I Don't Even Believe in Jebus

Here's a pic of a giant Jesus statue before it caught on fire. It made me think of some hi-larious jokes. Too bad I already emailed these jokes around, so the five people who read this blog have already read them. But my dad hasn't, so here they are again.

1. that jesus had it coming

2. wait, large metal objects attract lighting? who knew.

3. don't worry, in three days there will be a new giant jesus statue.

4. definitive proof that the apocolypse is coming.

i'll be here all night people.

So You're Saying We're Going to Take a "Wait and See" Approach on the Revolution?

I've been following this health care debate closely. Pretty entertaining stuff. And I came across a pretty funny post at Redstate.

So with passage of this health care legislation looking imminent, this Redstate poster wants every one to know that now isn't the time for a revolution. He thinks it best to work within the system. How nice. He's so reasonable.

So we've gotten to the point where if you disagree with legislation passed by a majority in the house and 59 senators then you have to cajole other people on your side not to violently overthrow the government. Well, at least for the time being. I mean, now we're just talking about reducing future deficits by over a trillion dollars and making sure insurers can't disqualify you for preexisting conditions. But maybe if we had a non-profit insurance option that is funded entirely by private premiums but administered by the government, well then we'll get the blood running in the streets.

Anyways, while trying to post these comments at Redstate I noticed that they only accept opinions of people who agree with them. Which is also nice and reasonable of them. So unfortunately I won't get to challenge their view points directly. Instead I'm going to post some crazy Google search terms in the hopes that some of them will come across this post:

Obamacare, death panels, tyranny, Rush Limbaugh, revolution, kill this bill, Obama is the anti-Christ, I hate those I predefined as my enemy so even when they propose sensible legislation that doesn't drain the Treasury like the Medicare Prescription Drug Act that I supported I completely lose all sense of proportion and start talking about revolution in the name of the Founding Fathers even though their revolution set up the process that is being followed here, Sean Hannity has good hair, deem and pass.

Short Story

So I'm posting a short story of mine here. I tried to post it way back when but gave up when it wouldn't work. Not this time. I won't be discouraged this time. (Unless no one likes it. Then I'll be really discouraged and probably alternate between self-pity and self-aggrandizement and do ridiculous stuff like send my friends emails with a link to this old gem as a coping mechanism.) Any who, here it is:


“Really?”

“Yes it’s true, but I don’t like talking about it. Can we drop it?”

“I don’t mind you know...it doesn’t bother me.”

“Let’s just drop it.”

“Fine...but just know that I don’t care. We’ve all done things that we’re embarrassed about.”

“Yea, I know. It’s just that this was one of those things that I really didn’t want you to know about it. It’s sooo embarrassing.”

“I know, Baby...but it’s knowing these things that make relationships stronger.”

“I don’t know about that...”

“Of course, Honey. You can’t truly love someone unless you know about them completely.”

“I don’t know... I think there still are some things you should keep from each other.”

“Really? You’re keeping things from me?”

“No... It’s just that you can’t see someone completely and still love them...”

“Well...maybe at first...I do agree that you got to be careful at first...uh...but, uh, but not forever...wait, maybe you’re...”

“What?”

“Hmm?”

“What were you saying?

“I wasn’t.”

“Yes you were. You trailed off there...What were you saying?”

“It’s nothing.”

“What do you mean it’s nothing? What were you going to say?”

“...”

“Don’t do this. I know what you’re trying to do.”

“Hmm?”

“You wanted to say something. Something’s on your mind.”

“Nothing...it’s just that you can’t reveal too much information in the beginning of a relationship... You’re right...”

“Uh., huh.”

“...”

“...”

“I don’t know...this is awkward now...”

“...”

“Ok, it’s just that... This conversation. And I don’t know, it’s got me thinking of something I hadn’t thought of in a while...”

“Uh huh.”

“Well, um...how to say this the best way...it’s just...it’s just that I’ve killed a man.”

“What?!”

“Ha, now calm down... It’s not what it sounds like... It’s just...well...I don’t want to keep any secrets from you.”

“Ok...”

“Ok, I can see you’re upset. Like I said, it’s not what it sounds like... It
was a few Christmases ago... You know my family goes to the bar on Christmas Eve?”

“...”

“Well I was driving on the way back…and I was a little buzzed... Everybody was pretty tanked. We were just having a good time like we always do... It's not like I was doing anything terrible. I was just driving a little buzzed is all."

"...ok..."

"And then we were driving on this bridge, this narrow icy bridge, and I see a guy standing off the side of it...”

"Uh-huh."

"And it was the holidays. You know how people get during the holidays. So I stop the car... And I get out, to see how he's doing...and he's just staring out, looking down at the water. So like I said I'm a little buzzed, and I inch closer and I think ‘ I'll probably be helping this guy out. If he really wants to do it but he's afraid. You know, he’s obviously alone, just probably too big of a coward to pull it off.’ So I push him. Like I said, help him out you know."

"Oh my God!"

"Yea, so I get back in the car, and drive home."

"Wait, wait. Wait, your family saw you do this?!?"

"Yea it was their idea. So anyways, we go back home, go to bed, wake up the
next day and open the presents and what not.”

“What do you mean it was their idea?!?”

“Honey, please, I’m in the middle of my story here... Anyways, so we eat the turkey, watch some basketball, and then later in the day we see it's all over the news, the story of the 'Falling Fiancée.'"

"What?"

"Yea, crazy huh? Apparently the guy was out on the bridge to ask his fiancée to marry him. He'd made this enormous banner. That was the route they were taking the next day. And he'd pinned it to the bridge. But to pin it he had to climb over the railing, on the side. So, so like when I saw him, he wasn't going to jump, he was just asking his girlfriend to marry him."

“Oh my God!"

"Yea."

"Oh my God! Oh my God! That was you?!”

"Yea. Crazy huh?"

"Oh my God! I remember that. That was all over the news! And this whole time
they’ve thought it was just an accident! They thought he'd fallen...oh my God...my God...that girl was so sad. She'd had her Christmas ruined...her life...everything."

"...yea..."

"Wow...I can't believe it... This whole time, that was you, and no one has any idea."

"Yea, well...except for my family...and now you..."

"Wow......wow...yea...yea...

“...”

“...”

“So you can see why I waited this long to tell you?”

“...yea...yea...I'm not sure I could have continued seeing you if I knew that earlier."

"I know! That’s my point…”

“Wow...I don’t know. I just don’t know what to think...”

“I know Baby. It’ll take some time...but I mean, don’t you sort of already feel closer to me?”

“I don’t know...”

“C’mon, just a little bit.”

“I don’t know.”

“C’mon Baby...just a teency, eency littie itty bit?

“He-he...ok, but just a little bit.”

“Ok Baby...(they kiss)...thanks Baby...and...you know you can’t say anything
now.”

“Of course.”

“Not to anybody.”

“I said of course.”

“I know what you said, but you tell your sister everything…and you can’t tell her.”

“I won’t tell her.”

“Promise? ”

“God I promise, jeez. Relax.”

“Ok ok...It’s just you like telling her stuff.”

“I told you I wouldn’t.”

“Ok...”

“...”

“...”

“Hey you got to promise me something though.”

“What’s that, Honey?”

“You got to promise that you won’t ask me with a banner. That’s so lame."

“Ha. You don’t have to worry. I got it all planned out. I’m going to ask you at a baseball game.”

“Oh God! No way! I’m saying no if you do.”

“Ha-ha. That makes it even better. Think how funny that would be for
everyone watching?”

“God you’re so weird.”

“You know you love that about me, Baby... (they kiss again)

“He-he...thanks Babe. But I’m serious. Don’t ask me at a baseball game.”

Pat Tillman and Jon Krakauer Are the Best Martyr/Author Combination Since Jesus and Luke

Have you ever felt a warm tingly sensation, the Holy Spirit if you will, take over your body and let you know you're on the right path? Well that's how I felt when I stumbled upon Krakauer's new book on Pat Tillman. Unfortunately my defense of America's way-of-life has made it difficult for me to stay on top of upcoming publications. So I didn't known of this holy union until seeing it in Barnes and Noble.

And like any Krakauer book I've ever read, this one made me want to have long discussions with my friends and family about a million different things. But seeing as I don't have any literate friends or family, I've been reduced to blogging and hoping someone Googles "pear sandwich, american heroes betrayed by their country, bearded nonfiction authors" and that they like to make lots of comments.

1. Is there any more unfathomable, interesting, awe inspiring, patriotic, or cool as fuck person than Pat Tillman? A guy who lived on his own terms. A guy unmotiveated by money or attention. He never gave one interview to promote his decision to give up the NFL for soldiering. This was just something he had to do. He didn't bother seeking praise from a media and culture that was itching to dole it out, praise that would have gone way too far and probably have annoyed the shit out of me. So he quits the NFL to join the Army, and then enlists when he could have gone for OCS. This guy wanted to get into the fight. He wanted to ensure that he took the hardest road possible. It's just so unbelievably admirable.

2. Some advice I'm going to pass on to my children: don't ever guide others up Mt. Everest without using supplemental air, become a fundamentalist Mormon, or participate in the fratricide or cover up of a true American hero and expect Jon Krakaeur to let it slide. He'll find you, call you out by name and publicly shame you.

3. I'm sure I'm not the only one, but there's a survival technique I've developed for living peacefully in this world. The world can suck sometimes. Especially when we do some seriously messed up shit to each other. Like say out of some perverted view of our national self-interest, America decides to go to war to secure access to an important and dwindling natural resource, but in order to sell the war to the public our leaders pretend the war is about preventing terrorist attacks. Then later when that rationale proves false our leaders say the whole thing was about spreading democracy. So millions of people are displaced and hundreds of thousands are killed, all because we were scared into an unnecessary war that was more about making sure we got a steady supply of cheap gasoline to fuel our large trucks and SUVs.

And you can drive yourself crazy focusing on this stuff. So to make it through this thing we're doing without going nuts, to be able to smile and enjoy this life, I'll try to focus on the good parts. Like friends, family, lady love, good books and movies, Mexican food, etc. I put the infuriating parts of this existence out of my mind as best I can. But then I read something like this book, which not only brings up that most unjust of wars, but also reminds me of the disgusting level of deceit that our government engaged in when patriots like Pat Tillman died fighting for their country. And for what? Why did the people in power want to hide that he died because of friendly fire?

4. Krakauer has a few theories about why they did it. And if these theories are true then it's all doubly enraging, but I won't share those here. What I want to talk about is Krakauer's assertion that the underreporting of friendly fire is an endemic problem for the military. That's incomprehensible to me. (Assuming it's true.) By not addressing or admitting to incidents of friendly fire the military is failing to develop measures to correct it. Pretending you're not an alcoholic isn't going to help you hold down relationships or jobs. I can't understand why the military would't want to make itself a more efficient fighting unit -- one that seeks to reduce soldiers from accidently killing each other. I dunno. It's really just incomprehensible to me.

5. Apparently there was an army general or colonel that gave an insensitive interview to ESPN a few years after Tillman's death. The officer had a theory about why the Tillman family was so angry, about why they couldn't let the cover-ups and lying go. His theory was that since the Tillmans were atheist they couldn't accept that their child ceased to exist after expiring on earth. And it struck me how much sense that makes from the perspective of someone who conceives of an after life the way this officer does. It also struck me how an atheist would consider such sentiments. That atheists would see the officer's views consistent with someone unconcerned with the truth. "Of course it doesn't matter if they lied about the way he died. Let's just close our eyes and pretend he's in a better place now and move on."

And hold on for this connection, but this all reminded me of Ricky Gervais' new movie, The Invention of Lying. In that movie, Gervais essentially claims that the story of a peaceful after life is a white lie we tell ourselves to make the pain of death more bearable. I'm not going to speculate on whether that's correct or not since my Christian upbringing still makes it difficult for me to accept that the Bible is just a bunch of stories made up by people doing their best to explain the observable world as they knew it. But that was a good movie and this was a freaking outstanding book. And I'm done talking about it now. So now I'm going to work out and hopefully feel better through endorphins, texting the special lady and feeling less alone in this world (Baby, please text back this time.) and watching the Dodgers play the Phillies, since the athletic accomplishments of men I have never met but who I root for because they play from a geographical area near where I was born tends to make me feel better.

An Explanation and Mini-Post

Family, Friends, Criminals that I've contracted to kill my family and friends:

You've probably noticed that I haven't posted for almost a month, and I think it's safe for me to assume that you've been dying to know about the adversity I've been conquering, the life lessons I've been withholding, or the supermodels I've been sleeping with, etc. But before I get into that, I need to explain where I've been.

So I've spent the majority of the last month playing Sid Meier's Civilization IV. And it's with deep reservations that I reveal this. I couldn't decide if this was one of those secrets that I should keep to myself because it's so shameful, or if it was one of the harmless concessions prideful people should make so that we can live in a more peaceful world. I'm still not sure where this lays, but needless to say, playing this game isn't something I'm proud of.

See, I've been playing this this nerd fest of a game series off and on for the last 11 years. The crescendo of ridiculousness was in 2000 with Civ II, when I spent a few months ignoring the girlfriend, showers and academic obligations in order to bring the Babylonians the glory history denied them. And after an emperor level victory of total domination, after amassing what must be the greatest score in the history of Civilization II, I realized the emptiness that comes from fulfilling one's loserish ambitions. So I swore off the Civilization series for the last 9 years. I was successful in concentrating on more noble pursuits, like drinking too much and watching endless hours of television. But on a recent trip to San Fransisco with Nix and Hari, a trip fraught with rain that kept us indoors, I turned to our host Inder's videogames for entertainment. He just happened to have Civilization and the rest, as they say, is a history of me returning home to buy the video game for myself and repeating some terrible life decisions.

But it's not like I didn't have ideas for posts in the last month. It's just that I never fully fleshed them out since they got in the way of building settlers, vanquishing my enemies and building extensive trade networks that allowed for the development of technologies at a faster rate. But since I've sworn off this silly game yet again, here's that idea:



Weekend at Bernies 3

Most of you already know that I spent the two years between college and law school trying to write a book. I called it The Great American Novel and couldn't any agent to represent it, any publisher to buy it, or any friend or family member to read it. So I gave up on the writing and instead focused on the exciting and rewarding career of being a lawyer. Sigh. But since graduating last May I've had nothing but time on my hands while I wait for this job with the Army to start. So my life has become an exercise in killing days. And I spent 3 months last fall writing short stories and outlining the next book, The Great American Novel II- Even Greater and More American, in order to get through the days without losing my mind while the rest of the world went to work. Well, the last of the rejections of that short fiction just got back to me. So that's it. No more. I've given up on putting effort into writing stuff just to have it rejected by "professionals" who have been "trained" to recognize "work" that has "artistic" merit.

But even though I'm not submitting my stories to professionals, I still have ideas that fill my head and too much time on my hands. And so I feel the need to share these ideas with the 6 of you readers. And if any of you 6 reads the comments sections, you probably noticed that the Onion basically stole from this blog when it published this story. So I'm starting to think that one of you out there has some connections in the biz, and that if I keep putting ideas on here then you'll keep stealing them and they'll keep getting published somehow. So my new business plan is to continue putting these posts on here, allow you to steal from me, and then I'll sue you and the companies that paid you.

So what's the idea that will guarantee my financial security and finally put my legal education to work? It's a movie. A fake documentary that goes behind the scenes of the filming of the big Hollywood production of the same name (Weekend at Bernie's 3 for those of you who don't understand the purpose of titles or context clues). I haven't worked out the details of the plot for the movie within the movie. I'll let the thief among you worry about why Bernie's rotted corpse is being dug up again.

But the real action is the documentary part. Of course we'll need to secure Jonathon Silverman and Andrew McCarthy to star in this thing. But I have a feeling that neither of them has any pressing engagements. There should be a scene or two with with them talking about how exciting it is to be back in Hollywood, and you can just see this excitement in their gestures and hear it in their voices. But their faces should betray an anxiousness, a nervousness that this movie will bomb just like Weekend at Bernie's 2 did and that they will have to go back to their lives of serving dinners or washing cars instead of living the good life. I think both of them have the talent to pull of the subtle anxiousness that is needed to make this aspect of the movie believable, since I felt that these men have always had some talent. But if it turns out they've lost a step or two, then the best bet is not to tell them that the documentary is actually the real film. Pretend it's some promotional thing and they'll probably be unable to hide their real fears.

But the most important part to this movie is Bernie, who isn't interviewed until about half-way through the documentary, and it turns out that he's really dead. So when he's giving the interviews he's a rotted corpse, with flesh coming off the bone and worms eating out of his stomach and all of that. But he's surprisingly articulate and has a great perspective. He'll talk about how, on the one hand, it sucks to have his corpse continually disturbed but, on the other, he understands that a man has to eat. And this whole thing is a metacommentary on the ability of the business side of Hollywood to suck the life out of anything with any artistic merit and how they'll sequel any piece of shit that's surprisingly profitable, even when the story arc to the first movie makes it impossible to credibly tell another story, but that's not important because what's important in this world is to accumulate cash so that you have a higher purchasing power than your brethren so that you can buy nicer things and go to nicer vacation spots and eat nicer food because those ends are what life is really about because it in no way makes you feel empty inside like the way a total domination victory on the emperor level with the Babylonians makes you feel empty inside, because that's a different kind of empty.

Foul Balls Make People Do Some Terrible Things

If you want to see the world at it's worst then watch what happens when a foul ball isn't caught cleanly at a baseball game.

I was at the Angel game a few weeks ago when someone fouled a ball straight back. An unathletic and overweight 12 year old was the closest person to it, but he only managed to get his fingertips on it. He was sitting at the front row of the upper deck and the ball just barely got high enough for him to touch it at all. The kid would have been risking death if he'd done any more, and it would have been the greatest catch by any fan of all time. Getting a hand on the ball was more than could be expected from a professional athlete, let alone this young kid who didn't look like much of an athlete. Yet the crowd booed. It was terrible.

Later some dad dropped his 2 year old daughter when a foul ball was hit 5 rows behind him. I mean, the man was sitting on the aisle and the ball was heading for the stairs so he did have a good shot at catching this ball. And he did end up with it. But it's just all that he did to get it. First he dropped his kid. Then he ran backwards up those steps, but he didn't make a clean catch. So the ball rolls down the steps and he bowled down after it, knocking over anyone who got in his way. Like he seriously knocked this other guy sideways, and this other guy fell into his friends. There's bodies all over the floor here, including -- again let me emphasize the point -- his toddler who may have brain damage now, all in the pursuit of something that can be purchased at a store for $4.

So yes. This is a weird and strange world we live in. But then enters your hero Sir Fantastic.

At the Angel game today I made a clean bare-handed catch of a foul ball. Except, and this part stings, I didn't get the standard round of applause from the crowd for a clean catch. I assume it's because I didn't pump my hands in the air like a jack ass. I simply took my seat with class, and am now writing to brag about it with less class.



Speaking of less class, the Jesus pictures are meant to represent my generosity and clairvoyance. I gave the ball away to some kid, and I dreamt the night before I'd catch a foul ball. Maybe this means my unconscious is in tune with the other dimensions where the relativity of time lives? I think that's how that works. Now I just need to develop and hone this superpower.

Things Get Absurd

So it's happened again. The anger in the political sphere has become so absurd that it's driven me to the blog posting. So Obama bows to a Saudi King and shakes hands with a South American blowhard and America has become a groveling shell of it's former self, eh?

Ah man. Well I don't want to spend too much time writing here. It's just that here we are again with the differing standards political partisans hold their leaders up to depending on whether these leaders in the predetermined friend or foe camp. I mean, you got Bush bowing and holding hands in these pictures. And you got Nixon smiling and shaking hands with a virulent anti-American communist dictator.


































Funny how the tribal warfare of our political system retards our political discussions. And by funny I mean tragic since the real question should be about how U.S. presidents of all political stripes must pay a little too much respect to the leader of a repressive political regime because otherwise we might not get that oil priced in dollars or maybe they'll stop buying up so much of our bonds.

Anyways, I guess there's also some philosophical differences in here about what it means to be weak or strong. And some people really think that showing kindness to an enemy like Chavez is a sign of weakness. God knows that when you encounter people who can't be kind to their enemies in the day-to-day world, that you know these people have serious psychological issues. Like when you got that friend who won't be nice to your other friend cause of some perceived slight and it's just so unbelievably annoying because if one of them would just sack it up and be nice everything would just wash under the bridge. But then I forget that this approach of treating those that don't like you with utter disgust was the foreign policy for the last eight years. And I forget that our previous leaders were those really insecure douchebags that never had the self-confidence to be gracious. Anyways, I hope that series of pictures above demonstrate the absurdity of this righteous anger over Obama's perceived weakness. Although I am pretty upset about him genuflecting to the pet of a foreign leader. You'd never see Churchill appease a golden retriever like this. Freaking democrats are such wussies.