View from the International Space Station of Earth.

Looks kinda sexy.

Protects his personal space.

Like all people who don't consult the Bible to solve practical problems, I'm at war with Christmas. I wish people "Happy Holidays" , promote the idea of Santa Claus in order to deflect attention away from the role of the Christ-child, and accentuate the pagan elements of the celebration in favor of the Christian ones, which are in extreme danger with our country maintaining a paltry incidence of Christians at a mere 76%. And why wouldn't I? I stand to gain so much from the effort, I really can't afford not to. But we need a shot in the arm. So I'm mining the great war-mongers of the past for material. What do say, Genghis? How would you attack Christmas?

Genghis Khan: Well, first I'd find a few stores that feature religiously neutral decorations, like holly, wreaths, and maybe even some Kwanzaa stuff, because they'd clearly be part of the war effort. I'd absorb them into my army and ride to a store that has the nerve to wish people "Merry Christmas" when they check out. While riding we'd drag yule logs behind our horses to kick up extra dust and give the appearance of greater numbers. When I arrived at the store, let's say it's a Wal-Mart in Texas, I'd explain to the manager that he can either surrender, or everyone in the store can be killed. Then I'd camp out that night, instructing my soldiers to each light 3 Christmas trees apiece instead of just one, again to give the impression of greater numbers. We'd probably light a few Menorahs as well, just to show how at war with Christmas we really are. Naturally, there would be no praying.

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Make hay when the sun shines. That's David Beresford-Redman's motto. After ignoring the media since his son, Bruce, who is a former producer of Survivor, was accused of murdering his wife in Mexico, David decided he'd make the media work for him. To sell cars. He handed out fliers to reporters the other day, promising an on-camera interview to the organization that found buyers for the three vehicles. The '03 Porsche Targa was described as a "gorgeous, fast, clean car". I've got no reason not to believe him, and I don't want to risk pissing his son off by bad-mouthing his car. Of course, the most interesting aspect of this story is that DBR is one of those guys who wears brown-tinted sunglasses, which I thought only existed in pictures of my Dad and uncles from the seventies. The Beresford-Redmans are no relation to rapper Redman.

Christmas. Yeah, we're going there. I never said this would be a smooth ride. Christmas is of course the celebration of the day Jesus was born and placed in a manger because there was "no room at the inn". Seriously?  Who was running this inn? Messianic prophecy or not, it's a couple who had a baby 5 minutes ago, you can't make some space? Hell wouldn't even pull that shit, and we're talking about a place that dedicates an entire high-rise to gleefully forcing glass shards under the eyelids of false witnesses.

Christmas is also the beginning of Christmastide, the so-called 12 days of Christmas, made famous in the song of the same name. Allow me to take a breath before going into this one. Let's think about this. The first 4 days, the singer's "true love" - and I put that in quotations because I'm not sure I buy that designation for reasons I'll explain - gives her (Yeah, her. I've lived so long I stopped counting my age when we went from Roman to Arabic numerals, and I can tell you this: chicks don't buy guys multiple swans. Sorry boys, ain't gonna happen.) a partridge (with tree), 2 turtle doves, 3 french hens, and 4 colly birds. The song seems to suggest that these things are stacked every day, so on the first day it's a partridge in a pear tree, and on the second day it's 2 turtle doves and a second partridge in a pear tree, and so on. I'm going to assume that's not the case, and that each subsequent mentioning of a gift is a reference to the original, and not a duplicate gift. If I'm wrong, then what I took to be merely absurd is actually whatever is above absurd. Preposterous?

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Dear Southwest,

I was saddened to learn of the plight of Hollywood polymath Kevin Smith. It is unfortunate that as the world grows in size, airplane seating remains mired in an age of smaller, trimmer bee-hinds. Having been a Southwest fanatic since being old enough to purchase airfare, I would like to suggest amending the customers-of-size policy before a tsunami of lawsuits overflows my favorite airline much like customers’ cheeseburgers overflow your armrests.

I have always been perplexed by the arbitrary rules chiseled into air-travel. 50lb bags are ok but 50+a pair of shoes = $25. The armrest rule makes sense but the width of the armrests seems narrow for the times and the overhead compartments have been whittled into wedges that discourage no one from stuffing in their bulging closets. We need change. The country wants it. And being who you are, it should be you to trailblaze.

Unlike politics where the goal is to grow bigger and spend more, business change can happen economically. At your core, your business is little different from that of any parcel service. You shuttle parcels from point A to point B for profit. Yours only happen to have heartbeats. And whiney demands. And peanut allergies. But at the very very core, the business is the same. The heavier the load and the larger its dimensions, the higher the cost of freight. It simply costs more to ship Mr. Smith and his colleagues in circumference than a group of people gymnast-sized.

So how best to handle arbitrary body-sizes? Formulaically.

At the curb-side checkin, Southwest should install scales where the passenger, with all baggage will be weighed. The total weight is the burden of the airline based on which the fuel is purchased. Computers will also size up both the person and the carry-on and decide how best to seat them and how much space will be required to make things comfortable for everyone. Customers-of-width can easily be seated next to customers-of-length without too much negative effect. Since size is arbitrary, so should be the armrest widths, and all passengers can have the option to purchase as much width as they like on top of their required minimum. Analogy would be choosing the right-sized box for your parcel except the parcel is yourself. It must cover your shipment but beyond that, your box can be as big as your budget allows. All collected data will boil down to a price which would be the passenger’s fare. Those watching in horror as a Mr. Smith-size person lumbers towards that middle-seat will know that even though the flight will be unpleasant, Mr. Smith paid more for his than they did. He should considering his greater burden. Given that we humans are fairness-minded apes, that knowledge alone would make things better. At least until the TSA requires stasis for air travel at which point you’ll just be able to stack us up any which way. Just don’t beak our legs like you do our roller-wheels.

Love & Bacon Grease,

Helga Mohammed el-Salami
SFF - Southwest Fan Forever

http://www.helgasmailroom.com/

Me and Kevin, right before he ate that child.

Look at this sad bastard. The economy is truly effecting EVERYBODY. Even in space and thousands of years into the feature YOU CANNOT RUN. I can't find out where you can send money to Darth Vader, but I'm sure there's a PayPal account setup somewhere in his name. If you find it, let us know in the comments.

Sooooooooo, without further adieu, and without the fear of any of you calling me a tranny or a Marilyn Manson look-a-like or a fat cow or a wanna-be Madonna or a bubble butt or former nobody or Kathy Griffin's penis or a total waste of space everywhere I walk, I present to you the latest outfits I'm working on this week.

If you have any costume concepts for me you can email them to LadyGaGaIsFashionable@gmail.com. I'll post them next week if they don't suck! 

ADAM LAMBERT 4 EVAHHHHH,

Lady Gaga

XOXO====)

P.S. You can see more of my design sketches here.

Helllllo my friends,

Lady Gaga here and I have something extremely important to share with you today...for God and the Gays, for the misfits and the miscreants....for the future and all that we hold true in this world and I just want to thank you, my fans, for being here with me right now. I feel truly blessed and I'm so happy that I get to share with you this moment on this little speck of space on the internet so that you and I can be closer and make this whole thing, this whole shining radiance of magnificient things real and One and at peace for the world. I truly, truly believe this. Be here with me.

I am opening up my sketchbooks here for the first time because I believe we can transcend all the hate in the world just by this tiny act, regardless of whether or not God and Gays get along, or whether or not you believe I have a penis, or whether or not everything that you hold true in this world is negated by everthing that was negated by all the Powers and Purpose from the last time you listened to one of my songs. I don't want to get long winded here, but I just want you to know I hear what you're saying and that I truly believe if we just keep making music and loook towards the future...not just of a future of fashion, but a fashion of future, than everything will be alright.

So without further ado, here are some costume ideas I'm working on for my Winter concert tour...

Do you have any costume ideas you'd like to share with me? Just send them too LadyGagaIsFashionable@gmail.com and I'll post them here soon!

God, Gays, and Trannys,

Lady Gaga

If God was so smart, why did he design male genetalia to be 1) as low as it is and 2) totally unprotected. He gave turtles a hardshell and that animal is just about useless if you ask me. Humans created space shuttles, heavy metal music and Maury Povich. They should be protected, especially the itsty bitsy parts of them that makes babies. Such poor design decisions, God. If Steve Jobs was your boss you'd be totally fired.

Today, as Nancy Pelosi was walking somewhere and being important, a reporter following her totally crashed his balls into something that was not a Femaie Baby Incubator. Here's that video, and some others featuring guys who might not be able to get an erection anymore.

Reporter takes a dive. Woops.

We feel that the Japanese dudes featured in this video actually LOVE being hit in the crotch.

This guy's balls actually flew up through his stomach and out of his mouth, but you can't see it due to YouTube's crappy video quality.

Finally, these guys are true friends.