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

Thursday, November 24, 2005

Celebrity Animals Who Have Slept Their Way To Fame

I guess I should come out with an opinion on this 'hot' topic that is sweeping across the blogs... Well, we all know Spuds Machenzie owed everything to a certain oral technique which he first perfected on himself and then used to take Hollywood by storm... He had free beer!!!! For life!!! How many fucking dogs achieve that??? None. No, he could give head... sure, everyone has by now seen the tapes on the net of him lap loving Paul Schaffer while he was on the Letterman Show... I guess he had been up smoking crack and licking himself for like a week before the show, and just kind of staggered over to the band and his brain blew out and he jumped on the stunned though obviously pleased Mr. Shaffer.

Spuds never did come down they say, just sits in that hospital all doped up on thorazine and very, very slowly licks his ass. He gets day passes out to visit the Playboy Mansion and shit, but I guess he still just sits there drooling on his own privates. Sad case. Like those Corey's who used to act in stoner movies like pot heads though they were really like herion addicts? They do the same thing, but on the streets. Spuds at least knew to save his money.

So, after thinking about Spuds a bit, and seeing that amazing, amazing oral artistery he once had and his now slow, ineffective manner of licking his soft bone... well, I just feel sorry for him, I guess. I mean who here can say what they would do if they could lick themselves?

The classic tale of animal whoring always was and of course always will be -- Flipper.

I don't know if I can add anything to the whole 'blow hole' scene that emerged out in Hollywood at that time... I mean, that horny sea stud was pumping Tryone Powers in the ass, had James Dean hip whacking his blow-hole and Shirly McClain licking his ass... and all the other well known stuff, but did you know that he was the one who first gave Drew Barrymore Blow... they say she crawled faster than any of the other infants at the commercial tryouts, because her mother kept her stoned on blow so she would be all charming and happy and peppy and all that shit. Well, Flipper was the one who convinced Drew's Mom to drug the tot and let Roman Polanksi babysit and all this other shit that lead to her unique and quirky brillance. Yea, Flipper took her mom out, and just for a goof--for an anecdote to tell to his jaded celebrity buddies, he got her stoned on acid and weed and hypnotized her into a Mommy Dearest. That wasn't the first time, but it was the last. He od'd not long after that... well, at least that is what his family wants everyone to believe. I happen to know he died from rectal bleeding, after getting fisted by a bull elephant that he kept all methed up and chained by his pool.

Oh, well... this topic saddens me so. I wish animals could get parts without having to sleep their way through production office after production office, but that is just the way things are done. I mean, everytime I see a pup on some commercial, I know that it isn't an innocent, oh no... not after being on the hundreds of couches it takes to make it in that business.

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