Dear Tony Perkins, Head of the Family Research Council

I can’t get the Family Research Council (a.k.a. family fearmongers’ council) to take me off their damn spam list. What began as a way to keep track of what the other side was up to has turned into a daily dose of hate in my inbox. Faithful America is a nice antidote — a PAC that reclaims religious values from the far right.

I got fed up enough to send a strongly worded response to a particularly egregious email full of lies and half-truths. I’m sure it’s falling on deaf ears over in Tony’s inbox, but maybe it will amuse you, dear Intarwebs.

From a personal appeal for dough from Tony Perkins, President of this “Christian” organization:

I want you to hear something a California pastor said to me recently:

“If we lose, we go to jail.”

It’s just that simple, says Pastor Jim Garlow–if marriage loses in California, religious liberties everywhere will be next. [Funny thing, that: here in Sodom Massachusetts, religious liberties seem to be alive and well for Christians, Muslims, Jews, pagans, and others alike, gays can get married, and marriage as we know it is still intact.]

The fight for marriage in the states is our first priority.

But we can’t take our eye off Washington, D.C. politicians. Your support is vital as we stand up to liberals who want to criminalize your religious speech . . . threaten the religious liberties of employers . . . silence conservative and Christian broadcasting . . . raise taxes . . . and impose taxpayer funding of abortion and embryonic stem cell research.

And my response:

Tony, this is an incredibly offensive letter. Christians have never been sent to jail in this country for practicing the teachings of Christ. Untold numbers of homosexuals, though, have been rounded up by police, beaten, raped, and returned to the street without charges ever being placed. Recognizing a loving, stable union between two people is not an affront to marriage. Preaching hatred and intolerance is, however, an affront to Christ’s teachings. Shame on you, and shame on your organization. Turn off your computer and read your bible.

If I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, but do not have love, I have become a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy, and know all mysteries and all knowledge; and if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing.
And if I give all my possessions to feed the poor, and if I surrender my body to be burned, but do not have love, it profits me nothing.

1 CORINTHIANS 13:1–3 (NASB)

Thank You, Locally Owned Fitness Center Near Me

Dear Locally Owned Fitness Center Near Me:

Thank you for being such an awesome place to work out. Thank you for always having plenty of cardio machines available without my having to sign up. Thank you, kind, fatherly owner of the gym, who always takes the time to explain things slowly and in the same tone of voice as my old Outdoor Living teacher in high school. Thank you for being so close to my house that I can walk or run there and thus begin my workout before I even arrive. Thank you for having ample parking and being on the way to my job so that I include a visit with you in my morning commute. Thank you for having hangers for me to hang my corporate whore clothes on in the locker room.

Thank you for your comfortable locker room with the wooden doors. Thank you for the carpets in the changing area and the linoleum tile in the shower area. Thank you for having a detachable shower head in one of the stalls, and for having stalls with curtains that are actually wide enough to close. Thank you, ancient scale for reminding me that it’s okay not to know my weight down to two significant digits. Thanks an extra bunch for showing that I lost four pounds this morning, and thanks for reminding that it’s okay to gain those four pounds back. Thank you, sauna, for being so hot and dry and dark like the Womb of Mother Earth. Thank you for being on a timer so I know you’re not singlehandedly causing the melting of the ice caps, although I wish I remembered to turn you on more BEFORE my workout.

Thank you, hardworking, down-to-earth women of my town who conduct your workouts without applying foundation, mascara, blush, and eyeliner. Thank you for wearing normal, baggy workout clothes on your normal, imperfect and yet beautiful bodies and not flaunting your perfectly toned abs, cellulite-free bottoms, and gravity-defying breasts in the latest fashions from the “activewear” racks at Neiman Marcus. Thank you for smiling at me when I smile at you — and I forgive you when you don’t, because this is New England, after all. Thank you for talking to me in the locker room, even when I am naked. I am sorry that I sometimes talk to you when I am naked or when we have not been formally introduced. I know this may make you uncomfortable, but it’s just because I am friendly, not a native New Englander, and jazzed up on endorphins. I’m also sorry if I take up space on the bench with my massive gym bag. I try to be mindful of your needs, but I just tend to take up a lot of space. Thank you for being so respectful of personal property that I never need to use a lock on my locker.

Thank you, little self-locking cubbyholes where I can leave my iPod while I’m changing, since my trust for strangers only goes so far.

Thank you, older gentlemen who use the free weights along with me and scowl when I use them too and smile at you. You are so much better than the alt-rock listening, baseball-cap-wearing, tattoo-sporting fuckheads who so intimidated me when I first started lifting weights back in the 90s. Thank you, nice transplanted divorced guy from Brooklyn who actually talks to me in the weight area and on the mats. Your Brooklyn accent makes me feel all warm and homey and I love that you used to live in Santa Cruz and know my favorite beach in the whole world, the one with the surfer museum. I would totally date you, except that it might make things awkward at the gym.

Oh men of the free weight area, oh women of the gym, I apologize if I have ever offended with you with my tight workout pants and my big-city attitude. I’m a big girl and it’s hard to find workout pants that AREN’T tight, it’s not really because I am trying to show off my hugamundo gluteii maximii, which are becoming more appealing by the day as I continue to do my clock lunges. You should be pleased to know that I have never worn my “Every time you see a rainbow, God is having gay sex” T-shirt specifically because I did not want to offend you. You are my workout compatriots and I treasure and love your unpretentious creamy goodness.

Thank you, housewives who bring your kids to the gym with you and leave them in that windowless child care room under the stairs. I am annoyed by you and your noisy kids, and also jealous of you because you “don’t have to work” (riiiiight, you just don’t get paid for your work) and because your husbands (or wives, but you all look so very, very heterosexual) must be bringing in mad bank for you to raise your kids in this affluent little suburb of Boston. Thank you anyway for being there, for exercising your right to choose as women, for raising the next generation of the human race, and for taking care of yourselves.

Thank you, nice, spacious group exercise room I have never used. Thank you, full roster of exercise classes none of which are at a convenient time for me. If I ever get bored of my familiar and lovely cardio/strength/flex fitness routine, I know you will be there for me.

Thank you, well-organized strength training chart filing area. Thank you for always having a clipboard for me to use and for all those lovely pencils with the pencil sharpener right nearby and the new supply of pencils with erasers that haven’t been worn down to the metal holder. I love you and the way you let me keep track of how often and well I do my lifting.

Thank you, lovely, colorful, but clearly painted by an amateur mural of people running and biking and climbing mountains and doing other sports, with the Boston skyline in the background. You make the walls so very much more fun to look at when I am standing in the dancer pose trying not to fall over or sprain my ankle.

Thank you, EFT transfer of funds that lets me go to the gym day in and day out without ever writing a check. Sure, you sometimes take me by surprise and overdraw my checking account, but you charge me exactly the amount of money I am willing to pay for a gym. And the gym is so very much worth the extra funds.

I love you, Locally Owned Fitness Center Near Me, and I want the whole world to know it.