Saturday, July 30, 2011

Jesus Christ and Nietzsche have a fist fight (While Mohammed Bookies)

If I had to describe the afterlife, I'd have to say it's a lot like Arizona.

There's really nothing here, just a saloon. That's it, really. A rat-hole fucking bar in the middle of this nuclear hell-hole of a desert. I've never been far outside of it. The desert scares me, and as much as I hate that bar, I'd never been far enough to not be within earshot of the place. I spend my days either out front or in my room above the noisy commotion of tavern.

Tonight was fist fight Wednesday, and to be honest I've never been much of a fan (most nights devolve into a fistfight anyway) but tonight it's going to be Nietzsche and good o'l JC. Apparently, they've fought thousands of times, just not while I was here. I wanted to see the show. Mo had been taking bets all week.

"Jesus wins most of the time, he's got an unfair advantage if you ask me" said the tall man sitting next to me, his hair long and golden, his voice slurring with alcohol and a thick Norse accent. I looked at him raising my eyebrow and my drink to my lips. "He's got those holes in his hands, y'see: less wind resistance." I nodded knowingly.

"And he likes to bitch slap when he fights" says the man with four arms next to Norse man, "He really doesnt fight so well, but like thor said" making a clicking noise with his mouth and pointing at him, as if he forgot what he was going to say. Shiva had two drinks in his lower arms.

"Wind resistance" Thor said, in between drinks.

"Yeah! Thats it" Shiva said, a thick middle asian accent coming through. "Hey Buddha, What do you think?"

The fat bald man in a tunic behind the bar stopped polishing a glass and just closed his eyes, smiled and shrugged his shoulders.

"God fucking damnit, Buddha" Thor screamed as he lay his hammer hard against the bar, The bar simultaniously shattered and stayed in intact, seeming now to be outside of reality itself. Like Schrodinger's cat, it existed and didnt exist at the same time.

To be honest the first time I saw it, it was pretty impressive. But being stranded in a bar alone with gods will make anyone jaded after awhile.

"Why do you never commit one way or the other, Buddha? Its fucking annoying" Shiva's accent now a roaring Indian stereotype. Buddha didn't say anything, so Shiva set the bar on fire, not with magic mind you, just with a bottle of Gin and a zippo.

Buddha was getting red in the face, they could tell they were getting to him. "Do something! Do something you fat fuck!" screamed Thor, his face wide with a grin.

"YOU MOTHERFUCKERS! GET OFF MY BAR!" I'd seen Buddha flip out, just never this badly before. "GANESHA! DO SOMETHING!" Wailed the Buddha. We all looked over at the elephant headed man on the other side of the bar, silently washing dishes. He looked at Buddha and huffed at him, grabbing a bottle and then walking out back as not to be bothered again. Buddha exhaled sharply and just looked at Thor and Shiva.

"Fuck it" spoke Buddha "I don't fucking care about the bar."

Before Shiva and Thor could plan their next offense on Buddha's usually steely resolve, Mohammed had rung the bell, notifying us that the fight was about to start. "Final bets, ladies and gentlemen" said mohammed in a gentle middle-eastern accent. Thor and Shiva moved to the crowd surrounding the ring. I stayed at the bar, just turning on my stool.

"Theres no women here, asshole!" shouted Quetzalcoatl, his head dressing shaking wildly above the forray. Even in a crowded room, you always knew where he was.

"Whatever, you prick" quipped Mohammed "You people want to see a fight or what?"

The men roar in agreement.

"Pan! Hit it!" Shouted Mo to the half goat, half man on the battered upright piano. He began pounding furiously on the keys, unleashing a ragtime, laurel and hardy-esque fight song.

Nietzsche started strongly with an upper cut, straight to Jesus' chin. and then Jesus Christ slapped Nietzsche across the face so hard it looked like his mustache was going to fall off. Nietzsche stumbled back, shook his head, lunged and headbutted jesus.

They both folded over unconscious and then that was it.

The fight was over.

I turned back around so fast I almost fell off my bar stool. "Buddha, you gotta be fucking kidding me! Was that it?"

Buddha, still polishing that same glass, looks over my shoulder and then goes "Yep, it certainly looks that way"

"Why? what's the point?" I plead.

"Look, kid, do I look like I have the answers?" I was looking at something that was made out of gold and was shaped like buddha. That talked.


"Okay, okay, kid, why don't you ask them?"

Before I could turn around to see who Buddha was talking about, Nietzsche and Jesus sat on either side of me, they didn't even look like they were just engaged in a brutal fight. Nietzsche was impeccably trimmed and suited in black and jesus, well jesus was just dressed like jesus.

"Vat are we drinking Jesus?" Asked Neitzche to whom I had presumed all my life was his arch nemesis.

"Whatever man, but you're totally buying, dude!" Said Jesus, all smiles.

"You cheap bastard" They both laughed heartily at a private joke I was sure to never fully understand.

"Nietzche, Jesus, what's the point of this? All this I mean?"

"Oh boy, you had to get all heavy on us kid, didn't you?" Said Jesus, never ever breaking his cheerful tone.

"I've been dead for months and is this all there is?" I plead, "Really? is this it?"

"Vat does eet matter vat we have to say about aneething?" Said Nietzsche. "Your een a room full of gods or equeevilants to gods and you're steel not happy?"


"Well dude," said Jesus, putting his hand on my back, "You just gotta make your own meaning, man"

I looked over to the corner to see René Dascrtes covering his eyes with his hands. Zeus was screaming at him from the other corner that he could still hear us.

Suddenly it clicked.

All the gods came to say goodbye when I left. They gave me some food and a tent and told me I was always welcome back to the saloon if I ever felt like coming back, and even though, as I look at the desert (which still scares the shit out of me) I had a feeling I wouldn't ever be back. It felt good.

I'm still walking towards the setting sun as we speak.

Big Mike.

Because everything is my fault

I shan't bitch about a particular field of problem, because I know that it would get back to a particular someone, who then would make my life even worse. Because a particular someone is a cry baby who needs to approach problems differently.

So netflix is not only NOT streaming the things I want, but going up in price for online streaming, when they REALLY don't even need too, no matter whatever bullshit jargon  they toss out to defend their actions. Blah blah blah DvD shipping decrease. Blah blah blah equity blah blah blah shut the fuck up. You know, what a pity. They use to be the cool cats. Now they're just the overcooked gravy.

You hear that, Reed Hastings? Overcooked gravy.

~Xavier R.

p.s. I would just like to mention that the lack of 30 Rock; Season 5 not being available for stream has nothing to do with the above bitching, but is still totally lame nonetheless. 

Friday, July 29, 2011

I paused my movie and logged on to say this

1-2 times a week I go to a local Thai restaurant for some good grub. There are two. One uptown, and one downtown. The one I go to is the one uptown. After awhile I became considered a regular. So much, in fact, that the dish I order about 80% of the time (Kee Mao with Squid, 5 star spiciness) is assumed. Also, seeing how I tend to tip very well, I've been gifted with free ice teas. Well, I blame the tips and the customer loyalty.

Anyways, today I still tipped well, but not as much as I normally would. Also, the communication between myself and the owner seemed a bit strained, out of comparison with our normal happy, day experience exchanging selves. That is it. That is my whole story. No big deal.

So why do I feel so shitty about it, something so minor. Why does it matter to me? Because I know it really fucking shouldn't. In fact, I almost never want to return there. Fine service, still fine food, but...something.

What's the deal?
What's the deal?
What's the deal?
What's the deal?
What's the deal?
What's the deal?
What's the deal?
What's the deal?
What's the deal?
What's the deal?
What's the deal?
What's the deal?
What's the deal?
What's the deal?

I started smoking little cigars again. I tell myself they merely pass the time. But they do a lot more. Now a particular ex girlfriend and my mom will call me up after they read this and bitch at me. Well, ladies, these cigars aren't going to give me cancer. Your nagging will. Just kidding. I love the both of you. One of you more than the other. One is a cheating whore who can't get out of my head because of my problems with attachments (making and letting go of), and the other is my ex-girlfriend. Get the joke? It's that I'm banging my mom. Gross, huh?

Seriously though, my ex-girlfriend *censored* is a total slut. She knows it, I know it, the whole human race knows it. Sorry, back to the topic at hand (which already ended).

I think lunacy haunts me.
I think lunacy haunts me.
I think lunacy haunts me.
I think lunacy haunts me.
I think lunacy haunts me.
I think lunacy haunts me.
I think lunacy haunts me.
I think lunacy haunts me.
I think lunacy haunts me.
I think lunacy haunts me.
I think lunacy haunts me.
I think lunacy haunts me.
I think lunacy haunts me.
I think lunacy haunts me.

If it does, then you can't make that statement. I disagree.

Murderer: I didn't kill anyone, I sware!

See how that analogy works?

(There is joke in there, disproving the analogy as well as jabbing/begging for a laugh, but most wouldn't get it, so I added this snippet in, for you to be able to find it, which destroys the joke all together. Me at my most anti-climactic.)

How depressing is this post, right? Wrong. Check this out;

See? Laughs all around.

~Xavier R.

p.s. I started with my story, 'My Friend The Machine.' 

Thursday, July 28, 2011

A most important repost

This is from a site I use to run. After randomly thinking about how pleased I was with it at the time of it's conception, I've decided to bring it back. So;

8 reason porn is better than televangelism

1. It makes me feel good.

If I pay a flat one time fee, or, find the right streaming website that has no cost, I can get off without Jesus watching. Well, without thinking about him watching. Whereas a preacher shouting at me about how I'm going to hell for being human, is, to me at least, counterproductive to my positive energies.

2. It is much, much cheaper.

Beyond the membership fee, which actually gets cheaper for the more service you ask for, porn is a rather cheap hobby, if you ever find the need to actually pay for it. The ads they push involve getting nicer abs, finding sex in "my area," and growing a bigger cock, all of which I ignore because I already know I'll refuse to pay for them anyways beyond doing sit ups, buying a pretty girl a drink at the bar, and well...I got what god gave me. However with televangelism, if I don't donate a tenth of my salary, it just isn't right of me. Beyond the millions of books sold, (not including the billions of bibles) the merch, and the tax redemption status, I'm sure they struggle. But hey, I struggle too.

3. It is sexier.

If I could crank one out to a half naked jew nailed to a piece of wood, then hey, hallelujah. Unfortunately, another score for porn, because I'd rather watch Belladonna take a load to the face. If Joyce Meyer is ready to go down the raunchy road, I'll think about tuning in to god's go to people.

4. Fits to my schedule.

I know theres probably a trillion different "servants of god" parading about with their happy flags of divinity, hissing praise for the almighty at the camera as a bunch of rednecks that just finished having sex with their cousins are agreeing with the fact that the world is a spiral of sin, but if I turn on the t.v. for one instant and I'm not happy with what I see, I want to be able to communicate with god my own way. Ejaculating. If there was a t.v. channel with 24/7 televangelism, then I'd be bored. I'm not always just whackin' it with ol' lefty
here. (Yes, I'm left handed.) I also divide my time playing video games and whackin' it with ol' righty.

5. Porno agrees with my viewpoints more.

"Oh, you wanna go down on me baby? Cool, cool. Yeah." I can agree with that.

"Rock and Roll is the devil's music!" Not so much, no. Sorry Jerry Lee Lewis's insignificant cousin. Hey, didn't you preach all sorts of things about sex in god's eyes blah blah blah but then get caught with a hooker, not once, but twice? If I'm wrong, it's because it was more than twice. Have fun calling me out on that one.

6. The whole gay thing.

You see, I'm not gay. I don't care; if girls wanna scissor and guys wanna put their dicks in each other, good for them, leave me out of it. (The whole lesbian thing, just not into it. Because it might be two women, but they aren't thinking about a guy's dick. Guess who has a dick? Me. A guy.) If I accidentally turn on a porno with a misleading title, (Jakes Big Cock adventure. I assume it's about Jake and his cock boning a bunch of clichly hot women. Oh, no. No no no.) then I can turn it off. But if I'm watching some fire imbued pastor go off about how gays are all going to be burning in hell, they're going to go on about it for a long, long time. Hurry up with it, I already know all the humane ways Christians should dispose of gays with by torture. 

7. Easier to dress for the occasion.

If I where watching ANYTHING about religion in the nude, I'd feel very uncomfortable. Yes, assuringly I'd be alone. If I had a lady friend cool enough to watch porn with me, she'd probably be cool enough to actually be having sex with me, kind of voiding the need to watch porn or things about god on t.v. Besides, god gifted me with the birthday suit, anyways.

8. Boobs

Either you be a woman who can admire, or a man who can admire, (with an erection) boobs are great. They're just fantastic. Fucking awesome. Small, big, perfect, hideously grotesque. Boobs. Boobs boobs fucking boobs. God I love boobs. God probably loves boobs too, and thusly made them so kick ass. I've yet to see one uncovered set of glowing cleavage on the stage of a live sermon. Not one. 

So with that being said, I hope you all enjoy your mornings and/or evenings and/or I stopped caring already.

~Xavier R.