Can you say TGIF on Good Friday?

JesusI was wondering what I was going to title this post today and since its Friday I automatically started down the TGIF something and something train of thought. It occurred to me I have probably used the TGIF moniker in a previous Friday post and I certainly don’t want to be repetitive if I can at all help it or care enough to remember.

Then I immediately remember today is Good Friday, or in the heathen parlance of our time the day those dirty dirty Jews (I love Jews don’t start the hate mail) bullshitted Pontius Pilate into killing Jesus. Why today is really called Good Friday I can’t say. In my minds eye, if I was having dinner with Jesus and we were talking about his crucifixion he would be all laid back chilling out, zapping his can of Red Bull into Jager Bombs, and recollect “man it might have been a Good Friday for all you sinners, but damn, it was a shitty day for me.”

Anyway back on target, I’m thinking can you really say Thank God its Friday, on the Friday God gave his only son to die for the rest of us? It would be like saying “Hey God, thanks for the day of beating the shit out of your kid and then nailing his ass to a couple of Glu-lam beams from down at the lumber yard for the sake of all the rest of us bastard and bitch sinners.

See these are the kinds of things I think about when trying to decide catchy new post titles for this blog.

Except my mind doesn’t just stop there. It continues on down the path of twisted, redonkulousness.

Like this:

I am imagining me and Jesus hanging out, he’s turning the Red Bull into Jager Bombs, we’re getting tipsy, talking about how Good Friday was not so good for him. I ask what his father (God) thinks about us lowly sinners busting out a TGIF on Good Friday and the scenario in my head plays out, that Gods voice booms in the distance somewhat like the Wizard of Oz, Yoda, or some other dark Sith Lord

God: Brock there is another.nadiag
Me: Another what? Another Jesus?
God: There is another.
Me: Leia?!
God: No dummy Nadia G.!

Then everything makes sense in the world. Nadia G from Bitchin Kitchen is the daughter of god. Then Jesus, sipping his Gin and Juice, (he gave up the Jager Bombs) looks over at me and by now you can tell he’s faded. “Hold on brother theres more.”

God: Brock instead of letting the dirty dirty Jews kill another one of my kids, you have to marry her and be her husband to save the sinners of the world again.
Me: Um yeah ok no problem God, but where is the great sacrifice? Hell I’d marry her just to see where she does her laundry.
God: She has no vagina.

Then instead of worrying about what the hell I am going to title this little blog post, I spend the rest of the day wondering, would I sacrifice to save all the worlds sinners again?

Nah just kidding. I only spent about five minutes wondering if I married Nadia G. my TV and internet crush who doesn’t have a vagina to save the rest of the world from sin. I would still marry her. Of course I would. To save the world? You’re darn right I would, Jesus looked over at me and said, “Don’t worry man she still has a mouth, and butt, the old man may be cruel with the life lessons but he’s not impossible.”

So happy Good Friday and Easter. Know that I truly love God, Jesus, the Jews, and Nadia G. The rest of you are pretty ok too.

Let ‘er rip, tater chips!

Thoughts Arrive Like Butterflies

We have survived another week. Lets get the almost TGIF out of the way.

As I find myself in the rush to the Christmas holidays, I debated whether or not to even call it “Christmas” here on the blog. While I don’t intentionally want to alienate those non-Christians that may from time to time read my blog, I thought better to remain true to myself and call it what I have called it all my life. Not that I would go out of my way to insult someone else’s belief, but I don’t need to hide mine or otherwise feel ashamed by it in the name of protecting someone else’s sensibilities over a simple name of a holiday. You can call it the Holiday season, Kwanza, Hanukkah, Ramadan, or Ooogilly Googilly Goat Fuck Day for all I care. Most people that know me, know I don’t play the politically correct game, but thats not to say I don’t or wont respect others beliefs. Just here, you’re in my fucking house, and in this house, its called fucking Christmas. You fucking get all that?

The lights are going up in the neighborhood on a few houses. I know my brother has put up some lights on his house too, but I haven’t been over to see them. Single and living alone, I don’t really get too hung up on putting up a tree or decorating the house for Christmas. I am beginning to rethink those choices as I get older and softer. Don’t get me wrong, I am not running out for a tree and strapping on heels and an apron to start decorating the house to show tunes. I may however install a seasonal wreath on the front door, or maybe hang some Mistletoe in the house somewhere rather then off my belt and hit the local juke joint. A poinsettia maybe but I think they are poisonous to dogs, so the hell with that.

I sometimes miss all the family Christmas traditions or creating new ones each year. Not enough to go out and hook up with the first broad that will say yes, mind you, but sometimes not doing anything for the holidays around the house, while convenient and zero hassle, I have noticed places a rather numb feeling on me during this time of year. I think I’ll change this thinking a bit, and try and get my hum bug ass into the season a little more. What’s the worst that can happen? Well I could climb an observation tower with high powered rifles and bring Christmas cheer to all kinds of people while etching my name in the history books, but really, that not in keeping with the reason for the season, is it?

This year, I’ll do a little something around here for Christmas. Exactly what that may be, I have no clue yet, but its still not officially December yet. I am still shitting turkey and cranberry sauce. I am not late and I am not stressing.

Christmas is such a stressful time for folks and I honestly don’t know why. It’s the end of the year, things are winding down. We’re supposed to be hanging with family, chilling out, maybe taking some time off work for the holidays. I see so many people running around worried about buying this or that. Getting ready to go here or there. Worrying about the most insane things and for what? What is the end game in all this? So that your kids can run out the door and brag to their friends about a new video game or pair of shoes?


This is probably a prime example of why I’m single and childless, I don’t know, but I don’t play those games. Exchange some gifts, you betcha. Give your kids the things you never had. Absolutely. Surprise them with something they never would have thought of getting, hell yea. I am however against any such present or gifts that have no intrinsic value other then, his/her friend got one of these or those and going into serious debt for the gifts that will more then likely be lost or broken in the next day, week, month, year. We wonder why the stores all go crazy for Christmas shit in October? Look I am not some shining example of the true Christmas spirit or Mother Teresa sanctity of giving, but at least I try and remember the reason for giving. To that end, its the reason why I only give kids wooden spoons, hammers and nails for Christmas. The true building blocks of life I say. Socks, ties, shoes, hell no! Here kid with this hammer and nails a maybe a saw, you go outside and build your life. The world is your oyster!

Give a kid a fish, and he can put it in the trunk of only one middle school teacher’s car over the summer. You teach a kid to fish with dynamite and a gill net, and that kid can fill the whole goddamn school gymnasium with dead mullet. Jesus teaches us that. Serious. Its like in Thessalonians. Second chapter I believe. Check it yourself.

In any event, this year I propose to get into the season a little here at the homestead. I also implore you to not stress over the Christmas holidays and enjoy and love your family for better or worse. This is the time of year to love your neighbor, peace on earth, and say a great big fuck you to Walmart and give your kids the life long gifts of building supplies and cooking tools. They will thank you in later years. I promise.

Let ‘er rip, tater chip!

For my friend Talisa. Not ashamed of loving her God, or the fact that her friend yours truly is trying to get her to take him to her church to find out about the freaky love offerings because I hear that some hot chicks go to these things.