Welcome to Amerika

Greetings from Barack Hussein Obama's newly totalitarian state. Nowhere has the dictatorship of the proletariat been more enthusiastically embraced than here at Conchita's Unisex Beauty Palace, where we are celebrating Dear Leader's ascendance to the throne with an exercise in liberal fascism called "Annual Fire Drill." Personally, I think it's a bit premature to begin declaring national holidays in The One's honor, but Conchita reverted to The Left's historical revisionism and said that we've had it every year since I've been here, which strikes me as implausible.

"That's because you called in sick last year, were late the two years before that, and had some Kenyan witchdoctor write you a medical note saying you were possessed the one before that. Want to see it? It's in your personnel file." I've never seen Conchita so blunt before -- it's as if the Democrats' nominal victory had emboldened her to new lows of incivility. That's hardly the spirit of conciliation Barack Hussein was talking about -- or is it? Thank you, Conchita, for showing that "post-partisanship" is nothing more than empty election-year rhetoric.

Conchita is forcing me to serve as "stairwell monitor," an act of Stalinism every bit as oppressive as Obama's plans for world communism, mostly because I have to wear a vest that's safety orange. I have explained to Conchita that I am a spring, and that blaring summer tones overpower my soft and dewy skintone, regardless of how carefully I apply my makeup, but she's not hearing it. It's just as Sarah Palin prophesied: "And government kind of moving into the role as the other half of our family, making decisions for us. Now, they do this in other countries where the people are not free."

So, this is the "change" we've been waiting for. If the past nine days have been any indication of the injustice Conservatives in America will be forced to suffer under an Obama regime, it's going to be a long four years (unless some fat chick sucks Barack Hussein's chocolate dingus and he gets impeached -- here's hoping). I had been praying that the election would trigger the Rapture and I could wrap this whole blogging enterprise up, but truly my people need me, and, though weary and suffering Persecution myself, I will offer what succour I can to the Christians of America. Praise Him!

Catching up

Conchita's IT slug dropped something of a bombshell on me last week when he said our network server was moving to a "vault" and any of the 5,438 messages I presently have in my mailboxes older than 60 days would be moved there permanently and could never be erased once it was migrated. While I do believe the 300-400 messages I sent to my girlfriends saying "Conchita is such a bitch. I'm so glad she's going to Hell. See you Sunday," have their rightful place among The Ages, I can only imagine the Persecution I would endure once Chairman Hillary started subpoenaing them for her kangaroo court.

All of this, gentle reader, is my long-winded way of explaining to you why I spent the last 4 workdays frenetically deleting 6 years of email from my in and out boxes and not blogging on the pressing matters of the day. But fear not, for nothing escapes the watchful eye of Sister Nancy Beth. Here are the stories MSM would rather you ignore:

† Plan naan from outer space - Perhaps the most shameful legacy of feminism is the way it wrecked the space program. Once they let women in, they had to let everyone in (except maybe the homos, but you know that's a lawsuit waiting to happen) , and that's what we've got today -- Muslims who are not only trying to take over the planet, but also the whole damn solar system:

Malaysia's first astronaut will blast off into space next month armed with guidelines from Muslim authorities on how to pray, wash and even be "buried" in space.

Two Malaysian candidates, a doctor and an army dentist who are both Muslims, are undergoing training in Russia with the winner expected to be announced on Friday, ahead of the 11-day space mission which starts on October 10.

Other Muslims have ventured into space, but none during the fasting month of Ramadan which began last week, and Malaysia's Department of Islamic Development (JAKIM) is hopeful the astronaut will choose to fast during his voyage.

"Conditions at the International Space Station which are so different from those on earth are not a hindrance for the astronaut to fulfil his obligations as a Muslim," it said in a 20-page booklet.

This booklet sounds like one of those Al Qaeda training manuals we're always hearing so much about. Who's to say there isn't a chapter in there on how to best behead a fellow astronaut when Good Morning, America cuts to you for the effects of zero gravity on poppy seeds? And what if a high dosage of radiation turns him from a regular Muslim, which is bad enough, into some sort of mutant super-Muslim? I think it shows how badly we've fallen behind as a global leader that something like this is even allowed to happen.

† The wages of Sin - It's long been known that consumers of pornography are hyperviolent criminal predators, and it only stands to reason that the people who make it are criminals themselves. To wit:

An Iraq war veteran featured in dozens of hard-core sex films been charged with raping a woman as she slept at a Washington State University sorority house.

Christopher Jack Reid, 25, who uses the screen name Jack Venice, also is accused of burglarizing the Kappa Alpha Theta, Pi Beta Phi and Delta Gamma sorority houses and trying to break into the Alpha Gamma Rho fraternity in Pullman, according to police reports.

Let us hope Mr. Reid discover the one true path to Salvation and returns to polite society in the form of a conservative journalist.

† Satan's concubine - Hillary Clinton's demands for the blood of the unborn isn't just a convenient political stance to ride to electoral victory, it's part of the literal deal she made with the devil:

A new biography on Presidential hopeful Hillary Clinton reveals that during her time as First Lady, Clinton participated in strange moments of imaginary conversation with a deceased Eleanor Roosevelt from the solarium atop the White House. Grove City College professor Paul Kengor’s “God and Hillary Clinton” also notes the religious devotion with which Senator Clinton advocates abortion.

An overview of the book by Kengor’s Grove City colleague Dr. Warren Thockmorton notes that the book - with information from friends, colleagues and acquaintances - paints an accurate picture of Clinton’s version of faith.

The woman who arranged the séance-type sessions atop the White House, Jean Houston, became very close to the Senator. Houston who was known for delving into altered consciousness, the spirit world, and psychic experiences, according to a source quoted in the book, compared Clinton to Joan of Arc and believed her to be the most pivotal woman in all of human history.

Thockmorton also extracts from the book an analysis of Clinton’s devotion to abortion. “There is no issue closer to Mrs. Clinton’s heart than abortion rights—to which she holds a nearly religious devotion—so much so that it has become a kind of political theology to the senator, equipped with its own set of apologetics.”

I don't know when Hillary has time to conduct her Black Masses, what with all the burglaries she spends her day plotting, but there's no doubt that once she's in office, her daily briefing will including the disemboweling of a sacred chicken as a means of augury. Keep America Holy and send her back to Massachusetts, where she belongs. Praise Him!

Briefly

The Outrage is flowing like lava today, but Conchita's applying the thumbscrews in her typically sadistic manner. Go work yourself into a Righteous lather over the following, and be sure to tell them Sister Nancy Beth sent you.

† Old Europe: Perverting Christian Values for 600 years -- Boy, here's a shocker. France and sodomy have gone together like George Michael and sex in public restrooms since the late medieval era:

Civil unions between male couples existed around 600 years ago in medieval Europe, a historian now says.

Historical evidence, including legal documents and gravesites, can be interpreted as supporting the prevalence of homosexual relationships hundreds of years ago, said Allan Tulchin of Shippensburg University in Pennsylvania.

If accurate, the results indicate socially sanctioned same-sex unions are nothing new, nor were they taboo in the past.

Radical homosexual activists will try to twist this into "evidence" to support enactment of their perverted agenda, but the real lesson is obvious: France, its former colonies, and people of French descent should be shunned as the moral reprobates they truly are.

† Bye-bye, Berto: Quite frankly, this serves Our President right for hiring an illegal immigrant to do the job that many other people (like me, for example) were more qualified for. If President Bush had listened to the Republican rank & file rather than trying to woo DemocRATS like Teddy Kennedy (who is fat), he could have spared everyone a lot of aggravation. See you in front of Home Depot, Alberto!

† The next Pearl Harbor. The western ideal of beauty is the foundation upon which civilized society rests, or so it will say in the Christian Cosmetology textbook I plan to write one of these days (it's a shoo-in in Texas!). Imagine my horror to learn that one of our purported allies, Japan, is once again attempting to blast Freedom to Kingdom Come by redefining traditional beauty in a way to whip up the natives into a kimono-wearing, tea-sipping, kamikaze-bombing, nationalistic frenzy:

Shampoo advertising in Japan typically featured glamorous blondes praising imports from Procter & Gamble and Unilever.

But ads for Tsubaki, the latest hit from local cosmetics maker Shiseido Co., feature famous Japanese women and an unusually direct slogan: "Japanese women are beautiful."

It gets worse. Just look at what qualifies as front-office ready in this bold new multicultural world:

Sakura Ikeda, 31, an artist who makes miniature animals, is sold on Tsubaki.

"It makes my hair soft and moist," she said.

Great, so the height of fashion these people are being told to aspire to is a head full of damp hair, like they just ran a marathon? It begs the question of why they should even bathe at all. This fits in suspiciously well with liberals' backwards approach to personal grooming, and casts all those sweaty, leotard-clad moonbats at the yoga studio in an even more suspicious light. Christians are advised to monitor the trend on these shores, as Japan's & The Left's shared hatred of Beauty and America makes them likely allies. We might be reopening Manzanar yet! Praise Him!

Peel sessions

Goodness, I've been a slatternly blogmistress lately, haven't I? Well, what can you expect after nearly a week of the most harrowing Persecution in the annals of Christian Martyrdom? This past Sunday Jesus & I took His brother & niece to protest Point Dume in Malibu, resulting in the worst sunburn I've had since 1992. The peeling on my face began in earnest yesterday, so instead of the usual milk & honey complexion you've all undoubtedly come to equate with me, I resemble nothing so much as some horrible b-movie creature sloughing off an outer layer of its epidermis before it attacks again. Maybe this was a Blessing in disguise, since I was more concerned with reapplying my concealer & foundation than paying any mind to that dreadful business consultant, who's once again buzzing around the Beauty Palace like a gnat with her portfolio full of stupid ideas about "branding the Conchita's Unisex Beauty Palace Experience." It's not as if she asked, but I told her that "Conchita's Unisex Beauty Palace Experience" sounded more like a psychedelic light show than the gulag this place really is, and that any hack MBA worth her salt would "re-brand" it as Conchita's Unisex Concentration Camp. Tuesday I went to protest my chiropractor, who wondered why I had so much tension in my lower back. I dunno, maybe from sharing my apartment for the past eight days with a two year old who -- if my suspicions are correct -- is possessed by Satan? He says I'm on track for a pinched nerve (again!) if this keeps up (it won't -- she shipped out on Monday. Hurray!), so he's got me protesting his office twice this week. I figured the possibility of a pinched nerve was as good as any a reason to play hookie, so I took a religious holiday and told Conchita I was observing the Queenship of Mary, which I did by going to Thai Town for lunch and then resuming the arduous task of documenting every instance of full-frontal male nudity on the television show Oz for Bob Knight's Culture & Media Institute. Obviously this is a heavy cross for just one person to bear, but I am confident that Western Civilization will soon be thanking me for my efforts. More blogging goodness to follow, Christians. Praise Him!

Friday filler blogging -- cat blogging

I've had two horrible days in a row at the Beauty Palace, so I've been too exhausted to summon my usual Outrage at the misdeeds of The Left: Muslims are taking over America's financial services industries? Just so long as they don't chop my head off on Al Jazeera for bouncing a check. And America's airwaves are controlled by radical homosexual activists? Boy, I sure didn't see that one coming!

The reason for my misery is that Conchita has enlisted the help of some cultist who calls herself a "business consultant" to help "grow" the business. There was an initial meeting where all of us employees could offer any suggestions that might increase revenue, and I proposed that we offer a shampoo using Holy Water, and since America no longer wants to see hairdos like Chairman Hillary's quasi-feminine bob, we should fire anyone on staff who performs such an abomination, for treason. I said this looking squarely at my archnemesis, Chris, the radical homosexual hairstylist who's been gunning for me for years. The quack's response was, "I'm not interested in hair, Nancy Beth, I'm interested in ideas," an objectively pro-terrorist dodge if I've ever heard one, even if it was delivered in New Age business-speak. Strike one, lady.

Once we opened, Conchita rode my ass pretty much all day, having me call this city department or that state agency to inquire about permits and licenses she's never going to file for anyways. "Look, Conchita," I finally balked, "I don't even vote for Democrats, so why are you making me navigate this byzantine regulatory maze you've created? If there's anyone who should be doing so, it's Chris," who put down his clippers and looked my way at the mention of his name. 3-2-1... incoming... nothing. Good. That got her off my back for a little while, but then a new crisis emerged: The only thing keeping Conchita's Unisex Beauty Palace from collapsing into a black hole of fiscal insolvency was my ability to make a reservation at Tesoro for Conchita, the consultant, and their mutual friend, the slutty legal secretary. Ugh, all the horrible pieces suddenly fit together.

When they came back from lunch, the three of them were gabbing about this feng-shui business, which the best I can tell is some hybrid form of paganism and interior decorating, and how they'd like to do over the Beauty Palace according to its Satanic beliefs. Terrific: heathen Chinee + homosexuals = 1 unhappy sister. My ordeals here are truly endless.

***

Anyway, on to happier subjects, like my cat. In the picture above, he's taking a nap after helping Jesus study His anatomy & physiology plates... a course Jesus just passed with flying colors, I might add. So sleep while you can, little man, because next Monday Jesus' brother and two-year old niece are coming to stay with us for a week. Kitty's got a few hiding places that are outside my reach that he retreats to when it's time for his fluid injections, but I think the two year old's lower center of gravity and nimble little fingers are certainly going to put them to the test. I wish him luck. Praise Him!

Voices of the martyrs

I hope you don't feel abandoned, but the Christian persecution was especially fierce late last week at Conchita's Unisex Beauty Palace. I never thought I would say this, but the dreaded remodel is now officially over as of Thursday, and as part of the grand unveiling, Chris, one of the radical homosexual hairstylists, put a placard reading "We reserve the right to make you... Fabulous!" (with fabulous printed in some rococo lettering best reserved for a Reno bordello) at his chair. Naturally I was Outraged, and after pouting quietly with my arms folded across my chest for half the day, I expressed my misgivings to Conchita about this legal abomination.

Despite liberals' professed devotion to the Bill of Rights, they are deeply ignorant of what it actually says, so I had to give Conchita a crash-course in Constitutional Law: "The Bill of Rights only grants us two significant freedoms: The right to be Christian and the right to carry firearms. All the following amendments are but faint echoes of these two, and they grow weaker the further down the list you go. I don't know where this right to fabulousness comes from, but I suspect it springs from that same penumbra that gave us the 'right' to kill your unborn children or become homosexuals. Quite frankly, I don't see why you just didn't turn this place into an abortion clinic."

The stylist in question has had it out for me ever since I let it slip to one of my coworkers that I was praying for him to leave his chosen lifestyle before he got AIDS and infected the rest of us. He managed to twist this act of Christian charity into the usual leftist claim of hydrophobia and has been an especially vehement opponent of Faith in the workplace ever since. "Check it, Tammy Faye," he said while snapping his fingers in my face, "Not everything is a slam against your stupid religion. Why don't just get over it already?" As if I'd be getting over anything anytime soon!

I summoned as much professional comportment as I could muster and informed both him and Conchita that I knew a Liberty Counsel lawsuit when I saw one, and that if the offending sign wasn't removed, I would contact Jerry Falwell personally. Conchita said I could handle it however I saw fit, as long as I wasn't making long distance calls from the company phone, and then proceeded on some irrelevant tangent about $40 worth of unexplained charges showing up on last month's phone bill. I told her to deduct it from my settlement and spent the rest of the day with an eye on the clock. I sprang out of there at 5:30.

Evidently they hadn't quite sated their appetite for Christian flesh, because Friday was just as bad. The sign is still there, but that was the least of my problems. My Friday morning dilemma is to find something suitable for the Beauty Palace as well as any happy hour protests I may be attending afterwards, and I've found my "He is Risen! Matthew 28:6" shirt and matching capris to fit the bill quite nicely. Conchita claimed "a number" of her clients have commented on the shirt, and produced a copy of the dress code saying that apparel with conspicuous lettering is not permitted. I could have sworn there was a religious exemption somewhere in there, but wasn't ready to delve into the Animal Farm-like way Conchita revised the employee manual after yesterday's bloodletting. She must have sensed my weakness (Sorry, Lord!), so I agreed to keep my jacket on so as not to remind the non-believers that they were going to Hell.

After the weekend, I'm tanned, rested & relaxed, and ready to take the worst these heathens can dish out. I also found out that the only place hiring right now that I'm qualified for is Third Degree Tanning Salon, and they pay even less than the Beauty Palace. So pray for your Sister Nancy Beth, Christians, that she might have the fortitude to slay these mighty demons. Praise Him!