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, February 02, 2006


"Across 90 nations, 5,000 people hear his (bouncing tommy cruise) scientology every hour," International Scientology News proclaimed last year. "Every minute of every hour someone reaches for LRH technology, simply because they know Tom Cruise is a Scientologist."

The above is from the la times. I want to break bouncing tom in half, punch his ho in the stomach, kill all his relatives....



Oh, no... you are allowed to trick people out of money for fortune telling, sin forgiving, talking to saints and even god, and all sorts of other institutionalized scams.

You can't scam people with bookeeping, or fraudulent stocks, lemon cars, or just about anything else except religion. Why is it that we allow the religious folk to scam people?


And there are still fools out there who wonder why I have to kill to maintain proper mental health? IDIOTS!!!! They would feel so much better if they could just get some bouncing celebrity in their sights and shoot em' down flat dead!!!!

Wednesday, February 01, 2006


Everyone is a hypocrite, and everyone is a liar.It is my desire to one day make the chanted hatred of the dreaded cry of, "You are a liar," into a phrase much like, "You are a breather! We all lie. Accept it. Eat it, savor the taste... end up feeling a little forgiven and laughing at yourself. I have a lot of experience with lying. Too fucking much some would say... but who doesn't? I spent a couple years studying under a feminist philosopher, at Northeastern Illinois, and she was just remarkable... under her guidance, I learned language as a weapon to avoid being judged by people. For one, I was a stoned cab driver, which a lot of people I picked up would have been a little freaked to know, while others expected me to smoke with them... you can imagine which opinion I savored. So I made up whoever I thought would get the biggest tip with the people in the cab. For about a year I did. I made up all sorts of different pasts. Improved my way through the day. I used my fun as research for a series of papers for a philosophy class. We were studying Wittgenstein and others, about the contextuality of language and the implications of people playing language games, and how that is abused around us by politicians, male centered writers, god-centered writers, and other people who force you to step into their lie to talk to them (a language game requires two people to play by certain made up rules, that are so imbeded in the language that we don't notice them, usually, until we really sit back and think about it). To talk to someone who is religious about religion in a true way, where two minds are questing with the best knowledge available at this point, on an equal plane where the opinion itself could evolve naturely... and where I presume the religous would kick their god-habits and get on the merry go round with me... is impossible. IMPOSSIBLE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Unless they shed a few lies and play by my rules for a change, talk in a way that is devoid of mysticism and the other childhood lies that the neurotic cling to throughout their deluded days.It comes down to this... You have to accept certain lies to be on their level. Sorry buddy, I don't take no leaps of faith anymore. That's for chumps, lotto losers. That's the thing about being a liar, you start to see through all the other liars... and you know me, as far religion goes, IF I CAN'T WALK THERE SLOW AND CALM I DO NOT WANT TO GO...


I'll try my best, though...Today I watched a michael moore film, 9/11, and then went downtown, all pissed off at the suits, and decided to just go into one of their damn office buildings and start killing anything with a tie. I really meant this going in, but of course I kind of lost it during the actual killing and just took everybody out. I was in full length black body armor hidden by my loose fit black fatigues with F. B. I. written on the back, an ak-47 over my broad shoulder, two glocks nestled next to my pec's in my shoulder hosters, and all the little shit I always keep with me, even when sleeping -- a few grenades, the derringer I keep in my ass, and the other strapped under my balls, all the knives, shagwire in my hair, etc... the basic's you should have for good, safe killing spree. I guess I packed a lunch, too, in a brown paper bag. I put it in one of the bulky pockets of my fatigues and smashed a penut butter and banana sandwich into my coleslaw, ruining the taste... man, after all the events of this day are lost to my memories as the every day, every day events they are, my sadness over this sandwich will echo...Anyways, so I took a bus downtown, keeping my machine gun in the classic guitar case until i was dropped downtown, on madison and lasalle, the heart of the city. The sidewalk is located at what seems like the base of a huge canyon; grey skyscrapers reach up into the sky all around me. Everything looks neat and man made. Grey. Grey. Grey. The slate grey of a dismal sky should have never inspired the coloration of the majority of buildings... what a fucking Babbit -like waste.....I'm thinking about this, and how I would really like to have a puppy to play with, as I stop on the sidewalk, pull my machine gun out from under the trench coat, aim into the glass of a revolving door leading into the fanciest building on the block... a huge grey mess of excess and corruption that Michael Moore has inspired me to just fuck up all to hell.... I open up on the glass door, blasting chunks of sharp glass back into the face of a security guard sitting at a desk just inside the door. A huge peice of glass was sticking into his eyes, and he was trying to pull it out and couldn't see because of all the blood... kept cutting his hands more. I was going to leave him wounded, because he was just some schmo working a security job -- only honest people are that poor. I wanted ties who driver mercedes and exploit maids from mexico, Bush supporters.... but then the thing with his hands just got stupid on the third attempt. "If you had left that glass alone," I told this guy as I made my way through the shot to hell revolving doors, "You wouldn't be bleeding to death from your hands. You pull that out and you will bleed worse." Yet, he still kept trying to get that glass out of his eye. I just aimed at his head and let loose. The top of his head exploded, blowing half his brain back onto the wall behind him... grey. Grey again, dripping downt he damn wall... at least it was streaked with some bright red, I thought, as I looked again into the sad color that had just before struck me as part of the problem with corporate america -- no one should even think grey is an option for a fucking building! There are better colors, dammit!!!In fact, I promise, if all the new buildings are made in nice pastels, bold strokes, or any patttern at all that uses a fucking PRIMARY COLOR, I will no longer kill.... well, let's see... flies... no, that is too easy... my own pets... no, that's too much to ask the way these hamsters get to screeching sometimes during the more difficult drills... okay, I will no longer kill....babies... not for like, six months... okay? No, forever.... I can promise any pie in the sky thing, I suppose, because they will never do this.Anyways, I was thinking about all of the above as I made my way into the elevator and went to the top. I knew where to start, man.... the fucking top. I planned on going up and starting a fire, which would then cause a mad rush down toward the exits, and I could get a good field of fire filled with fuckign arrogant scum. And that's just what I did. I took the elevator to the top, then took out my bowie knife and when the door opened, I shoved the knife in between the door and the wall, holding the elevator for me.... Seeing no one around, I figured I had aminute... a good break. All in less than 30 seconds, I ran down the hall until I came to a bathroom, shoved a screw driver in the key hole and opened the door clean.... some guy was on the john... sighing over the hold up, I pulled out the glock with a silencer, popped a couple bad boys into his forehead.Bang, bang.... took all the toilet paper from the rolls, tossed it in the garbage can, lit a match, dropped it in... the sprinklers in the ceiling would be going off in seconds, so I ran back to the elevator.I stood at the entrance downstairs for maybe fifteen seconds, juggling my machine in my hands.... a cop came in the decimated door, looked around and started to say something to me... He thought I was a cop too, because of the fatigues... looked surpriesed as hell when I blew his chest out back into the street, looked down at the blood spurting out of his chest and then up at me accusingly. I heard them behind me starting to come out of the elevator, turned back around and opened fired on... well, turned out to be mostly the hispanic janitorial staff. Turns out the suits went down down below the building to the parking lot. You can imagine how that pissed me off.I found this out by merely holding a knife to some guys throat. I was in no mood to kill oppressed people... no, on this day, I was out to do some good for a change. Inspired by that documentary, I was...I ended up taking the elevator down to the parking garage, shooting the hell out of all of the new cars... Oh, I guess there were three or four guys down there in suits, and I cut off their heads and put them on the radio antennas of a line of lexxus. No one ever gets my art like this, but still I have to do it...Oh, what a let down... I have been inspired by this, though... from now on, I am going to kill only for causes... I would like to say I will only target people who deserve it, like I told myself I would originally do... but that is just impossible -- Mark My Words Well: once those hamsters start killing, no force on earth can stop them until their blood lust is sated ... and I must use the troops now, though we remain under-funded and the troops are having trouble mastering the new satallite surveillance system... What can I tell you, there are going to be some innocents who die along the way?Johnny Pain, religious psycho killer.... I like the ring of that, always have .. but I may have to trade it in, if I can make myself seem like I am killing for the forces of good, which I am... usually. The forces of annoyance and just a general feeling of duty to all of humanity to remove the asshole gene from the gene pool.


WICHITA, Kan., Jan. 30: A federal trial opened here Monday over whether a Kansas law prohibiting virtually all sexual activity by people under age 16 means health care professionals and educators must report such behavior to state authorities, which some say would stop many teenagers from seeking contraception or treatment for sexually transmitted diseases.
Below is just more of my own dementia.I had teenage sex.... though the NYT article below, which inspred this tirate, is about sex by folk under sixteen. I think I was eighteen when I slept with my last under age girl... I sure hope so. No telling if some forgotten night contains her face though, since I slept with more women than I probably should have (my apologies or thank you to them, depending on how the she-bang ended). Basically, the article goes on to say that children cannot be expected to know everything about right and wrong, and also that adults can exert undue, even criminal influence over children. SO kansas says virtually no one under sixteen can have sex. And that by having sex with them, anyone, no matter what their age, is breaking the law. I applaud where their heart is, though cutting off the condoms for young girls who happen to be in this situation is hardly the answer. What a conundrum.Freedom is what people want, even kids... but, when sex is indulged on a young child for whatever reason, they are forced to face a lot of adult issues on their own, because to continue to be free, they have to lie about their sex life. I agree that there is a sadness in youth lost so young (I think of youth as independent of sexual love, and like to pretend they all are, though obviously there are exceptions to this). Sex is always a little about control. It is. You give over control, and take control of another person, by generating sensations in them. We can't let predatory males and females use children like this. They may enjoy the sex or whatever, but that doesn't mean they can truly even understand the situation they are in--psychology calls these kids victims, and I was one, and certainly it victimized me.I would certainly like to have an answer for this problem... and I think I do so want to be ARISTOTLE ON THE CORNER SCREAMING AT THE PASSER BY'S, EXPOSING THEIR HYPOCRISY'S BEFORE THEY PUT ME TO DEATH... AND again, THEY WILL BE SURPRISED BY HOW EASILY I WILL DIE FOR MY IDEALS... but, I just don't like the idea of being looked at like the nut I am, SO going all Flannery O' conner is out of my range, except here, on this page, where the myths all truly come from... though we try so hard to say otherwise.