Friday, January 30, 2009

FIFTY YEARS OF POPULAR SONGS CONDENSED INTO SINGLE SENTENCES

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The Beatles, "I Want to Hold Your Hand"

I want to do it with you.

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Marvin Gaye, "Let's Get It On"

I want to do it with you.

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Led Zeppelin, "Whole Lotta Love"

I want to do it with you.

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James Blunt, "You're Beautiful"

I want to do it with you.

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Sir Mix-a-Lot, "Baby Got Back"

I want to do it.

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Elvis Presley, "Hound Dog"

You're doing it with everyone.

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R. Kelly, "I Believe I Can Fly"

I believe I want to do it with you.

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Patsy Cline, "Crazy"

I want to do it with you so much I'm going fucking nuts.

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Frank Sinatra, "Strangers in the Night"

I'm drunk and I want to do it with you.

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The White Stripes, "My Doorbell"

Using metaphor, I want to do it with you.

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Little Richard, "Good Golly Miss Molly"

I'm doing it with Miss Molly, and she's totally into it.

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Duran Duran, "Rio"

I'd love to do that chick dancing on the sand.

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The Beatles, "Why Don't We Do It in the Road?"

I'd like to do it with you right now.

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Carly Simon, "You're So Vain"

We used to do it, but then you did it with someone else, and now I'm not going to do it with you, although I wish we were still doing it.

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Pulp, "Common People"

I once met a stuck-up European who wanted to do it with me.

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Radiohead, "Creep"

I'm filled with self-loathing, and, though outwardly I hate everything you represent, I want to do it with you.

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Kate Bush, "Wuthering Heights"

I'm an 18th-century fictional character and I want to do it with another 18th-century fictional character.

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Bob Dylan, "Blowin' in the Wind"

The Man is currently doing it to you.

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Elvis Presley, "Jailhouse Rock"

Incarcerated men will on occasion do it with each other.

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Meat Loaf, "I Would Do Anything for Love (But I Won't Do That)"

Hey! You won't believe what this one chick said while I was doing it with her!

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Kings of Leon, "Sex on Fire"

I did it with you, and now it hurts when I pee.

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Céline Dion, "My Heart Will Go On"

Even your death has not stopped me wanting to do it with you.

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AC/DC, "You Shook Me All Night Long"

We did it yesterday.

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FIRE: THE NEXT SHARP STICK? - A Conversation Among Cavemen.

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Setting: The offices of Ten Men Who Help Each Other But Are Not Brothers, a firm located near the River That's Not as Wide as the Really Wide River.

(ONE WHO HELPS THE HAIRY ONE is seated, going over some notes. Enter MAKER OF FIRE.)

ONE: (Standing.) Hey, it's good to see you. Thanks for coming by.

MAKER: Thank you, One Who Helps the Hairy One. I'm sorry I'm late. Somehow I ended up by the Really Wide River.

ONE: Really? When we met by the Sticky Tree, I thought I said near the River That's Not as Wide as the Really Wide River.

MAKER: That is what you said. I must have gotten turned around at the Sharp Shells.

ONE: Oh, yeah. That happens a lot.

MAKER: I must have just spaced.

ONE: No harm done. Do you want a Stick That Tastes Good to Gnaw On?

MAKER: No, thanks. I just had one. I'm a bear if I don't have one before Hot Part of the Day.

ONE: (Doesn't understand, a little afraid.) Excuse me?

MAKER: (Laughs.) Sorry. Sorry. I'm not actually a bear. I just mean that I'm like a bear if I don't have a Stick That Tastes Good.

ONE: You pretend to be a bear?

MAKER: No. I feel like a bear feels when he wakes up. You know, grumpy, impatient.

ONE: Do you become a bear when you say it?

MAKER: No. I just say it.

ONE: (Still doesn't understand.) Oh. OK. I see. Well, in a way, that's exactly why I asked you to come down here. As you know, Ten Men Who Help Each Other But Are Not Brothers is a very old and established firm.

MAKER: I do know.

ONE: I mean, for me, it's a real honor to be associated with the Hairy One and to be his helper. The Hairy One's a visionary, you know. But he's—how do I say it? He's older than the Old One, and, as a result, I think that Ten Men needs to think about its future and think about how it can stay competitive in changing times.

MAKER: Naturally, I agree.

ONE: When we met by the Sticky Tree, I immediately thought, Here's a guy who's ahead of the curve. Here's a guy who maybe can help Ten Men make the transition into That Day That Isn't This Day but Also Isn't the Day Before or the Day Before That.

MAKER: At the Shallow Pond With a Terrible Odor, we call it "tomorrow."

ONE: Really? "Tomorrow"? Very clever. But the point is, we were talking about fire, and it seemed to me after we spoke that this could be just the thing to carry Ten Men into "tomorrow."

MAKER: Well, there's no question that fire has a lot to offer any firm, Ten Men included, and I'm happy to show you why. But I think you need to think seriously about what your fire needs are. The truth is, this technology is so revolutionary that I think the real question won't be whether fire is right for Ten Men but whether Ten Men is ready for fire.

ONE: (Nodding seriously.) True. True. Well, what I have planned is pretty informal, just a meeting of the minds, so to speak. I've asked the Hairy One to sit in on this meeting, since he'll have to approve anything that might happen Not Now but Another Time. You may have to take it a little slow with him—he's a bit of a Neanderthal when it comes to this sort of thing, if you know what I mean.

MAKER: HA HA HA HA HA HA!

ONE: HA HA HA HA HA HA!

(Enter the HAIRY ONE, carrying a sharp stick. ONE immediately stops laughing and falls to the floor completely prostrate, arms and legs spread, face down. MAKER smirks and does not move.)

ONE: (Speaking into the floor.) Oh, hey, Hairy One, how are you? Thanks for coming by.

HAIRY ONE: (Grunts to MAKER.) Where are the Sticks That Taste Good?

MAKER: I think they're over there.

(HAIRY ONE crosses to side table to get a stick and begins gnawing it.)

ONE: (Starting to raise himself.) I just gathered them, Hairy One, so they're fresh. (Pauses. Looks to MAKER.) You know me: I'm a bear if I don't have one before the Time You Tell Us When We Can Eat.

HAIRY ONE: (Stick drops from mouth in fear.) BEAR! BEAR! (Raises sharp stick and crosses to begin hitting ONE with it.)

ONE: No! Not bear! Not bear!

MAKER: It's just a saying.

ONE: It's just a saying!

(HAIRY ONE stops his attack and stares at both of them suspiciously.)

ONE: (Rising, then sitting down.) I'm not a bear.

MAKER: It's just something that he said.

HAIRY ONE: (Completely indifferent.) Whatever. (Retrieves stick and sits down at head of table.)

ONE: Hairy One, Maker of Fire. Maker of Fire, the Hairy One.

MAKER: My pleasure, Hairy One. I've followed your work with Ten Men for a long time. It's a remarkable firm.

HAIRY ONE: So you're the one with the fire?

MAKER: Yes.

HAIRY ONE: Is it here?

MAKER: Well, no.

HAIRY ONE: Where is it?

MAKER: Well, in a sense, Hairy One, fire is everywhere. Rather than being an object, say, like your sharp stick, it's really a process, so it can't really be said to exist anywhere. In a sense, fire exists in its own imaginary, virtual space, where we can only talk about what is not fire and what might become fire.

HAIRY ONE: Whoa whoa whoa! English, please!

ONE: I think that what the Maker of Fire is trying to say is that—and let me know if I have it right—while I may have one fire, and you may have another fire in another place, and the One Who Helps the Hairy One may be planning to make a fire, the truth is that it's all fire. It's all the same thing. It's all fire.

MAKER: That's true, in a rudimentary sense, but for our purposes it'll do fine.

ONE: What's great about fire, Hairy One, is that it combines many things in one. Light, heat, pain—all in one. It's all those things. It's multi-thing.

HAIRY ONE: I thought you said it was all the same thing.

ONE: It is!

HAIRY ONE: But now you say it's multi-thing?

(ONE is confused, looks to MAKER OF FIRE.)

MAKER: It is and it isn't. It depends on how you define "thing."

HAIRY ONE: And where does the bear come in?

MAKER: It doesn't.

ONE: That was just something I said.

HAIRY ONE: I get that, OK? I just wanted to know if a bear was involved in fire or not.

MAKER: It isn't.

HAIRY ONE: Good.

MAKER: See, the thing about fire is that it's totally interactive. Fire isn't a bear, but if you put fire on a bear, then the bear becomes fire. It's completely responsive to your needs at a given time, reacting specifically to your fuel input and usage paradigm ...

HAIRY ONE: OK, stop right there. Here's the thing. I've heard a lot about this fire already. Everyone is saying how shiny it is and how flickery it is. But you have to agree that that's very specialized. I know you folks at the Shallow Pond With a Terrible Odor are making a whole big deal about this, but we here by the River That's Not as Wide as the Really Wide River, well, we're simple folk. We want to know: what can it do for us? And the thing is, until people really figure out how fire can be used, I just can't see it becoming a staple of everyday life.

ONE: If I can just jump in here for a moment, Hairy One, think of it like the sharp stick. You know, many, many, many nights ago, everyone was using a blunt stick for clubbing and for poking at things we had no name for. We didn't even call it "blunt stick" back then. We just called it "stick."

MAKER: Exactly.

ONE: And then someone came along and said, Hey, let's take this rock and push it on the stick and remove parts of the stick at one end until it's different than it was before. Everyone called this someone Crazy One, until Crazy One took the sharp stick and put it in the Loud One's eye.

HAIRY ONE: Someone didn't do that. I did.

ONE: That's what I'm saying. Once we had the sharp stick, the Loud One became One Eye, and the Crazy One became the Big Hairy One.

HAIRY ONE: I'm the Big Hairy One.

ONE: That's what I'm saying. You don't want to be the One Who Didn't Like Fire. Fire is the sharp stick of ... of ... tomorrow.

HAIRY ONE: What's "tomorrow"?

MAKER: Well, that's not entirely a correct analogy, since fire can't really be compared to anything that isn't fire, but ...

HAIRY ONE: (To ONE.) OK, but I think you're both overlooking an important thing: fire is very, very scary. Even when sharp stick got big, there were a lot of people still using blunt stick because they knew what blunt stick could do. People still love their blunt sticks, and it is many, many days and nights later. So I can't see how this fire thing is going to work until people have a reason not to be scared.

MAKER: Well, before we go on, we all have to accept that not everything is going to appeal to Johnny Blunt Stick.

HAIRY ONE: OK, but let me tell you that it's Johnny Blunt Sticks that made Ten Men one of the top firms by the River That's Not as Wide as the Really Wide River. Johnny Blunt Sticks like me.

MAKER: Look, I didn't mean to offend anyone. Listen, I have to use the dung heap. Why don't I step out for a moment and you two can decide how you want this meeting to go. OK?

HAIRY ONE: No offense, no offense. We'll be here.

(MAKER exits.)

ONE: I'm sure he didn't mean to suggest that ...

HAIRY ONE: I don't care about that. I know how they are by the Shallow Pond. You know I've met him before?

ONE: You have?

HAIRY ONE: Sure. Many, many, many, many nights ago on a business trip. I was over by the Shallow Pond, and all the Shallow Ponders were laughing at him. You know what they used to call him? I mean, before all this "Maker of Fire" bullshit?

ONE: What?

HAIRY ONE: They used to call him the One Who Knocks Two Rocks Together Over Dry, Dead Plants.

ONE: Oh, man, really?

HAIRY ONE: He's a complete lunatic. Not just not like us—not like anybody.

ONE: But what about fire?

HAIRY ONE: Oh, he may have fire, but "Maker of Fire"? He's an idiot. Where did you meet him?

ONE: Over by the Sticky Tree. He wanted to know if Ten Men would want to give him some food and then he would give us some fire.

HAIRY ONE: He what?!

ONE: He called it "barter."

HAIRY ONE: Well, I call it bullshit. He's obviously deranged. I thought he was here to invite us to go to the Shallow Pond and kill everyone and take fire.

ONE: No, he wants to "trade."

HAIRY ONE: Now I just feel sorry for him.

(Re-enter MAKER OF FIRE.)

MAKER: Well, have you thought it over?

HAIRY ONE: Maker of Fire, you do us great honor by traveling so far to visit us two men of the Ten Men Who Help Each Other But Are Not Brothers. But until I get a sense of how fire could ever be useful I'm afraid we're just going to have to muddle along without it.

MAKER: I understand. Not all are fire-ready.

HAIRY ONE: And I'm sorry about the Johnny Blunt Stick business. Please, come over here and join hands.

(MAKER goes to join hands. The HAIRY ONE stabs him with the stick, and then beats him until he is dead.)

ONE: What are you doing?

HAIRY ONE: There, he's out of his misery, poor fellow. Now go through his skins and his magic bag.

ONE: What? Why?

HAIRY ONE: We're looking for fire, my helper! We're looking for fire!

ONE: Oh, you truly are the Wise and Big Hairy One!

FINIS

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Thursday, January 15, 2009

Proust Ballet - Le combat des anges

Proust Ballet - Le combat des anges
Video sent by marc1756

Opéra de Paris - 2007 :
"Proust ou les intermittences du coeur".
Un ballet de Roland Petit
d'après "A la recherche du temps perdu" de Marcel Proust.
Saint Loup, l'archange de blancheur, et Morel, l'ange noir, deviennent amants.
Mathieu Ganio, (danseur étoile), est Saint Loup.
Stéphane Bullion, (danseur sujet), est Morel.
La musique est "l'élégie op.24 pour violoncelle et orchestre" de Gabriel Faure.

Von Sudenfed - Fledermaus Can't Get It

Wednesday, January 14, 2009

AFTER ALL

IN AMERICA THEY KILL TO GET ON TV
CHANGE SEX AND DENOUNCE EACH OTHER TO THE AUTHORITIES FOR THE SAKE OF 15 MINUTES OF FAME
NOT TO MENTION COPULATING WITH CATTLE LARGE AND SMALL
AND WITH ONE'S OWN PARENTS
SENDING BOMBS IN THE MAIL
EATING CHILDREN AT NIGHT
STICKING NEEDLES INTO WATERMELONS
KICKING THE PREGNANT IN THE BELLY

AFTER ALL SEX AND VIOLENCE IS THE ONLY STUFF THAT IS NOW SOLD AND BOUGHT THAT DISTURBS THE SOUL AND BRINGS JOY TO THE HEART
SEX IS VIOLENCE IS SEX
SOMETHING OF WHICH THERE CAN NEVER BE TOO MUCH


DO YOU ENJOY IT WHEN YOU ARE BEING RAPED?

ARE YOU BEING RAPED WHEN YOU ARE ENJOYING IT?

Sunday, March 02, 2008

Gay Man’s Murder Sick

Alejandro Fuentes Mejia’s life came to a distressing, disturbing end earlier this week. Acapulco Police found the 48-year old Mexican national’s body last week - and the details are absolutely sickening:

The body of 48-year old Alejandro Fuentes Mejia was found on the morning of February 21st with his hands tied behind his back in a dirt road that cut through a park near his place of employment.

Mejia had last been seen the day before at his place of work - the Institute of Social Security and Services - and was still wearing his work uniform. His body showed signs of torture and indications that he had been stoned to death.

The most shocking part? A sign made out of yellow cardboard that was left on the body that read “This is what happens to me for going around infecting people with AIDS.”

That’s just - so many things, all of them bad.

Friday, February 29, 2008

Hundreds Attend South Florida Vigil for Slain Gay Teen

Simmievigil

A vigil was held late yesterday afternoon on Sistrunk Boulevard in Fort Lauderdale at the site where 17-year-old Simmie Williams was gunned down, just one of two potential hate crimes that occurred in that area last week. The other, of course, was the beating of Melbourne Brunner outside the Floridian restaurant on Las Olas Boulevard.

Simmie2The Sun-Sentinel reports: "They gathered for about an hour on a grassy patch behind the chain link fence where Simmie Williams Jr. was found shot Feb. 22. A pile of teddy bears, flowers and purple votive candles lined the cracked sidewalk, while the state flag and a rainbow flag flapped above in the wind. Amid the group of community leaders, Williams' mom, Denise King, stood silently with a picture of her son in one hand and a bouquet of flowers in the other. A tear ran down her right cheek as activists began to speak."

Simmie3The paper reports that a group of approximately 120 gathered after the vigil at the Gay and Lesbian Community Center in Fort Lauderdale to discuss the recent violence: "The crowd contributed more than $3,500 to help pay for Williams' funeral. Paul Rubenstein, executive director of a Fort Lauderdale oncology office, also contributed $4,000 to add to the already-growing Crime Stoppers reward for information leading to an arrest..."

Mayor Jim Naugle, who many blame for engendering an atmosphere of hate toward gay people in that city because of remarks he made last Summer, told the Sun-Sentinel that he stands by the remarks: "The comments were responsible and supported by residents in the city. The city and the police department, we're going to do everything we can to solve the two (recent) crimes."

Thursday, January 31, 2008

Pooh Goes Apeshit

not by:

A.A. Milne

Everything was rather quiet in the hundred acre wood. The trees whispered to each other as the wind rustled their leaves. Under a large oak tree, there lived Pooh bear. From inside Pooh's house, there came a steady bang...bang... bang!, that was making his honey jars rattle on the sideboard. The light came through the window, and in the evening sun Pooh raised the axe once more and brought it down on the tattered remains of Christopher Robin.

"Why...won't... he...fit..." puffed Pooh to himself as the axe came down once more.

There was a small pile of earth, and a hole next to it, which Pooh had hidden with his favourite rug. Christopher Robin, selfish prat that he was, didn't quite fit in the hole Pooh had dug, so instead of making it wider he had decided to hack Christopher Robin's legs off.

"A far more sensible idea", thought Pooh, and hummed a little song to himself as he cut the last tendon and rammed the rest of the body in the hole, finally covering it up with the rug.

"Always too bossy", thought Pooh, "Always too bossy, always grabbing me by the paw and saying 'Come on Pooh lets have an adventure' or 'Pooh you are silly!' in that affected cutesy spoilt brat voice, and his stupid little shorts - bastard!"

Pooh had waited all afternoon for Christopher Robin to come round, humming a little tuneless song to himself whilst gazing blankly into the fire and fondling the oaken handle of the axe. When C.R. had finally turned up, squeaking in his child-actor voice "Come on Pooh! Open Up!", Pooh had answered the door normal as anything, talked about the weather, and then went to the cupboard and fetched the axe. While C.R. had sat there, prattling on about what a silly bear Pooh was and how he had very little brain (which wound Pooh up no end) Pooh had raised the axe high and brought it down with a satisfying thud on Christopher Robin's skull, cleaving it virtually in two, with just some muscle fibre in place to keep the pieces upright, and freezing C.R's eyes wide in horror that Pooh, lovable Pooh, could do such a thing! Pooh giggled a little and wiped some saliva from his mouth with a shaky paw. Then Pooh, calm as anything, had mopped up the blood, washed the axe and begun to dig the hole.

Piglet had wondered why Pooh had not called for him that morning, to have his tea and biscuits, and so he decided to visit Pooh instead. He admired the evening sun, blood red, and listened to the birds singing. Pooh watched him get nearer and nearer, and plugged in the drill.

Piglet had no time to realise what had happened - the drill pierced his skull, sending a beautiful fountain of blood all over Pooh's orange hide. He rubbed the blood in and all over himself, licking, licking, always licking. Then he pulled Piglet inside and put him in the cupboard. The syringe lay on the sideboard, and Pooh picked it up, paws shaking and sweating, and filled it full of solution of the funny white powder that had been given to him by a strangely spaced-out Rabbit. It was a strange effect at first, and Pooh thought he had seen many strange things, but then experienced a euphoric feeling of power. It made him irritable, and C.R. and Piglet had everything that was coming to them, no doubt at all. When night had fully fallen, Pooh dragged the bodies out and buried them in a makeshift grave.

"Adios, dear 'friends'", Pooh giggled, "Things are going to change around the 100-acre wood now I'm in charge" he laughed hysterically and went indoors.

The next day Tigger and Roo made their way happily to Pooh's house, to see if he knew where C.R. and Piglet were, as no-one had seen them since yesterday. They were sure Pooh would know, as he had had tea with Piglet yesterday and was meant to be playing Pooh-sticks with C.R. in the morning.

When they reached Pooh's house the door was wide open and Pooh was nowhere to be seen. Tigger and Roo looked inside Pooh's house and noticed a large hole in Pooh's floor and a notice was stuck on the wall with a large blob of congealing honey "OWT CHAGIG THE DRAGGN" (spelling had never been one of Pooh's strong points).

"That's odd", though Tigger, "there are no dragons in the 100-acre wood only heffalumps. What is that silly bear up to now?"

Not even Tigger would have imagined what Pooh was up to at that moment. That morning Pooh had woken with a splitting headache and a rather snotty nose. So he had taken a large dose of the white powder and a little while later had a brilliant idea! He left the house with a container marked insecticide in big red letters. He took the container and went to Eeyore's favourite patch of thistles.

"This will serve that manic depressive donkey right" laughed Pooh aloud, "always cheating at Pooh-sticks, cheats never prosper", Pooh said to himself.

Then he hid behind a tree to watch the unsuspecting Eeyore eat himself to death - sheer poetic justice thought Pooh as he dumped the nearly dead body of Eeyore in the same grave as C.R. and Piglet.

"Shouldn't cheat should you?", shouted Pooh as Eeyore's eyes stared with disbelief. "You're lucky I didn't chop you up into little bits and feed you to Tigger!", laughed Pooh manically, before he covered the makeshift grave over.

Pooh didn't return to the house until dinner time as he was totally spaced out all morning. So when he returned to his house he was in an awful mood and all he needed to make him absolutely mad was the sight of Tigger and Roo bouncing up and down outside his house singing "bouncy, bouncy, fun, fun, fun, fun, fun, the wonderful....".

"'Wonderful'?", thought Pooh aloud, "My foot, you'd think the writer of this shitty story could think up better lyrics for a song than that, and to think, they released the sound-track album on cassette and CD; a lot of people are going to get ripped off." This lightened Pooh's mood somewhat, but the respite was brief.

"What was that you said?", asked Roo.

"God does he never stop asking pathetic questions?", Pooh thought furiously. "I'm going to have to deal with these prats as well. Is there no-one in this place with intelligence apart from me?" Pooh asked despairingly."

Pooh felt himself extremely lucky as Roo had to go home for his afternoon sleep and that left Tigger at his mercy. Even better, Tigger suggested that himself and Pooh go and play Pooh-sticks; Pooh had smiled slyly as an idea formed in his overactive brain, and agreed.

"What an opportunity", Pooh whispered to himself as he followed the innocent Tigger to the bridge.

Once on the bridge, and the rather pointless game of Pooh-sticks was under way, Pooh thought he'd much rather push his stick up Tigger's arse, rather than throwing it into the stream. Tigger was leaning over the side of the bridge looking for his stick. So he did not see Pooh's wide horrific grin as he outstretched his arms and moved toward Tigger with the intent of pushing the stupid cat into the stream.

"Cats hate water, tee hee, he'll drown."

There was a loud splash as Tigger hit the water and started to struggle as his head was covered by water, he gulped and choked. Pooh was holding on to the rail of the bridge and jumping up and down with excitement and was joyously shouting at the drowning Tigger.

"Why?", spluttered Tigger as he slowly started to turn blue with the cold, which Pooh found hysterical, after all a blue Tigger? How absolutely silly.

"I'll tell you why you bastard", screamed Pooh, "It serves you right, hiding behind doors and jumping out, and scaring the shit out of people." Tigger did not hear Pooh's answer as he was already floating downstream face down in the water, dead. "Good riddance", laughed Pooh, and looked at his watch. "Still time to get that little dick-head Roo before he wakes up."

Pooh sneaked to the sleeping form of Roo's mum and saw Roo's ear poking out of her pouch.

"Now I've got you, you little git", Pooh thought, smiling, as he threaded a needle with extra strong cotton. He was jolly grateful for Piglet's sewing lessons now, because he would be able to sew up Roo nice and tightly, so he would not be able to get out and his mum would not be able to rescue him. So very slowly and carefully Pooh began to sew Roo into his pouch and thereby suffocating the annoying idiotic twit. After the deed was done Pooh made his way back to his house wondering how Roo's mum would take the death of Roo. Badly, hoped Pooh, as he began to cough uncontrollably and felt general nausea overcome him.

By the time Pooh got home he had puked up several times and was very desperate for some more of the white solution. He trembled as he picked up the syringe and gave himself the remaining amount. An awfully large amount, one might say, for a small little bear like Pooh. In fact too much, Pooh died of an overdose, but he died with a smile on his face: he was dreaming that he was the only teddy bear made with a willy and dreamed how he surprised Eeyore one day - but that's a story for another day.

THE END

Tuesday, January 15, 2008

P E[thical] T A?

PETA killed 97% of the dogs, cats, and other pets it took in for adoption in 2006: "During that year, the well-known animal rights group managed to find adoptive homes for just 12 pets. The nonprofit Center for Consumer Freedom (CCF) is calling on PETA to either end its hypocritical angel-of-death program, or stop its senseless condemnation of Americans who believe it's perfectly ethical to use animals for food, clothing, and critical medical research. Not counting animals PETA held only temporarily in its spay-neuter program, the organization took in 3,061 'companion animals' in 2006, of which it killed 2,981. According to Virginia's Department of Agriculture and Consumer Services (VDACS), the average euthanasia rate for humane societies in the state was just 34.7 percent in 2006. PETA killed 97.4 percent of the animals it took in. The organization filed its 2006 report this month, nine months after the VDACS deadline of March 31, 2007. 'Pet lovers should be outraged,' said CCF Director of Research David Martosko. 'There are thousands of worthwhile animal shelters that deserve Americans' support. PETA is not one of them.' In courtroom testimony last year, a PETA manager acknowledged that her organization maintains a large walk-in freezer for storing dead animals, and that PETA contracts with a Virginia cremation service to dispose of the bodies. In that trial, two PETA employees were convicted of dumping dead animals in a rural North Carolina trash dumpster."