Monday, December 29, 2008

Jesus is Coming and He's Breathing Heavily




Christmas is an odd time of year for me. On one hand I have the chance to not be a jackass to others and actually be rewarded for it. On the other, I'm a man without an innate, deep belief in God, so I'm a man without an accepting congregation. I'm not going to go into what you should believe in, what you shouldn't and the merits or lack thereof in the establisment of church because frankly I don't give two immaculates what your beliefs are. I have a certain respect for people who can throw their faith into something they can't see because it is something I struggle with. However the reason I mention this at all is the fact the Christmas time always throws me in the midst of religious zealots who end up being the fodder for my humor.




Mrs. T's family is very religious and every Christmas we go to church on Christmas Eve. This Christmas is no different. I don't mind going to church for Mrs. T's sake, but every time I enter a church I feel like an outcast. As well I should, especially if they or He knew the thoughts going through my head. I mean Mrs. T and I are well suited and booted to keep the appearance of a deep reverence of God, so we look the part. We sit in the back and we don't throw our voices in with the cacaphony of squeaks, falsettos and aspiring Beyonce's, so we don't draw attention to ourselves and I would feel like even more of a fraud if I did. Out of respect for these people, I just keep my mouth shut and let them enjoy their moment and boy are they.




While these shrill songbirds were enjoying their moment, I'm picking apart the entire ceremony in my head and Mrs. T is aware I'm doing this so she is checking my reaction to everything. She is an unwilling accomplice to the ill-willed thoughts dancing around in my head. But in all honesty, aside from the enthusiastic singing of Jesus adoration, and the normal goings-on that occur at any Christmas church service, there were only two things that struck me odd.






The first thing that bothered me hit me right at the start of the service. The "Praise Band" starts by playing a really good rendition of the Transiberian Orchestra's version of "The Carol of the Bells." I like the song and I have no bad things to say about the band...except for the band leader or the guy who proclaimed himself band leader. He's one of those guys who had aspirations of rocking the world, having groupies and making millions of dollars but lacked the talent and aesthetics necessary to be a profitable rock star. So what he lacks in talent, he makes up for with rocker enthusiasm as a 40 year old playing amongst teenagers. He starts the song by rocking back and forth to the bass line of the song, guitar in hand, facing the band trying to amp them up for this performance for about 120 people. The other band members appear annoyed at this chump and just continue to play the song with limited fervor as if they were forced by their parents to play.




The band segues into another song and the choir walks on stage behind "Band Leader" and start singing. The band leader then turns to the crowd and starts singing the song, while playing his guitar and realizes his microphone is not working so he looks up to his "Roadie" to inform him that it isn't working. I'm pretty sure "Roadie" did this on purpose and I truly thank him for it. I mean what is the point of having a choir if you have some lead singer trying to get the spotlight? This is church not a damn gig, so isn't the focus supposed to be on God, not on some nozzle trying to live his rockstar dreams out on a congregation of 50+ year olds and their children? This dude then backs away from the mic and starts looking up to the sky and singing with a fervor unmatched by anyone in the choir let alone anyone in the room. Then, later in the service when the song playing does not have a guitar part for him, he stands next to the choir singing and joins in throwing his heart out to God when his voice is superfluous because there is a CHOIR already singing. This is how I imagine God's response to the "Band Leader" looking up to the Heavens singing to Him.






Hey Baby, am I crazy? Or was you giving me the eye?


You said maybe? Well you crazy because I know I'm too fly.




I apologize if you disagree with my depiction of God, but I see Him being black, with a drinking problem, and sounding like Kanye West. Deal with it.




I can't knock the dude though on his multi-instrument talent. Later in the service he whipped out a sax and belted out another Christmas classic. But the delusion of grandeur always bothers me, especially when the service is all about praising your Savior.




Get a clue. Even the outcast in the room realizes you're a hack.




The second thing that puzzled me was the Pastor. Instead of giving us his take on the story of Christmas and what we should take from it, the Pastor delivers a monologue musing to himself as Jesus about the greatness of his birth as if he thought he was He. Uh...isn't there something wrong with this? No one in the room thought so. Not only did this guy deliver some quality, theatre trained acting, he was then joined by recorded voices of God Himself and the Holy Ghost. So you not only play Jesus, you have someone playing God too? The rule is you could only play God in a cartoon, in a musical, or when aborting a fetus. These people now have no Pro-Life argument.




The Pastor also kept on using the word illumine. He wanted us to let God shine through us and illumine the world with His glow. Who uses that word? Are you really trying to be literary on us. Illuminate or shine would work just fine. Pretty ironic this argument is coming from me, huh?




Lesson learned: if you believe God is almighty, you might not want to fight God or His son for the spotlight during a service dedicated to them, you just end up looking like a jackass.

Friday, December 26, 2008

Santa's Stoned Elf


DDT, I have no clue how you always find this shit, but this is genius. Due to the fact I'm a bastard, this is how I envision my offspring to appear.

Rectus, Dominus

Tuesday, December 16, 2008

Another Tip to Working with Higgy

Following Directions is a Requirement to working with Higgy


When Higgy tells you to do something, there is probably a reason why you should do it. He's probably thought of the possible ways you could fuck something up. For instance, if you don't follow his instructions, then touch something of his and erase all of his hard work because you were too much of a colostomy bag to think about what you were doing. You probably will receive Higgy's wrath and then have someone in a managerial position receive some feedback on your poor performance.

Don't try and rally the troops on your side when Higgy's caught you red-handed in your fuck-tardery

You've already embarrassed yourself by erasing Higgy's shit. Don't make it worse but secretly emailing and IMing Higgy's co-workers to telling them you didn't do it when Higgy already handed these people the evidence. Politics is no replacement for intelligence nor common sense. Does Roger Clemens ring a bell?


Just because he's younger than you, doesn't make him more successful than you

Ok that's a blatant lie, it does mean that. It also means he is better at your job than you are and you probably should just tuck your balls between your legs flaunting that mangina of yours because when he's done, Higgy will remove every ounce of dignity you possibly thought you had.



Lesson learned, don't fuck with me.

Monday, December 15, 2008

Why My Man Card Should Be Revoked

So you're probably surprised to find out I just came to the realization that I'm a bitch. Between how whipped my shit is by Mrs. T's fine ass and my sagging bitch titties, I should've seen it coming. However it took me looking at my phone and more specifically the pictures on my phone to see it for myself.


Now what should a man have on his phone? Blackmail material on his friends? Why not? An image of some jugs being released from the shackles of a bra? Sure. A picture of a shot glass depicting a monkey holding his junk. Hells yes. I'm pretty sure 90% of his pictures shouldn't be this:




This is Mrs. T's and my dog Dixie. Don't blame us for the Confederate stripper name though. We adopted her bastard ass. Even though she's like an illegitimate child to me, she can do no wrong in my eyes. Throwing up a ball of food and rawhide bone? Cute. Ripping ass in my face? Precious. Chewing up Mrs. T's digital camera? Adorable. Stepping on my testicles just to look at what I'm eating? Priceless. Murdering a hobo and leaving me with the carcass? Welcome to the family.

My phone is filled with images such as these. Every puzzled look, every cuddle, every endearing moment is captured in my phone leaving no room for images of boozery, debauchery, and douchery. Next thing I know I'll spend my free time not going out to the bar, but dressing up my dog and placing the dog in pageants.
I need an intervention. And I also need my balls back. Thank you.

Sunday, December 14, 2008

Fat Man in Leotard

As Nik told me, this dude has no self-esteem issues: