I was looking at Google Trends the other day and something strange stood out to me: A rather unfamiliar name appeared three times in the top ten search result with two different spellings. I knew immediately that I had to do some kind of investigation to find out who this man was and why everyone was searching for information about him and the faux-celebrity known as Tila Tequila.
Michael Arrington of TechCrunch was undeservedly spat upon in Munich. After tossing a loogie Arrington’s way, the Raging Spitter fittingly disappeared into the crowd.
Can the battle for land and minds ever be won is Israel and Palestine?
Continue reading → Palestinian Video Surveilling of Israelis
Does perceiving violent acts — real or imagined — change the shape of your brain and how it processes information? The blunt — and likely unpopular — answer is, “Yes.”
Continue reading → Violent Imagination Shaping Brain Reality
Terrorism is not a single, violent, act.
Terrorism is living in fear of what might happen and not what has happened.
Carrie Underwood is a big star and she exploded as one of the winners of American Idol.
I find Ms. Underwood to be rather boring and without an invigorating personality, but the fact that her debut country album sold over 6 million copies says something about my taste in music or what country music fans find valuable in the promotional package that is Ms. Underwood’s carefully crafted good-girl facade made of peaches-and-cream and lots of virtuosity in the name of God and His only son.
Continue reading → Is Carrie Underwood a Jesus Invoker or a Vigilante?
Ugly is everywhere. Some of it is visual. Most of it is internal. None of it is ever hidden.
A lot of it used to be punished via Ugly Laws. Some of the best Ugly Advice I was ever given came to me as a 
youngster in the form of punches to my face from a crew-cut boy two years older than me — but in my same fifth grade class. His name was Alex.
He was a bully. He wore a perpetual scowl.
He outweighed most of us in class by 75 pounds.
Everyone hated him.
Everyone admired his giant fists and punching power.
He was a brute in a boy’s body.
He was a boulder that gathered moss.
While the rest of us wore mop-top bowl haircuts, Alex waxed the ends of his crew cut and shaved the base of his neck every morning.
Alex imparted his reality to me in a flurry of blows to my face after I had taken the advice of my mother’s boyfriend to “stand up to a bully and fight him on your own turf!”
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