the car for about an hour, half to shield me from the rain, half out of some foolish belief that against all odds she would run again for me. I eventually found myself standing outside smoking a cigarette and waiting for a tow. I wondered how I got there, in the middle of nowhere standing next to a motionless hunk of Korean steel. It would've been obvious to anyone else, but not me. I was too attached.

I drive a Corolla now, and I get the oil changed every 20,000 miles like a real grown-up. Everytime I see a red Sorento, I wonder if its mine. I wonder if its the same car that took me from one end of the coast to the other in a misguided attempt at romance, the same car that had seen the consumption of nearly as much box wine as gasoline, the same beautiful fucking vehicle that got me safely around the wrong side of 20th street all those nights where we tried to turn baking soda into magic and winding up with regrets and sore throats instead. I saw a family in one the other day and I was happy to think it might have been mine, it just felt right. She was never meant for high-speed dashes across the state line, this was what she was best at.

I miss that car, but fuck if this Corolla isn't a better fit. Maybe it's the car, more likely it's me but I don't think I'm going to find myself waiting for a tow any time soon.

Tuesday, January 31, 2012

Remember,
A public notice regarding Rick Santorum. If you link Rick Santorum with the web sitehttp://spreadingsantorum.com/ then that tends to keep Rick Santorum name properly associated with the frothy mixture of lube and fecal matter that is sometimes the by-product of anal sex. Something about Google bots picking up Rick Santorum's name each time Rick Santorum is mentioned and linked online like that. So to review, when you link Rick Santorum with the web site http://spreadingsantorum.com/ then that tends to keep Rick Santorum's name properly associated with the frothy mixture of lube and fecal matter that is sometimes the by-product of anal sex. Evidently this happens every time Rick Santorum's name is mentioned and linked online, so please be careful when you do mention Rick Santorum's name, and especially when you may associate Rick Santorum with the web site http://spreadingsantorum.com/ and then further referenceRick Santorum with the frothy mixture of lube and fecal matter that is sometimes the by-product of anal sex. Thank you for the opportunity to provide this notice about Rick Santorum.

Doing my part, I hope you all do yours.

Friday, January 20, 2012

HUH?!

Before embarking on this sanity-vampire of a blog entry, I recommend you go www.andreabejarano.com and take a look at the pretty things.

Back?


Cool. Time to tackle Kanye's twitter. HUH?!
I'm torn by what Ye means by this tweet. If the "us" in this tweet refers to people as a whole, then it's a tad inspirational. Alternately, Kanye West believes he owns the Earth and considers what he does "work".


Kanye West is against putting his money into gold because it doesn't actually shine like it does in cartoons. Alternately, "creativity" is the name of the gumball machine he is determined to get to the bottom of.


I think I need to take a closer look at this.
Sterling Archer has a message for you, Yeezy.


Top world DESIGNERS?! PLURAL!? Kanye knows not one, but multiple gods. I am freaking out, man.


Warning to parents: Kanye West is trying to teach your kids.


I'm not leaving out the context here. Trust me. I looked at his other entries for minutes trying to figure out what he was talking about. If this statement is in reference to something, it is a mystery to everyone except possibly Ye himself.


After being discovered by Kanye West, the noble assassins knew what they must do. They lifted their blades to their throats and slit their arteries. Kanye finds dishonor HILARIOUS.


HUH?!


Your local convent also doubles as a brothel and funeral parlor. The more you know.


I feel like exchanging ideas with Kanye would be like sexting with Cthulu. Trying to understand Kanye's mind is like popping a pancake in a Blu-Ray player you plugged into a pineapple and expecting your car to start.




Nobody knows what it means! But i's provocative! It gets the people going!


Wait. Just hold your horses for a minute. He was in talks to be a part of the FUCKING JETSONS movie and then got upset when someone realized how goddamn batshit that is?! That's batshit inside batshit inside batshit. SHITCEPTION.


I can't find the words to describe how suspicious those quotations make me. I haven't been this worried about a piece of punctuation since my ex-girlfriend cheated on me with an exclamation point.



This makes every other first world problem I've ever heard seem like an Ebola outbreak at a Gambian orphanage by comparison. Perspective is everything, kids.

Kanye West may not fully understand the importance of investor confidence.

Kanye West plans on doing some questionably legal charity work.


"Yes, and for dessert I'll have the scallop ice-cream soup." To be fair, Thom Yorke and M.I.A. together would make the greatest buddy cop movie of all time.

The tweet so nice, he posted twice!

Do we have any strong evidence that Kanye West isn't an eight year old perched on a fat kid's shoulders? It would explain so, so much.


Okay, we're straying from relatability again.


Mr. West should run for president. He has tons of credibility with the oh-so-vital working-class gay Nazi robot demographic.


And apple burrito and curly fries and a diet Pepsi and what the hell was I just talking about?


Kanye West turned into a curmudgeonly oil baron so fast even his fans were surprised. I wouldn't blink twice if I walked out on the street tomorrow and saw him wearing a Gucci monocle.


"Did I mention how humble I am? Overly humble even."

My brain feels like it just hiked up a mountain of loud cacti and then rolled down. The things I do for y'all...

Wednesday, January 18, 2012

SOPA would make the content used on this blog, and good ones as well, illegal. Read more about it and please sign this petition.


http://sopastrike.com/modal/strike-modal/index.html 

P.S. To coincide with the internet blackout, I myself will do the same. Give me bad ideas, friends. 

Tuesday, December 27, 2011

Gift Exchange Shenanigans

Howdy all. As my contribution to a gift exchange a few days ago, I offered to write a children's book about whoever drew my prize. Now, I'm not exactly sure what a children is, but here goes nothing.

The Adventures of Brave King Paul
On the morn' so cold it would reduce a polar bear to tears, Brave King Paul stood naked, his body like a glistening God's, on his balcony, surveying the wide breadth of his kingdom.

What Paul saw with his keen eyes caused him to bellow with surprise. The ensuing avalanche would claim countless lives.
The avalanche.
Wondering if perhaps it was just his eyes playing tricks on him after another exhausting night of drinking whisky by the barrel and loving women by the dozen, he called his brother and trusted sheriff Bernard to his side.
"GREAT ODIN'S RAVENS! Surely my eyes deceive me!" But deceive was the one thing Brave Bernard's eyes could not do. Many furlongs away, obscured by a wall of fearsome frost, a wicked beast approached at tremendous speed.
Paul was puzzled, but when provoked, Paul was not a person who paused to ponder. He called for his army, causing another tragic avalanche.
R.I.P.
Knowing his army was no match for the foul beast, Paul grabbed his famed sword, K'runch known in all the realms as the maker of widows, the father of orphans and genocide's fierce bedfellow. 
With violence incarnate grasped firmly in his statuesque hand, Paul and his allies marched to the gates of his kingdom, ready to face this horrid result of interdimensional inbreeding. 
Admit it, you would watch this movie.
The beast struck quickly, it's tentacles thrashing about like the whips of one thousand foremen. It spewed acid from it's horrid visage, displeasing Paul immensely.
His troops were scattered, his previously immaculate hair sodden by one of the foulest of Hell's beasts, Paul's bloodlust remained unsatisfied and all-consuming. Paul decided to give this beast a taste of it's own medicine.
Though his skin was a scaly material not unlike reptilian titanium, the mighty K'runch in Paul's mighty hand was sharp enough to slice open his throat, unleashing a forceful shower of his blood, which at this point was a lethal mix of magma and hate. The creature stood shaken but not defeated. The battle raged on.
And on.
And on some more.
With both Paul and the beast growing weary and dangerously low on their bodily humors, they summoned every bit of their strength and charged into each other with the force of an elder God's balls striking a volcano during a passionate embrace. 
After regaining his senses, Paul looked at the sorrow their clash has brought, his kingdom in ruins, his army decimated, bloodstains on his clothes he was NEVER going to get out. The beast, still clutching onto dear life, shared a look of mutual respect with King Paul. Paul knew he would have to repopulate his kingdom anew, and he knew the only being worthy of being his queen.

After they had made their love, Paul looked again at his new wife and saw her transformed! No longer a mind-breaking abomination, his bride was instead a beauty worthy of the admiration she would so easily engender.
Brave King Paul rebuilt his kingdom with the help of his beautiful wife, their veritable army of loin-product and his trusty hat-maker, Joseph. 

Fin.