I'm one of those people who either hardly ever dreams, or never remembers the dream. Except last night.... now I prefer nightmares oddly enough, because they tend to be more memorable. I will never forget the dream I had a few years ago where my brother and I got lost on a deserted highway and kidnapped by Carnie folk who were breeding these black gelatinous creatures under their house. They fed Taylor to one of the monsters and some dude tried to rip my nipple off while screaming "Give me those rubber titties!" in my face. THAT was a memorable dream.
Last night's dream might have been slightly more disturbing, but mostly because in the dream land, I wasn't really bothered by anything that happened- that should have bothered me.
I was working in a church, which didn't look like a church but more like a theater of some sort. The walls were lined with thick red curtains and the front of the room had a large black stage. What bothered me about this place was that it was the same room that I had the nightmare about my father in, the day after his funeral. In that dream his funeral was taking place there and his coffin was on the stage. People were sitting in the built in chairs like they were about to watch a movie, only it was just him. I took a seat to the left of the room and started cry. I felt like none of it was real, that it was just a joke and he really wasn't dead. When I looked up to the stage at his body in the coffin I thought I saw his chest rise and fall and I felt so happy that I was right and he was actually alive. I started to get up... and his head started twisting slowly to the side to look back at me where I was sitting.
The head turned so far back it was completely unnatural and horrific. His eyes were closed and I could see dark purple veins under the skin... I was starting to feel the terror when his eyes suddenly burst open. They were the eyes of a demon, bright red with slanted black pupils. He started laughing, at first his normal laugh which morphed into this deep guttural growling. He put one of his hands on the edge of the coffin and started to climb out. The speed with which he moved made it seem as if one moment he was still in the coffin, and the next he was standing in front of me. Only it wasn't him anymore, he had become some kind of demonic creature. His mouth was stretched open and he had multiple levels of sharp pointed teeth. Small tags of decaying flesh were encrusted in between the fangs and he was drooling some opaque substance that was eating holes into the fabric of the seat in front of me. I started to scream, and then I woke up-screaming.
Anyway, back to last night. I was in this theater/church again, working there. No demon-dad present, but there were religious ceremonies taking place. A group of priests came on to the stage carrying a large wooden cross and a pulpit while I walked up and down the aisles with a push broom, sweeping up dust. I looked down at the pile I had collected, only it wasn't dust anymore, it looked like twinkling stars instead.
I had an understanding in the dream that terrible things were happening during these ceremonies. Some kind of large big foot type of creature was ravaging the place and eating the people who came. It had happened before and it was going to happen again, I knew this.
After everyone had gathered and taken their seats, I chained the doors in the back to keep this creature out and I felt like I was wasting my time because I knew it was coming and nothing could stop it. This didn't bother me, it only irritated me because I was going to have to clean up the mess. I stood at the back of the room with my push broom while the priests started to light candles on the stage.
The parishioners began to sing some haunting garish parody of Amazing Grace only the melody was all wrong, and their voices sounded like a bunch of creepy undead children. They were waving their hands through the air like typical church fanatics, when the thing came. It ripped through the red curtains and into the room. The bigfoot creature was actually enormous, towering over the seated guests and as he extended one of his meaty fists into an aisle to snatch one of them up I realized that somehow, no one else had noticed this yet, except for me.
I watched the creature put the squealing human head into his mouth while pulling on the man's torso, ripping his head from his body. I could see the shredding neck flesh stretch out from the body while the arms still flailed and his feet were paddling through the air like he was trying to swim. I wasn't afraid or upset, I was actually getting mad.
Everyone else started noticing what was happening and chaos began, people were screaming and climbing over each other to get out. The priests ran down from the stage with the cross to try and stop the bigfoot thing and I noticed how dirty everyone was. That was when I began to feel the fury in the dream. I stomped down the aisle with the broom, pissed, and shouted at some woman who literally had mud dripping off her clothes, her hair was clumped and like Pig Pen from Charlie Brown, a dust cloud was following her everywhere she went. "Look at you!" I screamed at her, everyone else around me was running around trying to escape the monster, "I'm the one who has to fucking clean around here, not YOU!" and I pushed her down on the floor. Somehow, out of nowhere, there was a stream on the side of the room. It wasn't there before. I went to the stream and filled a pail (don't know where the pail came from) with the water from the stream, I took it to the woman on the floor and dumped it on her.
I saw that a crowd had formed at the back of the room where several of the group members were trying to get out of the doors that I had previously chained. I was going to unlock it for them, but I managed to drop my keys in the stream when I was filling the pail. When I looked back towards the stage, the bigfoot thing was still there, eating and murdering the screaming church people. He had a small woman dangling out of his mouth and was squishing another one in his gigantic hand. Like a puffy marshmallow, the woman's body oozed from between his hairy fingers and chunks of her mangled flesh puddled to the floor.
I looked around at the carnage and realized how much work there was going to be for me and I grabbed the handle of the broom and snapped it over my knee. "That's it I quit! You clean this up you selfish fuck!" I threw the broken handle down on the floor and the bigfoot thing stopped his murdering to look at me. He flung his hand outwardly, slinging the crushed woman parts against the wall and held his hand out towards me showing me the gummy mess, as if to say, "Look what I have to deal with!"
I went to the edge of the floor where the stream began and grabbed a wooden platform that was sitting next to it. I saw that at the front of the room near the stage, the wall was cut away and I could see the woods outside where the stream lead. I got into the water and sat on the platform and I noticed the bigfoot thing was standing next to me. "Well come on if you're coming goddamnit!" I said to it, and started to float towards the opening that would lead me outside. I looked into the room as I drifted past it, most of the people were dead or simply gone, presumably eaten by my new friend who was walking in the stream behind me, following me.
As I floated along the stream with the creature behind me, I felt no fear. Only elation and peace that I was done with that insanity in the theater/church.
Well ..... that was it, then I woke up. I won't even try to analyze this dream, I don't know if the nonsense in one's mind that manifests in the dream world means anything or not. Maybe it does, maybe it doesn't. If it means something, then I suppose this means I'm completely insane, and somehow.... I'm ok with that.
Sunday, May 8, 2011
Sunday, April 24, 2011
FAITH
With the last vestige of PMS induced bitterness and antagonism coursing through my system, I thought Easter would be the perfect day to produce this little treasure of bitchery on one of my favorite topics- FAITH.
All too often I have heard religious automatons droning on about how they don't need to hear about such silly topics as "truth", "facts", and "reality" because they have something better than that.
They have FAITH.
Faith is a comforting notion to religious people, it allows them to discard actuality in favor of realism and remain steadfast on the path of ignorance, but I'll get to that in a minute.
If you notice, most Christians resort to prayer when they want to beg petty favors from god because things aren't quite going as well as they planned in life and they're scared and unhappy. They want a better car, and they want a bigger house and more money. Their kids are acting like douches and they think their spouse may be cheating.
Every now and then they'll throw in a few for a neighbor or friend and thus begins the process of bartering with the lord for their demands. Gimme this, gimme that. I want. And if you give it to me, I'll be a better person, God! I'll throw an extra $20 in the offering plate this Sunday and I'll stop excessively masturbating, why.... I'll even help an old lady cross the street if you do this for me. Me! Me! Me! and don't forget to Bless me while you're at it!
Personally, if I was God I would have flooded this planet ages ago just to be done with their endless whining.
When a Christian prays, they find comfort and peace in the non-action and the reason they feel this is because they have faith. They believe that their god will take care of them and do what is best for them, which is of course, whatever they want him to do- hence the prayers.
They have faith that because THEY are faithful to him, he will always be there and love them forever and ever, no matter how many shitty things they do and have done, and that when they kick it they're going to an everlasting paradise with mansions and gold streets and they'll finally get to see Big G sitting on his potty throne with Jesus. Everyone will be happy and no one will ever need anything and it will be like an eternal orgasm that will never stop. Yipee!
Christians know all about it because their bible states it and they have FAITH. "The bible says it, I believe it! I. Have. FAITH."
Faith is an unwavering belief. Like silent knowledge on the wings of absolute certainty, flying through your heaven bound soul and you know, you just know.... and you need know nothing else because you have faith.
Let us assume, for the briefest of moments, that Farmer John down the road also has faith. Blind comforting sheep's faith and he knows something too. He knows that if he performs the action of flapping his wings like a bird in the spot he marked with an X in his front yard everyday at noon for six months that he will have the power to climb on his roof, sprout wings out of his shoulder blades and fly through the brilliant blue sky. He KNOWS this will happen because he has faith! His family and friends and have all told him he's nuts, he isn't going to fly, but he doesn't listen to them, he doesn't need to. He has enough faith to know with complete assuredness that he is, indeed, going to sprout wings and fly.
Six months later Farmer John climbs to the top of his roof and he is overjoyed. He has performed the specified action faithfully, and he feels the power of that faith coursing through his soul. He knows that he is about to take flight so he takes a deep breath and a big leap of faith off the roof prepared to soar gloriously through the air like a happy hummingbird.....
What do you think is going to happen to Farmer John? He has faith that he will fly, he knows this, HE HAS FAITH!
Let me inform you of what happens next in this scenario: Farmer John takes the leap, gets three inches of airtime, and goes smashing into the yard, snapping his spine, breaking his neck and a couple of his broken ribs go splintering into a few vital organs. He dies.
That, my friends, is faith.
The preposterous notion that something will happen for no logical reason whatsoever. It is willful ignorance and insanity for fearful weak minds who are too lazy and irresponsible to take personal accountability for the course of their own lives. Morons turn to faith like frightened monkeys. They cling to faith in the face of reality because reality is too scary if it might mean they could have been wrong, or that something isn't going to go their way. They hide under the blanket of their faith like little children do when they're hiding from the boogeyman under the bed.
And like a junkie needing a fix, faith is the Christians drug of choice.
It's still a crutch and it is highly addictive. Faith destroys the logical thought process in the human mind, it halts evolution and personal growth because it boxes it's junkies into a narrowly confined realm of delusion, with NO room for progression and movement.
The bible tells you to have faith when you are faced with uncertainty and things you don't understand, like something that may clue your mindless airy head into the reality that you're being a fool by believing this nonsense in the first place.
Don't question! Have faith! = Don't THINK! Don't use your brain!
Well.. that was fun. Happy Easter, don't forget to pray this holiday, for all your desires and demands and don't forget to enjoy communion at your local church this evening.
Cannibalism FTW! :D
All too often I have heard religious automatons droning on about how they don't need to hear about such silly topics as "truth", "facts", and "reality" because they have something better than that.
They have FAITH.
Faith is a comforting notion to religious people, it allows them to discard actuality in favor of realism and remain steadfast on the path of ignorance, but I'll get to that in a minute.
If you notice, most Christians resort to prayer when they want to beg petty favors from god because things aren't quite going as well as they planned in life and they're scared and unhappy. They want a better car, and they want a bigger house and more money. Their kids are acting like douches and they think their spouse may be cheating.
Every now and then they'll throw in a few for a neighbor or friend and thus begins the process of bartering with the lord for their demands. Gimme this, gimme that. I want. And if you give it to me, I'll be a better person, God! I'll throw an extra $20 in the offering plate this Sunday and I'll stop excessively masturbating, why.... I'll even help an old lady cross the street if you do this for me. Me! Me! Me! and don't forget to Bless me while you're at it!
Personally, if I was God I would have flooded this planet ages ago just to be done with their endless whining.
When a Christian prays, they find comfort and peace in the non-action and the reason they feel this is because they have faith. They believe that their god will take care of them and do what is best for them, which is of course, whatever they want him to do- hence the prayers.
They have faith that because THEY are faithful to him, he will always be there and love them forever and ever, no matter how many shitty things they do and have done, and that when they kick it they're going to an everlasting paradise with mansions and gold streets and they'll finally get to see Big G sitting on his potty throne with Jesus. Everyone will be happy and no one will ever need anything and it will be like an eternal orgasm that will never stop. Yipee!
Christians know all about it because their bible states it and they have FAITH. "The bible says it, I believe it! I. Have. FAITH."
Faith is an unwavering belief. Like silent knowledge on the wings of absolute certainty, flying through your heaven bound soul and you know, you just know.... and you need know nothing else because you have faith.
Let us assume, for the briefest of moments, that Farmer John down the road also has faith. Blind comforting sheep's faith and he knows something too. He knows that if he performs the action of flapping his wings like a bird in the spot he marked with an X in his front yard everyday at noon for six months that he will have the power to climb on his roof, sprout wings out of his shoulder blades and fly through the brilliant blue sky. He KNOWS this will happen because he has faith! His family and friends and have all told him he's nuts, he isn't going to fly, but he doesn't listen to them, he doesn't need to. He has enough faith to know with complete assuredness that he is, indeed, going to sprout wings and fly.
Six months later Farmer John climbs to the top of his roof and he is overjoyed. He has performed the specified action faithfully, and he feels the power of that faith coursing through his soul. He knows that he is about to take flight so he takes a deep breath and a big leap of faith off the roof prepared to soar gloriously through the air like a happy hummingbird.....
What do you think is going to happen to Farmer John? He has faith that he will fly, he knows this, HE HAS FAITH!
Let me inform you of what happens next in this scenario: Farmer John takes the leap, gets three inches of airtime, and goes smashing into the yard, snapping his spine, breaking his neck and a couple of his broken ribs go splintering into a few vital organs. He dies.
That, my friends, is faith.
The preposterous notion that something will happen for no logical reason whatsoever. It is willful ignorance and insanity for fearful weak minds who are too lazy and irresponsible to take personal accountability for the course of their own lives. Morons turn to faith like frightened monkeys. They cling to faith in the face of reality because reality is too scary if it might mean they could have been wrong, or that something isn't going to go their way. They hide under the blanket of their faith like little children do when they're hiding from the boogeyman under the bed.
And like a junkie needing a fix, faith is the Christians drug of choice.
It's still a crutch and it is highly addictive. Faith destroys the logical thought process in the human mind, it halts evolution and personal growth because it boxes it's junkies into a narrowly confined realm of delusion, with NO room for progression and movement.
The bible tells you to have faith when you are faced with uncertainty and things you don't understand, like something that may clue your mindless airy head into the reality that you're being a fool by believing this nonsense in the first place.
Don't question! Have faith! = Don't THINK! Don't use your brain!
Well.. that was fun. Happy Easter, don't forget to pray this holiday, for all your desires and demands and don't forget to enjoy communion at your local church this evening.
Cannibalism FTW! :D
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
There Can Be No Title For This....
I think I've been staring at these same five blue walls of my life... here in my room. But it's only been a little more than four months. If one were so inclined to write about something (and I am inclined) then logic would dictate they write what they know.
This is what I know.
A small town full nothing, expansive fields full of nothing and these blue walls, also full of nothing.
The entire concept of my "country" surroundings are almost a cliche, if I allowed it to be. Everything from the dairy farm down the road, to the isolated tree on the horizon, even the tiny blue wild flowers growing along the edges of the sidewalk can denote that atmosphere if I didn't so vehemently deny that my habitat was anything BUT boring, because I like to lie to myself. All I need now is a banjo player sitting on the front porch, humming some folk tune, "Cat's in the cradle with the silver moon, little boy blue and the dude with the spoon." I won't pretend I know the lyrics to that song, but you get the idea. Or do you? No, you probably do not....
YOU probably live in civilization, some potentially thrilling atmosphere with endless possibilities for inciting carnage and mayhem. I live in no man's land where the most exciting thing that could happen in a week is a 2 for 1 sale down at Hickman's IGA on Hog Wash; Piggleberry Punch, AND Oinkin Orange! I'm not kidding by the way, that actually is popular beverage here.
You do become de-sensitized to the hillbilly ethics over time, that much is true. I no longer giggle and point at the hicks who wander around the local gas station/movie store/fried chicken and burrito joint in their camouflage jackets, hats, and denim overalls. I'm no longer surprised to see the youth meandering about with their bottom lips puffed out from the pile of cancerous chewing tobacco stuffed in their little mouth pouches, and it's really not that shocking anymore to see a local inbred hillbilly brethren chugging a 40 oz. while driving down the highway... I mean "route", there are no highways here. No, no... you learn to just smile and nod like everyone else does.
After time all the faces begin to look the same. The hillbilly bone structure is rather unique, I've noted, and while I may joke about them being inbred, it is highly possibly considering this town has successfully remained under 800 people for the last 20 years, and they do tend to bear striking resemblances to one another. Most of them have some variation of the hillbilly snout, roundish noses, upturned at the tip that expose two, typically large, hair lined nostril holes in full view. No one here has straight hair, they're ALL curly headed, which I found a bit intriguing, and on that note, I have yet to see a natural blond here.
But as I stated, the hillbilly bone structure usually entails the round snout, high round cheekbones- ball-like even, and pointed angular chins. All of the men wear hats or caps, unless they're really old and all of the women either have short curly hair or long curly hair that they tie back into pony tails at the crowns of their squarish blocky heads. It's quite intriguing in a bizarre Twilight Zone sort of way. I plan on taking my camera with me the next time we need bread or lighter fluid and capturing a few images to demonstrate my point.
And what is my point, you ask? I don't have one. I lack a point because I live in the sticks, population 723.
There is no point anymore. :D
This is what I know.
A small town full nothing, expansive fields full of nothing and these blue walls, also full of nothing.
The entire concept of my "country" surroundings are almost a cliche, if I allowed it to be. Everything from the dairy farm down the road, to the isolated tree on the horizon, even the tiny blue wild flowers growing along the edges of the sidewalk can denote that atmosphere if I didn't so vehemently deny that my habitat was anything BUT boring, because I like to lie to myself. All I need now is a banjo player sitting on the front porch, humming some folk tune, "Cat's in the cradle with the silver moon, little boy blue and the dude with the spoon." I won't pretend I know the lyrics to that song, but you get the idea. Or do you? No, you probably do not....
YOU probably live in civilization, some potentially thrilling atmosphere with endless possibilities for inciting carnage and mayhem. I live in no man's land where the most exciting thing that could happen in a week is a 2 for 1 sale down at Hickman's IGA on Hog Wash; Piggleberry Punch, AND Oinkin Orange! I'm not kidding by the way, that actually is popular beverage here.
You do become de-sensitized to the hillbilly ethics over time, that much is true. I no longer giggle and point at the hicks who wander around the local gas station/movie store/fried chicken and burrito joint in their camouflage jackets, hats, and denim overalls. I'm no longer surprised to see the youth meandering about with their bottom lips puffed out from the pile of cancerous chewing tobacco stuffed in their little mouth pouches, and it's really not that shocking anymore to see a local inbred hillbilly brethren chugging a 40 oz. while driving down the highway... I mean "route", there are no highways here. No, no... you learn to just smile and nod like everyone else does.
After time all the faces begin to look the same. The hillbilly bone structure is rather unique, I've noted, and while I may joke about them being inbred, it is highly possibly considering this town has successfully remained under 800 people for the last 20 years, and they do tend to bear striking resemblances to one another. Most of them have some variation of the hillbilly snout, roundish noses, upturned at the tip that expose two, typically large, hair lined nostril holes in full view. No one here has straight hair, they're ALL curly headed, which I found a bit intriguing, and on that note, I have yet to see a natural blond here.
But as I stated, the hillbilly bone structure usually entails the round snout, high round cheekbones- ball-like even, and pointed angular chins. All of the men wear hats or caps, unless they're really old and all of the women either have short curly hair or long curly hair that they tie back into pony tails at the crowns of their squarish blocky heads. It's quite intriguing in a bizarre Twilight Zone sort of way. I plan on taking my camera with me the next time we need bread or lighter fluid and capturing a few images to demonstrate my point.
And what is my point, you ask? I don't have one. I lack a point because I live in the sticks, population 723.
There is no point anymore. :D
Sunday, April 3, 2011
Rural vs. City: Reality Check
For most people used to the advantages of the modern world, the possibilities of dwelling in a country setting seem to be idyllic and charming. But is it really that splendid to escape the toils of traffic jams, nosy neighbors, and potentially polluted air and water? I thought it would be....
Buyer beware: all that glitters isn't gold.
Fantasy: Let's escape this wretched city life and move to the country! It's going to be SO peaceful. :D
Reality: Peace is all your ass is going to have. That's it. Nothing happens in the country. Ever. See that field in your back/front/side yard? Yep it's still the same, just a big ole field o' nothin! ... Wait, there's something moving.... Oh it's just a barn cat, climbing the tree.
Fantasy: Awww look at this narrow gravel road. Nothing could be more quaint than this! :p
Reality: Have fun driving down that gravel road after it snows or rains. You're gonna have loads of joy when you're smashing your head against the windshield as you're sliding off the edge into one of the boulder ridden ravines. Nevermind the destruction to your tires and suspension from the 3ft. deep pot holes.
Fantasy: OMG there's a farm!! Horses, cows and pigs, this is so scenic! I think I just had a nature-gasm! <:o
Reality: You open some windows to air out your crusty old house and get some fresh oxygen. Take a big whiff... Mmmm! Feces. NOTHING will you wake you up in the morning like the pungent aroma of fresh farm shit wafting across the breakfast table.
Fantasy: Oh wow, I can't believe we found this 111 year old behemoth five bedroom house in the middle of nowhere! This. Is. Perfection.
Reality: The bigger and older the house, the bigger and more complex the problems are that you will nightmarishly face, like bad electrical wiring, forget using a hairdryer with the light on unless you like buying a lot of fuses. Not to mention the cracks in the walls where mice can enter and frolic across your bedroom floor while you sleep, or the millions of orange ladybugs who squeeze into every crease and crevice of the woodwork in the bathroom because apparently they like toilet paper. Don't forget to check BEFORE you wipe. Picking crushed ladybug pieces out of your pubic hair isn't as exciting as it sounds.
Fantasy: There's even an outdoor wood burning furnace! We'll save SO much money on gas bills!
Reality: Oh no you won't. Prepare to spend at about $500 a month in the winter and then you better prepare your ass to go out in the freezing cold five times a day and at least once in the middle of the night to feed that beast or you will freeze because 111 year old houses have little to no insulation. Don't even think about slacking because if that fires goes out, so does your hot water. Have fun taking a shower in water the same degree as room temperature chicken skin.
Fantasy: The house's water is supplied by a well?! We have died and gone to Country Heaven. No more microbic city water for us, yay!
Reality: Have you ever drank well water? Go to your sink and get a glass of water. Now go outside, scoop up some dirt, and put it into your mouth. Take a drink, swish it around and swallow. Welcome to well water!
Fantasy: Tranquility at long last! No more busy body neighbors with their noses embedded in our anuses!
Reality: No neighbors = no witnesses. There's something to be said for safety in numbers. Go outside after the sun has set and the land is dark, and it is very very dark. The potentials of every horror movie you ever saw begin to manifest. The slight rustling of the brush becomes your inevitable slaughter at the hands of the would be psychopath lurking in the blackness, watching your every move. See those obscure shapes moving in the distance? Is it a group of mischievous dogs playing under the moonlight, or a pack of hungry coyotes eyeballing you up for dinner. How fast can you run?
Buyer beware: all that glitters isn't gold.
Fantasy: Let's escape this wretched city life and move to the country! It's going to be SO peaceful. :D
Reality: Peace is all your ass is going to have. That's it. Nothing happens in the country. Ever. See that field in your back/front/side yard? Yep it's still the same, just a big ole field o' nothin! ... Wait, there's something moving.... Oh it's just a barn cat, climbing the tree.
Fantasy: Awww look at this narrow gravel road. Nothing could be more quaint than this! :p
Reality: Have fun driving down that gravel road after it snows or rains. You're gonna have loads of joy when you're smashing your head against the windshield as you're sliding off the edge into one of the boulder ridden ravines. Nevermind the destruction to your tires and suspension from the 3ft. deep pot holes.
Fantasy: OMG there's a farm!! Horses, cows and pigs, this is so scenic! I think I just had a nature-gasm! <:o
Reality: You open some windows to air out your crusty old house and get some fresh oxygen. Take a big whiff... Mmmm! Feces. NOTHING will you wake you up in the morning like the pungent aroma of fresh farm shit wafting across the breakfast table.
Fantasy: Oh wow, I can't believe we found this 111 year old behemoth five bedroom house in the middle of nowhere! This. Is. Perfection.
Reality: The bigger and older the house, the bigger and more complex the problems are that you will nightmarishly face, like bad electrical wiring, forget using a hairdryer with the light on unless you like buying a lot of fuses. Not to mention the cracks in the walls where mice can enter and frolic across your bedroom floor while you sleep, or the millions of orange ladybugs who squeeze into every crease and crevice of the woodwork in the bathroom because apparently they like toilet paper. Don't forget to check BEFORE you wipe. Picking crushed ladybug pieces out of your pubic hair isn't as exciting as it sounds.
Fantasy: There's even an outdoor wood burning furnace! We'll save SO much money on gas bills!
Reality: Oh no you won't. Prepare to spend at about $500 a month in the winter and then you better prepare your ass to go out in the freezing cold five times a day and at least once in the middle of the night to feed that beast or you will freeze because 111 year old houses have little to no insulation. Don't even think about slacking because if that fires goes out, so does your hot water. Have fun taking a shower in water the same degree as room temperature chicken skin.
Fantasy: The house's water is supplied by a well?! We have died and gone to Country Heaven. No more microbic city water for us, yay!
Reality: Have you ever drank well water? Go to your sink and get a glass of water. Now go outside, scoop up some dirt, and put it into your mouth. Take a drink, swish it around and swallow. Welcome to well water!
Fantasy: Tranquility at long last! No more busy body neighbors with their noses embedded in our anuses!
Reality: No neighbors = no witnesses. There's something to be said for safety in numbers. Go outside after the sun has set and the land is dark, and it is very very dark. The potentials of every horror movie you ever saw begin to manifest. The slight rustling of the brush becomes your inevitable slaughter at the hands of the would be psychopath lurking in the blackness, watching your every move. See those obscure shapes moving in the distance? Is it a group of mischievous dogs playing under the moonlight, or a pack of hungry coyotes eyeballing you up for dinner. How fast can you run?
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
I Hate Mike Myers
I need to change my home page to google so I don't have to look at anymore of yahoo's stupid news feeds.
Today's pointless (much like this blog) meanderings were:
Credit cards will fuck you over- no shit.
Obama is starting to suck- like we couldn't have seen that one coming.
A hillbilly in Ohio used a wheat farm to propose to his girlfriend- who cares?!
And then the one that made me want to tear out my eyeballs and play ping pong with them... Mike Myers.
Apparently The Forbidden One has a role in Tarantino's movie, Inglorious Basterds.
What a shame.
I'm not a huge fan of Quentin's handiwork, Eric loves his movies but I hate the soundtracks he uses. He has the worst taste in music ever so I'm never trying to purposely watch anything he does but I kind of wanted to see that one.
Now I never will. Ever.
I would rather slide down a 50 ft razor into a bin of alcohol and salt over and over again for the rest of eternity than watch even one movie with Mike Myers, even if he was only in it for 3 seconds. I would rather be infected with flesh eating parasites than watch a movie with Mike Myers in it. In fact...I would rather tear all the flesh off my bones and have someone beat my gelatinously bloody muscular skeleton with a bullwhip that had been soaked in hydrochloric acid than have to do anything that relates in any way shape or form.. to Mike Myers.
Mike Myers is an abominable plague upon this earth, rendering all of reality unjust and unwhole simply by existing.
If when I die I go to hell it will be a Mike Myers Hell.
There is nothing worse I can think of than that.
I will cross over to the other side and be dropped naked into a snarling sea of Mike Myers. The sky will be filled with infinite layers of Mike Myers and his repulsive shit eating grin. The horizon will be crammed with his body parts and the only sound I will be able to hear is that hideous evil laugh of his and it will never stop ...ever.
That will be my hell.
Today's pointless (much like this blog) meanderings were:
Credit cards will fuck you over- no shit.
Obama is starting to suck- like we couldn't have seen that one coming.
A hillbilly in Ohio used a wheat farm to propose to his girlfriend- who cares?!
And then the one that made me want to tear out my eyeballs and play ping pong with them... Mike Myers.
Apparently The Forbidden One has a role in Tarantino's movie, Inglorious Basterds.
What a shame.
I'm not a huge fan of Quentin's handiwork, Eric loves his movies but I hate the soundtracks he uses. He has the worst taste in music ever so I'm never trying to purposely watch anything he does but I kind of wanted to see that one.
Now I never will. Ever.
I would rather slide down a 50 ft razor into a bin of alcohol and salt over and over again for the rest of eternity than watch even one movie with Mike Myers, even if he was only in it for 3 seconds. I would rather be infected with flesh eating parasites than watch a movie with Mike Myers in it. In fact...I would rather tear all the flesh off my bones and have someone beat my gelatinously bloody muscular skeleton with a bullwhip that had been soaked in hydrochloric acid than have to do anything that relates in any way shape or form.. to Mike Myers.
Mike Myers is an abominable plague upon this earth, rendering all of reality unjust and unwhole simply by existing.
If when I die I go to hell it will be a Mike Myers Hell.
There is nothing worse I can think of than that.
I will cross over to the other side and be dropped naked into a snarling sea of Mike Myers. The sky will be filled with infinite layers of Mike Myers and his repulsive shit eating grin. The horizon will be crammed with his body parts and the only sound I will be able to hear is that hideous evil laugh of his and it will never stop ...ever.
That will be my hell.
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
To My Daughters
Dear Daughters,
This is an important time for you. The course of the next several years will be full of changes: physically, mentally and socially. You may find yourself in difficult positions, not knowing which way to turn, but I want you to know that you will never be alone, I will always be here for you.
I want you to understand that you are going to make mistakes, but it's ok. It's normal and when you do, I want you to forgive yourself. The errors you make will help you learn and from that you will gain wisdom.
Life is too short to dwell on negativity. One can spend a lifetime berating themselves over the past, but the past can do nothing for you. It's unchangeable, that's why it's called 'history'. If you focus on your future then your present moments will be rich and worthy. Acknowledge what has been, but place your determination in what is to come.
Never forget to love yourself enough to know that you already have everything you need to be happy in life. Don't buy into the fairytale nonsense of "needing" someone else to bring meaning and purpose to your existence. You need no one but yourself, people will come and go. The ones who truly matter will stand the test of time and those who don't will fade into the background.
Let them go, and remember the good times.
Be wary of complacency when you know you can do better and don't be afraid to analyze the path you're on, but do so gently. If you don't evolve you will never be satisfied, but enjoy yourself every step of the way. You are a unique entity capable of amazing feats, no one can ever take that away from you.
Have fun whenever you can and enjoy the small things in life. Remember them. They will remain in your memories a million times more than anything that money can buy. I couldn't tell you what I got for Christmas when I was ten years old, but I'll never forget the afternoon Uncle Taylor and I spent on our bikes trying to find the end of a rainbow after a summer storm. Make as many precious moments in your life as you can, those memories will bring you peace and comfort when you need it most.
I want you to know that I am very proud of you. You are so beautiful, inside and out. I look at you everyday, growing and learning from the worlds around you, and I know that you are going to be incredible women. You have the ability to do whatever you wish in this life and I have no doubt that you will make the right choices to reach your goals and fulfill your potential.
With Love,
Mom
This is an important time for you. The course of the next several years will be full of changes: physically, mentally and socially. You may find yourself in difficult positions, not knowing which way to turn, but I want you to know that you will never be alone, I will always be here for you.
I want you to understand that you are going to make mistakes, but it's ok. It's normal and when you do, I want you to forgive yourself. The errors you make will help you learn and from that you will gain wisdom.
Life is too short to dwell on negativity. One can spend a lifetime berating themselves over the past, but the past can do nothing for you. It's unchangeable, that's why it's called 'history'. If you focus on your future then your present moments will be rich and worthy. Acknowledge what has been, but place your determination in what is to come.
Never forget to love yourself enough to know that you already have everything you need to be happy in life. Don't buy into the fairytale nonsense of "needing" someone else to bring meaning and purpose to your existence. You need no one but yourself, people will come and go. The ones who truly matter will stand the test of time and those who don't will fade into the background.
Let them go, and remember the good times.
Be wary of complacency when you know you can do better and don't be afraid to analyze the path you're on, but do so gently. If you don't evolve you will never be satisfied, but enjoy yourself every step of the way. You are a unique entity capable of amazing feats, no one can ever take that away from you.
Have fun whenever you can and enjoy the small things in life. Remember them. They will remain in your memories a million times more than anything that money can buy. I couldn't tell you what I got for Christmas when I was ten years old, but I'll never forget the afternoon Uncle Taylor and I spent on our bikes trying to find the end of a rainbow after a summer storm. Make as many precious moments in your life as you can, those memories will bring you peace and comfort when you need it most.
I want you to know that I am very proud of you. You are so beautiful, inside and out. I look at you everyday, growing and learning from the worlds around you, and I know that you are going to be incredible women. You have the ability to do whatever you wish in this life and I have no doubt that you will make the right choices to reach your goals and fulfill your potential.
With Love,
Mom
Thursday, February 3, 2011
The Prayer Warrior
I recently had the joyous experience of attending a rather... let us just say "informal"... prayer meeting. I'm not sure any amount of money could have provided that level of entertainment, it was incredible. Now I'm sure that if you know me well, you're wondering what in the hell someone like me was doing at a prayer meeting. I'll let your imagination run with that one.... but the lengths I go to for others are truly outstanding and that's all I'm going to say about that....
At first, I had my reservations about attending the event, and I was actually furious with my companion for dragging me into that nightmare. As we stood outside in the cold waiting to enter the building I expressed this emotion. Exasperated, he sighed and leaned down to whisper in my ear "There are many unique experiences to be had in life, and this is one of them!" I just wanted to take his word for it.
When we first walked into the "sanctuary" I was completely delighted. The small cramped room was lined with eight rows of beige metal folding chairs in groups of four, compacted side to side. My mind began to wander into the molecular possibilities of inhaling so many discarded germy atoms from complete strangers in such an enclosed and intimate environment.
At the front of the room there was an elderly black man standing behind an old wooden pulpit. Beckoning to the occupants entering the door, he gestured to the seats. "Welcome! Have a seat, scoot all the way down to make room. Scoot, scoot, scoot!!" Chaos was erupting all around me as some man of unknown age began clamoring for me to sit next to him. I looked down into milky blue eyes set deep in a weather worn face, random smudges of dirt were caked into the crevices of his drooping wrinkles. His faded blonde hair was in a wild disarray of mangled knots like thin pieces of crusty straw shooting out of his sparse and peeling cranium. The dry cracked lips opened slightly to reveal a partially toothless grin as he pointed to the chair next to him. "Um, thanks", I said, trying not to catalog every disturbing facet of what I would have to endure for the next hour, sitting thigh to thigh like lovers with a man who probably hadn't bathed in over a month.
I closed my eyes in silent agony and brushed across the bedraggled worshipper, who had not scooted down, to accept his generous offering. The stinging aroma of stale dried urine assaulted my nostrils and I knew I had only a few choices at that moment. Fight my way through the crowd clogging the entrance, violently if necessary, to escape the madness, breathe through my mouth and accept the fact that I would then have his pungent stench permeating the delicate pores of my tongue, or continue inhaling as is and hope that in time I would develop some form of desensitivity to the painful scent that was raping my brain with its possibilities.
I considered those possibilities while the room overfilled with people waiting for the sermon to begin. What catastrophic flow of devastation occurred that created this forlorn soul next to me? That he was homeless was a given, and I felt a great deal of compassion for his irregularity. I could feel his gaze and without permission, my eyes wandered to meet his. "Cheesiss love you sister" he croaked with that sad toothless grin. Ah....Fate is so unkind, and here this poor unfortunate bastard sits at the bottom of the barrel of life worshipping an invisible sky pixie who reportedly dearly loves all of his followers so incredibly much.
I couldn't help but wonder what it is about religion that blinds people so completely that they can perpetually lie to themselves that they covet a loving deity. Do they even read the bible? The one which portrays God as an abusive neglectful father with a violent temper, what is this fascination for nonsense? I never have been able to figure that out, except perhaps that fear truly can be crippling.... In that moment, I thought I'd rather spend eternity in hell than be a part of the preposterous egotism and insanity that surrounds Christianity and its droning mindless followers. Fighting the urge to enlighten the grungy chump on the details of his gods so called "love", I bit my tongue. "I'm sure he does...." I said.
The sermon leader man behind the wooden pulpit, with no introduction whatsoever, began singing some religiously themed "God is great, God is good" type song, A Capella. I was pleasantly surprised by the even timbre of his voice which was smooth and strong. All around me hands began to wave through the air in rhythm with the tune, typical of fanatical Christians grouped together in close proximity to mimic one another's behavior. Being used to the electronically modified voices of perfection that are emitted from the insanely expensive sound system at Grace Church in Maryland Heights, I couldn't help but admire that these particular simpletons were enjoying their worship with nothing being spent other than the energy it took the singer to produce sound from his body. Nice.
When the tune was finished and the hands were lowered, the ordinary sermonish introductions began by thanking us for gathering together to praise Cheezits. The preacher then claimed he was going to take prayer requests. Prayers.. how glorious. Now we get to pretend we're doing something useful while in fact we'll be doing absolutely nothing at all. "If any of ya gots a need, then let us hear it now!" Bowing his head solemnly he nodded, "We got Steve here toni-ight, he's a prayer warrior and ya prayers WILL be answered cuz he tawk to Gawd!" I smiled in spite of myself, totally intrigued by this new development. A prayer warrior?! What the fu...
Gesturing towards to the left of the room stood Steve. The Prayer Warrior. I studied him carefully for a moment with disappointment. He didn't look like a prayer warrior to me. He looked like a portly middle aged white man in jeans and a striped blue shirt. No fancy shield or glowing golden sword indicating that he can rightfully claim Prayer Warrior status, no magnificent celestial white wings sprouting from his shoulder blades to prove he was the middle man for the Almighty... why was he the prayer warrior?! Was the Prayer Warrior the only one capable of tawking to Gawd? What a crock of shit! What if I can't find my keys tonight and I want to beg petty favors from God, but Steve is asleep or out of cell range? What then!
Steve nodded slowly and looked at the crowd as he took a deep breath and pulled a small notepad and pen from his back pocket, prepared for his heavy labor of demanding deeds from the lord on behalf of the parishioners gathered in the sanctuary. I heard a woman's voice somewhere near the back of the room, "I gotta prayer request for the country and our soldiers!" Hmm, well that sounded noble enough. Steve began jotting down the request while the preacher vehemently agreed. "Amen sister! Anyone else, less give it to Gawd!" A few of the church goers raised their hands and voiced their demands to the Prayer Warrior who was furiously recording the details. Everything from an afternoon heart catheterization to jobs for the unemployed was requested and I was momentarily humbled by the sincerity of those people and their most unselfish requests.
How many times had I partaken in similar events with similar Jesus freaks bartering tricks from God for themselves? Better jobs, bigger houses, improve my health, make my kid behave, bla bla bla with their tired droning. Never mind that according to their own dogma, their god has a PLAN for them. No, no... they want everything they want in their selfishness and greed. Typical Christians running loose all over the planet, doing good deeds only not because they actually should, but because they expect the eternal handout of a golden streeted paradise. Pathetic. However, not one single person in that room requested useless prayers for themselves and I couldn't help but be impressed.
I couldn't tell you the context of the sermon itself, I was distracted by Disturbed's Ten Thousand Fists soundtrack playing through my mind (Yes they know that you've hurt yourself another time, decadence isn't easy, is it? ... No it certainly isn't...) while the preacher blathered on about his god.
On the drive home I wasn't angry with my companion anymore. He had promised me a unique experience and he had certainly delivered that much to say the least. While I'm sure I disappointed his expectations of instilling a greater sense of tolerance for the faithful in me, I did walk away from it with a greater sense of disgust for large churches with wealthy pastoral figures. I was able to join in the festivities of a group of people who had little more to offer one another than prayer itself. There was no million dollar sound system perfecting every syllable of the speakers and singers standing on stages of specialized multi-colored light shows, there was no hazy smoke creating pseudo atmosphere's of serenity and mystique... there were no offering plates passed to collect massive amounts of tax free revenue in a gigantic state of the art facility. No in house bookstores collecting more cash from the simpletons, no cafe and restaurant performing the same cash cow function in what so many greedy fake pieces of shit call "church", just a small room in a small house full of delusional people, and as bizarre as they may have seemed, I had to admire them.
Even if just a little....
At first, I had my reservations about attending the event, and I was actually furious with my companion for dragging me into that nightmare. As we stood outside in the cold waiting to enter the building I expressed this emotion. Exasperated, he sighed and leaned down to whisper in my ear "There are many unique experiences to be had in life, and this is one of them!" I just wanted to take his word for it.
When we first walked into the "sanctuary" I was completely delighted. The small cramped room was lined with eight rows of beige metal folding chairs in groups of four, compacted side to side. My mind began to wander into the molecular possibilities of inhaling so many discarded germy atoms from complete strangers in such an enclosed and intimate environment.
At the front of the room there was an elderly black man standing behind an old wooden pulpit. Beckoning to the occupants entering the door, he gestured to the seats. "Welcome! Have a seat, scoot all the way down to make room. Scoot, scoot, scoot!!" Chaos was erupting all around me as some man of unknown age began clamoring for me to sit next to him. I looked down into milky blue eyes set deep in a weather worn face, random smudges of dirt were caked into the crevices of his drooping wrinkles. His faded blonde hair was in a wild disarray of mangled knots like thin pieces of crusty straw shooting out of his sparse and peeling cranium. The dry cracked lips opened slightly to reveal a partially toothless grin as he pointed to the chair next to him. "Um, thanks", I said, trying not to catalog every disturbing facet of what I would have to endure for the next hour, sitting thigh to thigh like lovers with a man who probably hadn't bathed in over a month.
I closed my eyes in silent agony and brushed across the bedraggled worshipper, who had not scooted down, to accept his generous offering. The stinging aroma of stale dried urine assaulted my nostrils and I knew I had only a few choices at that moment. Fight my way through the crowd clogging the entrance, violently if necessary, to escape the madness, breathe through my mouth and accept the fact that I would then have his pungent stench permeating the delicate pores of my tongue, or continue inhaling as is and hope that in time I would develop some form of desensitivity to the painful scent that was raping my brain with its possibilities.
I considered those possibilities while the room overfilled with people waiting for the sermon to begin. What catastrophic flow of devastation occurred that created this forlorn soul next to me? That he was homeless was a given, and I felt a great deal of compassion for his irregularity. I could feel his gaze and without permission, my eyes wandered to meet his. "Cheesiss love you sister" he croaked with that sad toothless grin. Ah....Fate is so unkind, and here this poor unfortunate bastard sits at the bottom of the barrel of life worshipping an invisible sky pixie who reportedly dearly loves all of his followers so incredibly much.
I couldn't help but wonder what it is about religion that blinds people so completely that they can perpetually lie to themselves that they covet a loving deity. Do they even read the bible? The one which portrays God as an abusive neglectful father with a violent temper, what is this fascination for nonsense? I never have been able to figure that out, except perhaps that fear truly can be crippling.... In that moment, I thought I'd rather spend eternity in hell than be a part of the preposterous egotism and insanity that surrounds Christianity and its droning mindless followers. Fighting the urge to enlighten the grungy chump on the details of his gods so called "love", I bit my tongue. "I'm sure he does...." I said.
The sermon leader man behind the wooden pulpit, with no introduction whatsoever, began singing some religiously themed "God is great, God is good" type song, A Capella. I was pleasantly surprised by the even timbre of his voice which was smooth and strong. All around me hands began to wave through the air in rhythm with the tune, typical of fanatical Christians grouped together in close proximity to mimic one another's behavior. Being used to the electronically modified voices of perfection that are emitted from the insanely expensive sound system at Grace Church in Maryland Heights, I couldn't help but admire that these particular simpletons were enjoying their worship with nothing being spent other than the energy it took the singer to produce sound from his body. Nice.
When the tune was finished and the hands were lowered, the ordinary sermonish introductions began by thanking us for gathering together to praise Cheezits. The preacher then claimed he was going to take prayer requests. Prayers.. how glorious. Now we get to pretend we're doing something useful while in fact we'll be doing absolutely nothing at all. "If any of ya gots a need, then let us hear it now!" Bowing his head solemnly he nodded, "We got Steve here toni-ight, he's a prayer warrior and ya prayers WILL be answered cuz he tawk to Gawd!" I smiled in spite of myself, totally intrigued by this new development. A prayer warrior?! What the fu...
Gesturing towards to the left of the room stood Steve. The Prayer Warrior. I studied him carefully for a moment with disappointment. He didn't look like a prayer warrior to me. He looked like a portly middle aged white man in jeans and a striped blue shirt. No fancy shield or glowing golden sword indicating that he can rightfully claim Prayer Warrior status, no magnificent celestial white wings sprouting from his shoulder blades to prove he was the middle man for the Almighty... why was he the prayer warrior?! Was the Prayer Warrior the only one capable of tawking to Gawd? What a crock of shit! What if I can't find my keys tonight and I want to beg petty favors from God, but Steve is asleep or out of cell range? What then!
Steve nodded slowly and looked at the crowd as he took a deep breath and pulled a small notepad and pen from his back pocket, prepared for his heavy labor of demanding deeds from the lord on behalf of the parishioners gathered in the sanctuary. I heard a woman's voice somewhere near the back of the room, "I gotta prayer request for the country and our soldiers!" Hmm, well that sounded noble enough. Steve began jotting down the request while the preacher vehemently agreed. "Amen sister! Anyone else, less give it to Gawd!" A few of the church goers raised their hands and voiced their demands to the Prayer Warrior who was furiously recording the details. Everything from an afternoon heart catheterization to jobs for the unemployed was requested and I was momentarily humbled by the sincerity of those people and their most unselfish requests.
How many times had I partaken in similar events with similar Jesus freaks bartering tricks from God for themselves? Better jobs, bigger houses, improve my health, make my kid behave, bla bla bla with their tired droning. Never mind that according to their own dogma, their god has a PLAN for them. No, no... they want everything they want in their selfishness and greed. Typical Christians running loose all over the planet, doing good deeds only not because they actually should, but because they expect the eternal handout of a golden streeted paradise. Pathetic. However, not one single person in that room requested useless prayers for themselves and I couldn't help but be impressed.
I couldn't tell you the context of the sermon itself, I was distracted by Disturbed's Ten Thousand Fists soundtrack playing through my mind (Yes they know that you've hurt yourself another time, decadence isn't easy, is it? ... No it certainly isn't...) while the preacher blathered on about his god.
On the drive home I wasn't angry with my companion anymore. He had promised me a unique experience and he had certainly delivered that much to say the least. While I'm sure I disappointed his expectations of instilling a greater sense of tolerance for the faithful in me, I did walk away from it with a greater sense of disgust for large churches with wealthy pastoral figures. I was able to join in the festivities of a group of people who had little more to offer one another than prayer itself. There was no million dollar sound system perfecting every syllable of the speakers and singers standing on stages of specialized multi-colored light shows, there was no hazy smoke creating pseudo atmosphere's of serenity and mystique... there were no offering plates passed to collect massive amounts of tax free revenue in a gigantic state of the art facility. No in house bookstores collecting more cash from the simpletons, no cafe and restaurant performing the same cash cow function in what so many greedy fake pieces of shit call "church", just a small room in a small house full of delusional people, and as bizarre as they may have seemed, I had to admire them.
Even if just a little....
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