Cancer is a disease that touches every family. Treatments can certainly be financially straining and physically exhausting. When fighting the disease, women with all varieties of cancer can become tremendously fatigued and home chores can be forgotten.
Enter Cleaning For A Reason, an uplifting group of cleaning partners that take care of the homes of women battling any type of cancer so they have one fewer worry. Serving all 50 states and most of Canada, this service rewards workers and recipients alike with more than just a maid, but a bond of friendship. I'm proud to support this cause because of the monumental good they do. And it's one you should support as well, and I'll tell you how in a few easy clicks.
First, search with Goodsearch and every time you cruise the web, this foundation scores donations. You can enter Cleaning For A Reason as the charity or- even better- download the toolbar and all searches earn money for this or any other worthwhile cause you choose. You search on the web anyways, why not help some awesome ladies at the same time? Go HERE to get started.
Secondly, to donate to the tax-exempt foundation or to review their financials, click HERE
Finally, if you know someone scrapping with this condition that could use the lift of a housekeeping visit or have any other queries, click the graphic below
There is an internet rumour going around that this fantastic 1928 Rolls-Royce Picadilly P1 was owned by one man "until his death last year" at the age of 102. Somehow, with the faulty math, the tale claims this fine looking gent owned his vehicle for 83 years.
Part of this tale is indeed true. M. Allen Swift was a real gentleman who owned this car. However, he is not the famed voice actor who died last year. (he was 86) This Allen Swift did receive the car as a gift from his father at age 25. It was manufactured in Springfield, Massachusetts, where it can now be found in the local History museum. Mr. Swift owned his car until his death at 102 in 2005. He was recognized for his lengthy dedication to the brand by Rolls-Royce in 1994, a relationship that spanned some 77 years. The amazing part of the story not mentioned on the webs is that Mr. Swift actually purchased the Verizon building for the purpose of turning it into a museum and giving his prized ride a permanent home.
A large chunk of the western hemisphere spent an hour or so early last week taking in the Golden Globe Awards, an event full of glitz, glamour, assholes, and Ricky Gervais. Somehow sensing the impending stench of ego, Mr. Gervais prepared his monologue and let the shots rip. All seemed fair and people like Al Pacino and Hugh Hefner openly laughed at the Brit comic's skit that seemed slightly borrowed from Russell Brand without the ewww factor.
But someone didn't think it was funny, or at least wanted to bask in the scent of Gervais' fartstorm. And that dude would be Judd Apatow. You see, the egos in Hollyweird weren't satisfied with the Globes- their collective amour-propre required yet another gala for famous people to get free shit and adulation. The Producers' Guild Awards were held Saturday at the same hotel and in the same ballroom as the Globes. If you haven't heard of the Producers Guild Awards, you are not alone; if you haven't heard of Apatow, you've heard of his films.
So, thinking that since Apatow produced The 40 Year Old Virgin, people thought dude might be reasonably funny. So he got the hosting gig at The Awards Nobody Gives A Shit About and he was incredibly unfunny. His entire monologue was an asskissing rebuttal of Ricky Gervais. He came to the defense of everyone worth knowing in Hollywood and Tim Allen and tore into Gervais. It was banal and chickenshit and it became beyond clear that Apatow was simply riding Ricky Gervais' coattails.
Judd Apatow's nutsucking spectacular proved exactly how incestuous Hollywood is becoming. The Producers Guild Awards are one big teabagging event; where people who want financing for their shitty films get the chance to smell the scrotal sweat of those that have the dough. Now Apatow knows whose asses to kiss, but stealing another dude's coat to kiss ass is a monumental low. After this snogfest, I'm left to wonder if there is anyone left in LA who possesses a spine, save for people I already know.
And Judd, if you didn't catch the drift: You possess a degree of pussitude so severe that it may be immeasurable. You've sunk to Russell Brand's level of repulsiveness in one monologue.
Yeah, yeah, yeah- Apatow has more money than me. Whatever. Next.
A lot of flicks produced by atheists ridicule or insult believers in an opposite reaction to the condemnations of theists. However, this is an interesting (and very calm) look at authoritarian systems in general. How they evolve as an extension of a flawed parent-child dynamic and more are discussed in an easy-to-understand manner with graphics that open conversation.
Freedom of religious practice often comes in conflict with day-to-day life. Some folks attempt to use religion to exempt themselves from having to do the job they have signed up to do when circumstances become uncomfortable. Recently, Canada's Saskatchewan province mandated that civil marriage practitioners could not use the discomfort factor in refusing to perform same-sex marriages, but the theocracy to the South seems to be going in an opposite direction when so-called morals issues are at play.
Idaho is a state that recently enacted a measure that stated health-care providers could refuse to provide end-of-life care and abortifacient drugs, among other things, if the person's religious dogmatism and job conflicted. Recently, a report was made that a pharmacist refused to fill a prescription for Methergene, a drug that stops dangerous uterine bleeding. The pharmacist called the prescribing practitioner, and when she refused to violate privilege by stating the purpose of the drug, the pharmacist refused to fill the prescription just in case the woman had an abortion. The pharmacist's conscience stated that she had no problem with a woman bleeding to death for just penalty of the crime of owning a bleeding uterus to the point that she wouldn't even refer the patient to another pharmacy.
It is just a matter of time before someone dies because of doctors and pharmacists who violate HIPAA codes based on their so-called morality. The political tide has become so anti-choice and sexist that women's lives are actually in the balance here. It absolutely does not matter if the woman in question had an abortion; abortion is a legal procedure which occurs for a variety of reasons and it is not up to the pharmacist to act as judge, jury, and executioner.
So-called conscience clauses make it okay for someone's personal feelings on specific issues to affect their professional responsibilities. In most countries, a doctor or pharmacist wouldn't even think of denying an adult access to birth control, but in a growing number of states refusal is becoming more wide-spread. This case is one of many that pit a scientist against their scientific foundation; religion against a human being. It is instances like this that cause the slippery slope to theocracy. The public lynchings of the past bore pseudoreligious justification and today's victims just happen to be an entire gender. This pharmacist clearly stated that by refusing to fill a prescription for a life-saving drug that she wasn't pro-life, but anti-choice.
Shirley Phelps-Roper's protests might be legendary, but she's quite a soft-spoken woman. The mother of several deems herself a messenger from God, and when you listen to her she doesn't sound that different from many of the proselytizers in America today.
Watch as Mrs. Roper tells her tale of marching against religious rebels and the origin of the word faggot. Listen to a the arguments a well-educated woman makes in order to justify her hatred of your kids. In her world, her sun God hates all who violate the laws of Moses, a man whose existence was purely apocryphal. See and hear a voice so often dismissed; one that represents a growing tide of religious fervour and persecution in the world.
This is the voice of Shirley Phelps-Roper, but it could be your neighbour.
