Tag Archives: news

Happy Primary Election Day, PA! (A Canvassing Tale)

24 Apr

Photo Credit: Beezwaxxx on Flickr

Hey, I’m posting on a Tuesday.  What could that possibly mean?

It means it’s Lollipop Tuesday y’all.  Strap in, cuz this one’s uncomfortable.

If you have no idea what I’m talking about, jump on the bandwagon by clicking here.  Or just be lazy and keep reading.  You’re bright; you’ll catch on.

I must admit I’ve been rather lax about my Lollipop adventures as of late.  Last I checked in, I entered the macaroni and cheese contest (and surprisingly, took first prize).  But that was quite some time ago and without the challenge to do something new and uncomfortable, I’ve been getting settled in my old, hermity ways.   That’s probably why the idea to go Canvassing scared the bejeezus out of me.

You want to know what Canvassing is.  Basically, you go knock on people’s doors and ask them a few questions keyed toward the campaign you’re representing.  You can also call, but I went balls to the wall on this one.   I went representing the Obama campaign and the Obama folks wanted an answer to four questions: are you going to vote in the primary, who will you vote for, do you have a valid ID, and are you interested in volunteering.

To understand the sheer terror coursing through my veins at the thought of such a task, you have to understand that I don’t even answer my own front door.  When I order food, I ask Dave to answer the door and pay.  When the the adorable 3-year-old boy upstairs comes to knock on my door to ask Dave to come out to play, I don’t answer it.  True story: I saw my landlord pay the complex a visit last week and since Dave wasn’t home, I ran to my bedroom and turned the music all the way down on my laptop.

Needless to say, it was going to take some serious willpower to work up the Jackie Mojo to knock on the front doors of 60 strangers’ houses and try to hold a conversation with them.  I had no idea what to expect or what I was doing.

I showed up at the location at 11:00am and was greeted by some Obama enthusiasts (let’s call them Obamathusiasts). I signed in and was given a packet with a map of the neighborhood that pinpointed houses of registered Democratic voters.  It also contained a script and a list of everyone’s name, age, gender, and address at those houses. Creepy.

Before I knew it, I was seated and talking to a Obamathusiast veteran who was role-playing a front door scenario with me.  I was pretending she was Cara Brentley, Female, 48 years old.  I got the main points of the script and improvised my way through a pleasant conversation in which I answered the questions required of me and everything was glittering with unicorn sparkles throughout.

It’s times like these that Acting degree really pays off.

But I knew it wouldn’t be all unicorn sparkles out in the field.  People are mean.  And they don’t want to be bothered.  And they certainly don’t want to talk about politics.  Did I mention this was on a day the Penguins had a crucial playoff game? I was going to get stabbed by some anti-patriot hockey mom hermit and never going to be seen again.

When you’re afraid of the outside world, every encounter with humanity has potential to end in your death.

The Obamathusiasts broke us up into teams (one for the even side of the street, one for the odd), generously loaded us up with granola bars and water bottles, and drove us to our starting locations.  They were very generous with the food.  So generous, in fact, that I started to wonder if I could get stranded and die out there.  My volunteer shift was only four hours.  Why did I need so much food?  I chalked it up to the likelihood that someone would kidnap me and torture me with hunger in their basement and headed out into the Great Blue Yonder.

Only about one third of the houses actually have someone answer the door.  One was a 92-year-old lady who told me she wouldn’t vote because she’s too old to get out of the house.  I reminded her to get an absentee ballot for November, but she was mostly just concerned with me being sure to close her gate when I left.  I didn’t blame her: leaving it open would eat up at least an hour of her day.  

Surprisingly, for every person who wanted to kick me off their porch to get back the Penguins game or wanted me out of their face because they’re tired of what a joke the political race has been so far this year, there were people who were truly grateful people were volunteering their time to make sure people go vote.

I was about to leave house number 1494 and leave a peel-off sticker to show I’d visited when a woman shouted from her balcony that she was indeed home. I told her I was there with the Get Out the Vote Campaign and that I just wanted to make sure she had all the information she needed to vote in Tuesday’s primary.  She said she planned to vote, we discussed what to do about her concerns with updating her address, and I reminded her that in November she’ll need a valid ID to vote so she’d better bring it along Tuesday to work out the kinks.  She thanked me wholeheartedly and told me I was doing a good thing by giving information to people. I thanked her,  reminded of her polling place and the hours it was open and went on my merry way.

Glittering with unicorn sparkles.

We headed back to the staging area, and I tallied up  my total number of houses versus conversations held and added my sheet to the stack to be reported to the head office at 4pm.  While I sat around wondering if I was done for the day, the Obamathusiasts closed in, trying to get to know me and pushing for me to come out and volunteer again. I stressed that this was a one-time thing and that I just wanted to know what it was like.  But after politely declining several times, I decided it was best to just come clean.  I fessed up to having a blog where I try new and uncomfortable things and that I ventured out that day because the idea of it sounded like death.  I emphasized that this was something like my 60th new thing and if I joined every team I happened upon, I wouldn’t have been able to come Canvassing because it would have conflicted with Scottish Country Dancing up on Mount Washington.

They were surprisingly supportive and lovely.  They asked all about my blog, and told me how to get involved by signing up online in case I ever felt like revisiting this adventure.   And then they all stuck around to pull another shift.

The thing is, they don’t have a whole lot of volunteers.  It’s hard to get people to go outside their comfort zone.  It’s especially hard to get them to give up four hours of their time on a Sunday when they could be home watching the Penguins game.   And though I may not repeat Canvassing, I’ll probably repeat getting involved in a campaign.  There’s something really cool about seeing where polling results come from and there’s something uplifting and encouraging about digging in to the political process and doing work on the ground that gets reported in the media.

When I got on Facebook later, the Obama Campaign’s Facebook page uploaded pictures of volunteers all over the country who knocked on doors to remind people to vote in the Primaries Tuesday.  I also got an email from the Obamathusiasts, thanking all of us for our time and individually noting everyone by name.  My shout out?  To have a Happy Lollipop Tuesday.  They even included a link to my site so everyone could tune in to see what I thought of the day.

Free advertising, a group of nice, enthusiastic folk to try something new with, and I didn’t get murdered?

That sounds like a win. 

Hey! If you’d like to volunteer, you can go to barackobama.com.  Mouse over “Volunteer” to see a list of options.  Just sign up online for an event that you choose, and everything works like clockwork from there.  Turns out these grassroots deals run a pretty tight ship.  And to be fair, if you’d like to speak on behalf of another campaign, head to mittromney.com and mouse over “Get Involved” or ronpaul2012.com and  click on “Volunteer”.  Hey: vote for whomever you like.  Just vote. 

The State of the Union in Awkward Pictures

25 Jan

Ah, the State of the Union Address.  It’s a time for hope.  A time for reflection.  A time to play drinking games with your friends based on the number of Applause Pauses and Standing Ovations.  

I like to watch the SOTU (that’s State of the Union, for the not-trendy-acronym-inclined) because I like to know what the forerunners in the President’s policies are after he’s had some time in office.  I’ve also watched a lot of action movies centered around killing the President so every time all the important people in the national government pile into a room with him, I like to watch just in case one of the Congressmen is actually John Malkovich and he’s there to assassinate people.

But as much as I like to consider myself both politically invested and an action film fan, I have to admit that the main reason I watch the State of the Union is because it’s one of the most deliciously awkward things you can watch in the comfort of your home.  

I don’t ever tune in until 10 minutes after it’s supposed to start because that’s how long it takes for the President to make it to the podium.  But if you want some extra time milking the awkward, you can tune in right on the hour and watch people try to shake his hand that aren’t on his list to stop and shake hands with.  Or you can take careful note of the folks that pull him aside and point to all their friends so that the President has to do an obligatory wave.  You can let your stomach twist as you imagine how these people are trying to ration their hand-clapping power because it’s going to be a long hour and a half, but they can’t possibly stop applauding when the President is still in the middle of his ten-minute-long entrance.

Instead of spending a lot of time discussing the variety of awkward experiences that take place in less than 90 minutes, I decided to take some screenshots for you of the live broadcast I watched online so you could see for yourself where to look for these treasures the next time we’re due for a dose of SOTU.  Enjoy.

This one wasn't so much awkward as it just made me want to tear the tie off his neck. He kept adjusting it throughout the President's speech, which made the lines go all willy nilly and made me want to scoop out my eyeballs with a spoon.

I don't know about you but I always feel awkward being the only one sitting while everyone else is giving the ol' Standing O. The SOTU is full of strongwilled half-souls, though, and you can always find people who will ignore every single idea that is offered up that evening.

After about 20 minutes, you can start to locate the sleepers. It's a bold move, sleeping during the President's speech. Bold indeed.


Ever have to sit by the boss during a company meeting? I can't imagine how much more awkward it is to have to sit here.


By far my favorite awkward moment of the night was when Obama made a terrible, terrible joke about crying over spilled milk.  It was the most tweeted moment of the speech.  After it received no love from the audience and an eye roll from the First Lady, even Obama had a look that made one wonder who he just fired.  Here’s a look at the audience reactions.

So there you have it, folks: the State of the Union in awkward pictures.  Now you won’t ever have to watch a Presidential Address again without taking time to appreciate the subtleties.  

After all, that’s where all the fun is. 

Stop SOPA, Save the Unicorns

18 Jan

I was going to post today but I like the magical Interwebz and I feel like you do too and I thought I should take a moment to point out that we might want to work together to save the magical Interwebz unicorns.

Some other people put it a different way.  You can check out their version here:


Thanks for taking a few minutes to edumacate yourselves.  And for helping the pages you visit stay online.

Fellow unicorn lover,


The End of an Era

10 Nov

Last night, Joe Paterno was handed a letter saying he was fired fifteen minutes before a press conference where it was announced.

A man gives his entire life to an employer and is fired in a letter after he already opted to retire at the end of the season.

Whatever your opinion on the Sandusky Scandal at Penn State University is, make no mistake that this is a study in the power of the media, who put Paterno at the forefront (who it was agreed he did no legal wrongdoing) but allowed Curley to take administrative leave and Shultz to step down on his own, who both failed to take Paterno’s report to the next level and then lied to a grand jury about it.  Later, Curley chose to resign as well.  Why did everyone get an ultimatum from the Board but Paterno? They didn’t get letters; they got their legal fees covered by PSU.

By the way, McQueary, the man who saw Sandusky raping a child with his own eyes, still works there as well. 

I tried to write about other things today; honest.   But hey, instead of reading me today, read an article or two on this situation.  It’s a dynamic and dangerous monster.

Back to the regular business tomorrow, folks.  Thanks for letting me take a break from the typical topics to address something about which I feel very strongly. 

Feel free to discuss your thoughts on the situation, whatever they may be, so long as they’re addressed respectfully.

Why Joe Paterno Shouldn’t Have to Leave

9 Nov

You can call Joe Paterno a coward and I wouldn’t disagree with you.

You can say that if Paterno would have followed through on his report, Jerry Sandusky would have been a sexual predator behind bars instead of a sexual predator roaming campus, luring young boys, and living in the comforts that his Penn State job provided him. You can say that because of the way the allegations against Sandusky were handled, the Penn State name has been tarnished, a cloud has been invited to hover over the famously successful football program, and a myriad of students and alumni are ashamed and disgusted. And again, I wouldn’t disagree with you.

But Joe Paterno shouldn’t have to leave his job unless he wants to; of this I am certain.

For the record, I don’t follow football and I didn’t go to Penn State.  

For those of you unaware of the news that has swept over Happy Valley these past several days, I advise you to Google Jerry Sandusky.  Or if you prefer (and think you can handle the wincing you will undoubtedly do as you read it), here is the Grand Jury Report on the matter.  It’s unpleasant.   It’s the story of young boys being treated badly by a man lacking integrity.

To put it mildly.

There is a rapidly growing consensus that because Paterno did what was required of him by law and no more, he should not stay on as coach of the Penn State football team.  The number of media outlets calling for Joe Paterno’s resignation and/or touting his moral failure include The Tribune Review, the Star-LedgerSports IllustratedNBC SportsESPN RadioThe Altoona Mirror, and a myriad of others.

Perhaps the loudest resonating of these is that of The Patriot News Editorial Board, which featured a front page stating: “There are the obligations we all have to uphold the law. There are then the obligations we all have to do what is right.”

I entirely disagree.

We don’t have any obligation to do what is right.  As a society, we have agreed that we have an obligation to do what is law.  Though we would like to think that people feel morally obligated one way or another above and beyond the call of the law, the fact remains that our obligation insomuch as that we can be held accountable and hold others accountable stops where the law stops.  We are only obligated to do what is required of us, which is exactly what Joe Paterno did.  Having had a report brought to him about Sandusky’s alleged sexually inappropriate act, he reported the matter to his superiors – one of whom (Schulz) was an administrative head of the campus police.

But people don’t disagree that he did what was legally required of him.  In fact, both the Attorney General and the PA State Police Commissioner stated that there has been no legal wrongdoing on the part of Paterno.  The problem is that people believe that when nothing came of the report, Paterno should have done more.   He should have gone above and beyond what was simply required of him and met a higher standard – a super-legal standard – a moralstandard.

For failing this, call him a coward – fine.  Say that he has morally failed – fair.  But you cannot take away a man’s job because of either of those reasons.   

The graduate assistant saw a young boy being raped with his own eyes and yet we do not focus our wrath on him.  Paterno reported the incident to his superiors, who were legally obligated to report it.  They did not.  And yet we are not content to focus our wrath only on them.   We want Joe, because while we agree that he did what was required of him, we believe that what was required of him was not enough. 

I believe that’s our problem as a society, not his. If we want to hold people to a higher standard, then we must improve the state of our legislation.  We must require more of people.  We must see to it that the bare minimum is enough.  Because in examples such as this, that is all people will do and it fails to protect the innocent.

I don’t believe Paterno should have to leave his post as the PSU football coach because I don’t think we should be in the business of asking people to leave their jobs because they fail morally.  Yes, I think he could have and should have done more.  Yes, I think there’s something wrong with the structure of report within the University’s guidelines.  Yes, I think that had something more been done, a plethora of boys could have been spared alleged victimization by Sandusky.

But I don’t think Penn State can implement a reporting structure that has clearly failed and then penalize one of its employees when they fail to go above and beyond that reporting structure.   Likewise, we cannot agree that Paterno did nothing illegal and seek punishment nonetheless.

Joe Paterno did what was required of him and no more.  He could have, and he should have.  We can call him a coward, we can say that he morally failed, but we should not call on him to resign.  

Update: Paterno announced that he would retire at the end of the season in the wake of the PSU scandal, saying that that Board need not spend any time on figuring out how to handle the situation because they had more important matters to address. Sadly, the Board of Trustees at PSU fired Joe Paterno via a hand-delivered letter on Wednesday, November 9th.

Lions, Tigers, and Bears – Oh My! Exotic Animals Run Free in Ohio

19 Oct

It appears that Ohio has a circus on its hands.

Or so the Associated Press reported yesterday.  Not in those specific words, but after reading an article on how scores of exotic animals escaped an Ohio farm, I could easily draw the conclusion.  

Yesterday the fences were “left unsecured” at the Muskingum County Animal Farm, which housed wolves, bears, tigers, giraffes, and various other animals that are now roaming the roadways and suburban developments of east-central Ohio.   Authorities reported to the scene after calls during rush hour that wild animals were spotted along the road.  

How I’ve longed to be on my way home from work one day and see a giraffe trotting along, minding its own business.  I feel like that would really help alleviate my end-of-day stress. 



It appears that things happened quite out of order in this scenario.  Now, I’m not an authority of any kind, but it seems to me that when one gets a call about exotic animals on the loose, one calls animal handlers, heads to the scene, and waits for their arrival. Instead, it appears that deputies simply began shooting animals with assault rifles.  I’m sorry, you probably think I meant tranquilizers.  I didn’t.  I meant assault rifles.


The deputies, who saw many animals standing outside their cages and others that had escaped past the fencing surrounding the property, began shooting them. They said there had been no reports of injuries among the public.

Staffers from the Columbus Zoo went to the scene, hoping to tranquilize and capture the animals. The sheriff said caretakers might put food in the animals’ open cages to try to lure them back. (Associated Press via FoxNews.com)

If you put an assault rifle in that left hand instead, I imagine the scene looked much the same as this.

25, by the way.  In case you were wondering how many animals were shot.  Animals in cage = pay admission.  Animals out of cage = SHOOT! FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, SHOOT!

There’s a silver lining to all of this.  Local school districts canceled classes for today.  That’s kind of cool.  I always loved a good snow day, but nothing beats staying inside for fear that an ostrich will peck you to death or a tiger will pounce the school bus.  That’s rad.

My favorite quotation in the article is from Sheriff Matt Lut, who says “Any kind of cat species or bear species is what we are concerned about.  We don’t know how much of a head start these animals have on us”.  He talked about them like they’re escaped murder convicts.  I can just see the staff meeting now, with maps and pushpins up all CSI-like as they try to get inside the tigers’ heads and figure out where their next stops would be. 

The article mentions that Ohio happens to have the nation’s weakest restrictions on exotic pets.  It requires permits for bears, but so long as you snatch yourself a lion, tiger, or other nonnative animal, you don’t need to worry about regulation for now.   So strap up and head over to Ohio before the deputies down them all with assault rifles.  And if you happen to be an Ohio native, enjoy your day off school, and take a family field trip to the Interstate.  See if dad can finally round up that camel you’ve asked for every Christmas. 

You can read more about the incident here, at FoxNews.com.  Just promise you won’t believe the little tagline under their logo that reads “fair and balanced”.

A Walk Through Occupy Pittsburgh

18 Oct

It’s a ripe time for protest, friends.  And since I’m in my 20’s, live in a city, and have yet to experience the fiery passion of gathering around a cause, I decided to mosey on over to Occupy Pittsburgh this week, which set up camp this past Friday.  Pittsburgh is one of many cities to join the Occupy Wall Street movement, and since it’s right in my backyard, I didn’t have much of an excuse to ignore it.

Happy Lollipop Tuesday ya’ll.  Not sure what Lollipop Tuesday is? Check out the nifty link at the top.  It’s okay, take your time.  I’ll be here all year.  No really, I will.  I’m posting every day in 2011 cuz that’s how I roll.

But this is my first day posting about a protest, so let’s get to it.

I don’t really know how I feel about the whole Occupy Wall Street thing.   I appreciate the idea of gathering around a cause and I agree that our current system isn’t really working out for folks right now. But the idea of a protest that isn’t really protesting something, I don’t know – specific – is odd to me.  Let’s say everyone joins in and agrees – what then?  Is the plan to start coming up with solutions?  Because I thought that the whole idea is for folks to make demands.  It appears there has been a list released of a few things – albeit somewhat vague and not all measurable – and there has been quite a bit of media buzz surrounding the dichotomy between those protesters who want to move to goals and solutions and those who don’t deem either of those necessary.

I don’t know, I’m new to the whole thing.  So instead of getting all excited about it and going in there demanding that people start talking concretely about what they want, I decided to just go talk to people and see what it was like to be there.  I actually had a lot of questions – like what they do all day when they aren’t marching, meeting, or debating ideas.  I wondered where they got their food from and what the little micro society was like that they set up.

As it turns out, my questions were answered in pictures I took while walking through.  Well, those and by a lengthy discussion with two gentlemen named Earl and Johnathan, who were set up behind the food table, giving me the lay of the land.  You can read more about Pittsburgh’s version of the now-global m0vement/initiative/gathering/whatsit at OccupyPittsburgh.org.  Or if you’d rather just look at the pictures (it’s okay, no one can judge you), scroll away my friends.  Bask in the glory of my 5-year-old camera phone.

A view of the camp from 6th and Grant, downtown. It happens to be conveniently positioned in front of two prominent Pittsburgh companies: BNY Mellon, the target of a picket scheduled for the 17th, and UPMC, a 9 billion dollar Pittsburgh-based healthcare system.

It's a pretty muddy area they've staked out for themselves, which has been remedied by the creation of cardboard sidewalks.

Along the way, I ran into a fellow crafting a sign for himself. Cardboard seems to be the doer-of-all-things here. Hey, it's recyclable and found in abundance; I can dig it.

At the food tent, I found Earl (left) and Johnathan (right), who gave me the lay of the land and welcomed me warmly. Earl loves that he can have conversations with people of all ages, backgrounds, and political perspectives here. Johnathan is from Colorado and on his way to Occupy Wall Street. They both tell me of how readily everyone lends a hand, how all the food in front of them is free for the taking, and how people are just eager to talk to one another about ideas. "This", Earl says, "is true democracy".

Another cardboard creation, advertising the free food and encouraging donations. Baskets of cereal boxes, a plethora of bottled water, a bowl of fresh fruit, and other various foods littered the tent. People bring what they can and eat what they need. Later on I hear one gentleman tell another, "Yeah man! There's free food! I'm never leaving!"

Earl was pretty intent on me including these folks, who he says are mainly responsible for the food tent. Lauren (in the yellow hat), he notes is particularly organized and hardworking, making sure there is order in what may otherwise be a tent of delicious chaos.

A modest dry erase board propped up against a pole features agenda highlights.

On the way out (or in - I suppose it's a matter of perspective), a few tattered boxes lay to collect donations of various kinds.

To learn more about Occupy Pittsburgh, check out OccupyPittsburgh.org.  To learn more about the spot that spawned a global movement, check out OccupyWallSt.org

Public Enemy Number One: Corn Mazes

12 Oct

Yesterday I lost a little more faith in the human race.

Unfortunately I’m not referring to the college student who ran out in front of the car while I was driving, pretending as if putting his arms up and not making eye contact doubled as a human shield.  Though it comes as another close runner up, I’m also not referring to last evening when I watched Red Riding Hood.

Why did I do that?

No, I’m referring to something much, much sadder.  Something that lowers my intelligence quotient just hearing about it.  And now I’m going to do the same to you in order to even the score.  I’m sorry it has to be this way.

Yesterday, a family called 911 because they got lost in a corn maze. 

You’ve read it.  You can’t unread it.  

Picture it: you go out with your family to a corn maze for a little bit of autumn fun.  Thousands of people come from all over every year to cherish the wonders of the corn.  This year you finally decide to make it out.  But after you pay your entrance fee, you’re twenty minutes into the maze and have no hope for finding an exit.  It’s been at least five minutes since you saw that kid with the strange blue goop all over his cheeks who keeps staring at you like he knows something.  And then it hits you: you might never get out of here.  You could spend your life here, looking for the exit.   And though that would be okay for you – you’d make do with gnawing on the corn and then fashioning yourself a hut of husks, but wait.  What about your baby?

None of that was actually in the story.  Just the concern for the baby.  

I have a lot of questions, some many of which may never be answered.  

Now, I know you may be struggling with this.  You could be shocked that corn mazes pose such a current and real threat to our society.   You could still be wondering what kind of puree could be made out of the corn and mixed with breast milk to keep a small baby alive in such a dire situation. Or maybe you’re just  cradling yourself and rocking back and forth as you think about the tax dollars that were wasted in this and of the resources that went down the drain to make it a national headline.

Personally, I’m saddened by the watering down of our intelligence over the course of time.  This poor family is just a product of our terrible stupidity breeding with itself.  

Do America a favor, folks.  Watch this video.  Then go find your kids/parents/siblings/pets and force them to listen to you read an entry from the Encyclopedia Britannica.    

Your country will thank you. 

The Plight of the Ginger Sperm

22 Sep


Soak it up. Jackie art is rare.


First, I’d like to thank you all for commenting and voting on yesterday’s post.  I really appreciate the feedback.  If you haven’t read it yet, give it a shot: I’d love to hear your take.

Now for today’s post: Ginger Sperm.

Some of you may have heard by now (after all, it’s pressing news) that red-headed sperm donors are now being turned away from the world’s largest sperm bank, Ole Schou.  Apparently the demand simply isn’t high enough so the bank isn’t taking offers for ginger juice. There are some obvious jokes to be made here: Eric Cartman is winning, something about red fiery sperm being to much to handle, and (as jakennicksmomma aptly noted after I tweeted the story), the mention a certain article made regarding sperm selling like “hot cakes” is ripe for comedy and disgust.

But I’d like to focus on a heavier matter weighing on me: How could you not like redheads?! 

My entire life I’ve wanted to be a hardcore redhead.  The flaming hair, the pale skin, the freckles spreading over the body like an adorable infection.  I dyed my hair red for a very long time, convinced that it automatically made me more attractive.  Because it did. Redheaded women are absolutely fantastic.  Exhibit A: Christina Hendricks.

I’m sorry I didn’t insert an actual picture of her.  I was afraid her ridiculous rack would shoot out of the page and smack you in the face.

Exhibit B: Jessica Rabbit (same concern).

Now don’t get me wrong: some redheaded genetics can get funky.  Sometimes you end up with a gnarly-toothed, patchy-faced little hellion, but isn’t that a risk we take with every procreation? 

I need to do something to address this issue – a call to action of some sort.  We can’t possibly have redheaded men running around thinking their sperm is only good in Ireland.  Their sperm is good everywhere.  Because everywhere it goes, it brings the hope of another sultry vixen or fair Irish maiden or a wood nymph.

I suppose I shouldn’t just focus on the reds of the female persuasion, but it really does build a better case than redheaded men.  It’s rare that I find myself attracted to a redheaded man.  Prince Harry was cute for a while, but he’s really more of a blonde these days.  And then what – the Weasleys?  I’m not sure I’d be building much of a following for my cause.

Perhaps I’m looking at this the wrong way.  If redheaded sperm lead to redheaded vixens, then I suppose it’s okay that folks aren’t willing to invest in sultry hotness continuing to breed in the human race.  Because with less vixens comes less overall stress about my not stacking up to the Christina Hendricks’ of the world.  There will be fewer of her.

Seriously, are her boobs even possible?

So here’s to the slow phasing out of those of the redheaded persuasion.  You were good while you lasted, gingers.  And let it be known that I was one of your few lone supporters during your stay with the human race.   In fact, one of the reasons I’m with Dave is because he has a bright, brazen red in his beard and I have a lot of hopes tied up in that for him to provide me with beautiful redheaded hellions.

Eureka! Yes – I alone shall carry the ginger torch!  I’ll pop out redheaded boys by the dozen.  And when you realize that no fiery red sperm is to be found but in Ireland, I will be your only domestic provider of redheaded glory.

That’s right – my boys will carry within them the hope for the ginger race.

I knew I had a high calling on this earth. 

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