Fat Tuesday and the Pope has left the building.

Fat TuesdayHappy Fat Tuesday. Flash your boobs and get some beads, give up sweets for Lent and say goodbye to the Pope.

In an unexpected move although not unprecedented the Pope turned in his resignation papers and his pension payment options to Jesus yesterday. When you’re the Pope thats the next in command right? Jesus? I mean when you’re the Pope who do you tell you’re quitting and hauling ass? Not some clerk down in the Vatican personnel office right?

Yes, yesterday the Pope got up, scratched his ass and said, “You know what? Fuck this. I am out.”

You’re the Pope for goodness sake. You don’t just up and quit. Strength? What kind of strength does a Pope need? You have choir ¬†boys, Cardinals, Bishops, and a couple billion other church members jerking you off all day. You get up say your omnis dominus and you go down and watch the nuns play volley ball all day. How hard can it be?

What are you going to do? The church will find some other old crusty Cardinal to take his place. Some old idiot denouncing safe and accepted birth control and that somehow Jesus/God would rather man and woman screw each other and pass along Aids wiping out the human race then use a simple condom. Bingo, Gambling and drinking is ok though some come on down to Family Church night!

It’s Fat Tuesday today. Most of us are working, but try and enjoy your day. Eat good food, have a drink be merry. Wednesday is Lent. Give something up for 40 days. Candy, sweets, cursing, gambling, jerking off three times a day, giving the girl the old Dutch Rudder. Yea right. What kind of life would that be? Ok ok I suppose I can cut back on cursing. Wait……..you hear that? It was like the cries of a million people on the planet of Aldaran being extinguished by the rays from the Death Star. Somewhere in the force, Obi Wan just shit his pants. No cursing for forty days? Even the Pope had his limits!

Let ‘er rip, tater chip!

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?

Bullshit!

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.