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The Eyes of Jesus are Upon Your Bum

Posted 27 May 2003, 5.58 am by Jake

Yesterday afternoon, I had to get spruced up and go to a baccalaureate (ha! say THAT ten times fast) ceremony. I initially balked at the idea of attending such an event, seeing as how it was held in one of the local churches, which all seem generally strange to me. According to the principal, attending the event was mandatory. I thought that separation of church and state factored in there somewhere, but I could be wrong.

Anyways, they made each student drag their generally lazy ass out of the house and trek down to the Word of Victory Worship Center to be, and I quote, "recognized by the community". What the fuck good is that? "Oh, hey, you exist, now listen to us preach the word of the LAWD!" Please. So, as if you can't tell already, I was becoming increasingly cynical of the whole ordeal. Nevertheless, the desire not to risk punishment and a general mindset of "oh, the hell with it, I'll just go waste an hour of my life" overtook me and I threw on a suit and sped down to the good ol' "worship center". Out of the skillet and into the fire, as the old saying goes. Which is pretty ironic, considering that I was going to be entering the House of the Lord (should there be a trademark?) and should be at ease, if anything. And I was at ease. I was polluted with a general air of annoyance and irritation. They directed us to our seats with the customary "Pomp and Circumstance" blaring from the house speakers and the audience, filled with various members of the community, ranging from your common Mexican field worker to the posh owner of, you guessed it, the Shell gas station. I think some people may have urinated from the sheer ecstasy of breathing the same atmosphere as him. Whatever. Anyways, they guided us to our seats as if we were a crew of careless brats (which isn't too far from the mark, if I may say so myself) and then the fun started.

I felt as if I were plunged into Benny Hinn's Power Hour of the Bleeding Heart of Jesus Jehosaphat and Zion. They started off with a mediocre church band composed of an overweight drummer with a big cross around his neck, a scrawny guy behind the bass guitar, looking as if he were suspended on strings, and some hairy dude on the acoustic. Note to self: They all looked gay. The spectacle of this little collaboration of semi-skilled song spinsters was the lead singer, who was a rather hefty redhead who looked as if she was about to hyperventilate right there on the stage. She kept closing her eyes and murmuring to herself. "Praying," I thought, with a disinterested sigh. "Praying for God to get all of us through this rancid display of blind faith and the general fear of God." Ugh. She belts out a few songs whose lyrics seemed to be composed of "Oh, God, Our Host", "Holy, Holy, Holy" and some more holiness here and there. She kept on doing the little closed-eyes chanting routine before each song, and when it was all said and done, she wandered off the stage, all flustered, eyes still closed and mumbling to herself. I kinda wanted to see her trip on the carpeted steps while in her trance...yeah, where the hell's your divine intervention NOW?

People's behavior during the hymns...well, frankly, it scared the fucking shit out of me. People were undulating, singing along with the music, raising their hands to the roof and closing their eyes as if God was penetrating all of their orifices at once. It was creepy. Some people were doing their own little (I'm assuming church-sanctioned and copyrighted by the Man Upstairs himself) pantomimes along with the music. It drew to a close, and I swear to God that I saw some of them wipe a tear from their eyes. Wait, can't swear to God in his own place....or can I? "Well, God, of all the gin joints in the world...."

Then, the next spectacle of this three-ring circus of Christ was a rather portly fellow named Chris, who was there to "sing God's praise and to help the collective whole of the audience (and I'll bet half of the population of Cambodia, if he promised to stop singing those goddamned hymns) lift their souls unto the Lord." I was expecting him to say something about sunshiny rays of salvation when he finally shut his yap and nodded towards the back. A lachrymose, hypnotically spiralling tune laden with an orchestral tinge began to permeate the air around us. I was curious as to which Yamaha keyboard they had used to write and record this song. And then the poor bastard started singing. "Jesus," I thought, "if you do truly care about us, strike this poor bastard dead on the spot, and then I'll think about joining your nice little tea party." To no avail. The guy kept warbling on about holy holy holiness and how great God was. Yeah, I think we got the message the first 100 times we heard it from the portly chick. That's a big ten-four, God. Over and out. The poor man sounded as if he was having his balls pounded into mush by a sledgehammer. Underwater. I was elated when he finally stopped his wailing, which sounded like a pre-pubescent Meat Loaf singing gospel tunes. So elated that I almost had the urge to stand up and shout, "THANK GOD FOR WHAT HE HATH BESTOWED ONTO US ON THIS BEAUTIFUL SUNDAY!!!". Alas, I didn't. I was curious to see what lay behind door #3.

Finally. Someone seemingly rational. Another fellow (aptly named Chris) came to the microphone to give us a sweet sermon about the choices we should make. "This chapter of your life," he intoned, "is about to come to a close. Although, I've never seen life as a series of chapters. It's like movie sequels. Star Wars, Rocky...*yadda yadda yadda* I don't remember much of this part, because I nodded off. Propped up by the sharp elbow of one of my fellow students (thanks, Kelly) I began to drift off to places that didn't have ANYTHING to do with salvation. The only salvation I wanted was from that accursed pit of religious reptilian beings, all salivating over an orgiastic session of just plain' ol' loving God. I wanted the A/C ducts to fall from the ceiling. I wanted the power to be blown out by a freak lightning storm. I ached for the stage to collapse. None of this happened, but I managed to get my forty winks in. Of course, my sweet slumber was cut short by the almost linebacker-like elbow nudges from the girl sat next to me. "Wake up, it's almost over." I sat up and watched a lanky, nervous cowboy amble up to the stage and take his rightful, God-given space behind the pulpit.

"Well, ah'm here frum thuh Cow-boy Chuuuurch, and, uh, I wanted ta tell Gawd that we appreciate his good guh-races in allowin' us ta come here tuh-night and cawngregate in his name." A murmured assent rose from the crowd.
"Now, ah would like to lead you in uh puh-rayer. Bow yer heads, please." This didn't last long. I was rightfully happy, because if anyone needed the help of "Gawd", it was this poor, scrawny yokel. His Lord-lovin' diatribe ended quickly, and one more fellow came to the mic. I steeled myself for the impending deluge of proselytization.

He calmly strolled up to the mic, and lifted it from its cradle. He smoothed his hair back, adjusted his glasses, and spoke in a soft voice. "Class of 2003..." I wanted to scream "YES? WHAT? CAN WE GO?"
He took a deep breath and said. "You are now dismissed."

If God was in the room, I was definitely feeling the love. Walking out of there, I realized that it was a great day to be alive. And, out of the Word of Victory Worship Center.

Hasselhoff reviews on Amazon

Posted 23 May 2003, 9.06 am by Alexander

This had me crying with laughter:

Customer reviews of David Hasselhoff's 'Best Of' album.

The song "Hot Shot City" is particularly good.

Clouding Over

Posted 22 May 2003, 12.03 am by Kateifer

Douglas kicked the ground angrily as Calvin tried repeatedly to launch his kite. Joe beamed as he watched the crisp breeze loft his dragon of hot pinks, greens, vibrant purples, and brilliant blues high into the soft sky. The string tugged at tiny Joe pulling him down the hill. My sister, Heidi, grasped his diminutive hand with one of her large ones and the slender string of the kite with the other. They would be leaving soon. This was one of the last times the boys would feel the gentle Wisconsin sun.
The expression of intense pain on Doug's face touched my heart as I watched him chuck a small stone into the trickle of water one might call a stream. Omnipresent, Africa loomed before him. Thirteen years old, he was leaving his country of origin for a life of sacrifice as a missionary's child. Doug's eye's glistened with unshed tears. Hesitantly, all the terrifying thoughts that drowned his conscious and unconscious mind tumbled out.
I listened to his soul pour forth. When he finished, he looked for an instant like an old man suddenly able to stand straight again. It seemed as though the burden of life had lifted from weary shoulders. I watched Doug meander back to aid Calvin with his kite. Holding back tears, I focused on the trees beyond the hill. The once green leaves rustled on their branches. A sea of gold, red, deep purple, and lively yellow swam before my blurring eyes. My gaze drifted from the swaying branches of the woods to the stillness blanketing the cemetery. I felt as though I, not Doug, would likely be buried on a different continent.
Carefully avoiding the slick spaces on the steep south side of the hill, I climbed upward to join the others. Joe's kite wafted back to the ground, but his face remained as light as ever. Determined to fly it higher, he took off running down the gentle slope of the hill, oblivious to the darkness infiltrating the day.
A while later, as we walked back to the house, Doug and I conversed again. His voice lost the edge of anger and pain; exhaustion enveloped his tone. He had finally accepted what he believed to be a bleak future. As we approached home, the sky clouded over. A chilling rain fell, as though the sky felt his pain and grieved for his departure.

HAIL THE MIGHTY ESCALATOR

Posted 19 May 2003, 9.30 pm by The Green Mamba

Escalators … Moving stairs … the most convenient way to advance from one level to the next …

Then why is it that there are so many drooling idiots who have no clue as to the mechanics of escalation? Now I don’t go to shopping malls too often, but occasionally circumstances force me to share my personal space with a bunch of fucking shopping freaks that spend half their life hunting the next bargain. Considering the amount of time they spend in shopping malls it only proves how insanely stupid they really are when they still can’t get on or off the bloody escalator.

There are generally three kinds of escalatarians.

Firstly there are the ones who, for some inexplicable reason, have an uncontrollable fear of anything that moves. They would make a bold approach, but when push comes to shove, they suddenly freeze up and start retreating like dogs trying to reverse uphill. Then when they eventually muster enough courage to brave the mighty moving staircase, they lean forward and grab hold of the rail like pissy babies before they finally take a very shaky first step, holding onto the rail all the way down (Do you know how many people scratch their balls and then hang onto these rails?). Off course by now everybody else has bundled up behind him or her and despite the fact that half of these fuckers suffer from the same pathetic condition, they would vent their annoyance by nudging you from behind while you’re patiently cursing the fucking moron in front of you. Come the other side, dickhead one seems to have gotten used to the sensation of moving, comparing it too cheap hooker sex in his ¼ IQ mind. Now suddenly they have a fear of static things and the whole fucking process is repeated in reverse.

Then there are the famous mall socializers. They are not limited to escalators only, but at least you can go around them anywhere else. These are the mall regulars, who, regardless of whether there are 10 000 or 10 people in the mall, always run into someone they know. What I can’t fully understand is how the fuck is it possible that they always see these people when they’re getting of the bloody escalator … and instead of just saying Howdeefuckingdoodee and moving the fuck out of the way, they’ll form a little conversation circle right in front of the escalator. Could someone please invent some fucking bull-bars for people, so I can send them scattering in all seventy one wind directions without damaging the vehicle. Worst of all, when you politely point out to them that they are blocking the fucking escalator, they look at you as if you had just pissed in their favorite pot plant.

Lastly there are the rare and very elusive escalatarians, who actually know how to use the damn thing. They get on, ride it all the way home, get off and disappear.
I love these people … as for the rest … well.

Sexy Love

Posted 18 May 2003, 10.04 pm by Villager

Love and Sex. Two of my favourite - and yet most troublesome - things in life. Some say Sex is nothing without love, others say its purely an activity of the flesh and that it is, well, wrong, to pretend it has anything to do with something as sophisticated as love. I can sympathise with both, but I find myself agreeing with neither. Being an eighteen year old male with what is probably a normal sexual appetite, the topic of sex has occupied as much of my thinking, if not more, as has love. They're both important to me, but for a long time I was confused as to how they were related, if indeed they were at all.

Love is an emotional concept. It's in my head. It's about having somebody to trust, to talk to, to enjoy time with. To feel all fuzzy deep down about. The romantic ideal is that you fall in love with someone for who they are, then sex is great because it is with that person. You do it because you love each other and it feels good because you love each other. It is an integral part of love as any, despite the physicality of it all. I love because of who my partner is, and how we get on. It is about personality, attitudes and intelligence. As far as I can tell, I am honest when I say I love her not for physical gain. I am happy with her because her company makes me feel good, regardless of what we choose to do.

Sex, let's state the obvious, is a physical desire. The human body prods us now and again (some more than others) into thinking we have to hump somebody. When we do, we feel relieved and usually experience some degree of pleasure. Now, I believe sex is a loving relationship is the very best sex of all; you have emotional understanding, trust, are in tune physically and you have somebody you believe to be great to sleep with and wake up with. You could also attribute some sort of spiritual connection to the act if love is present, but I'm not convinced that's entirely appropriate.

Love, you see, can exist perfectly healthily without sex. Sex too can happen quite enjoyably without anything that could be described as love. Sex is definitely different with love than it is without, but is that enough to call one sex and the other making love? Does emotional attachment change the act from 'intercourse' to making deep emotional bonds? I don't think so. I think it more likely that our desire for loving companionship means that we are inclined to attribute sexual feelings to emotional ties, rather than friction. They are two desires - one physical, one emotional - and, though they can act independently, they complement each other. Love loves sex and sex promotes love. I think it would be a mistake to pretend there was more to it than that.

"Happiness"

Posted 16 May 2003, 2.58 pm by Aqua

I'm on the staff of our small school's literary magazine Acorn. The other day, I was proofreading some short stories written by one interesting character in my class, Kyle W. Already I had overheard him talking about how his mom said she can't stop him from smoking pot so he can smoke whenever he wants now. So, that being known, I wasn't too surprised when one of the stories started with "Crackle, snap, puff, puff. She inhaled as much as her lungs would allow." ..Well, it was at least something to that degree. In any case, I decided to have an open mind and read the rest.

The basis of the story?

A girl is "lighting up" for the first time and has been very depressed lately. A boy is with her, and is obviously "experienced" and simply assures her she will be relaxed and content. The girl, upon allowing the effects to sink in, replies that she has never felt this happy in a long, long time. She begins to cry a little. (What might be slightly touching at this time still had me somewhat appaled. It continues.) The girl and the boy study each another's irises and then she says for him to come and sit by him, in a slightly seductive tone, I might add. He does, and she kisses him. He kisses her back. She removes her shirt. He says that this wouldn't be such a bad situation if it wasn't for her "plastic or fake looking arms", but it's still okay. (Wtf?) Then, it ends with some comment on happiness or something, that seems completely irrelavent to the entire situation, or at least not true whatsoever.

Now then, I have to say I have a very bad prejudice when one mixes "happiness" and "drugs" in the same context. Don't get me wrong, I think marijuana should be legalized and therefore controlled immensely so that it is used more responsibly. I would even say that I would use it if I were in pain. My mom said she would have a nice "garden" for that reason as well.

Also, I would like to say that yes, there are those who no matter what they do, never seem to be actually "happy". But here's where I have a problem. When one uses drugs to be "happy", it's just that: "happiness". The drugs cause it, not you. It's an illusion. Some may say that doesn't matter and that if it makes you happy, do it. I say if you can't go out in the middle of an expansive field with no civilization around you (fine, maybe a farm, whatever), and lie down and stare at the clouds and not feel happy and content- then fine, whatever, go ahead and smoke something to be happy because you're hopeless. One should be able to do such a simple thing and have problems be erased, at least temporarily. Afterall, drugs are temporary too, no?

I just think something else would be better than that.

THERE ARE SHEEP IN THE CITY

Posted 15 May 2003, 10.19 pm by The Green Mamba

Let’s explore the nature of sheep.

Up until a few hundred years ago, sheep still followed the Shepherd to greener pastures. Modern day Shepherd’s however have adopted the practice of chasing the sheep … or that is what the sheep would like us to think. The truth is that, sometime during the past few hundred years, sheep have grown increasingly intelligent and have managed the art of mind transferal and while the Shepherd may think he is in charge of the sheep, he has in fact just switched roles with them. That’s right, the Shepherd no longer leads the sheep … but rather the sheep are leading the Shepherd … but not to greener pastures.

An excellent example of what I like to refer to as, SHEEP Syndrome is peak hour traffic at an intersection. The first few minutes after the light changes green is fine, but then suddenly everything comes to a standstill. Instead of keeping the intersection clear and waiting for the cars on the other side to move forward, you’ll notice as a few SHEEP move to the middle of the intersection, hoping that the light will not change before the car in front of them can move forward. Obviously the light will change at precisely that moment and prevent everybody coming from the side from moving an inch. This will continue for two to three light changes, before you eventually come across someone who does not suffer from SHEEP Syndrome, who actually stops at the line when he or she realizes that there is no point in moving forward, leaving the intersection clear. Obviously the SHEEP behind her will start hooting, because they have been separated from the rest of the herd … Baaaaa!.

Unfortunately the SHEEP syndrome does not only apply to drivers. Ever seen pedestrians waiting at an intersection? They’ll all bundle up on the edge of the sidewalk, reading, picking their noses or scratching their asses … everything except pay attention to what’s happening around them. One impatient dickhead will then suddenly decide there’s a big enough gap in the traffic to quickly hop-skip to the other side. The rest of the idiots however, aren’t paying attention and start following the dickhead, just like SHEEP. The only cool thing about this is seeing the SHEEP jump when they suddenly realize that there is a whole armada of cars charging down on them.
If you’re lucky, maybe you’ll see one of them bounce off the bulbar on a 4X4 or get splattered by a minibus cruising at twice the speed limit …

Otherwise, just feel safe in the knowledge that you have gained here today … and think about it next time you eat lamb chops. If it weren’t for the fact that butchers are actually part of a secret government organization supposedly combating the potential world domination of sheep, we would have not been in this predicament. Due to sheep’s highly developed survival skills, they are now transferring their stupidity to humans in an attempt to escape slaughter.

YOU COULD BE NEXT!

DINOSAURS STILL ROAM THE EARTH

Posted 13 May 2003, 3.02 am by firebrand

really . . .

Christian Scientists on the hunt for Dinosaurs (and other science-debunking things)

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They were done for an exhibition a couple of years ago . They asked for something to so with the summer. They are mixed media and oil paint on metal advertising boards - for ice cream.


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Hmph

80s candy bars were pretty good

only because i traded it for a candy bar in the 80's.

lol we all know you don't have a soul ghoti

my soul for some carbs...

But of course!

Yo ! Does this work ?

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