A question about Sunday morning

I was waking up this morning and making some coffee while my family was getting ready to leave for church.  I was thinking about how pleased I was to be staying home and relaxing instead of going to a place that I have zero interest in going to due to my not being overly concerned about saving my soul via the teachings of Christ.

While I was sitting there being pleased with myself a thought occurred to me.  What if I had merely confused their actual motivations for going to church?  Surely millions of people worldwide don't attend mass just to make themselves feel better?  I know that they are going to church to help themselves be more "Christ-like".

 That's when it hit me.  Christ performed all sorts of miracles and had some pretty sweet ass mystical powers such as the ability to walk on water, change water into wine, come back from the dead and lots of other really cool things that one might consider "super".  I then started imagining all the other things Jesus could do that the bible never really touched on, like pretending to have a twin brother who calls himself Super-Christ and protects the world from evil with his superpowers!

This image popped into my mind.

By having his "twin brother" go around as Super-Christ it helps to protect his peaceful image to the masses so that they won't be afraid of his all around bad-assery. I have also just decided that following this current mythos for Christ that he eventually adopts the persona of Santa Claus to help the children of the world and he adds punching  poverty in the face onto  his to do list for the year.

So with this newfound information I will no longer question the motives of my family or any other people who attend church regularly.  I now realize the merit behind the whole church thing.  Because honestly now that everyone is aware of how awesome being Christ-like is who wouldn't want to go to church in hopes of being more like him?  Me?  I will work on getting my super powers from staying at home eating communion wafers and getting trashed on box wine.

Innocence Lost

A seagull in flight.  Does this image make you think of a graceful, beautiful bird that resides in not only the  oceans but on the land? Do the noises of a seagull comfort you and make you feel warm and fuzzy inside? Can you not wait to run down to the beach and "feed" the seagulls?

If you answered yes to any of the above questions, what the fuck is wrong with you?

Seagulls are dicks. For all intensive purposes they are feather covered penises of the sky that are full of hate and do nothing but eat and steal everything around them, following it up with big malice-filled rounds of shitting on everything they haven't gotten around to eating or stealing. These devil-birds will sometimes even cooperate with each other long enough for the sole purpose of devouring weak/old people and/or small children that they catch off guard.

Example A

 I even heard from some guy that read a book somewhere that your actual odds of survival during an attack from a charging colony (yes, that is what a grouping of these assholes are called) are 3,720 to 1. Good thing I didn't pay enough attention in math class to even know what odds are, otherwise I might very well be dead today. *Gets a gun and shoots math in the face* Never tell me the odds!

Yes, it's true. I was almost another statistic just like millions of other people worldwide who have lost their lunches, lives and wives to due to these gluttonous vermin of the sky. I also now know that due to my amazing rhyming skills I just discovered/showed you I should look into doing black-face  performing a song with Eminem that will inevitably result in my becoming an overnight rap superstar!

Hot tubs filled with champagne, caviar and naked ladies (who are naked because of me being an all around bad ass and not because I paid them) are just around the corner but I digress...

Let me take you back in time with the use of my rape van and 10 hits of LSD Ph.D. in quantum physics and vast knowledge of Eastern Mysticism to the year of 1990, when things were full of joy, wonderment and happiness for this then 6 year old boy...until one tragically life-changing summer day at the Santa Monica beach.

This was the first time I had ever been to the beach. I was initially terrified by the size of the ocean but quickly got over that fear once my dad "proved" I wasn't going to be eaten by it.  I was having one of the best times of my life playing on the shoreline, looking for hermit crabs and chasing these loud, white birds that were everywhere on the beach.  If I knew then what I do now about those hyenas of the beach, I would have brought a hammer and a box of Alka-seltzer.

So here I am, on top of the world, with a newfound love for the beach and all the splendor it had to offer.  Little did I know this feeling of joy would be presented to me, ripped away violently and raped like a Japanese school girl in tentacle porn right before my very eyes in just a few moments.

I purchased a delicious Hot Dog on a Stick, (a corn dog for those of you not from the West Coast area) took a bite and then proceeded to sit down so I could enjoy my meal while waiting for my parents to get back. I heard some children playing off to my right and turned my head to look, failing to take notice of the fact that I had sat just a few feet away from a grouping of the devil birds.

I had just started thinking about getting up to go play with the other kids, when all of the sudden there was an tugging on my corn dog and before I had enough time to realize what was happening it was gone.  I whipped my head around to see what had happened and was brought face to face with the seagull who stole my food and my innocence, standing there looking me dead in the eye with three of his asshole friends.

I reached out to try and grab it back but the bird and his pals were practically frothing at the mouth for the chance to dine on some human flesh.  Two of them bit me with their razor sharp beaks nearly severing my hand, while the other two fought over my precious Hot Dog on a Stick.  I cried out and this seemed to only put them into more of a blood frenzy, prompting them to squawk their banshee wails while devouring my food in seconds flat.

If I could recreate the scene it would look like this.

Bob the hobo was just trying to get enough change so he could eat a cup of noodles and have a 40 oz malt beverage. What he got was a one way ticket to hell due to a fatal case of avian disembowelment. The only reason I made it away with my life is because Bob unwillingly gave up his.  Thanks Bob! I would have let somebody know you were dead but they ate your whole body and lit the place on fire.

Even though the thought of that horrific scene still stays with me like a bad case of crabs, one positive change did occur from it. The day that the seagulls traumatized me as a boy, was the day that I became a man. You bastard birds took out a part of my soul and replaced it with a fiery hatred for your species. I plan on finding each and every one of you assholes and harvesting enough feathers to make pillows for the entire world.

See you soon devil birds!

If you don't keep reading my blog this could happen to you or someone you love instead of people you don't know or care about. Consider yourself warned!

Howdy neighbor!

Thanks for stopping in to say hello! You have come here, either by random interweb browsing via Google/Facebook/various midget-clown porn videos or at my humble suggestion (threatening to blackmail you with photos concerning your last "donkey" trip to Mexico). Either way, you ended up here so why not sit back, relax and breathe deeply into this strange smelling wet rag that will help put you at ease whilst I try to liven up your dreary day.

The main focus of this blog will be to use psychotropic drugs, extortion and my lack of interest in a real job my wit, charm and ruggedly handsome looks to provide an entertaining and meaningful fun page that will not only serve to make me independently wealthy, but will give YOU the viewer the opportunity to the type of excitement you could only get from running backwards through the red light district in Amsterdam pants-less, blindfolded and oiled up.

The rush of excitement will be something akin to how delighted this horse is at not being torn to shreds while being forced to carry this lion by the pissed off, taser-wielding carny not pictured behind him. 

I hope you are looking forward to paying my bills the madness that will surely follow as much as I am.