Edicts of Nancy

The blogosphere's most persecuted Christian!

Wednesday, November 30, 2005

No good deed

Sister Nancy Beth is fuming today after reading the latest John Stossel piece over at Townhall. It seems those liberal do-gooders have once again become so blinded by enlightenment that they can't see the harm they're doing to America's economy:
If I don't like secondhand smoke -- and I don't -- I can choose to go to restaurants that don't have smoking, just as I can choose restaurants that don't have bad music. If I don't want to work in a smoky place, I don't have to.

But when the politicians ban smoking in bars, people who actually like old-fashioned smoky bars are stopped, by force, from enjoying the kinds of establishments they like. Smoky bars cease to exist. Workers who don't mind smoke are deprived of jobs. Can't the smokers have some bars?
And when California's regulators start poking their noses into other people's business, those who enjoy working in airborne contaminants will be deprived of jobs. Hello, is this still America?

Tuesday, November 29, 2005

The Divan Mrs. N

Jesus & I had our first fight this past Sunday. I don't know if my melancholia seeped into yesterday's entry, but it seems pointless trying to fight the Good Fight for faith-based cosmetology while I'm feeling so horrible. Bear with me while I unload, or perhaps you might want to skip this one entirely. If you're here for Sister Nancy Beth's patented blend of righteous Christian fury, you're not getting it today. Sorry.

The flashpoint for this conflict was the exquisite new sofa I had been planning on getting for our apartment. I optimistically assumed it would be an investment in the quality of our homelife together, where we could drift off to sleep while enjoying our ceremonial frankincense and watching wholesome Debbie Reynolds movies, instead of becoming a nervous stomach ache presently going on day two. We looked at countless sofas, and when we shared mutual dislike for what we were seeing, it seemed we were easily heading toward our goal of finding what we wanted. However, once we did both find a sofa we liked, and it wasn't the same one, the friction began.

I doubt it's worth replaying who said what, but on further reflection it became clear that this was another installment in the unfolding drama whose central question of plot is either that (1) Sister Nancy Beth is too unyielding in her beliefs, or that (2) Jesus should stop feeling deficient because His religious convictions require Him to give all His money to the poor and His credit card companies. Also, the couch we presently have was originally Jesus' and it's the only thing in our living room that was there before I hauled all my crap over there. It remains the lone hold-out before the Glorious Nancy Beth Style Revolution sweeps through the apartment entirely, and Jesus may not be as committed to the Revolution as I may have thought.

There was actually another argument Sunday night after that, regarding my pledge to help a fellow parishioner with her colors after mass on Sundays on an indefinite basis ("I know I'm an Autumn, but I don't feel like an Autumn," the pitiful creature confided in me, before she burst into tears -- how could I possibly cast her into the darkness?). I have to concede that Jesus has a point, that now what we're living together in blessed union, I can't unilaterally decide how I'm going to spend half of one of our two days off together for the indeterminate future. And if that weren't enough, my dad & stepmother invited Jesus & me to protest the Max Liebermann exhibit at the Skirball, which sounds pleasant enough until you learn of my dad's quirk of trying to set things on a firm timetable down to the minute. After two rounds in the ring with Jesus, this was not the conversation I wanted to be having with Him.

I doubt this will turn into anything more, and I hope this experience will be what we recall when we nod our heads in agreement when some sage says that some days are harder than others when you're in a relationship. The warmth I felt last night when I looked up and saw the kitchen light on outweighs today's malaise, so I guess we're in the clear. Anyway, it's time for lunch, and one of the stylists remarked on my timorous nature today. So, liberals, you got off easy today. I go back to kicking treasonous moonbat ass tomorrow.

Monday, November 28, 2005

Prayer circle jamboree

Sister Nancy Beth is trying to get back in the blogging groove after spending five stultifying days awash in this non-denominational peace & love clap-trap synonymous with what liberals have taken to calling "holiday spirit." All this addle-pated cooing has left me jonesing for a bit of righteous indignation. Fortunately there are plenty of places to go for that, so today I headed straight to that outlet mall of right-wing outrage better known as Townhall.

Star Parker has an insightful Thanksgiving piece on how the Pilgrims, if they ran General Motors, would lay off 30,000 workers and not pay their pensions as an affirmation of their belief in Liberty.

Phyllis Schlafly warns us of the unholy alliance forming between jack-booted thug Bill Gates and the UN, whose aim is one-world government, one classroom at a time. Those aren't foursquare courts, those are landing pads for the black helicopters. Be on guard!

The ever-provocative Jennifer Roback Morse is this week's headliner with her piece explaining why the Left hates sex. Worry not, gentle reader, for Jennifer isn't advocating free love and running bare-bosomed through the streets; intercourse still remains the nasty business it is that good Christians should avoid altogether, naturally. Among the many reasons the Left hates the Almighty is for making us man and woman. Consider what Jennifer writes:
the Left hates sex. Not sexual activity, mind you. No, the Left is hyper-active sexually. I mean something much deeper: the Left is war with the fact that we are sexual beings.

Let me explain. The Left can not accept that we are born as either male or female. You might expect me to say that the Left hates gender. But to say that is to accept their terms for the debate. Gender is for nouns. We come in two sexes: male and female.

The Left hates sex because men and women are so different that they can never be made equal in the way that the Left demands. Radical egalitarians regard sex as a cosmic injustice.
All I can say is Amen, Sister Jennifer, Amen. I sensed the end was coming with the advent of gender-nonspecific styling products and fragrances, and Western Civilization has been hurtling towards collapse ever since. Hopefully America will heed Jennifer's advice before children in public schools have to undergo surgical gender reassignment at the whims of the National Education Association.

I'd also like to point out something of interest at the bottom of this piece:

Jennifer Roback Morse, Ph.D., is the founder and chief visionary of Your Coach for the Culture Wars, a business devoted to supporting organizations that want to preserve their core values and achieve prosperity by taking a stand in the Culture Wars.
I would love nothing more than to punch the clock here at the Beauty Palace one last time and tell Conchita to stuff it with my new title as chief visionary. Is there a way that I, too, can cash in on the Culture Wars? The message Jennifer's consulting business is pitching is that discrimination against your company's employees is the sure-fire way to ensure prosperity. Good -- that still leaves the door open for Sister Nancy Beth Eczema, corporate dress code and skin care consultant, who will lead companies of all stripes to unheard of riches through an innovative policy of business-appropriate cosmetics and tasteful accessories.

I found Jennifer's website to be an inspiring model for me, the profit-minded Prayer Warrior with lots of ambition but who happens to be experiencing a temporary dearth of ideas. The message of help that appears when you run your cursor over the Gays and Lesbians button on the front page, "Optimizing the situation," was an especially nice touch (got lemons, etc), which is made all the nicer once you see that the articles on the Gays & Lesbians page have nothing to do with nancyhood -- not that a little moralizing about the tragedy of single parenthood and cohabitation prior to marriage ever did them any harm. Hell, it's practically all their fault.

If the consulting scheme doesn't pan out, there's always Patrick Hynes' method -- achieve prosperity, find enduring love, and banish split ends forever through regular church attendance:
So let us sum up. Americans who attend church with greater frequency than their neighbors tend to be richer, healthier, and happier, less prone to commit acts of crime, and more likely to get and stay married; possible explanations include educational background and the influence of religion in withstanding worldly pressures.
Possible explanations? Oh, Patrick, that's rich. We know how God rewards the righteous and punishes the wicked. But it's objectivity like this that demonstrates why Townhall is such a valuable news source, and why I am such a devoted reader.

Thursday, November 24, 2005

Blessed Thanksgiving!

Thanksgiving is the day Our Founding Fathers set aside to honor the Bounty Christ has shown to His Nation. Consequently, Sister Nancy Beth wishes all her fellow Christians a Happy Thanksgiving and would like to present you with the first greeting card of the Christmas season, lent without the gracious consent of our friends at the Crystal Cathedral. Have a great day, everyone. And if you're among those responsible for killing Jesus, I hope you enjoy the four day weekend.

Jesus & I will be travelling for the next two days, so things will be quiet in these here parts until I'm back at work on Monday. Posted by Picasa

Tuesday, November 22, 2005

Can't put your lipstick on a memory

Today is the fourth anniversary of the death of Mary Kay Ash, founder of Mary Kay Cosmetics and personal heroine of Sister Nancy Beth. I've found her credo "faith first, family second, career third" words to live by, and as a consequence, I am routinely punished for it. Like today, for instance. I tried to explain the solemnity of the occasion to Conchita this morning, but she told me that I couldn't take religious holidays at my leisure and to get my ass in here pronto or I'd be mourning the loss of my job, too. I'm wearing all pink as a sign of Our Country's loss, but a velour track suit doesn't quite impart the same sense of grief as a black lace mantilla would have -- I look a little bit like an extra from a Richard Simmons exercise video. I'm letting out occasional sobs here at the reception desk, but for the most part, no one seems particularly concerned.

Today's run-in with Conchita makes me think that even Red China grants its Christians more religious freedom than present-day America. It's a good thing I'm in mourning, because something like this could really piss me off:
...North Carolina Republican Representative Walter Jones is working to correct what he sees as religious persecution happening in the U.S. armed forces on a daily basis. "The persecution centers on Christian chaplains praying in the name of our Lord, Jesus Christ," he asserts. "That's the First Amendment right of everyone." Jones and a number of pro-family organizations have jointly asked President George W. Bush to protect the constitutional rights of American military chaplains by issuing an executive order allowing them to pray freely according to their beliefs.
This is what the U.S. military is doing to its priests. Just imagine how rough a receptionist at your local unisex beauty palace has it.

Fortunately I'm not the only one noticing the wholesale warfare against Christianity going on in the beauty parlors of America. It appears a majority of Americans are wising up as well. Stories like this make me think that brighter days and more radiant highlights for us Christians are just around the corner.

Monday, November 21, 2005

Mongolian Candidate

Moonbats are having an obvious field-day with President Bush's doorknob malfunction in Mongolia, but that's just a red herring to detract from the importance of this mission. Our President's willingness to travel to a country populated entirely by retards or whatever they like being called today is truly Compassionate Conservatism in action. Since I am largely unfamiliar with Mongolia, I looked it up on the internets to see what valuable contributions (aside from its 120 troops in Iraq) it can make to the Global War on Terror. Here are some ideas:

Mobile home decorating on the fly. While the bulk of my ministry is devoted to cosmetics and jewelry, one cannot discount the salutary effect the proper interior design has in advancing Christian-style Democracy. These Mongolians have found that even the nomadic lifestyle presents no obstacle to the human need for chicness:
"Such an honor to be here," Bush told Mongolian President Nambaryn Enkhbayar. They met inside a ger, a white tent, in a courtyard of the government building.

Gers are round, easily packable felt tents that are well-suited to Mongolia's harsh climate and nomadic culture. The ornate one used by the presidents had a red-and-yellow design on the roof and red wood doors. Inside were red brocade chairs, tapestries, Oriental carpets and a towering, white statue of Genghis Khan, the legendary horseman-warrior and country founder whose empire once stretched as far south as Southeast Asia and west to Hungary.
I myself would never do my living room in Genghis Khan, prefering instead a more traditional geese-with-ribbons look. But people do things differently in other parts of the world. Crazy!

Mongolia's leading export appears to be barbecue restaurants. Barbecuing, as any happy Fourth-of-July picnicker can tell you, is one of the most cherished traditions of any democratic society. Opening a chain of Mongolian BBQ restaurants in Baghdad is sure to have a democratizing affect.

Compassionate Conservatism sometimes calls for some tough love. Mongolia can serve as an example to the people of Iraq or even here in America that just because they're enjoying life in a democracy, they won't always get luxury items like schools, jobs or health care:
Fifteen years ago Mongolia became the first communist country in Asia to break toward freedom. But the pursuit of democracy meant the end of economic help from Moscow, and today Mongolia struggles with a poverty rate of nearly 40 percent. Foreign investment is scant, and Mongolia's schools and health system are in a shambles.
As an aside, the CIA Factbook makes absolutely no mention of the Mongolian people's consumption of makeup or fragrances. Is this another example of the faulty intelligence they routinely serve up to our foreign policy decision-makers?

Friday, November 18, 2005

Nancy Beth's choice

Among the most important practices of my Christian faith is boycotting or protesting those businesses that are hostile to The Word. Equally important is patronizing the businesses that are being boycotted by the moonbat left: my enemy's enemy, etc., as the thinking goes. But what exactly is Sister Nancy Beth to do when the same business is being boycotted by both Christians and loony liberals, as in the case of Target? My solution last night was to look wistfully at their lip dews and wonderbalms and then head over to the pharmacy for a round of high-fives. I've written a letter to Pope Benedict XVI, but given that the response from the Vatican to my last theological query was a Saint Rita prayer card in Lithuanian, I don't hold a lot of hope I'll have an answer any time soon.

Thursday, November 17, 2005

Tears of rage

Sister Nancy Beth offers this virtual tissue to Pajamas Media Open Source Media TBD-affiliated blogger Atlas Shrugs, who was the unhappy recipient of whore of heresy James Wolcott's lecherous advances. If anyone is going to sexually objectify Ms. Atlas, it should be her fellow conservatives. I stand in solidarity with my blogging sister, and I fully agree with her assessment of thrusting her dirty pillows in the face of Glenn Reynolds:
It is a Gutenberg moment. And Reynolds is changing the world, albeit one word at a time.
Praise Him!

Prayer Circle Jamboree

There's lots of great stuff out there on the internets today, and while each of these items deserves further exploration, my writing ambition seems to be running on low right now. What better time for Sister Nancy Beth's favorite quick & easy one-dish blog entry?

Rick Santorum gazes into his crystal ball and sees the future of the conservative movement, Compassionate Conservatism:
Fourth, Compassionate Conservatism targets the poor and hurting for help, whether they are across the street or across an ocean.
It sure does! Three more years of Compassionate Conservatism ought to really have those poor people on the ropes. Give 'em hell, Ricky!

Debra Saunders looks at the "evidence" about global warming and asks: Who are you going to believe, Townhall or 2,000 scientists?"

Marvin Olasky must have used his Aqua-Net in a poorly ventilated room to come up with this unique series of free associations on softball, potatoes and mattresses. Definitely a front-runner for Townhall's James Joyce Award.

Wednesday, November 16, 2005

Makeup making news

Watch out, Conchita's on the warpath today, mostly over the appointment-keeping software THAT SHE BOUGHT that doesn't calculate for holidays and has slowly gone out of whack. It's too complicated to get into, but the problem in a nutshell is that it thinks today is October 28th -- ugly incident this morning when I came in with Conchita demanding to know why Mrs. X was showing up for Mrs. Y's appointment, how long has this been going on, why didn't I say anything, etc. So here I sit, trying to reset the damnable thing and getting increasingly frustrated. Until I can resume my position as ambassadress of glamour to the conservative blogosphere, here are some cosmetics-related news stories to battle the drudgery of working life:

Ho-hum, Michael Jackson's had another run-in with the law, this time by entering a ladies' room in Dubai. Here's the intriguing part:
But local newspapers reported that the 47-year-old performer did not quickly leave the bathroom and was spotted applying makeup before leaving.
Really? What brand, and to what part of his face? Leave it to MSM to leave out the most salient details of this story. I was hoping Open Source Media might have a blogger on the scene to report the news behind the news, but they're probably too busy with their slumber party. It's too bad this didn't happen next week.

Doctor Nancy Beth, Medicine Woman? My beauty school didn't offer a pre-med major, but it looks like Nordstrom's is helping to fill that void with their on-call nurse at the skin-care counter. This is an idea that I hope catches on -- maybe some faith-based initiative will result in the stationing of nurses trained in the healing ways of cosmeceuticals throughout the more unsightly corners of the Third World.

Finally, showing the typical liberal disdain for the pillars of America's greatness, whores of heresy BlondeSense use cosmetics to fire off this little barb at President Bush. Hilarious, ladies.

Tuesday, November 15, 2005

Nancy Beth vs. the nancies

Despite the few meager contributions of homosexuals to science, art, economics, music, mathematics, politics, and popular culture, Sister Nancy Beth frowns upon the idea of homosexuality, and I vehemently object to its practice. That's why I was gladdened to read Prayer Warrior Andrew Sullivan's death knell for institutionalized nancyhood. What's even more gratifying is to see its ideas have already started taking root. As one of his many email correspondents (Andrew, why do you spend so much time at the computer?) shows, the "End of Gay Culture" is the new self-loathing:
I can remember when I was still in High School laying in bed at night telling myself that there was no way on earth that I could be gay. Not me I would say, I'm not GAY. I don't act gay, I don't dress gay. How can I be gay? I play football and I kiss girls! I'm not gay! But, like every gay man out there, I had to take it in strides; I had to deal with it my own way. And I did just that. The rest was history. I am out to pretty much everyone I know and meet. I am so much better for it. I had made a big deal out of something that was not a big deal.

I am writing you because I am living proof of what you are taking about. I have no idea what the Gay Culture of the 70s and 80s is about. I had no idea that AIDS had such a huge impact on gay life. I am completely ignorant of the pain and tragedy endured by the older generation. I respect what they did. I live my life the way I want. I am who I am. I have the freedom to be 'out' and not have to worry or hide who I really am. I guess I take it for granted. I guess I am guilty of that. I HATE the stereotypes and the labels put on gay people. I hate the idea of West Hollywood and the Rainbow. I am normal. I do not like the idea that I have to identify myself as gay.
Thank heavens there's now a plethora of healthy messages to guide these fledgling selfish hedonists away from Satan's grips. Just think of the unchecked danger to American society they would present if they fell under the sway of those dangerous camp icons of the past. Good work, Andrew!

Monday, November 14, 2005

The Lord is my beautician, I shall not be overly matronly

Sister Nancy Beth is devoted to spreading The Word ® through cosmetics, so even my fellow conservatives should expect to feel the sting of my lash if their punditry crosses the line into heresy. Case in point is Townhall's Kathleen Parker, who offers her friends the Amish this lovely little nosegay of prose:
The Amish culture is most alien to us moderns in its patriarchal family structure. The battle of the sexes doesn't exist, as gender and sex are not allowed to be controversial. Men have ultimate moral authority, and few would disagree that life is balanced unfairly for females, who often work double shifts, both helping with outdoor chores and tending to home and children. ...

But as odd as the Amish life may seem to us, ours is beyond weird to them. What we take for granted as rights and choices are mortal sins to them. Divorce is taboo and abortion unheard of. Children aren't shuttled off to day care, and the elderly die at home with family.
With this unflinching committment to traditional values like marriage and child labor and this patriarchy business, it sounds absolutely Eden-like, doesn't it? I was so enchanted by this description that I overlooked one small detail in Kathleen's piece (my emphasis added):
Most people probably couldn't handle much of Amish life. No electricity, no telephone, no cars, no computers, no CDs or cell phones, no iPods, no Internet, no makeup, no tasteful highlights, no jewelry, no Manolos. Plain doesn't come any plainer than this.
It seems to me these Amish people are due for a remedial theology lesson, Nancy Beth-style. So check it, folks, it goes like this: Ever since Eve got Adam and herself expelled from the Garden, womankind has been looking for a way to restore herself to her unblemished, pre-Fall condition. Makeup makes this possible. Even the word itself, makeup, refers to its redemptive powers. Denying ourselves cosmetics is forcing us to live apart from Christ in a morally degraded state -- like Vermont. If, in the Amish world view, wearing makeup is wrong, I don't want to be right. Praise Him!

Sunday, November 13, 2005


Some of you may question the depths of my allegiance to the agenda of the Religious Right, but you can't question my love for Jesus. I initially started this blog to document my life of Moral Purity with Jesus here in West Hollywood, but was unable to resist the lure of blogging about pressing social concerns related to politics and beauty. Ah, to go back to my roots, as they say in beauty school.

The weekend before this, Jesus & I protested Amoeba Records in Hollywood, so we came home with the new Vashti Bunyan cd, among many other things. The Vashti story has been discussed here and here, but the basic narrative is this: Singer chosen more for her looks rather than her voice to rule Swinging London chucks it all to live in a covered wagon in northern England; she cuts a record of songs about rural daily life with the luminaries of the Brit-folk scene, then drops out entirely for 35+ years. What's unexpected in this tale is at the end of those 35 years, she releases another album, and it's even better than the one before it.

Lookaftering features Bunyan's wintry vocals in a series of songs about getting older, if aging can be defined as the growing awareness that what you see going away from you won't always come back. The presence of Vashti's own children and their growing distance from their mother is felt heavily on this album: in the lyrics, in the artwork, and in the album's credits. Her musical children also figure prominently: neo-naif folksters Joanna Newsom, Devendra Banhart, and Vetiver provide instrumental backing, as does first album collaborator Robert Kirby.

It's little wonder this records has had such a strong an effect on me. Jesus & I are both in our mid-30s and this is the first mature relationship for both of us in that it isn't about the feverish rush of youth, but rather the growing sense of responsibility we feel towards others that comes with age. The Christcat's kidneys are nearly 14 years old and require my constant attention, my sister has advanced breast cancer, my dad is a jalopy whose four tires constantly blowing, and Jesus' dad isn't in the greatest of shape himself, if you hadn't guessed. A lot of the carelessness we would have taken for granted if we were doing this 10 years earlier is an inconceivable luxury now.

We also picked up the new Dirty Three album, Cinder. Jesus & I put this on late last Sunday night and we were mesmerized by its beauty. Or at least I was, anyhow, since Jesus fell asleep after two songs. But what songs they are! They're much shorter on this album and they number about twenty, as opposed to the half dozen that slowly unfurled to reveal their majesty on albums past. A good one, by any measure.

Things have slowed down enough here after the move to make me think I am, officially, Moved In -- which means instead of lists of 15 Saturday chores, we're down to making lists with about five items. This also meant letting Jesus sit down and read this here blog. He had two concerns. The first is that I would blow His cover before the Second Coming by divulging too many personal details, which would be totally uncool on my part. The second is that I always refer to Him as lying on the couch, or watching tv, or falling asleep. Let the record officially show that Jesus works two jobs and kicks righteous ass, housework-wise [happy?].

Friday, November 11, 2005

Reading is fundamentalism

After two weeks of taking public transportation to work, it's dawned on me that I now have an hour and a half of spare time in my day. I had initially planned to bring the style-deficient to the Lord, but gave up after some unspectacular results -- fellow travelers indeed. So I'm in the position of trying to figure out how to make this quality time for everybody: myself, the Lord, and my fellow conservatives.

One idea I've been toying with is doing more reading. Yesterday, over at a couple of my favorite sites, a Marvin Olasky piece appeared with a list of suggested texts on American history:
High-schoolers now have trouble understanding the 45-year Cold War between the United States and the Soviet Union, which ended in American victory, so I’d suggest that they read the first 85 pages of “Witness” by Whittaker Chambers (1952), who lays out the stakes. Peggy Noonan’s “When Character Was King,” a biography of Ronald Reagan, and William F. Buckley’s “The Fall of the Berlin Wall” explain the crucial figure and the signal event of the victory.

It’s vital to understand American perseverance during that era if we are to persevere in the war against terrorism. Noonan’s “A Heart, a Cross and a Flag” chronicles well the beginning of our new war, and Karl Zinsmeister vividly shows the undermining of a regime that harbored terrorists in “Boots on the Ground” and “Dawn Over Baghdad.”
I'll give Marvin's suggestions due consideration, but I've been burned -- quite literally -- by these recommendations before. The last time was with The Fragrant Veil, which, according to the chatroom buzz at the time, was supposed to be a Fallaci-like denunciation of Islamofascism from the point of view of a glamour-positive female Muslim, who would then be subjected to multiple fatwas once the imans caught wind of her fiery rhetoric. The only thing on fire, sadly, were my ladyparts, after sitting too long in a tub filled with grapefruit peels and clove oil. I thought I had chlamydia, which was pretty hard to explain to Jesus, since we had already passed that stage in our relationship where we committed to monogamy. Ever since then, I take these things with a grain of salt.

One of my frustrations with the magazines I subscribe to is that none are targeted at that intersection of faith, cosmetics, and rightward politics where I presently live. My style magazines are uniformly "feminist" in their political outlook and, worse, are borderline pornographic; my Christian women's magazines aren't especially political and are a tad bit frumpy (though, in all honesty, those articles on warding off varicose veins are helpful), and Weekly Standard never has any beauty features. That's why I'm guardedly excited about a website I came across, Christian Women Today. They have exciting features like plastic surgery from the Christian woman's vantage point and religiously appropriate undergarments. Best of all, of course, are the messages of womanly subservience:
Remember that God has put your husband in a position of leadership, and He will lead you through your husband.
Remember that's also why He made your husband stronger than you, so he can knock a tooth or two loose if you fall out of line.

The biggest thrill from Christian Women Today was finding a link to Models For Christ. I encourage all of you in the glamour-related technologies to give it a look, as it too offers a wealth of good advice. Happy reading!

Thursday, November 10, 2005

Prayer circle jamboree

It's been a while since I've looked in on my Prayer Warriors, plus I added a few more to their ranks. Let's welcome these fresh new faces to the Prayer Circle by highlighting some of their more inspired work.
  • Phyllis Schlafley warns us of the latest attempt by feminists to turn our military into a bunch of patchouli-scented she-males. The first insidious step is having Wellesley College Centers for Women comment on the establishment of Office of the Victim Advocate (OVA) at the Pentagon; the next step, is of course, gender Armageddon. Of particular concern for me is this:
    A Pentagon OVA would make it easy for a woman to destroy the military career of any man by a simple accusation, whether or not it is true or proven. Motives to stick the knife in a man are endless, including rejection after a relationship gone sour, disappointment when he resists her advances, an unwanted pregnancy, preventing the man from getting joint custody of his child, resentment about an unpleasant assignment, or envy because she was passed over for promotion.
    Those feminist she-wolves are notorious for coming on to their male supervisors. I can only hope Rumsfeld stands up to the feminist menace by not watching the PBS special that Phyllis goes on to mention.
  • At Human Events Online, Larry Kelly dares to state the obvious consequence of California's refusal of the Schwarzenegger initiatives: Islamic insurrection!
  • The Town Hall pundits have been prayer warriors since day one, but Star Parker's piece for them this week deserves to be singled out for praise. In marking the passing of Rosa Parks, Star asks, "What Would Rosa Do?" and concludes that she'd fight for the privatization of Social Security, school vouchers, and the removal of federal minimum wage laws.

Wednesday, November 09, 2005

Liberals: you have 45 shopping days left to mock Christmas

I take my marching orders from right-wing bloggers with higher profiles than my own, but so far I haven't seen anything alerting us to the fact that the libs have already declared open season on Baby Jesus. In fact, the closest thing I could find in the news similar to the persecution I had to endure at my job today is over at Agape Press, where I'm happy to read that an Air Force pilot and chaplain are opposing a lawsuit that tries to prevent People of Faith from proselytizing while on duty, on the grounds it threatens "their ability to share their faith and to candidly discuss religion." As far as I know, no Jews (or misc.) work here to be offended by my Witnessing, so I don't see why Conchita's always telling me to tone it down.

Their act of resistance is an act of genuine inspiration, something I'm in dire need of, especially after getting the final tally of our dismal showings in the elections. Today was also opening day in the Global War on Christianity here at the Beauty Palace, with the announcement of the annual "holiday" party on December 2nd and the naming of those on the decorating committee. Guess who isn't on it? I can only assume it's meant to be a rebuke from last year, when I made a creche out of my old Conair rollers with a banner written in lip liner that said, "For unto you a Savior is born," and put it on the reception desk. Conchita said it was too "explicit," which was an obvious load of hooey, since curlers don't have anything that even comes close to resembling genitalia. She made me take it down, despite my protestations. Fortunately it's locked away in storage, so nobody coming into Conchita's for a cut & color will be unduly harmed by exposure to God's Glory.

My coworkers couldn't wait to come rub my face in it, either. "So, Nancy Beth," said X, one of Conchita's pet stylists, "will you and Jesus be coming to the holiday party?" He aspirated the h in holiday so hard he rustled the pages of the appointment book. "[Same-Sex Partner] and I would love to sit with you. I keep telling him about the incredible outfits you put together."

Fuck you, dick. "No," I said in as business-like a tone as I could muster,"I've got an important church meeting that night," which wasn't a total lie. The Filipino folk mass has their rehearsals on Friday nights, so who's to say I won't show up with my flute from high school band and jam with them? Anything would be preferable to sitting with these pagans.

Today is crawling by and I can't wait to get home. Somehow I managed to schedule two 1:30 appointments for the manicurist Conchita wanted available for walk-ins, and only one of these clients pulling a no-show saved my hide. If Conchita found out, I'm sure it would be another patronizing lecture on my inability to follow instructions. "Sorry, lady, but I take my orders from a higher commander, " I'm ready to tell her. Oh well, just as Arnold must make the most out of the terrible hand the Fates have dealt him, so must I. To the salt mines, then...

Tuesday, November 08, 2005

The Pony Pal challenge

Princess Sparkle Pony was soliciting reader contributions and I couldn't help myself. Here Condi contemplates using her trusty Black Pearl to level the press corps. Give 'em hell, Condi! Posted by Picasa

Tears of a clown

Hot tears have been streaming down Sister Nancy Beth's cheeks all day ever since I learned of the plight of Paul Deignan. Maybe it's because his cruel mistreatment at the hands of academia reminds me so much of my own ordeal, but I'm glad to see he's chosen to rectify the situation the honorable way: by threatening to sue. I wish Paul victory in his lawsuit and, of course, extend to him this virtual tissue.

I was planning on doing a special ladies-only edition of my prayer circle jamboree until I learned of the grave injustice Paul had suffered. Instead, I'll pass along something I read over at Townhall and hoped to include in my jamboree. University of Virginia is home to the Network of Enlightened Women, an organization whose stated purpose is:
... to foster the education and leadership skills of conservative university women. NeW is devoted to expanding the intellectual diversity at UVa.
They're also looking to franchise their operation -- if only there had been such an organization before I got hounded out of beauty school for my own conservative beliefs! Sister Nancy Beth strongly encourages Paul to found a chapter of Network of Enlightened Women at Purdue and help decisively turn the leftist tide at our nation's universities. As a further act of solidarity with Paul, I will threaten to sue everybody who bans me from commenting on their blogs.

Monday, November 07, 2005

They hate us because of our hairdos

I'm reading up on the continuing violence in France to best figure out how to fight radical Islam with cosmetology. Naturally MSM is serving up its usual hatred of conservative ideals in the form of weepy "root causes" pieces, so thank heavens I've got my Prayer Warriors to tell it to me straight. Not only is MSM too afraid of offending PC sensibilities to point out that it's Muslims who are rioting, they're too afraid to mention the obvious Al Qaeda connection. But leave it to WorldNetDaily to provide me with the link to the all-important cosmetology angle that liberal media would rather shy away from:
Turkish prime minister Recep Tayyip Erdogan has linked the ban on the wearing of Muslim head scarves in French schools to the unrest inflaming poor suburbs of French cities, according to a press report Monday.

In an interview with Milliyet newspaper, Erdogan said "the process begun in France in the schools" was one explanation for the worsening violence marked by the destruction of thousands of vehicles, vandalism of schools and attacks on police stations.

Erdogan, who became involved in Turkish politics through the now-disbanded Islamist National Salvation Party and in 1999 was jailed for four months on a charge of inciting religious hatred, said the law banning the hijab in schools had contributed to migrants' sense of exclusion and "stirred up" the violence.
Haven't these people ever heard of Aqua-Net? It's like the invisible hand of God keeping your tresses in place. Islam's understanding of haidressing remains stuck in the 14th century; Muslims and their enablers on the Left can look forward to more violence like this until they accept the primacy of Our American Hairstyles.

Friday, November 04, 2005

Sweet Nancy-Con

Today I am proud to unveil my first foreign policy initiative, the Project for the Nancy-American Century. The objective of the Nancy-Con movement is simple: to use America's uncontested military superiority to advance the cause of beauty worldwide. Iraq, sadly, has already been spoken for, though I'm willing to let President Bush rally 'round the mascara wand and claim our invasion of Iraq was all to promote the cause of international glamour, should this democracy business fail to take off. Syria, Iran, and North Korea, however, remain up for grabs, and all could use substantial makeovers. Michael Ledeen, call your manicurist!

My first order of business is to appoint a board of directors. The choice for executive director is obvious:
The e-mails show that Brown, who had been planning to step down from his post when the storm hit, was preoccupied with his image on television even as one of the first FEMA officials to arrive in New Orleans, Marty Bahamonde, was reporting a crisis situation of increasing chaos to FEMA officials.

"My eyes must certainly be deceiving me. You look fabulous — and I'm not talking the makeup," writes Cindy Taylor, FEMA's deputy director of public affairs to Brown on 7:10 a.m. local time on Aug. 29.

"I got it at Nordstroms," Brown writes back. "Are you proud of me? Can I quit now? Can I go home?" An hour later, Brown adds: "If you'll look at my lovely FEMA attire, you'll really vomit. I am a fashion god."
It's exactly this kind of vision PNAC needs as it embarks on its crusade to bring America's ideals of style to the world. Sister Nancy Beth has learned through difficult experience that what looks good under incandescent light may not look so good in natural sunlight, and God help anyone under fluorsescent tubes. Here we have a man who was walking into a situation where electricity was spotty and there may not have been any lighting at all, and he still managed to pull it off. Brownie (if I may call him that) embodies the exacting level of diligence we need to run America's next war effort, and I promise to do his colors myself if he comes aboard.

Our next board member is National Review media critic Cathy Seipp, who offers tantalizing hints about the the theological undergirdings of Jewishness and neatly manicured eyebrows in this recent blog post, but never really delivers. Perhaps Cathy can expand this post into PNAC's first white paper.

My last appointment to the board for today is Michelle Malkin, whose understanding of skintones makes her my "Foundation of Freedom" scholar, a postion that includes a small honorarium to buy concealer and collagen injections for that especially pouty look.

I extend my most heartfelt congratulations to all board members, and plan to introduce more as worthy candidates make themselves known. Posted by Picasa

Thursday, November 03, 2005

No more tears (enough is enough)

I hope everyone is wearing their waterproof mascara today, since those savage liberals are even more indiscriminate in where they've been firing their poison-tipped quills. Boi From Troy deserves an entire box of Sister Nancy Beth's virtual tissues (now with aloe!) after narrowly surviving their typical thuggery:
Unfortunately, if you are even the slightest bit critical of labor, they portray you as an extremist who wants to see them undone–and in the comments, I suffered the same mendacious attacks as the Governor is getting from those who claim to represent nurses and teachers.
All he said was:
I personally believe that Unions are responsible for most of the problems in California–from our sluggish economy burdened by employment laws they have forced upon us, to out-of-control spending which is putting the State further in debt, and so on.
Why do these unions take everything so personally?

Another tissue goes to Rick Santorum, who must once again endure the unmitigated cruelty of homosexual radicals:

A national political group for gays is staging mock "retirement parties" for Sen. Rick Santorum as part of a campaign to defeat the high-ranking Republican next year. ...

Organizers say their main goal is to energize rank-and-file activists for next year's campaigns and the 2008 presidential election.

When homosexuals organize, Christians suffer. Just remember Sister Nancy Beth will always be there to dry those tears.

What a friend we have in Nancy Beth

Whores of Heresy Republic of T, God of Biscuits, and Needlenose are soon to find that out. It is my fervent hope that I may help your readers find Christ through Cosmetics™.

Wednesday, November 02, 2005

Takin' it to the streets

I've been slowly coming to the awareness that Christianity isn't all about costume jewelry and makeovers. You also have to apply your faith to your daily life from time to time. Yesterday's bus ride to pick up the Praisemobile (which now drives as though God Himself changed the serpentine drive belt and cv boot) has renewed my sense of mission within the Church, and I have committed myself for the month of November (I bought a pass) to bringing my Gospel of Glamour to the poor, who -- as you may know -- are mentioned periodically in the Bible.

Over the years, I have amassed a sizeable library of books and instructional guides dealing with the science of cosmetology and its related fields. Some of these titles are obscure, like Lois Wyse's Blonde, Beautiful Blonde, which may very well be Sister Nancy Beth's personal Natural Right and History. Color Me Beautiful, however, is widely known and abundantly available. Whenever I run across a used copy at a thrift store or yard sale, I'll pick it up, usually for a quarter, with the intent of giving it to some hapless soul in need.

Armed with a slightly dogeared copy of the revised 1984 edition (but including the original color swatches), I boarded the 304 and looked for my first convert. There she was, a stout Latin American woman in an ankle-length cotton skirt and a t-shirt that read, "U Can't Touch This," though repeated washings had removed a lot of the lettering. "Senor," I said, "usted no tiene glamour."


"No tiene glamour." I tried fishing Color Me Beautiful out of the Shroud of Turin handbag Sister Chandrika gave me (to which I added some rhinestones, for a truly BeDazzling effect), but she flipped her hair at me and stared off in the other direction. I'll admit my Spanish may not be all it ought to be, because like I said, I didn't take the Ethnic Hair Care module in beauty school, but I'm pretty sure "que" in this context means "Why is this white bitch getting in my face?" and not "What," like those multicultural whitewashers at Babelfish want me to believe. I figure for the ride home tonight, I'll have the book in a more convenient spot, so I can pass it off as quickly as a drug dealer.

This morning's experience may have been disappointing, but over at Renew America, I see that, sometimes, we can put our Christian faith into action and get results. Here's a particularly heart-warming excerpt:
"Sills, who leads anti-abortion rallies outside Sacramento-area Planned Parenthood offices three times a week, complained to school administrators last year about a classroom presentation on domestic violence, said Gail Erlandson, a theology teacher for 11 years at Loretto.

"Sills objected to brochures listing agencies that offer help for women because they included Planned Parenthood, which supports abortion rights. The brochure was later revised.
Mrs. Sills, on behalf of battered Christian women everywhere, I'd like to thank you. Even in their darkest hour, I'm certain they realize that they'd be safer with their abusive husbands than with those ghoulish babykillers. While the Sills family's story is still unfolding (the domestic violence protest is just a teaser of their activities) , it does serve as an example of positive impact Christian families can have, and I hope someday my achievements can be measured against theirs.

Tuesday, November 01, 2005

Stop your sobbing

Sister Nancy Beth sends this virtual tissue to Bill Frist posthaste.

Weary Souls Day

Sister Nancy Beth had every intention of protesting last night's Halloween Carnival in West Hollywood ("Using Makeup to honor Satan is blasphemous to God!" said my placards, ready at the door), but I just didn't have the energy to deal with that whole scene. This is quite a change for me, since back in my days of selfish hedonism, the Halloween festival was one of the few things about West Hollywood I could muster any enthusiasm about. After accepting Christ as my savior (and a traumatic near-death experience last year where Jesus & I were nearly trampled to death by a gang of Tina Turner impersonators, in what could have been at outtake from Day of the Locust), I assumed I would bring that same level of fervor to seeing this abomination shut down, but no. Since I moved in with Jesus, I seem to only have ridiculously productive weekends, whether I want them or not, that leave me on the brink of exhaustion. I crash and burn with the start of each work week. Last night hit me especially hard, but it was a long time coming.

Saturday night I went with Sister Chandrika and a couple of other ladies from the parish to protest this party being held somewhere out in the hinterlands of Ventura-- it may have been Spahn Ranch, for all I know. Sister Chandrika received a hot tip that plenty of God's Laws were going to be skirted or disobeyed completely, so haul your outrage over to Agoura Hills (is it really productive to distinguish between Agoura and Agoura Hills when nobody knows how to get to either one?) and let those sinners feel your wrath! Sadly, there was a whole lot of nothing going on, so I sat and fumed quietly on the back patio swing; my only outrage was at Sister Chandrika for dragging my tired ass to the outer exurbs of nowhere. I finally got home at about 1:00 a.m. Jesus was lying on the couch in His underwear and watching Blade on dvd; it was pretty obvious who was going to be skipping out on church again the following morning.

After mass, I picked up Jesus we went to the Beverly Center to buy a suit for His upcoming interviews for grad school. Sister Nancy Beth would never own a suit, since even those intended for ladies blur the lines between the sexes in a manner I consider heretical. I had no idea there would be so many choices, but then again, I hadn't taken into account the possibility that the fashion industry had been so deeply infiltrated by homosexual activists intent on pushing their radical metrosexual agenda of pastel-tinted shirts and boldly contrasting ties.

Jesus seemed blithely indifferent to the feminization of American culture on display all around him and asked me, "Which one do you like best?" He had picked out two jackets, one brown and the other black, and was trying them on in front of a mirror with the assistance of this obvious nancy of a sales assistant. I have to admit that it was startling how different an effect each suit had on Jesus. Brown, His first choice, gave Him the humble earnestness of a lawyer from a small town out in the country. The black one had corporate raider written all over it; it was clearly the one to wear the day you announce mass layoffs to the shareholders. Blue seemed to say, "I'm vain enough to know that the wrong color clashing with my skintone could be ruinous to my career," so we settled on gray, which to me said 89th percentile - I may not be in the top ten, but I bust my ass trying. Jesus agreed it was a good choice and He picks it up this Friday.

My final Station of the Cross was today. The Praisemobile had to go in for its own day of beauty at the VW dealer, to the tune of $600. I dropped it off at 8:00 and hoped to make it into work by 9 -- Conchita goes over my timecard with a jeweler's glass these days. On the bus trip in, I had another blinding flash of inspiration: the riders of LA's public transportation system would benefit immensely from some divine intervention, Nancy Beth-style, so I'm going to propose some sort of outreach program to Father Joe where we hand out cosmetics to the needy. I'll let you know well he receives this idea.