I would just like to take this moment to apologize to my readers (all 42 of you. You give me yet another reason to love Douglas Adams’s favorite number). I apologize for being so fly-off-the-handle political on this blog, and will strive to do better. I think I have come to a resolution for my outrage. Read on to learn about my resolution.
It is hard not to get angry these days. The state of our world, and how we are making it worse rather than better, never ceases to confound me. Every day I look at my newsfeed, and I see post after post, article after article, of all the latest atrocities committed by our so-called “leaders” (ie. elected officials, ie. servants) and I get all ornery and pissy and it ruins my day. Then I go on the attack, flailing like a lunatic, and perhaps ruin the days of others by spreading the bad hoodoo. So today I decided to create one serve-all meme to just post in a sort of automated response to all things I deem evil. It’s simple and sends a simple, universal message to everything that pisses me off. So I get on Facebook, all set to post my new meme — AND NOW I CAN’T FIND ANYTHING THAT PISSES ME OFF! Now, for some seemingly miraculous reason, it’s all inspirational quotes and kitten videos. And THAT pisses me off! So here’s the damn meme anyway.
Maybe I’ll slap this sucker on my phone and go try my luck on Twitter. I recently posted a rant discussing how we couldn’t organize a solid front to fight the evils in power, and I suggested we go the way of disorganization and just try to screw up the Evil Agenda with unfettered chaos. For example, I would like to petition my Congressional representative to submit a bill that I wrote to the House and the Senate. It has yet to be assigned a docket number, but it would be called the “Clean My Crotch With Your Tongue Act.” It would require all representatives to get on their knees and clean my crotch with their criminally corrupt, lying-ass tongues. I hope other constituents in other U.S. states will adopt my resolution and submit it to their reps.
But I can see as how that might not be viewed as “productive.” Henceforth, I will resign myself to creating posts that are just absurd, similar to my Willem Dafoe series. Having an overactive conscience, however, I will not be able to wholly refrain from including the occasional political barb or personal attack on our so-called “representatives.”
So with that in mind, here are a few from the vaults:
Bob Ross was great, and a very kind man, but all he ever painted on his show was landscapes, the sort of which you could gets prints of at K-Mart or Walmart, or one of your various marts. I think public television should go with an artist with more nerve, like Hieronymus Bosch, and give him a painting show. Someone all hopped up on ether and Absinthe, painting the Hellscapes in his head that keep him awake at night. “And maybe in your world there’s a fish-headed man defecating coins into a fountain…”
“And maybe there’s a little naked guy who lives right over here… kneeling with flowers sticking out of his ass… happy little flowers in his ass… and we’ll give him a little friend… everyone needs a little friend… with flowers sticking out of his ass.”
* * * *
I was watching Deliverance on cable one night, and they put up those little fun facts about the movie right before a commercial break. Apparently after Deliverance was released, 31 people died trying to navigate that same stretch of the Chattooga River or whatever river it was they filmed it on. Who the fuck watches Deliverance and says to themselves, “Now that looks like a fun vacation!”
“Where should we go for our vacation this year, hon?”
“Well, we could either go to Disney World again, or go get sodomized by some toothless hillbillies in the Ozarks.” Tough call. Which do you think the kids would enjoy?
“Oh, Barb, get a picture! I’m getting the full experience! Wieee! Wieeeeeee!”
* * * *
It has recently come to my attention that some saints are patrons of not just one cause, but two. For example, St. Lawrence, who is the patron saint of both cooks and comedians, and St. Perpetua, who is the patron saint of both martyrs and cattle (martyrs and cattle. Now what does THAT say?).
Meanwhile, other saints are the patrons to practically nothing, save their namesakes. St. Benjamin comes to mind, a saint who is patron only to people named Benjamin. Doesn’t it strike you as unfair that some saints patronize multiple, seemingly unrelated causes while others (like poor Benjamin) have so little to patronize?
As you know, God loves synchronicity, and I don’t mean that album by the Police. Although God may also like the album, I do not profess to know the mind of God, let alone her taste in music, but that album did have some great tracks. Who could forget “Walking In Your Footsteps,” a terrific tribute to dinosaurs, or “King of Pain”?
No, the synchronicity I speak of is the correlation of seemingly unrelated events. On the very day that I was reviewing my case for St. Benjamin and the evident unfairness of saintly patronage, a man by the name of St. James Davis (notice the “St.” in his name) was being mauled by chimpanzees at an ape sanctuary in Havilah, California. In the course of the attack, St. James Davis had his nose bitten off, one of his feet severed, and his testicles ripped from his body by the enraged apes. St. James Davis truly is the “King of Pain.”
Meanwhile, there in the Vatican, you have two saints sharing the same causes, namely St. Ambrose and St. Bernard of Clairvaux, who both are the patron saints for beekeepers and candle-makers. Two causes – two lame causes (beekeepers and candle-makers?!) – and two saints. St. Ambrose, perhaps there is reason there. But shouldn’t St. Bernard be the patron saint of something else, like dogs that carry booze?
And let us not forget poor St. Benjamin, whose only cause is his own name. And let’s also not forget poor St. James Davis, the 62-year-old man who had his nuts ripped off by enraged apes. Any man who has his nuts ripped off by an angry chimpanzee deserves a patron saint. In fact, I don’t feel that I am overstepping any boundaries to declare that this man needs a patron saint more than anyone, certainly more than a freaking candle-maker (who, as I’ve mentioned, has two patron saints). Meanwhile, there sits poor St. Benjamin, with not much on his plate at all. Therefore, I would suggest that they appoint St. Benjamin as the patron saint of men who have had their wedding tackle ripped off by angry chimpanzees. It’s not only fair, it’s necessary.
Alright, that’s all the idiocy I will bombard you with at this time. If you read this whole post (or any of my previous rambling idiocy), thanks for your patience.
Be safe out there.