True perhaps, but styles change, and Jesus lived 2000 years ago. I live right now, and I've recently surfed a lot (A LOT) of internet porn, and I can say without a doubt, that in the new millennium, less is more. If God himself could flip flop on the whole circumcision thing, well, I'm sure Jesus can change his mind about the odd cut pubic hair. And hey, let's face it, the ability to remove hair from our genitalia is the only thing that separates us from the animals.

I've heard the mobs of self-proclaimed feminists rail against me whenever I profess my preference for hairless pussy. Apparently I am trying to rob them of their womanhood, and make them look like sexually immature girls. Well first of all, if that were true, I would also be against big tits, which I am not. And also, if body hair is the ultimate expression of a woman's adult status, surely they would also have to let their armpit, and leg hair grow. True, some of these misguided neo-hippies do just that, but I've never heard a man be accused of misogyny or a pedophilia for preferring a lady with smooth legs.

Let these chicks scream all they want. This is not a power issue, (although spanking is, but hey, last time I checked, feminism was about the right to make choices, and if a girl wants me to tie her up and spank her until her ass is black and blue, well I'm a sensitive enough man that I'm willing to do what I can to help her fulfill her dreams,) it is all about aesthetics. I shave my cock'n'balls, and it doesn't make me feel like a little boy at all. In fact, it makes me feel like a very sexy, constantly semi-aroused, grown man. There is absolutely nothing about the appearance of human genitalia, male or female, which is improved by the growth of a patch of scraggly, wiry, curly hair, which often becomes encrusted in dried mucus. That's right, I said it, mucus. Call it what you want, pussy juice, natural lubricant, it comes from a mucus gland. If my nose were constantly dripping, I wouldn't grow a moustache. Especially if my snot smelled like vagina.

Well, there's a reason why God put our noses in the middle of our faces and not between our legs, and there's a reason why he gave us razors and wax. That's what I call intelligent designing. Now if only he had designed us to be born without foreskins.

A friend of mine phoned me today and complained that my blog was no longer funny. This is true. I'm an emotional wreck right now. I've spent the last three weeks or so on the verge of tears, which may be triggered by anything from a Conservative party gain in the polls, to an exceptionally inspiring tampon commercial. I'm not terribly concerned about this phenomenon, it happens regularly. (No, not monthly, smartass). I think this particular bout of depression was set off by a two week manic drinking binge at the end of my last tour in Taiwan, during which time I neglected to sleep. I've spent the last week catching up on sleep and cutting down on the booze, and then Jerry Falwell died, and I'm feeling better now, thanks.

But the comment made me realize that, over the years, I have typecast myself as a clown. As a writer, a performer, and even in my personal relationships, I hide behind the laughing mask of the comedian. This has its advantages. Comedians well know that they can talk easier about sensitive issues than their more serious counterparts. Jon Stewart of the Daily Show vehemently denies that he is anything more than a "funny man", because if he dropped that facade, he would be off the air within months. (Look at what happened to Bill Moyer.) It's no coincidence that the smartest political satire on television is broadcast on the comedy network.

On the downside, however, playing the fool does take away some of your humanity. When people are trained to laugh at your misfortunes, they cannot also cry at them. Nobody weeps when Polonius dies, but when Hamlet bites it, there is nary a dry eye in the theater. Once I have an audience convinced that I am a funny man, I can sing about contemplating suicide, about the death of a friend, or about my ongoing battle with alcoholism, and they will nearly wet themselves with glee.

My friend Terry summed it up nicely one time. If I remember correctly, he said: "People don't think of you as a real person. They think of you as some sort of cartoon character who pops into their lives periodically to entertain them."

So.... has anybody heard the one about the Rabbi?

Say goodbye to your freedom fries! The French are no longer the hated pacifists they once were. Sixty two years after we liberated France from the fascists, the French have voted them back into office. Now France is free to relive the glory of their Vichy past. Those halcyon five years of Nazi collaboration before it became clear that the pesky allies were winning the war, and the French once again switched sides, and joined the BRITISH and AMERICANS (and canadians) in order to defeat the Nazis. The French were proclaimed victors, and won themselves a permanent seat on the UN security council, with veto. Ah, but what of the resistance? You mean the HERO Charles de Gaulle hiding in London with his wireless set? Those punks could have learned a thing or two about resistance from the Iraqis. These guys know how to run a proper insurgency. If the French in World War Two had been half as effective in their freedom fighting as the Iraqis are, it's unlikely the Nazis would have ever had the necessary available manpower mount operation Barbarosa.

These must be exciting times to be alive for moron redneck assholes around the world. Nearly every major country has turned its back on the socialist ideals of freedom, helping those in need, and not killing your fellow man. The USA, Canada, France, Germany, Russia, China and North Korea, etc. (The latter two Communist in name, but Fascist by nature,) are all being run by asshole governments, with asshole agendas. Why even the Vatican City has recently shifted even more to the right, something I thought was impossible considering what a moron redneck asshole the last Pope was.

But I depress myself. More cheerful news: The Deported have posted their Charlie Taylor song on their myspace site. It's called "89K". Personally, I think it should be called "The Charlie Taylor Song", but hey, what do I know.

Also exciting news: I've found a guitar player for "Charlie Taylor, Canadian edition." We should be up and running by this fall, upon my return from Europe.

Reproduced in its entirety:

"There is currently no new release by Charlie Taylor, Damn." -Punk What? Magazine, April 2007.

A new Charlie Taylor video by Clive Whittaker is ready to be viewed, and it's so long it had to be chopped into two halves in order to fit on the youtube. Parts one and two are the second and third videos from the top on my myspace page respectively. We sent Clive five tapes, one of which was a head cleaner apparently, and the rest of which was mostly footage of us being drunken morons, and he has once again worked miracles to create something cohesive, and if I may say, entertaining. Enjoy.

Yep that's us.  Right before I sold her to the steak and hamburger shop.