Drop the bottle and reach for the sky

Astute readers of I’m With Stupid may have noticed that in last week’s column, a sober, thoughtful treatise on Buddhist meditation, I confessed that my personal mantra while meditating, which generally involves much pondering of female body parts, is the word “Boobies.”

I received quite a bit of negative feedback from self-styled Zen masters informing me that my puerile jokes and sophomoric attitude were a guaranteed way to ensure that nothing worthwhile would ever come of my meditating.
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Mammary almond crunch

Let me preface this column by saying I have no problem with PETA, the People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals, nor do I have any problems with vegetarians in general, as long as they grant the rest of us the right to eat meat.

Whether we buy it at a store or hunt or fish for it legally we should be allowed to eat it without being given the Lisa Simpson guilt trip about our choice. Beyond that, all animals should be treated as ethically as possible. I absolutely agree. Continue reading »

Batty over boobies

Technically, this is a sports column, and I know that Janet Jackson’s breast isn’t a sporting event or some sort of sport unto itself, but it did make its public debut during halftime of the Super Bowl, so I will take that flimsy segue and run with it.

I’ve noticed that for some reason the media overlooked the incident, but I think it requires some further discussion. When a cherished member of one of America’s least controversial families bares her breast on national TV, you’d think people might notice. Continue reading »