Matt Potter 12:30 p.m., July 16
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Obama Hung From Tree
It's weird, so much about Bill Maher annoys me. Yet, when I see him on talk shows (or his show), I often end up agreeing with him.
I'm happy he took on religion in his new movie. I'm also happy that it wasn't a bozo like Michael Moore that did.
He has many complaints about religion. I don't have as many as him, but a few.
An example being this story from a few weeks back. It was in Oregon, at a small Christian university.
A life-size cardboard cutout of Barack Obama was hung from a tree on campus, using fishing line around its neck.
There was also a message on it, that made reference to "Act Six", which is a scholarship program geared toward increasing the number of minority and low-income students to several Christian colleges.
There are almost 2,000 students enrolled at George Fox University, just south of Portland. And, the day this was discovered, university president Robin Baker said he was "disheartened and outraged."
I say if you're that outraged, find out who did it. Tell every student, they are going to be given a lie detector test.
I'm sure the ACLU would fight that. As would many of their parents. Although, shouldn't a parent want to get to the bottom of it? Even if it meant their child had to go thru some interrogation process?
There's a family friend, who told me last month, how her son was so upset with Jimmy Carter speaking in other countries about what was wrong with the current administration, he sent him an email that said he hopes he gets shot.
There was a knock on his door a few days later in Rancho Bernardo. The Secret Service stopped by, as they do for any death threat. Although, it seemed odd that they deemed this a "death threat." It was just a wish, for lack of a better word. The same way I told everyone after the OJ case, that I hope someone kills him. It didn't mean I was going to do it.
I then thought about when I was 10 years old. We had a neighbor whose entire family we hated. The father looked like Wolfman Jack. Their 6-year-old son was a jerk.
And my brother, who was practicing to become a ventriloquist, made his dummies hair blonde, and put a shirt on him that we wrote "Steven" on.
We hung it from our garage door and were beating on the thing with sticks (I was using my nunchucks, because I was cool like that).
The family drove home from a night out. We saw them look over.
And a few minutes later, cops drove into our quiet little cul-de-sac in Mira Mesa.
We were told to take the thing down, and how that was a threat. Another cop said he would confiscate my chucks if he saw them. They are illegal weapons, so I'm not sure why he didn't insist on me going into the house to get them.
He did tell my mom they were illegal.
When the fuzz left (that's what we called them in 1980), Steven came outside and rode his bike around, making faces at us.
We spent the night at another neighbor kids house that evening, plotting. The plan was to get up at 3:00 a.m. and egg and toilet paper their house.
My friends mom woke us up at 8:00 a.m. for pancakes. We all looked at each other and said, "Why didn't you wake me up at 3:00?"