Writer's Post: Censorship

In a previous post, I mentioned that I didn't want folks telling me what religion to follow. Along the same vein, don't tell me what books to read, what music to listen to, nor what shows to watch. Part of being an American is having the freedom not to have someone else censor my life.

But what's really wrong with censorship is the fact that your mind might fill in the blanks with a whole new meaning. Watch this censored version of The Count.

Or look at part of this speech that I've shortened and censored just for you.

You have been reading about a bad *%^ I got. I have been in *#% and have received #$* from @*&. Which of you wouldn’t consider it the highlight of his life just to #$@ with *%^ for even one #$@?  

              Ooooo wouldn't you love to #$@ with #$@? Just ask Lou Gehrig.

I leave you with one more clip. Enjoy.

Wordless Wednesday: Photo Game

Can you guess what the pictures represent?

Dr. Pepper

 Let's try again.

eggplant

You have the idea.

  

 pool table

   

  

  

tap dancers

If you got them all right, congratulations! I'll post more another week.

#GBE2: Pet Peeves

When it comes to "Pet Peeves," there are two types: a few that matter and most that don't. Which reminds me of a speaker at a gifted teachers' conference years ago. She spoke about little quirks present in our smart students, how we probably share these, and finally it's not an accident that we ended up teaching these perfectionist kids.

If you want to drive a gifted kid nuts, it's easy. All you have to do is hang one poster at an angle instead of straight. You do this, and I guarantee most intellectually gifted kids will be focused on that crooked poster because this is THEIR pet peeve. Of course, I could never perform this monstrous task because it would drive me mad too.

Although my house is far from spotless–perfectionism gone too far–when folding towels or bedsheets, those corners better match up. Peanut butter must spread across every square inch of bread, and toilet paper drops from the top. Annoyance at seeing a sloppy job is a silly pet peeve of mine. Furthermore, I can't stand to have the light switches positioned the wrong way. After all, up is for "on" and down is for "off." I will tread across a dark room at the risk of breaking bones rather than flip the switch in the wrong direction. As you read this, half of you are thinking, she's nuts, while the other half is nodding in agreement. Either way, my gifted class is just like me, so maybe there's something to this?

And here's another one... see pants drop.

I also have multiple pet peeves when it comes to drivers, but I've already written about this:  Idiot Drivers

Now on to a pet peeve that matters a little more.

Religion. 

I know many feel like they are doing G-d's work or saving my soul when they try to push me to believe what they believe, but I find it nauseating. I don't tell you who or what you should worship, so how dare you try to push your beliefs on me! Missionaries who venture into some Arab countries have found themselves in fear for their lives. While I don't condone putting missionaries to death, I certainly understand the anger. People who have been practicing their beliefs their entire lives don't appreciate some no nothing telling them they are wrong. Just like you value your religion, I value mine and others value theirs. I don't tell you that your life learnings are incorrect nor do I tell you you're going to H*ll if you don't believe what I believe. So, this is my true pet peeve... leave me alone.

At the same time, I can appreciate those missionaries who have made a difference in the lives of starving people in third world countries. It's all a matter of who they approach and how. Along this line, I have friends who have told me that they pray for me. While I appreciate their concerns and know they do it out of love, if they are praying for me to change my religion, they're wasting their time. I love my faith.

My intelligent and learned brother has seen the end of missionaries trying to convert him. The last poor guy to walk across his threshold found his beliefs thrown back at him in such a way that he had no choice: he could admit that what he preached was messed up or give away his pants. The missionary left in his underwear.☺