Unlikely BAMF in a Tutu

Joanne Casey posted these damn photos from photographer Bob Carey. It’s a series of him wearing only a tutu.

He explains the series started as a kind of a joke, but then the story took a turn when his wife developed breast cancer. Wearing a pink tutu suddenly took on meaning.

So now Bob Carey sells his images to raise awareness and money to fight cancer.

Read more and make a contribution here.

Via

The Scar Project; Breast Cancer is Not a Pink Ribbon

Prepare to be moved. About the SCAR project:

The SCAR Project is a series of large-scale portraits of young breast cancer survivors shot by fashion photographer David Jay. Primarily an awareness raising campaign, The SCAR Project puts a raw, unflinching face on early onset breast cancer while paying tribute to the courage and spirit of so many brave young women.

Read more

See more images here.

There isn’t one image that isn’t moving in some way. I could seriously post every single one of them.

My mom survived breast cancer, among a slew of other things. She’d be an amazing candidate for this project. Scars on her legs, chest and breast.

What an amazing project. Let’s toast to science and awareness.

Via TYWKIWDBI

reblog: The Daily What, Heartbreaking Tearjerker of the Day

If you do nothing else with your day, stop by The Daily What and read this story about a mother, faced with her life or her unborn baby’s, she chose her baby’s.

Holy heartbreak.

There’s a video and a story. Here’s the first part (below). Click on the link above to read the rest.

Heartbreaking Tearjerker of the Day: 41-year-old Stacie Crimm was faced with her very own Sophie’s Choice: Undergo chemotherapy to treat her cancer and risk losing her unborn daughter, or forgo the treatment and save her child’s life, but most likely lose her own.

She chose the latter.

Crimm became pregnant in March after years of trying. She was diagnosed with head and neck cancer a few months later. Somehow, she managed to hold on long enough to give birth to baby girl Dottie Mae by C-section on August 18th.

I would wager a million dollars, this was not a case of, “Well, the mother should have prayed harder” or “She should have asked Jesus with more zeal for healing.”

The next time you say, “Thank god I survived [insert catastrophe of your choice].” Remember how often that prayer is answered with a big fat, “No, bitch.”

 

The Breast Center

The Carbondale University Mall is a ghost town. There are some big-name stores there like Old Navy, American Eagle, Macy’s, etc. But it’s almost like they are there because they feel sorry for the town. Maybe the owners of those stores think they are contributing to a charity by keeping their stores in a mall like that.

In the back of the mall, near the food court, I found the above sign for the breast center. It’s pointing toward a little gray door that looks more like an exit than an entrance.

All I could think of was behind that gray door in the corner was a HUGE areola. Or behind the door, there were a bunch of animated boobs without chests running around.

I mean, The Breast Center? What else could it be?

Here’s a shot of cobbled together images at the food court at the mall. This should show you just how ghost town this mall is. Notice there are only two restaurants that are open. The rest are vacant.

click to enlarge

One more thing, drop by the wiki for “breast.” The top right image is a photo of a pregnant woman’s boob. When I was growing up, that was considered pornographic. I’m not sure why. Wikipedia must be the modern boy’s National Geographic magazine.

Saturday Reading List

  • Oh Chick-Fil-A, say it ain’t so! Gay activists are bashing the incredibly religious fast-food chain for associations with anti-gay agenda. Read here, here and here. Hey, Chick-Fil-A, do you get happy from smashing babies against rocks, too?!?
  • The cure for loneliness? Date Jesus. I am not fucking kidding. Julie Ferwerda explains that dating Jesus is a must for anyone within a relationship or single. Among the list of ways to date Jesus (see page 2): Write letters, Record his answers, Walk and talk, Set real dates, Make cards or gifts for him and Study him. One major thing Ferwerda left out: don’t expect reciprocation, the sex is going to suck (he’ll never go down on you), and if you don’t worship the ground he walks on, prepare for a life-time eternity of torment. One-sided love does not equal stalking, insanity or absolute bonker talk. In fact, all relationships should be modeled after the one-sided affair with the ghost of Jesus past, present and future. If you’re unclear how to date Jesus, please see this very informative statement:

So how do you date Jesus? Here are some ways that work for me, but the sky is the limit for creativity—just like any true dating relationship. The key is to make it spontaneous, personal and a major priority. And then you’ll find that he begins showing up for dates—sometimes with flowers, love notes, and rainbows!

Coo-coo!

  • The Beastie Boys are still set to release a new album soon. Good news, MCA is doing well against his battle with cancer.
  • Prepare yourself for a sweetness explosion! Man gives ex an exploding dildo for Christmas. He keeps calling her asking for phone sex.
  • The Monkeys you ordered offers captions to New Yorker cartoons that are actually funny.

Thanks Luis, for the Date Jesus link!

Comment of the morning

I received a comment last night on my post on Science vs Faith that blew me away. I loved it. At the time, I thought I wouldn’t want to make it a comment of the day.

But after re-reading it again this morning, how could I not. I’ll let the comment speak for itself. It’s from a woman named Mary:

I work in online cancer support, and I was still a Christian back when I started. Watching people deal with cancer, religion and medicine definitely had something to do with my leaving Christianity. Sometimes it makes me really angry that people focus so much on God and prayer, and they go to a physician, and he seriously drops everything to do everything possible to save their lives. And then when they are saved, they talk about the fact that it wasn’t the physician who did it, it was God. I have to laugh. That physician trained and practiced for years, often decades, before you walked into that office. Many patients in your shoes died before you did – they were his “practice” back before treatments were as good as they are now. But none of that counts – all that counts is what some invisible being did in response to your pleas???? And why, please tell me why that all-powerful being chose to save you and then he let some amazing person with a new baby or a new fiance die from the same disease? UGH.

I also get frustrated when religious people just cannot accept the possibility of death. They can be dying of cancer and refuse to talk about it, because they insist that if enough people pray they will bounce back. It is SO sad to watch a family say goodbye to a loved-one who refuses to say goodbye to them.

The people who have died who really stand out to me are those who have accepted the inevitable with grace and love. My dear friend who was only 36 called hospice himself – taking so much burden from his loved ones and helping them to get prepared.

I think I just get frustrated that religion is supposed to be a comfort to people, but so often it doesn’t make sense and it actually makes their suffering greater.

Thanks again, Mary, for such an amazing, well-thought out comment.

Dawkins has died. RIP.

They say they get sick in threes, but this is ridiculous. First Hitchens gets terminal cancer. Now Dawkins mysteriously dies in the night?

Lots of people were Dawkins haters. They told us that he’d never live long. One rather religious friend said he wouldn’t make it a month or two. I guess they thought Poseidon would strike him down for his views on life.

Well, last night, at approximately 6:66 a.m., our sweet fish Dawkins passed away.

Once discovered, the tragedy left Tina screaming at the top of her lungs, with Dawkins’ food in one hand and her fingers spread wide near her open mouth in the other. The weight of the fish food was too much, and she dropped the little orange tube of manufactured flakes to the ground. When it hit the floor, as if in slowmo, the flakes exploded out and upwards into the air and showered down like confetti all over our living room.

I hoped to set this whole blog up to make you think Richard Dawkins had passed. Too bad it’s not the kind of thing that explodes this blog onto the badboy of rock blog scene.

This week has been riddled with ill-information.

My closest, and I’d say best friend apart from my brother, emailed me this week to tell me his cat Tilly died this week. He sent me an email that was sweetly written, and I wanted badly to repost it. He described to me about the agony of pet loss. He talked about how Tilly swelled up from cancer, and they had no choice but to help her pass on.

How cool is it that we get close to the animals around us.

The more I examine life around me in Talulah and Zoe, I see how similar we are. I see the ways Talulah gets mischievous and smartly tries to deceive me. I see how she wants to obey. If you’re an artist, you can see so much in the structure of their bodies that translates to ours. You can see the similarities in their physics. Mammals have belly buttons. You can check their pulse in their wrist. They love to be loved, and for the most part they love to love you.

Evolution isn’t a mystery to anyone who can examine life with any degree of intelligence.

I hear that even Francis Collins, genetic scientist and Christian, is going to include a chapter in his forthcoming book telling Christians, “Hey, grow up. Evolution is a FACT.”

Tina and I are shooting engagement shots this morning. We’re hoping to look at pre-owned cars soon. Ours is taking a nose dive lately and we need to make sure Tina’s not driving around with a client when it goes the way of Dawkins.

How are you spending this fine Saturday? Drop a comment and let me know. I know a lot of you guys bail on the weekends. I sure am curious.

Toots.