This article was inspired by SheWonHeWon.com, a new photoblog where you vote for who got the short end of the stick in a relationship. Check it out!

The social universe has an unspoken balance in place that ensures that life makes sense. We hang out with people as cool as we are, we date within our acceptable range, and people that are born into wealth and status run our countries. When some son of a bitch tries to upset that balance, bad things happen. Remember the French Revolution? That happened because one of Quasimodo’s descendants landed a smoking-hot art model. The Civil War? Some mustachioed sea donkey from the North decided she wanted to date a studly land owner from Alabama.  Name any natural disaster and it can be traced back to some fugly idiot not following the rules of romance. If you mess with the balance, the universe compensates with blood.

Despite this delicate equilibrium, matchmaking is never perfect. Occasionally it is so uneven that it elicits a deep sense of injustice from our communal soul, sort of like any time Keanu Reeves gets another acting gig. You know something isn’t right. You can feel it. Someone is getting something they don’t deserve.

So, you walking dumpster, how do you make things right once you have a hottie in your white-knuckled, kill-me-to-take-it grip? How do you cope with dating someone that is hotter than you? Grab your Moleskine and take a seat, my child. We have much to discuss. Read the full story

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Dr. Dobson,

I’m not sure which scripture translation you are using this month, so I will greet you in the language of your four favorites – guten tag, konnichiwa, howdy doody, and shalom.  I am new to The Talking Mirror so you’ll have to forgive my unfamiliarity with “open email” etiquette.  Do I need to ACTUALLY email it to you, or is it safe to assume you have one of those “google alerts” set to search for your name along with the words “open email” a half dozen times a day?

If I was you, I’d probably set the search for “James Dobson” and “photoshopped to look like Satan” but that’s just me.  Actually, I hope you haven’t done that because then you’ll probably never read this – unless you see it on Victoria Osteen’s Twitter feed or something.  (Didn’t you and her have a thing once?  Did I hear that?  Maybe not.)  Maybe I should photoshop a picture of you to look like Satan just to be safe…

Oh gosh, you know what I just realized? All those questions I just asked about open emails are irrelevant (like the magazine! LOLZ!).  If you read them, I guess we already have our answer. Ha! Can you believe that? Isn’t it funny how life just works itself out sometimes?  Unless you’re Ted Haggard that is.  Things aren’t really working out for him.

Oh man, this email is getting long, and that’s the one thing my editors told me about writing an open email, they told me it’s like robbing a nursing home, “get in, get out, get some pudding.” Not really sure what they meant by that last part, but I’ve got some Snack Packs in the fridge and that’s where I’m heading now.

Thank you for your time Dr. Dobson. I appreciate you reading this open email no matter how you came across it. Hopefully in our next correspondence I will be able to address a few of the hot news items being discussed on FoxNews and elsewhere in the world, like the Christianity Today blog.

Peace, love, NIV,

Matt Browning

Managing Editor who also contributes

The Talking Mirror

P.S. We haven’t really talked about my title here, so that might change. Just didn’t want you to call our office and not be able to get a hold of me if my title changes.

P.P.S. I talked to Conor, he said we don’t even have an office, and that I’m the only Matt Browning writing for TTM, so don’t worry about the title changing.

P.P.P.S. Do you really think Obama’s a Muslim?

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So you’re a guy that wants to be a new member of Mars Hill Church in Seattle, the home of Mark “The Muscles” Driscoll? We’ve got a few questions for you before we get to our theological assessment. These questions have been written by our very own Mark “The Monster” Driscoll, so answer carefully or he’ll yell something theological at you.

Our Paragon of Masculinity, pushing more hair out of his chest with raw anger

1. How often do you watch UFC?

A. Always.

B. Always and with beers.

C. All of the above.

D. What’s UFC? I’m gay.

2. How often do you play video games?

A. Only with one of my multitude of children. I’ve lost count of them.

B. All the time. I’m a loser.

C. Sometimes. I’m a half loser.

D. What’s UFC? I’m gay.

Read the full story

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Powerpoint Guy:

Do you know what my job is, Jay? It’s not complicated, but it’s noble. I’ll tell you what my job is, Jay. Take a seat. My job is to deliver the correct words of the worship songs to the congregation, usually  spread across a beautiful backdrop. Something like a flowering field, or a Montana sunset. Sometimes in the winter I throw a beach up on the screen just to fight the Seasonal Affective Disorder. I get those words up there, and I do it at the right time, every time. That’s my job.

I take you from the sanctuary, to the rainbow by the lake on the farm.

Read the full story

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By: Kent and Conor

Dear Evangelical Community,

Hello.  My name is Christopher Benson.  You can call me Topher.  Unless you workout at Cardinal Fitness in West Pittsburgh or have a child in K – 5^th grade PE at Samuel Adams Elementary, chances are good that we have never met.  Despite the fact that we are strangers, I feel I owe you an apology.  Without even meaning to I have recently impacted your lives, your hearts, and your iPods in a tragic and permanent way.  I have come to humbly beg for forgiveness.

You’re probably wondering, “man, what terrible thing did this guy do?  Did he vote Democrat?  Did he visit San Francisco?”  Sadly, it was much worse than that.  You see, back in the early 2000′s, I was dating this singer/songwriter chick named Jennifer Knapp, and…well…I’ll just say it: I’m pretty sure I turned her gay.

Not that it’s any consolation, but I promise it was an accident.  When I met Jenn she seemed like all the other nice, decently cute (call her a 7.5), heterosexual girls I’ve dated in the past.  We dated for about two years, and, not only did we have an awesome couple name (Jenntopher), I thought we had a really great time together.

We were both into the same things like sports, music, professional wrestling, and my body.  Plus, she always seemed to get a kick out of my jokes about her last name.  Like when I wiped barbeque sauce all over her shirt and called her a “Knappkin.” Or the other time when I threw her over my shoulder and walked around Six Flags calling her my “Knapp-sack.”  She wasn’t laughing, but I could tell she got the joke. Read the full story

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March is past, and with it went the somber recognition of D-Day, or “Divorce Day,” the day when Amy Grant officially filed for divorce from her husband Gary Chapman. On March 4th Christians all over the nation wore black to signify the symbolic death of Amy Grant’s Christian faith, in addition to wearing wedding rings on all ten fingers in support of the covenant of marriage.

“That was the worst day of my life,” says Walter Lincoln, a long time fan and a saintly Christian. “It was almost as if Amy [Grant] had died for real. I wept for a while, and then I just crushed my [Amy Grant] CDs with my Bible. It just weighed so heavily on my heart.” It was a dark day, indeed. Our sources tell us that on that day alone in 1999, 14 billion Amy Grant CDs and tapes were destroyed, most of them by ritualistic fire.* According to the RIAA, the demographic that most commonly purchased Amy Grant records changed after March 4th, 1999 from almost entirely Christian to mostly Satan worshippers.**

Read the full story

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Hey… Hey there, readers. How are you doing? I missed you. Did you miss me? It’s been a while, I know. No excuses, really. Life happens, and sometimes when it happens it looks like one of those Nascar wrecks where you see it and you say “there’s no way someone walked away from that.” Somehow they do though, and rednecks love them for it. That’s me right now. Thank God for redneck loyalty. I know our love can withstand this beating. Let’s just forgive each other.

What did you do wrong? Oh, of course. It’s all my fault, right? Up on that pedestal as usual. It takes two to tango, sweetheart, and I don’t recall you writing any humor recently. Not your job? Not your humor website? Don’t get into semantics with me. Look, the point is that I’m back now. I don’t want to waste one more second being mad at you for letting me abandon you. Shhhhh. It’s okay, you’re only human.

Glad that’s behind us. Read the full story

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Can I talk to you for five minutes about a recent trend in television advertising?  I don’t know about you, but I’ve been feeling downright neglected by my TV lately.  It’s like it doesn’t even recognize my existence anymore.  Granted, it’s never been the most attentive appliance, but it at least used to stop what it was doing every ten minutes or so and talk to me about shampoo, HD TVs, acne medication, or whatever else was on its mind.  Not anymore.  My commercials, those bright nuggets of affirmation and opportunity, have been stripped of their intimacy by a disturbing trend in marketing known among business professionals as “Mine’s Bigger Advertising.”

You know what I’m talking about.  Mine’s Bigger Advertising is the kind of commercial that feels less like an intimate conversation between your wallet and your favorite fast food chain and more like a domestic dispute between two corporate rivals.  No longer content to settle their beef in the privacy of their own boardrooms or trading floors, advertisers have brought the bickering into the living room and we can do nothing but sit awkwardly on the couch, listening to the name-calling and the ugliness, wondering if it’s our fault that mom and dad are always fighting.

This is the modern television commercial. Read the full story

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This is not the article I wanted to write.  When I set out to write a review of MTV’s controversial new reality show Jersey Shore, I had a pretty good idea of how it was going to go.  I was going to write my standard (dare I say “trademark?”), long-winded rant which would combine obscure references, big words, and level one swears to express my deep displeasure with the show’s public displays of douchebaggery.

It seemed pretty straightforward. The show is a vocal proponent of self-ascribed nicknames, the state of New Jersey, and Italian-Americans engaging in non-mob activities. I had (and have) no interest in any of those things, and was confident in my ability to heap scorn on Jersey Whore.

But that was before I watched my first episode.

Fifteen minutes into “researching” my article, a strange thing began happening to me.  It’s the same thing that happened to John Smith in Pocahontas.  And the main character in Avatar.  And Secretary of State Hillary Clinton.  I fell in love with that which I set out to destroy. Read the full story

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Can I talk to you for five minutes about corporate life?  As of this writing, I have spent sixteen consecutive months in the wasteland of the working world.  This is far longer than I initially intended, and is especially shocking when you consider how popular it is to be unemployed these days.  From what I hear, there are literally dozens of people out there who would love to have jobs but don’t.  It seems almost immoral for me to continue working every day when I am so obviously unsuited for it and so many others would love to do it for me.

What is it about work that I find so unsatisfactory?  Almost all of it.  The bad coffee.  The expectation that I wake up earlier than The Price is Right.  The pervasive sports analogies.  The existence of “workplace humor” (a.k.a. the handicapped cousin of comedy).  The requirement that I spend several hours a day thinking or talking about things unrelated to sports, movies, attractive women, or gambling.  It’s all insufferable, but there is another, even more unbearable aspect of employment that has me plotting my escape from the professional work quicker than you can say “stay at home dad.” It can be summarized in one word: accountability. Read the full story

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