The ongoing story of Jesus waking up in Chicago, in the body of an agnostic writer,
who is nothing like the Son of God the right-wing Christians watching him expected.

You are welcome to share my work with a link bank... keep getting asked this...

Last time I was here, I told them I would not lead a revolution, that I was there to spread heresy. The crowds thinned. The day they killed me, I marched alone... This time I have returned to find Romes Soldiers Sleeping, content they have killed off the Troublesome Jew. I was surprised how bloody the Indiana boy became as my sword fell again and again ....

In the years since this story began in 2007, my secret fame has spread out from the halls of power that kept me secret all these years, as they waited for the Christ to finally wake up...

I try to imagine their anticipation.

Remember a dream I had in my twenties about running thru Chicago screaming that Christ was coming back, and man oh man was I happy... a cloud came through the middle of the skyscrapers above me, in the thin strip of blue above Dowtown State street, and I expected to see Christ... instead, just a bunch of musicians painted up like Ziggy stardust.

I surprised my keepers. They thought they had me figured out from the Bible. If that book could have told you everything, there would be no need at all for me.

Jesus: "I have become Known across this planet as a dangerous man with a growing force of hidden followers who value my orders more than life itself. A prophet of war. Once and future King in a court of shadows. Life and death in my hands every damn day. I ROAR, your most mighty shit themselves and run. I make myself a known threat, so I can try to negotiate what otherwise requires bullets and blood. I am here to free the enslaved in body and mind. I cannot be defeated. When the Will of God and The WILL OF THE PEOPLE ARE ONE, NO FORCE ON EARTH CAN STOP US!"


We come into this life expecting too much and leave expecting too little

Monday, April 11, 2005


Does this make me bad? According to the judgemental one, M., of coures....

How could I resist this opportunity, though? You will understand better as I desctribe the hardly fateful affair. From a block downt eh sidewalk. I could see this woman's fingers start shaking a half block away from the Ruby, her eyes widening as she came closer to my wolf looking dog -- who was smiling and thus showing a lot of teeth... I practically had to step off the sidewalk, wait until she got her motorized wheel chair up right beside me, and then release Ruby, who is always anxious to run up and kiss and strangers and was indeed pulling at her leash toward the lady, as I screamed, "Kill her boy, kill!!!"

There was this high pitched sceam and blue hair bouncing as she tried to speed off on the ice and lost control, fell over in front a guy on a bike and got run over . . . and then her damn coat got all splashed with blood when the bicyclist's nose was scrapped off on the sidewalk. This is not my fault, and I don't think I should have to pay to clean her damn coat. I mean, I was merely trying to give her a little thrill, you know? Like a roller coaster ride or something like that. She should be thanking me. Tell that to the cops and M..

I had no idea all of this mayhem would occur, and as such, no matter what M. says, I am keeping the video footage that I made... so what if it does make me laugh like 'an evil hyena?' I mean, like I told that damn skeptic, M., -- I only laugh to hide my tears..... Really.You should see this footage.

Did I mention the guy lost his nose? It was laying there on the sidewalk. I walked up and picked it up and told the guy, "I have your nose."M. says I was being thoughtless, but hey -- the guy needed a laugh. By the way, I didn't know he was dead yet, or I wouldn't have wasted the energy kicking him when he didn't laugh at the nose joke.You know, much to my surprise, I just realized that there is actually a lesson to this meandering, memoirish mourning...You see, the bicyclist died and couldn't call M. and get her all upset, or threaten to sue us, or convince that cop that she wasn't senile and had not attacked Ruby while screaming that she was spike the vampire, like I told him... That sorrily deluded officer got so mad that he asked me If I was insane, or just needed an ass kicking. M. did not come to my defense, of course... in fact, she told the cop, "He is insane, but that doesn't mean he doesn't need his ass kicked."

Well, you are probably waiting for the moral of this story.. that would be, if I had it do all over again, I would have saved myself a hell of a lot of hassles by stomping on the old ladies head until her brains squirted out her wrinkly little ears. M. thinks this is would be 'just horrifying.'

When she said this, I was like, "Well, yea, so?"
Turns out, she explained to me, in M speak, 'horrifying' is somehow bad.
"Tell that to George Romero," I told her...

She refused to see the light, just stubbornly held onto her ignorance and still thinks I would be do something 'bad,' by saving us hassles, which is so achingly obviously good....

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