calming down

So after yesterday's high larry tea, this evening is being spent a) watching last nights "Extras" and b) playing my red guitar. I've been trying to get the fingering for this one tune, and it's driving me crazy. It's sorta like "lesionaires", since I've been playing that song for nearly two years now and I always, without fail, fuck it up. That's next on my list of songs to perfect. If I can get through that song twice in a row without a clam, then I can die happy.

jesus is sad

I received this redacted letter, forwarded to me by my Aunt Barb:

As you well know, we are getting closer to my birthday. Every year there is a celebration in my honor and I think that this year the celebration will be repeated.

During this time there are many people shopping for gifts, there are many radio announcements, TV commercials, and in every part of the world everyone is talking that my birthday is getting closer and closer.

It is really very nice to know, that at least once a year, some people think of me.

As you know, the celebration of my birthday began many years ago.

At first people seemed to understand and be thankful of all that I did for them, mostly because the church had anyone who wasn't understanding or thankful killed in my name. Life was better then. But in these times, no one seems to know the reason for the celebration.

Family and friends get together and have a lot of fun, value each other and their time together, but they don't know the meaning of the celebration. I remember that last year there was a great feast in my honor. The dinner table was full of delicious foods, pastries, fruits, assorted nuts and chocolates. The decorations were exquisite and there were many, many beautifully wrapped gifts.

But, do you want to know something? I wasn't invited. I was the guest of honor and they didn't remember to send me an invitation.

The party was for me, but when that great day came, I was left outside, they closed the door in my face. Poor me! But I don't get mad, (I am "the nice one", right?) I get even. I wanted to smite eveyone, kill them by flood, but unfortunately my father promised not to do that again. He's such a bore. I can't wait until I'm 2018 and I can move out. I did get to sneak in a little flood, though (take that Bandeh Aceh!). It’s my birthday. Mine! I should be the center of attention and I hate it when I'm not.

In truth, that didn't surprise me because in the last few years all close their doors to me. Since I wasn't invited, I decided to enter the party without making any noise. I went in and stood in a corner.


They were all drinking; there were some who were drunk and telling jokes and laughing at everything. They were having a grand time. I hate it when people have fun. It adds insult to injury. It's MY birthday!


To top it all, this big fat man all dressed in red wearing a long white beard entered the room yelling Ho-Ho-Ho! He seemed drunk. He sat on the sofa and all the children ran to him, saying: "Santa Claus, Santa Claus"; as if the party were in his honor! I wished I had been strapped with explosives, I could have given Santa a big hug and blown him all to pieces. Santa Claus would have spattered all over the fat little faces of the kids waiting to sit on his lap. That would have taught them a lesson, the ones that survived anyway. The ones that didn't, well, they get an automatic invitation to my big celebration (see below). When it's my birthday, you better celebrate me or I'll make you pay. Remember Hitler? Think Hitler times a thousand. That guy knew how to get stuff done in my name.


At midnight all the people began to hug each other; I extended my arms waiting for someone to hug me and do you know no-one hugged me. Why wouldn't someone hug a strange man who snuck in uninvited to a party and had been sulking in the corner?


Suddenly they all began to share gifts. They opened them one by one with great expectation. When all had been opened, I looked to see if, maybe, there was one for me. What would you feel if on your birthday everybody shared gifts and you did not get one?

I then understood that I was unwanted at that party and quietly left. I knew I'd get my revenge later by sending this email to all my friends on the internet.


Every year it gets worse. People only remember the gifts, the parties, to eat and drink, and nobody remembers me. Poor me. What's the use of being the son of God if you're not always the center of attention?



Invite me to your party this Christmas or you will be sorry. Two thousand years ago I came to this world to give my life for you, on the cross, to save you. I did it unselfishly. I'm really really unselfish. That's why I get so upset when Christmas isn't all about me.


I want to share something with you. As many didn't invite me to their party, I will have my own celebration, a grandiose party that no one has ever imagined, a spectacular party. I'm still making the final arrangements. Martha Stewart gets a free pass to this party because she's making the appetizers. The Queer Eye guys, too, because they've made my house look better than that prick Michaelangelo ever did. I get a sore neck every time I think about him.


Today I am sending out many invitations and there is an invitation for you. I want to know if you wish to attend and I will make a reservation for you and write your name with golden letters in my great guest book. You'll have a golden ticket!

Only those on the guest list will be invited to the party. Those who don't answer the invite will be left outside. And outside I'll make it rain fire and there will be torture and pain and people will deserve it because they didn't answer my invitation. Do you want to go to hell, or be part of my great party? I hope you're not stupid. Come play with me!


See you when you die, which I hope is soon! I Love you! Jesus

Share this message with your loved ones, before Christmas. Or else.

new kid on the block

A big congrats and warm fuzzies go out to The Nancys' mastering engineer, Robert Marshall and his wife on the birth of their new baby boy, Sage. Way to go Robert!