An ode to bat-shit crazy Michele “With one L” Bachmann

“Are you a flake?”

Do you know a flake?

Do you think Carbon Dioxide is portrayed as harmful?

Does your gay husband try to cure gay people through prayer?

Do you hate science?

Do you call Koolaid, “tea”?

Do you misunderstand basic math?

Do you think Terry Schiavo was healthy?

Then Michele Bachmann is your lady!

A Christian take on James Bond: Jimmy Valiant … the clever name machine must be broken.


Once in a while, a movie so bad must be made. The last one was Fireproof with Kirk Cameron. 

And then there was Jimmy Valiant: Scions of Danger, a movie made by kids for kids. Spreading the so-called good word shouldn’t always be considered a good thing.

The American Family Association, those bastions of destroying families despite having family in the title, are distributing this turd of a film for a $14.99 donation. Why a donation?

Who knows? To avoid paying sales tax?

Whatever. If the acting and action in the entire movie are anything close to what’s featured in the trailer, the movie is destined to carry on in the footsteps of Fireproof validating that Christian filmmaking is destined to follow in Christian music’s footsteps … mediocre at best.

The least the filmmakers could have done was get a kid who’s voice has changed to be the main actor.

More about the film here.

Thanks for the big two hundred thousand

You guys are great, you know that? Last night, Le Café Witteveen crossed the 200,000 hit threshold.

And you, yes you, are to thank.

So thank you.

In fact, we’re having our best month so far, as well as our best year. I say “we” because I’m not making hits. You are. I’m just dropping posts that some of you seem to like enough to return once in a while.

We should do 100,000 hits in one year before the end of September. It took almost two years to cross the first 100,000 mark.

200,000 hits isn’t too shabby for never advertising, and just goofing around with all of you.


The Side View Mirror Spider

Last night on my way home from basketball, the spider who lives between our side view mirror and the driver side window was dangling as it usually does from the mirror.

When I speed up, it balls up and swings around in the wind from a safe distance under the mirror. I don’t mind it a bit.

My windows were open, and my spider friend and I seemed to both enjoy the Foo Fighters tune I was blaring.

When I looked up after accelerating from a stop sign, the spider had moved to the top of the window frame, and she (I believe it’s a she) started dangling down from a web. The wind tossed her to and fro, and I started to get a little antsy.

After I couldn’t restrain myself further, I swatted at it, hoping it would safely drop to the lower mirror again, it dropped inside the car, into the darkness by my bare legs.

I have what I think is a spider bite on my arm from when we were in Carbondale, and I don’t care for another one.

I made it home safe and sound, but the thought of it happening was more than powerful. It’s amazing what the mind is capable of.

It made me think of this list: The 6 Most Mind-Blowing Ways Your Brain Can Malfunction

It also made me think of this erroneous thought I saw on Facebook this morning:

Memories, sweet memories

A goofy photo of a bloated Val Kilmer. The text says, “Hey Guys, remember when I was Batman?”

Seen somewhere on the Internet

What you might also want to remember is Val Kilmer played two top American icons in music, Elvis in the movie True Romance and Jim Morrison in The Doors.

Sic transit gloria.


Oozing for my Lord

Unfortunately this book from Betty Carolyn Hearon-Love is not available at Amazon. You won’t be able to put it on your Kindle or iPad just yet.

It’s almost as good of a cover as this one from Oral Roberts … you know the spout where the glory comes out.

Sometimes verb choice is imperative to a good book cover. In this case, it’s imperative for book mockery.

“Oozing for my Lord.”

For real. Who came up with that one, Betty?


Friday Bloody Friday

It’s the day before the Chicago Air & Water Show.

I have had mixed feelings about this weekend since I first moved here.

It’s similar to the Fourth of July. While I realize the symbolism of fireworks, and I love to watch a great fireworks display, there are a couple nights in a row that many of our neighbors blow off fireworks all around our apartment. There’s a 365-degree fireworks display that makes war zones seem safe.

Of course that’s a hyperbole. I’m quite sure war zones are more dangerous.

But for two nights in July and two days in August for the Air & Water Show, Chicago is a war zone.

The jets during A&W are incredibly loud. And the multiple jet flybys make deaf people’s sphincter pucker.

The homage that these brilliant displays of technological and engineering genius pay to war bothers me.

Maybe the reminder that so many men and women have died to start and protect this country is too much for a small mind like mine. Maybe I don’t have an open mind to war. What is it about me that second guesses everything or questions the necessity of events or things (like religion) that people swear allegiance to.

Growing up, I was like many American boys. I played war. I loved guns. I adored airplanes and fast (loud) cars. With my friends, we wrestled and pretended to know martial arts.

I knew at an early age, though, that I would never go in the military. When I was in France back in college, I learned that military service is mandatory for every French young man. That idea frightened me, and I was reminded how grateful I was to live in the good ol’ U.S. of A.

While I love to photograph the aerobatics and admire the engineering of the airplanes and fighter jets, they scare me all the same.

Is this cognitive dissonance?

I hate war but love the war machine? I love explosions, but hate war explosions?

I love the sinner but hate the sin? 

Perhaps an over-active imagination is to blame. I can’t ride down the road in our car without visualizing an accident. I see myself through a windshield and scattered across asphalt more often than I’d care to admit. I often dream about dying or being killed. When I look over our deck on the third floor of our building, I envision falling.

When I see the fighter planes, I visualize them laying down stream of machine gun fire followed by letting go a few missiles straight for my face. I see the planes hitting the twin towers again. Or in my case, I see them hitting the Hancock building or the former Sears Tower now Willis Tower. I see them falling to the ground and the debris rising.

I hate violence. 

More after the jump

Continue reading “Friday Bloody Friday”

A Friday dose of fun funnies





Another one of our famous collections of funny Internet graphics, illustrations and images. The Internet … too much fun for anyone of you.

I can’t wait to see which republican candidate will terrify me into voting for Obama again. 

Facebook event RSVP Translator: Yes = MaybeTwo kitties in multiple panels. They hiss at each other and finally end their romp purring.