This Actually Happened – July 23rd, 2011

Run-in With The Law

For those of you who don’t know, I ate sushi for the first time on April 16, 2011. It was amazing! (For the best sushi in the Boston area, go to Fuji 1546 in Quincy. I recommend the Gyunegimaki, it’s incredible! *I chose the adjective incredible because you can’t spell it without edible and the sushi is quite edible!* Tell them I sent you; they won’t know what the hell you’re talking about.) About a month ago, I was driving to pick up my order from Fuji and, I’ll admit, I was speeding. My brother and a cousin were also in the car. Out of nowhere, a jeep began to follow me. At first, I thought he was having fun but he was driving like a maniac. It seemed as if the driver was trying to get my attention, but I didn’t know who was in the car, so I drove even faster and he remained right on my tail. (Don’t be childish; he wasn’t literally on my tail.) After a couple miles of professional driving, I pulled into an empty space across from the restaurant and he pulled in behind me. Noticing that he stopped, I banged a quick U-turn and planned on parking in the lot at the rear of the building. A police officer, in full uniform, ran out of the jeep and stood in the middle of the road; he motioned for me to stop. All I could think was, “FUCK!” I parked and he stomped over to the driver’s side window. “Where are you going in such a hurry?” he yelled! “I’m picking up some food, officer. I’m not in a hurry at all.” I said in a calm voice. “Are you kidding me? You were doing 80 back there.” He said, still out of breath. “I completely disagree with you, sir. I was not doing 80; that would be ridiculous. How could I possibly go 80 miles per hour with all the red lights?” I reasoned. “Ok, you didn’t hit 80, but you were speeding! You were driving recklessly, and you passed about twenty-five cars.” He exaggerated. “Again officer, I have to disagree. There weren’t even twenty-five cars on the road.” I  stated non-threateningly. “I’ll give you that, but you did pass some cars. What’s your problem.” He said snidely. “Well officer, I was driving down the road and, out of nowhere, you started chasing after me. I didn’t know who you were and you were driving like a maniac. I was just trying to get away from you.” I explained in a friendly tone. “Get away from me? I have a jeep and I could barely keep up with your sports car.” He shot back. “Sports car? This is a sedan, not a sports car.” I taunted. “You got all the answers. Give me your license and registration.” He said, giving up. “No problem officer.” I handed him my license and registration and he walked away. By this time, two Quincy Police marked vehicles were on the scene. Several minutes later, he returned. “Get out of the car.” He yelled. “For what, officer; am I being arrested?” I asked. “No, you can’t drive, your license is suspended.” He lied. “No problem.” I switched seats with my cousin. The officer walked over to the passenger side of the vehicle with a ticket in hand. “You’re lucky! This is just a warning because I am off duty.” He said visibly annoyed. “Why can’t I drive sir; my license is not suspended. I just received a notice in the mail saying that it will be suspended at the beginning of the next month if I don’t pay the fine I owe, but it is currently not suspended.” (I received a stop sign violation and I paid the ticket, it wasn’t anything major!) “No, your license is suspended. You’re lucky I’m not on duty or else I would have taken you in! I am recommending that you receive a (I can’t remember what he said, but it was some made up bullshit.) Expect a summons in the mail.” He said in a threatening manner before handing me the ticket. “Thank you officer. Have a wonderful evening. Are we free to pick up our sushi?” I said mockingly. “Just make sure that you aren’t the one driving.” He ordered. “I’m in the passenger seat. My cousin will drive.” I pointed out. No reply! He had enough of my backtalk. The policemen watched my cousin drive away. He parked near the front entrance and we exited the “sports car;” they remained on guard. Upon exiting Fuji, they were nowhere to be seen! Talking back to police is a privilege only enjoyed by the non-criminal! Thank “god” I stayed in school! (Did he just thank “god?”) BELIEVE IT OR NOT!

Check back tomorrow for a preview of next week’s entries!


From Catholicism To Atheism

I sat down in front of my computer and wrote pages of information about my conversion from Christianity to Atheism. I wrote paragraphs upon paragraphs, and every one fell short of the objective. Each paragraph failed to convey my true feelings. After awhile, I realized the problem. I can’t explain the process of being enlightened; it’s simply impossible. Either a person reaches the level of awakening that I have achieved, or not. Who am I to convert the ignorant?

I spent over fifteen years removing the beliefs of Catholicism from my mind. How can I express the process of becoming awakened to a person who is asleep? IMPOSSIBLE! If anyone has a desire to hear the story of my conversion, ask me and we can converse in person. Even then, I feel a believer cannot completely understand what it means to be an atheist.

An atheist is defined as a person who doesn’t believe in  “god,” but it is far more than that. A true atheist must understand why “god” cannot exist; there is no belief. We simply know! The same way Galileo knew the earth revolved around the sun, an atheist knows “god” exists only in myth. Thankfully, I do not live in a time when the church has any true power.

I often read stories about atheists who convert back to some sort of belief system, but that is an impossibility. The ones who make these false claims never reached the true understanding of atheism. Unfortunately for those who are non-believers, atheism cannot be explained. The information is readily available, it is up to each individual to discover the truth!

If you honestly believe in your faith and you have a desire to save me, please allow me to go to Hell. I don’t mind! I can be an atheist without you agreeing with me, why can’t you be a believer without me agreeing with you?

I live in a world of believers, and my knowledge is challenged on a daily basis. Some people may find my posts to be offensive, but I am offended when people are afraid to challenge their faith. I know that I call believers idiots, but what am I supposed to make of someone who doesn’t even understand his or her own faith. (If you’ve never read the bible from cover to cover, please shut the fuck up about your faith. How can someone believe in a religion and not read the most important text?)

A clear example of this is the so-called Catholic who believes in abortion. I must have missed the part of Catholicism which allowed for followers to question the Pope. The basis of the religion is the fact that the Conclave members are guided by “god” when choosing a new Pontiff; and the lord speaks through the new leader. I don’t care what your beliefs are concerning abortion but if you are Catholic, Pope Benny tells you what to believe; there is no free will. (If you ever tell me that you are a Catholic but you are pro-choice, YOU ARE A FUCKING IDIOT!!!)

Please do me a favor. Study your faith, then we can have an intelligent conversation about belief!

It’s hilarious when one of the hungry-hungry hippo-crites discovers I’m an atheist and attempts to chastise me.

“How can you not believe in ‘god’?” Simple! He doesn’t exist!

Now can you answer one of my questions?

“Sir, how can you challenge my morals when you practice pre-marital sex and have children out of wedlock?”

“And I guess you’re right ma’am, I’m evil, but how can you walk up the isle and eat the body of Christ, hung-over with semen and vodka fresh on your breath?”

“Only god can judge you.” No! I’ll have something to say about how you live!

Judge me and I’ll judge you back!!!


The Creation Of The Bible

My first night in the Fun Place was spent with my new BFF, Rodrigo, and his second in command, Cristoforo. (I just want to reiterate. This story is completely hypothetical, heaven and hell are mythical places created by man. Plus, I would never trade in my true BFF, J-Nice!!! A person who probably shouldn’t be reading this but if you are, Thanks for the support.) We grew to be quite close and, after a wild night, I didn’t make it back to my room until early the next morning. Just kidding!

5 Important Fun Place Details:

A – Time, day, or, night does not exist in the Fun Place.

B – Fatigue does exist. Otherwise, people would just go crazy and there would be chaos.

C – Everyone has his or her own living space, for re-energizing and coitus if you will.

D – There are no hangovers. The Blue Label does not alter the mind state, it’s just an enjoyable drink. There is no need to get drunk in the Fun Place; everyone has a great personality. Those with no personality spend an eternity in the Good Place.

E – No one is ever offended. Those who are easily offended spend an eternity in the Good Place.

I leave the VIP Lounge and follow Rodrigo to my quarters. It is fairly basic. There is a king size bed, set to each person’s specific sleep number. Mine is forty-four; I had no idea. (Can’t wait for the new single to come out. ‘I Wanna Know Your Sleep Number.’ You know it’s coming any day now!) {***Question for the ladies: Would you sleep with a guy who used the pick-up line, “Hey baby, why don’t we go back to my place so I can find your sleep number?”***}Other than the bed, there is a suede love seat and a three-seater leather sofa. I have hardwood floors, a beautiful cherry oak. Rodrigo notified me about an option for people who prefer carpet. The walls are platinum and covered with blood diamonds, Bling Bling! (I was literally laughing out loud while I wrote that!)

I take a quick tour of the surrounding areas, which lasts seven hours. (Were you even paying attention to the details? Time doesn’t exist in the Fun Place. I have no idea how long the tour lasted.) We then meet up with some of Rodrigo’s friends and I quickly gained the trust of my new family, the FPB. (Yeah that’s right, it stands for the Fun Place Boys!) Why they decided to shape their organization into a gang-like clique? Who knows!

It turns out, G and Lu keep secrets from the inhabitants of the Fun Place, and the goal of the FPB members is to seek out the truth. Rodrigo witnessed the camaraderie between me and the twins and decided I would be a great addition to the FPB. The guys gathered at the headquarters, which is located inside of area 1492. (If you were wondering about the method of transportation, we teleport!) Like any other “family,” I had to be initiated.

Me: “Hey Cris, why is the FPB headquarters located in area 1492?”

Cristoforo: “Three reasons. First, it’s far enough from the VIP Lounge, the twins would never travel out this far. The second reason, is because Rodrigo was elected to lead the Roman Catholic Church in the year 1492. Finaly, I discovered the New World in 1492.” (Yes, Cristoforo Colombo. The Italian name for Christopher Columbus! You didn’t think he would call himself Christopher, did you? For Pete’s sake, he’s Italian!)

[The Initiation Process]

Rodrigo: “Let the initiation commence!”

A couple of the guys, Socrates and Renée Descartes, force me to my knees. George W. Bush stands before me with a blindfold in his hands.

Me: [I Wrestle myself free and interrupt the proceedings.] “I don’t know if I want to be a part of the FPB if W is a member.”

Rodrigo: “He’s not a member; his dad promised him he could come today. I tried to stop him, but Big Bush helped us gather the alien info so we owe him one.”

Me: [I breathe a sigh of relief.] “Ok, that makes sense. But can’t we get someone else to put on the blindfold? He’ll probably do it wrong!”

[Laughter fills the room. The joke goes over W’s head.]

Rodrigo: “Go ahead W.”

The blindfold is placed over my eyes. I can clearly see through the bottom. Rodrigo shakes his head and straightens-out the blindfold.

Rodrigo: “Good job W. [He roles his eyes.] Now for the initiation. Will Ricky Martin please step forward.” [I hear footsteps.]

Ricky: “Present!”

Rodrigo: “To become a member, you will have to perform fellatio on Mr. Martin.”

Me: “Un Menudo Por favor! I didn’t quite get that; come again.”

Rodrigo: “You heard me.”

Me: “When did Ricky Martin die? And I knew he was gay but when did he come out of the closet? More importantly, how is he a member of the FPB?”

Ricky: “I don’t want to talk about how I died. And as far as your other question, I don’t think that’s anyone’s business. That’s a personal issue.”

Me: “Hey whatever. All I know is I’m not going through with this initiation. I don’t need to be in the FPB.”

Rodrigo: “We’re just fucking with you! There’s is no initiation; this is the Fun Place, not earth!”

[I remove the blindfold.]

Ricky: “Wait, I thought they said this would be fun?”

Rodrigo: “Ricky, you can leave now.”

Ricky: “This is bullshit.” [Inaudible singing trails-off.]

Rodrigo: “Sorry about that. He’s definitely not a member.”

Me: “You guys are sick in the head.”

Rodrigo: “Let the girls in!” [We party until exhaustion.]

[I hear a loud knocking, while re-energizing.]

Me: “Yeah! Who is it?”

Rodrigo: “It’s me, Rodrigo. You ready?”

Me: “Yeah, come in.”

Rodrigo: “What happened with the twins?”

Me: “I haven’t met with Lu and G yet.”

Rodrigo: “Not those twins! *Shakes his head* The TWINS!”

Me: “Ah man, that was crazy! By the way, they aren’t twins; they’re just sisters. They were actually peeved that you kept calling them twins.”

Rodrigo: “Oh really! Who gives a shit! What happened with them?”

Me: “It was amazing, I never did that before!”

Rodrigo: “You never banged sisters while on earth?”

Me: “I didn’t bang them! I purposely put my self in the friend-zone. I’m never gonna bang them.”

Rodrigo: [laughs] “They’re gonna be pissed. Those two want to bang everyone. Did you read the story about them in the book of Ezekiel; chapter 23?” (This is the second time I have recommended this story; go read it!)

Me: “Yeah I know, that’s what makes it so funny!”

Rodrigo: “Damn! Now I’m pissed, I wish I thought of that. They weren’t even that good!” [I laugh.] “Well, the guys are all in agreement that you are a great fit. When you meet with the big guys, remember to try and get some info from them.”

Me: “Am I allowed to just go whenever I want, or do I have to clear it with you first?”

Rodrigo: “Usually, I’ll have to be contacted first, but Lu said you can go to the VIP Lounge whenever you’re ready; they’re waiting for you.”

[We transport over to the VIP Lounge.]

Me: “Alright, I guess I’ll talk to you later.”

Rodrigo: “OK! Don’t forget what we discussed!”

Me: “I’ll try, but I’m not going to try and push the issue so soon.”

Rodrigo: “No problem; we have an eternity!”

Me: “Oh yeah, before I forget, what was up with Ricky Martin? Doesn’t he understand that no one cares if he’s gay? ”

Rodrigo: “I have no idea. He is the only person down here who is in the closet; it’s ridiculous.” [We laugh.]

[Rodrigo departs and I enter the room.]

Devil: “So, do you like the place so far?”

Me: “It’s great! I’m really going to enjoy it here!”

God: “Are you sure? Because, we can send you to the Good Place if you want.”

Me: “I’ll let you know if I change my mind. Speaking of the Good Place, ever since you mentioned the creation of the bible, I’ve been eager to hear the true story.”

Devil: “I love this story. He can never tell it without getting angry!”

God: “I don’t know what he’s talking about; why would I get angry?”

Devil: “Trust me kid, he’ll get pissed and thunderbolts will start shooting out of him.”

God: “Thunderbolts? I’m not Zeus, you jackass!”

[We all laugh.]

God: “In the beginning, when man created the bible, the pages were as empty as a formless wasteland. A story needed to be created; the story which would explain all things. Then man placed ink to papyrus, and the words were good. At the time when man created the stories of the bible—while as yet there were no words on the pages…”

Me: “Hold on!” *Shaking my finger* “Did you just begin the story of the bible’s creation twice? And, if I’m not mistaking, you just basically plagiarized from the two creation stories in Genesis.”

God: “Why? Is that crazy? Don’t tell me my story won’t be believable if I begin it twice, with completely different details.”

Devil: [laughing] “I still can’t believe people believe in that book. Every now and then, G will get pissed and go to earth to shake things up.”

Me: “What? You go to earth and people can see you?”

[God shakes his head disappointingly.]

Devil: “No, I mean he shakes things up literally. Where do you think earthquakes come from?”

Me: “That’s crazy! I always thought it had to do with plate tectonics.”

Devil: “Nope…all him!”

Me: “So, why Haiti? They practice voodoo over there.”

Devil: “Yeah, but the official religion is Christianity.”

God: [Notices the amazed look on my face.] “He’s just messing with you, we don’t kill people.” [Becomes agitated.] “I fucking hate the bible!”

Devil: [Laughing.] “See! What did I tell you? He gets pissed every time.”

God: “I’m not pissed.”

[I laugh…Devil laughs…God shakes head.]

God: “Are you guys done?”

Me: [Still laughing.] “Please continue!”

God: “Ok! Well, the first thing you can do, is forget about all that writing nonsense. The bible was not written down originally. The stories were passed on orally until they were finally scribed in the year 1379.”

Devil: “B.C.E. It was the year 1379 before the Common Era. Not b.c. there is no Christ!”

Me: “Relax! I already know that.”

God: “Yeah, relax! Who’s getting pissed now?”

Devil: “Not pissed…just a pet peeve. I hate when people use b.c. instead of B.C.E. That’s all.” (This is not a pet peeve of mine. There aren’t too many things that peeve my pet!)

God: “The stories were not all created at the same time; most were added throughout the years. But the first books were created in the same year. The Bible originated in the land between the Tigris and the Euphrates in the year 3526. Oh yeah, B.C.E. This was the location of the world’s largest kingdom, at the time. Life was pretty simple, until the prince’s eighteenth birthday. King Tu Talesi, who everyone called Tut, could no longer sleep at night. His eldest son was a curious child, and the boy began to ask King Tut difficult questions. ‘George, why do you trouble me with such complex inquiries?’ The king would often ask. The problem was compounded when Curious George spoke to his friends, and they proceeded to ask their parents the same questions.”

Devil: “I wanted to help the people, but G thought it would be best for us to allow them to discover the universe’s secrets through the use of reason. That was one of his dumbest ideas!”

[I laugh.]

God: “You agreed dumbass! The king struggled for two months until he finally arrived at a solution. He summonsed all of the fathers in his kingdom to his castle, and asked each man to create stories. Each tale would explain one aspect of human existence which they were incapable of understanding. The King met with the men individually and assigned a specific story based on the man’s level of intelligence.”

Devil: “You’ve read the bible…there wasn’t a MENSA member within a thousand miles of that castle!”

[We all laugh.]

God: “The men returned to the castle after a month, and the King reviewed the myths. He was pleased with the results. His majesty’s subjects would gather at the castle each Sunday and the stories would be read to the children. A problem occurred on the first day. The creation story was read, then the Second father stood in front of the massive congregation and proceeded to read his own, completely different, version of the same creation story.”

Devil: “The king turned to his aid and said, ‘Oh shit, I assigned the story of creation to two different people.’ And the aid replied, ‘Who cares, they’re kids, they are too dumb to notice. I must say, this is a great idea; how come you didn’t ask me to create a story? Remember that joke I made up about the guy who walked on water?’ The king paused for a second then replied, ‘who would believe that nonsense?’ I shit you not!”

Me: “Damn, even king Tut wouldn’t have believed some of the Jesus tales; that says a lot. You mean to tell me that Curious George sat there and accepted two different versions of the same creation story?”

Devil: “Yeah! Turns out George was curious, with a hint of imbecile!”

Me: “Unbelievable!”

Devil: “Tell me about it. We actually had to sit here and watch these geniuses. I mean it was rough; up until the Mesopotamians showed up, I wanted to kill myself.”

God: “The stories continued and the children ate them up. It was just annoying at first, but then we noticed the strangest thing occurring. As the years went by, the adults began to believe their own myths.”

Me: “That must have been a fun time for the two of you!”

Devil: “Yeah, it was the age of en-dark-enment!”

Me: [Laughing hysterically.] “Nice! Can I see a video or something? I would love to watch the transformation from myth to reality.”

Devil: “No! that’s not happening. And if you haven’t guessed—those people are all in the Good Place!”

God: “In fact, their in the Extra Good VIP!”

Me: “What happens there?”

God: “They get to create the hymns!”

Me: “That explains so much!”

Devil: “I’ll take over the story from here. This is usually when he blows a gasket.”

God: “I’m fine.”

Me: “Wait! Before you go on, what about Jonah and the Whale? Was that  included in the first stories?”

God: “What do you think?” *Shakes his head*

Devil: “I’ll talk about this story because you asked, but we really don’t like getting into details when discussing this matter. That story was actually created by a guy who was pissed at king Tut. The man wanted to marry the love of his life, but she was taken by the king as a concubine. In retaliation, the man decided to create a story that would not be believable. His goal was to expose the king’s lies, to the children. I couldn’t believe it, he was actually more shocked then we were. Once he was done, Curious George stood up and gave him a rousing applause.”

God: [Kicks the fountain.] “Jonah and the whale; I’m still stunned!”

Me: “I don’t even know what to say.”

Devil: “How do you think we felt. I was in a state of shock for a century.”

Me: “So G, you get pissed because the people are dumb?”

God: “No, it’s not that; I got over the fact that people are dumb a long time ago. What pisses me off are the stories they tell. It’s bullshit! I never killed anyone, and every single story is about me being angry and jealous; I wouldn’t do that shit, who do they think I am, one of the members of the inquisition? Humans are too dumb to figure shit out for themselves and, instead of saying they don’t know, they create stories that shit on my good name. Wouldn’t you be pissed? These motherfuckers believe all this make-believe bullshit about the horrible things I did, and then have the nerve to use their own crap to torture and kill each other.” (I would get into more details about the atrocities of the Church, but I deal with a lot of them in my novel, so you’ll either have to investigate for yourselves, or wait for the book!)

[I am worried and turn to the Devil]

Devil: [He can see the concern on my face.] “I think that’s enough for you today; I’ll finish up.”

[God does his best to calm down, but he is obviously furious.]

Me: [I stand up and pet God on the head.] “Pretty God, prrrreeeettttty god!” *Blind Billy from Dumb and Dumber’s voice*

[God shoves me back onto the couch.]

Me: “Sensitive!”

Devil: “The people continued to pass on the stories, until they were eventually written down. Over the years, more and more stories were added. In the year 61CE, there was a man named Michael who spoke out against the bible. He claimed the stories were myths. In an effort to prove that people will believe anything, Michael created the stories of a mythical superhero named Jesus. He chose the name Joseph for the step-dad, because that was the name of a kid he detested.”

Me: “What? I thought the stories were written by a bunch of different people? Michael must have hated that kid; using his name for the biggest sucker in the history of mankind!”

Devil: “Yeah! He couldn’t stand the kid. Michael was a great writer, he created the New Testament all by himself.”

God: “Can you believe his stories became the foundations for Christianity? I mean, the guy was drunk while he wrote!” [Stands up.] “I can’t do this, I have to go calm down.”

[God departs.]

Devil: “He can never make it to the end.”

Me: “I don’t blame him. How are you able to keep your cool?”

Devil: “Sometimes you just have to laugh or else you’ll go crazy!” [Shakes head]

Me: “So that that’s the story of how the bible was created?”

Devil: “Almost done. You can’t forget the Emperor Constantine. He converted so he could bang this hot Christian girl from the eastern part of the empire. She chose her favorite stories and he forced all of the Christian leaders to accept them as the new Canon.”

Me: “All for a chick?”

Devil: “You wouldn’t believe how many historical events happened just because someone wanted to bang a chick.”

Me: “This is too much. I can’t take anymore. It’s going to take me a while to wrap my head around all this information.”

Devil: “Yeah, so far everyone who hears the story about the origin of the bible has to go to his or her room to re-energize.”

Me: “I’m outta here. Maybe next time, you can tell me about the aliens!”

Devil: “What? We already told you…there are no aliens.”

Me: “Oh yeah, I forgot!”

[I depart and head towards area 1492.]

Rodrigo: “Did you bring it up?”

Me: “Yeah, I did at the end but he denied it.”

Rodrigo: “I think you need to spend more time in the VIP Lounge before they will trust you.”

Me: “No, it wasn’t that. I was just too exhausted. I’ll get the answers soon; the twins trust me.”

Rodrigo: “Ok! Good job. You should go re-energize, then we can go over some more of the information about the aliens.”

Me: “Ok. I’ll talk to you later.” [I head back to my quarters.]

[Until Next Time!!!]


The Greatest Rapper Ever Is Not Dead

Mention the phrase “Greatest Rapper Ever” and witness the intensity with which people will voice their opinions. Music touches the lives of listeners on a level that is immeasurable. Growing up in the 80’s, I can’t remember a Michael Jackson concert that didn’t involve fans fainting. I even have pictures of myself in a red, leather M.J. jacket. (No, pictures will not be posted on Facebook. At least not today!)

I am the first to jump in and voice my opinion on the matter. There have been many heated arguments over who is the best of all-time. And I mean heated, bad heat, Miami Heat! You would think the winner was debating with the hopes of taking home some unbelievable grand prize. In fact, if I didn’t know my friends well enough, I would have feared for my safety. (By the way, there is no other way to argue about who is the greatest rapper of all-time. You just can’t have a civil discussion on the matter. Also, there should always be liquor involved!!!) The reason people argue with such fervor, is based on the passion that music produces. Rap fans support their favorite artists with the same zeal as the crazed followers of European soccer clubs. (Well, except for all the violence!)

My favorite story concerning this topic happened in Miami. I was visiting my cousin Emanuel, whose favorite rapper will be purposely omitted from this post. This may come as a surprise, but we were sitting at an outdoor bar along with his friend “St. Francis of Assisi.” St. Francis, as he likes to be called, innocently asked Ema, “Who are your top five rappers of all-time?” The response was a list of five usual suspects, Keyser Soze, and the gang. (If you haven’t watched the movie, where did you grow up?)

St. Francis didn’t hesitate to jump into his top five:

“Number one is Jay-Z.”

“Number two is Biggie.”

“Then, Dylan Dylan Dylan!!! That boy spits hot fire!!!” *Dylan fake accent*

That Saint Francis is a funny guy. Great trip! Although, we did end up eating at the worst Hooters in the world. This is an argument that cannot be challenged. I am ready to state a fact: “The Hooters in Coconut Grove, FL is the worst in the world; it is the quintessence of suck!” In the Greek sense, here is my Apology. (I would explain for those who don’t understand, but I’d much rather you take the initiative and educate yourselves!)

1)      There were males on the wait staff. I could understand if these men were surgically enhanced transsexuals, hired to confuse young college students, but they were guys. And they had orange Hooters t-shirts on. What the Fuck!!! [Let me take this time to state another fact: I am not into transsexuals. I said “I could understand;” they have Hooters! It makes sense.] (A guy working as a waiter at Hooters is the very antithesis of what the food chain is all about.) We walked in. “What’s going on fellas!” Nothings fucking going on! This is fucking Hooters and you’re a fucking guy!! What the fuck do you think is fucking going on!!!

2)      Our waitress, a beautiful and top-heavy young damsel, seemed perfect for the position when we noticed her approaching from the other side of the restaurant…UNTIL! We saw her stomach; SHE WAS PREGNANT! What the fuck kind of Twilight Zone Hooter’s is this fucking place?

3)      The second waitress, who brought over our drinks, was, how do I put this delicately? Of course! She was a few cups short of a beer pong game. And to top it off, she was old. “Is this a fucking TV show? Are we being Punk’d?

We were actually the first group of guys who went to Hooters for the wings!!!

[Please forgive the tangent!]

Obviously, the title of this post gives away the fact that I don’t believe Biggie, Pimp C, or Tupac can lay claim to the desired title. No, the title holder is not dead. (To be absolutely, positively, one-hundred percent clear, I mention Pimp C in jest!)

The arguments end today!!!

Who is the greatest rapper of all-time? 50 Cent? Bun B? Rick Ross? Jay-Z? Snoop? Lil’ Wayne? Kool G Rap? Big Daddy Kane? Scarface? Eightball? Soulja Boy Tell ‘Em? (C’mon son!!! We can all agree it’s not Soulja Boy. Although he does make hits; you can’t argue that fact.)

What every rap “connoisseur” is in fact wasting his or her time arguing, is not “who is the greatest rapper of all-time,” but “who is my favorite rapper of all time.”

There can be no greatest rapper of all-time. There is no criteria! What would you base the argument on?

Most records sold? NO!

Most metaphors per sixteen bars? No!

Most consecutive Rhymes? No!

Best free-stylist? NO!

Best battle rapper? No! (I could go on but that would just be ridiculous!)

You will be hard pressed to convince a young man from Oakland that E-40, or Too Short is not the greatest Rapper of all-time. Try persuading a fan from Long Beach that Snoop is not the best ever. You would be the greatest debater of all-time, if you could convince me that a member of the original Cash Money Records isn’t the greatest. (Any time I mention Cash Money, I am strictly speaking of the classic albums, not the Drakes and Nicky Minajs of the label. I’m not saying those artists aren’t talented; I just like what I like!)

No, LL Cool J, self proclaiming yourself the best ever by titling your album G.O.A.T. (Greatest Of All Time) doesn’t make it true. By the way, I believe Canibus out-battled you. His ‘2nd Round Knockout’ was better than your ‘Can-I-Bus.’ Any true rap fan understood that your label helped to promote your “victory” through bias articles in the major industry magazines. LL Cool J, the greatest of all time? C’mon! I mean some of the hits are good; I always enjoyed ‘Going Back To Cali,’ but Canibus was correct “ninety-nine percent of your fans wear high heals!” I’d much rather have unprotected sex with a lesion-covered prostitute, in a dirty motel, in a third world country, and ejaculate inside of her, then listen to Mr. Cool J’s songs all day. (I apologize for the graphic description, but I really want to make my preference clear.) In the words of, arguably, the greatest freestyle rapper of all-time, “Causing problems bringing drama regardless, I get my point across like a trapeze artist without falling” – Canibus.

Quarrelling vociferously over opinion can be fine, but people must be careful to understand what they are disputing. Stop attempting to figure out who is the best rapper of all-time and enjoy the music; that’s why the artists create hits. Isn’t it ironic that most of the arguments end the way they all should have started in the first place, “Well, to me ‘Johnnie Rapper’ is the best!”

For Pete’s sake, (FYI: I’m the Pete in that phrase!!!) the greatest rapper may as well be “god.” Not because he has the sickest verses in the bible, (which he does!) but simply for the fact that he too doesn’t exist!!!

That being said, Lil’ Wayne is the GREATEST OF ALL-TIME!!! Not only has he been making hits since 1995 on B.G.’s album ‘True Story,’ but he continues to dominate and produce classics!!!

I challenge anyone to find better lyrics then his verse on Tha Carter’s  BM J.R.:

*****This has nothing to do with the topic, at all, but Real Time with Bill Maher is currently on television so I’ll share. When discussing Harry Potter’s last installment, he said, “I don’t believe this is the last book; we all know what’s coming next…’Harry Potter and the crippling student loan!’*****

You probably won’t do the song justice so play the actual track while reading!

[Verse 1 – Lil Wayne]
Murder capital, only key to survive is kill
If the elements don’t murder you the riders will fo real
And niggas know I goes hard to the fullest
Get involved and I got’ em’ playing dodge ball with bullets
I got the sawed off fully, in the sean john hoody
Get fucked ya play pussy
We hit em’ up when they ain’t looking and them body shots hurt
But the head shots took him
And if the red dot spot him then the hollow head got him
Knock his top to his bottom jack
You see me grind from the bottom just to make it to the bottom
At the very bottom of the map
Lil-weezy-ana piranhas everywhere you at
You gotta weigh an extra condom and an extra gat
You’re bitch could get it for acting like a man
and niggaz in Pakistan ain’t packin’ like ya man
I back his hand ya man on command
In front of niggaz he cool with the boys on fam
I’m on hot, I adjust in different climates, ducking the animal keep on running wit
my primates
You ain’t did it till you done it like in 5 states,
Weezy hustle no blubber I put on weight
And in a drought I go on I diet and stretch more
Loose all that weight, leave a nigga with stretch marks
You don’t even come up to a nigga chest, paws up,
Pa, what the fuck they play it in the club for ?
Real shit I’m ducking bombs from a drug war,
no religion but the cops swear that I’m a drug lord
Father forgive em’ for they no not who they pushing lord
Father forgive me if I have to send them to ya lord
I’m just trying to dodge the shots they send to the guard
They riding up highway to heaven boulevard
Damn, them niggaz pussy and jive, not even in an eye exam they ain’t looking for “I”
The A and the K will make ya face cook to the side
Now when you smiling everybody gotta look from the side
Cause when you wilding you ain’t looking, you just looking high
and when we hungry you look like pie
Sweet potato ass nigga, you lemon meringue, apple custard, cherry jelly
Don’t make me get the biscuit buster
What up gizzle you my distant brother
Real shit nigga same father different mother, yep
I skip the fronting and sticks to keeping it trill
You not know me for nothing other
I’m something other than people you feel,
I’m deeper for real
I’m deeper than skills, my speakers can kill
Rest in peace

[Verse 2 – Lil Wayne]
Ay, ay
You sleep in a field for trying the dude
I bust ya head until the meat turns ya mind to food
Food for thought, think I ain’t lying to you
I lie his body in grease set fire to him
I tie his body in sheets, put the tires to him
Make him feel the escalade, put his feet in the blade
I’m near heating and blaze a nigga keep they ways when I’m in the streets with blades
Watch, my nigga hungry, he’ll eat the plate
And if I ask, the homeboy will eat’cha face
And though he got me, you can ask, I’m like a pool table
I keep the eight
My side pocket sideways when I pop it leave a nigga sideways for five days
Birdman talk to em’

[Verse 3 – Lil Wayne]
Ay, ay,
Check my swag, I travel like sound dog
You play hard in the gravel like ground dog
I’m underground call me groundhog
Lay down laws call me ground law
Don’t confuse me with the law, naw but just confuse me with my pa
Because I am the Birdman J-R
I ain’t tripping nigga, I play the corner like ripkin nigga
With the 40 cal ripkin nigga, rip a nigga
Flip ya vehicle, split ya windshield
Whack ya Baby momma but I let the kid live
And people say that I am a kid still, cause the lil nigga still rides on them big wheels
You feeling animal then come on and get killed
And sig pill bandannas like bananas
Say I’m slight bananas I blow a weekend in Havana
In my cabana with my bottom bitch from savanna
Man a train couldn’t stop ya man
I man up and you not a man
I stand up, say I got my land
I’m the man of my land
Call it lil-weezy-ana
Thats the new plan


Sportswriters Can Be Wrong (Why I Watch)

Competing at the highest level is not an easy task. When it comes to soccer, there is no bigger stage than the World Cup. Women from all over the globe fine-tune their skills over a period of four years to prepare for the rigors of the WWC. This painstaking process is similar to the Olympics. When the Games are held, I try my best to follow as many events as possible, and I honestly mean that. I can’t remember how many times in my life, I have cheered on the United States in lesser known sports such as curling and equestrian.

Initially, I don’t understand the rules, but the commentators are able to get me up to speed. The most important factor, to me, is the preparation and desire to win. There has never been a sport which doesn’t intrigue me. Even competitions that are not athletic events are interesting to me. Whether it is the national spelling bee, America’s Best Dance Crew, or log cutting during ESPN’s Great Outdoor Games. (Yeah, I said it; I’ve watched ABDC—Mario Lopez is the man. How can you not support A.C. SLATER!) The dedication and commitment required to succeed at the Olympic Games is unmatched. The heart-break is also unparalleled, one can lose by less than a tenth of a second. I could never imagine devoting years of mental and physical preparation, only to earn a silver medal by a fraction of a second; it doesn’t seem fair. Why do I watch? How can I not watch!

The consensus among sportswriters seems to be, “the U.S. women’s soccer team choked.” Bleacher Report columnist Kyle Vassalo wrote, ‘Huge Choke Job Sets Back Women’s American Soccer.’ (This is not a personal attack on Vassalo, I simply read the Bleacher Report because I am a follower of the Florida Gators, and I happened to come across his article.) ESPN’s Jemele Hill also got it wrong in her column, ‘The World Cup ‘C’ Word: Choke.’ Just because people called the US Men’s loss in the Gold Cup Final a choke, doesn’t mean they got it right! (Again, not an attack on Hill, I follow her on twitter because I have always respected her as a journalist, but she was inaccurate on this one.)

The term “Choke” is used far to often, but we need to examine all of the factors before forcing the title on an individual or team. We must be careful not to disregard the competitive nature of the opponent. Sometimes, the other side has a will to win that cannot be matched or understood by the prognosticators, or so called “experts.”

I can appreciate how someone could mistakenly categorize Sunday’s Women’s World Cup loss as a choke which sets back US women’s soccer, but nothing can be further from the truth. In fact, the final match between the US and Japan was one of the most inspiring sporting events of our time. There are millions of women around the world who will turn to soccer as a means to improve their lives. The Japanese victory, not only uplifted earthquake ravaged Japan but was an example of what hard work and a strong will can accomplish. If you understand the nature of competition, you will be hard-pressed to call the US loss a choke. There are always two sides in every competition. Understanding each story is paramount to evaluating the outcome.

The US team was not the overwhelming favorite coming into the WWC, regardless of the number one ranking. The distinction of most probable victor was reserved for two-time defending champion and host nation, Germany. Also, Brazil, Sweden and France were all capable challengers. The US team actually struggled to qualify. Furthermore, most of the commentary leading up to the tournament was about, IF the United States would be able to sneak by Brazil and, IF they did, how would they beat powerhouse Germany. Yes, the number one ranking has some merit, but coach Pia Sundhage’s talented squad was not playing like the best in the world prior to the tournament. The experts were discussing, how the rest of the world had closed the gap on the US women. Not to mention, the American team last won the title in 1999.

The Japanese victory, in the quarter finals over host Germany, was labeled one of the biggest upsets in sports history. Prior to the game, no one gave Japan a chance. Even during the match, it seemed as if the commentators were simply waiting for Germany to turn it on and win. The experts often predetermine a champion based on talent, usually failing to consider HEART. The German loss was branded a choke initially but, upon further review, we now understand that the Japanese team was just better than every other nation in the WWC. The word choke is used because people often underestimate the “underdog.” There are too many instances in which a ranking turns out to be completely meaningless; it happens every year during March Madness.

The pre-season polls in college football are arguably the most erroneous rankings. Let me remind everyone that my Gators were ranked #4 in US Today and #3 in the AP polls; that didn’t quite work out for the team, which ended up in turmoil and unranked at season’s end. Why was Japan such an underdog? Because the prognosticators, who almost never know what they are talking about, said they were! What the perception of Japan was before the tournament didn’t matter. No one would be calling a US loss a choke if it came at the hands of the mighty Germans.

There are those who may say, “Japan’s win was a fluke.” Those are the idiots! The Japanese equalizing goal in the game’s final minutes defines competition; if they weren’t supposed to score, the referee should have ended the game once the US regained the lead. The WWC is just another example of the experts being completely wrong, which is why the games are never played on paper.

How can you call a team working hard and persevering, a choke by the other team. No, the Miami Heat didn’t choke—the Mavericks were just a better team. Lebron James didn’t choke in the NBA Finals, he merely has yet to figure out the secrets to winning. Making it over the hump and finally becoming a champion is a skill that must be acquired. I am one of the most die-hard Red Sox fans and, in the past, I have called the 2004 comeback against the Yankees the biggest choke in History. I was mistaken; we all were. The Yankees didn’t choke. The Sox laid down during the first three games, before refocusing and playing like champions. The Yankees didn’t collapse—Boston barely won games four through six. The Yankees were simply out-competed. Going into the series, everyone believed the Sox had a chance, and every single Red Sox fan knew we were going to win, until the 0-3 deficit. As a matter of fact, we felt the Sox were the ones who choked when they were down three games to none.

I’m not suggesting the word choke can never apply. There are many instances in which players or teams succumb to the pressures of winning. Rory McIlroy’s performance at the 2011 Master’s comes to mind. In that instance, there were no rankings which predicted Rory as the expected champion. He performed amazingly, then fell apart in the end. You can categorize his loss as choking if you wish, but the WWC is completely different. Two teams earned the opportunity to play in the final game and one team prevailed in the end. The Japanese played the exact same game as they did against the Germans; they earned the victory!

As far as Mr. Vassalo calling the game a set back, he is dead wrong. The Associated Press has reported that the WWC set the new record for tweets-per-second, eclipsing the (British) Royal Wedding and the death of Osama Bin Laden. I watched the game in the living room with several male family members and we watched every minute, cheering on each scoring chance. The game did everything to legitimize women’s soccer as an exciting sport. There were three Brazil soccer fans in the room, and we only changed the channel, to watch the Brazil vs. Paraguay game, during halftime of the WWC. The level of competition rivaled any major men’s sporting event, and the American loss was equally frustrating. Anyone who chooses the term “choked” to describe a loss in the Championship game of a World Tournament, which only occurs every four years, must not appreciate how difficult it is to win in sports. Did Roberto Baggio choke in the 1998 World Cup Final against Brazil? No! The Brazilian team was great. Baggio over-kicked the ball; these instances happen in sports. Winning is never easy!

As much as I hoped to see the US bring home the gold, watching the Japanese players perform with the true hearts-of-champions was amazing. They stepped up in the clutch and did what was necessary to attain victory. The US did not choke; there were many missed first half opportunities, but Japan also had missed chances. A game-changing infraction happened in the first half when the referee mistakenly called Shinobu Ohno, who was onside with a full head of steam, offside. Hope Solo is a great goalie, but I doubt she could have prevented a goal. Women’s soccer in America is in good hands. Abby Wambach is the world’s premier scorer, and a new star has emerged, Alex Morgan.

I believe the WWC’s following will continue to grow, and the Olympics will be a great sporting event for women’s soccer. No Jemele, I am not lowering the expectations for the US team because they are women. I’m simply pointing out that they stepped on the field, played at a high level, and lost to a better team. As far as the penalty kicks are concerned, did anyone actually expect the US to win? I have always been under the impression that the team which fights to earn a tie, will usually out-perform the team who has to deal with the disappointment of losing a lead. Not to mention, Hope Solo didn’t have the luxury of studying previous Japanese PKs; this was Japan’s first ever. Advantage Blue Team. I didn’t witness any “choke,” Japan out-performed the US.

Hopefully the United States players forget about the accolades which come with being ranked number one, and prepare like champions. The reason I watch sports is because I know the outcome is never predetermined; no team or individual is supposed to win. Being a champion is something that is earned, not handed out by experts. Set Back? No, US women’s soccer has a new fan. Great job ladies…bring home Olympic Gold!


Players Don’t Cheat

One cannot address relationships without first mentioning the mythical double standard. There isn’t a guy in the world who hasn’t heard a woman say, “if men can do it, women can too!” I agree. In fact, no statement could be more truthful. Women can do exactly what men do; there is no difference.

“Wait? You just said there was no double standard.” That’s right! There is no double standard. MEN ARE SLUTS, WHORES, or whatever you want to call them. That is a fact. Don’t waste my time telling me about a guy who sleeps around. If you want to shock me, tell me about the “good” guy who is faithful. The reason there is no double standard is based on the fact that men know they are sluts. Do me a favor. (Men and women can participate.) Go through your phone, pick a random guy, and call him. When he picks up, tell him that you think he is a slut. If he gives a shit, send me an e-mail with the number to your bank account so I can deposit a thousand dollars.

That’s what “independent” women don’t understand. If you do what the guys are doing, you are a slut. The fact that you give a shit, is your problem.

Example 1: A man goes on vacation. He sleeps with a new woman every single day; two females on Sunday. What a whore! He returns, filled with a sense of pride. The trip was extremely successful, barring any STDs.

Example 2: A woman goes on vacation. She sleeps with a new guy every single day; twice on Sunday. What a whore! She returns, filled with a sense of shame. Why doesn’t she respect herself?

See the difference? In both cases, the vacationer is a whore. The man doesn’t care, but the woman does. Either you embrace the fact that you are a whore, because YOU ARE, or you keep your legs closed. (There’s your mythical double standard.)

FYI: People are all up in your business, because you are a whore, it is obvious, and you keep restating the fact on-line. The world is too small. Can everyone please stop putting his or her business on the social networking sites if you want people to mind their own business!!!

***I speak facts. In no way am I trying to say that I am not guilty of cheating. I just don’t make excuses about it, and at the end of the day, I know that it is a cowardly act. Furthermore, if you are a slut, don’t ask me whether or not I think you’re a slut; I will tell you the truth!***

Now to the main topic: Players Don’t Cheat

This seems pretty straight forward to me, but I guess I need to elaborate. By definition, or at least the way I define the word, a player is someone, male or female, who has many different partners. The player doesn’t make a commitment to any of these partners. He or she makes it perfectly clear that there is no desire to be in a relationship. The goal is simply to have fun. The player will move from partner to partner and can always find a new one. The player is a completely honest person. Being a player is not about deceit; it’s about being desired. There are no lies, no games. Bill Bellamy’s movie ‘How To Be A Player’ wasn’t about a player; it was about a liar. Those women believed that they were special and some even believed they were in a committed relationship with him. A player tells women there is no commitment; you can see whoever you want, and we’ll have fun whenever we link up. The reason this standard has been lowered is the fact that there are not too many people in the world who can be players. Well, I’m talking about men. Any woman can be a player, it’s probably the easiest thing in the world. (Just understand that the term player, whether describing a man or a woman, still means the person is a slut.)

A player has a relaxed, stress free life. He or she can pick up the phone at the drop of a hat and call any one from their contacts and there will be a willing partner. I must reiterate, there is no effort; players just have a certain je ne sais quoi if you will.

Cheaters are often confused with players; cheaters are a completely different animal. People who get involved in committed relationships and then seek a partner on the side, are cowards. They want to be players, but they lack the necessary qualities, so they take the cheap way out. Do everyone else a favor, if you plan on cheating on your partner, don’t introduce them to friends and family. (If anyone thinks that I wrote this to score points with the chicks, YOU’RE OUT OF YOUR FUCKING MIND!!! I’m just being truthful. In no way is this post meant to change society or stop people from cheating. I just want to give a clear definition so those who are confused can have a better understanding. In fact, I may cheat in the future; I am no better than any other asshole out there!)

Why do women cheat? Because being a slut is the new chic! That’s it, no other reason. No, she doesn’t cheat because he cheats. That would just make her a whore like him. Cheating is not a reason to cheat—it’s a reason to breakup, or make changes.

Why do men cheat? There are several answers. The first and most basic, is the fact that men are programmed to sleep with as many women as possible. We are conditioned from a very young age. Don’t believe me? The next time you are around a little boy, listen to how many people tell him about all the hearts he is going to break when he gets older. I believe it was a professor at UMass Boston who said, “It is a man’s goal to plant his seeds in as many fields as possible, and it is the woman’s duty to limit her field to one farmer.” (Pretty basic!!!)

Men will also cheat because the other girl has a fatter ass, and she is a known whore. (Ladies, when you see a girl that you don’t like, the last thing you want to tell your boyfriend is, “she’s such a slut!” You might as well give him a pack of condoms and say, “enjoy!”) Men cheat because fucking the same girl can be boring. If his mind is not stimulated, he is going to cheat. There is no woman in the world who is hot enough to keep a man from cheating. Only a woman who can stimulate a man mentally can keep him from cheating. Don’t believe me? Ask Halle Berry. There are many reason’s why men cheat, figure it out for yourself. In no way am I condoning cheating, but sometimes when people try to hold on to a relationship that doesn’t work, cheating will occur.

Women always say, “a man changes after he has sex with a woman!” That is a fact! Men will indeed change after sleeping with a woman, but he doesn’t become a different person, he becomes himself. The actual change takes place when he discovers that he doesn’t want a relationship with the particular woman, so he becomes whoever she wants him to be so he can seal the deal. (Isn’t that such a horrible way to talk about sex? “Seal the deal!” I can recall one instance in which a guy, after being frustrated by a girl’s stalling, actually told her, “let’s get the show on the road!” I love my circle of friends; you can’t make these stories up!!!)

**Advice for women. The next time you are in the mall and you are thinking about what outfit you are going to buy to make your ass look better or your breasts bigger, remember this, “MEN DON’T CARE!” If a guy likes you, he’ll like you no matter what you have on; all that fashion crap is to impress other women. (I’ve never heard a man say, “damn, she’s hot, but that shirt is from target.” If that ever happens, the guy didn’t turn you down because of your outfit, it’s because he’s into guys.) Implants, botox and all that other garbage won’t get it done either. Read a book, get a hobby and improve your personality, a man can only be stimulated by your bodies for so long. Work on what makes you a great person and a wonderful guy will notice! Go to the clubs and sleep around, a wonderful guy will notice! So the next time you think, “there are no good guys out there.” Remember that he probably saw you, sloppy drunk, and hanging all over some guy with a nice car. There may be great guys out there, are you a great girl? If you don’t respect yourself, a man will never respect you!**

**Advice for men. Be yourself. Trying too hard is noticeable!!! I believe the kids are calling it “thirsty!”**

Once a cheater, always a cheater? No, that’s not true. Anyone can learn from a past mistake and become a better person. Just because he or she cheated on a past partner doesn’t mean the pattern will remain the same. The question should never be, “did you cheat?” The more important query is, “why did you cheat?” But the saying is correct when it applies to the same partner. Once a person cheats on you, it’s best to just move on. If your partner can make the decision to disrespect you once, nothing will ever change. If you take this person back, it will just strengthen the belief that you will put up with anything. I know everyone won’t agree with this so, all I’ll say is, good luck getting your partner to stop cheating; have some pride and just move on!

Before any guy becomes vexed by the fact that I am giving away “secrets,” just remember that game is strong and women will always believe that these facts only apply to someone else’s man. You’re good!!! (Actually, if you’re worried about anything souring your game, step it up!)

I often hear people say, “we were meant to be.” No, that’s crazy talk; you sound like a stalker. No one is meant to be. Relationships are not predetermined, they must be created by two people who have similar goals. If the relationship didn’t work out, it’s because the people are incompatible. And there is no such thing as, “we met at the wrong time.” No one throws away a relationship with the right person, regardless of timing. If it works, it will work. The fact that it didn’t work, is because one person is delusional and the other person didn’t see a great future.

Don’t try to change people. They are who they are and they won’t change for you. At least not over the long haul; you are just setting yourself up for failure.

**Women, please stop saying, “I can’t believe he cheated on me with HER, she’s not even cute!” He cheated, because you are annoying, not because you are no longer cute. The new girl is fun and exciting, stop nagging and he won’t cheat. Maybe she is completely different from you, which is what attracted him to her, or she may just be a whore. Either way, I can guarantee you that SHE NEVER NAGS!!!**

A man will have a difficult time respecting a woman who he sleeps with on the first date. Regardless of what he says, he will always remember that she gave it up on the first night. Every man says the same thing, “if I got it on the first night, anyone can get it!” It’s a sure sign of a slut. Ladies, if you are a slut and you want to change your loose morals, you have to make a commitment. Stop fucking everyone! People talk!!! Meet a guy that you like, and let him know that you have made some mistakes in your life. You are now a different person and you want something real. You can do it ladies!!!

Being a whore has nothing to do with desire. It is human nature to be attracted to other people, even if you are in a committed relationship. Sluts are the men and women who can’t control themselves. I never understand why people feel guilty for having feelings for an ex. You will always care for your exes, it doesn’t mean anything, its natural.

I often get the feeling that I am unlucky to be born in the era of “the whore,” but then I realize that whores have been around from the dawn of time. I know I don’t believe in “god” but I love to study religion; it’s amazes me to learn how little people know about their own faith. I may be atheist, but at least I know what I believe!

Recently, while reading my bible, (Yes, I have a bible, a Qur’an, and several other religious texts; I’m a scholar! I wouldn’t talk about how ridiculous faiths are without studying them.) I came across an interesting story. I think everyone should dust off their bibles, and open to the book of Ezekiel; chapter 23: The Two Sisters. Just to give a sample of how much I enjoyed reading the tale, I’ll write down my favorite quote: “Thus she gave herself as a harlot to them, to all the elite of the Assyrians…she did not give up the harlotry which she had begun in Egypt, when they had lain with her as a young girl, fondling her virginal breasts and pouring out their impurities on her.” Ezekiel 23:7-8 (Bible stories! Can’t you just picture gathering all the children around the fireplace on Christmas morning and reading passages from the “good book!”)

If you want to be a good friend, I advise you to tread carefully, when discovering infidelity. Don’t tell your friend to leave the partner who is cheating. Simply state the facts that you have, then say that you will always be there to support any decision. This may not seem like the best approach but it is. Your friend will either stay together with the cheater, or breakup. This decision will be made regardless of what you say. There are too many people who are foolish enough to believe in true love. (True love does not exist. If you take any two people who have relatively close interests, they can create a strong loving relationship. But it will take hard work and an understanding that they have to deny natural urges.) People will often remain in abusive relationships, because they believe that the person who is abusing them will eventually change. I must have missed the part when true love evolved from abuse and disrespect. People come and go. If you aren’t getting everything from your relationship, LEAVE!!! Don’t be sucked in by those who claim to be having fabulous sex lives. They are probably secretly dealing with STDs; herpes is not cool!!! You probably shouldn’t sleep with someone until you fall in love with them, if you want to avoid STDs, but don’t bother heeding my advice!!!

I have stated facts, whether you agree or not doesn’t change anything. You can enjoy a horrible relationship because you know better than I do. Maybe it’s “god’s will!” These are great ways to deal with cheating. If your relationship begins on the wrong foot, there will be cheating. Good luck folks!!!


This Actually Happened – July 16th, 2011

My love for the Florida Gators is well documented. The only problem I have with the team is the fact that the University is located in Bible Country. This bit of information has never affected me until…TWITTER! Recently, I began following a guy who reports some of the team news. Everything was fine until I started my blog. Apparently, my views are disagreeable to him. Problem? You wouldn’t think so, but remember, we’re dealing with a religious nut. This past Sunday, I received a DM from the guy. It read, “You were mentioned in this blog.” “Great!” I thought. Turned out it was a virus. The situation was a little annoying, but did he win? NO! His minuscule little brain caused him to believe he was doing God’s work. I’d say he is a domestic terrorist. Why didn’t he just leave a comment which explained his valid point? I think we all know why. I won’t mention his twitter name, because he will not be getting any publicity from me…UNFOLLOW! My first true hater–I feel so special. BELIEVE IT OR NOT!

Check back tomorrow for a preview of next week’s entries!


My Obsession With Sharks

My kinship with sharks began in the 80’s, exactly how you would expect–the 1975 blockbuster, ‘Jaws.’ I loved watching the movie, but I was terrified of sharks.

I can recall being eight years-old and begging my mother to pay for swimming lessons at the Huntington Ave YMCA. (The first person who posts a video of themselves listening to the village people song ‘YMCA’ while acting out the letters on facebook, will be my hero! There will also be an infinitesimal cash prize!) She didn’t want to at first, but I was spoiled so mom eventually agreed to buy a monthly membership. Excitement filled me, on the first day of lessons; I was imagining myself being the next Michael Phelps. (I know he wasn’t around back then, but can you name a famous swimmer?) I can remember the day as if it were yesterday. I entered the dressing room and changed into my brand new cheetah-print Speedo. Wait, that’s definitely not what happened. Hold on while I …

OK! I changed into my baggy Boston Celtics basketball shorts; the quintessence of cool. Sorry, I should have wrote “fresh,” it was the 80’s! My mother sat on one of the poolside benches and watched, filled with pride; her little boy was about to become one of the greatest athletes in the history of aquatic sports. I stood at the water’s edge with supreme confidence.

“Today, I will tame you, great puddle of chlorine.” I said assertively.

The instructor announced the basic rules and displayed the proper swimming stroke. I mimicked his motion perfectly; I WAS A NATURAL!

“Ok, everyone get in.” He instructed.

I sat on the deck with my feet in the water; I would go no further. “Oh mighty pool of the Young Men’s Christian Association, You have proven yourself a worthy adversary. For today, I cower at your vastness.”

There was no way in Hell anyone would be able to convince me that there were no sharks in the water. I fought and cried, as if I were a two year-old, begging a parent for a candy at the supermarket counter. Noticeably, my mom was pissed! Hello money, have you met Mr. drain? Down you go! (In case you were wondering, I didn’t set foot back inside the YMCA until my freshman year at Boston Latin School, and that was to play basketball. I have no idea what the pool looks like!)

It would be another couple years before I gained the courage to enter a pool. Even then, I would always keep close to the walls because deep down inside, no matter how ridiculous it may have seemed, I knew there was a great white shark in there somewhere.

I can remember one instance, I was either fourteen or fifteen. I was at my grandparents house, where there is an in-ground pool in the backyard; I was the only grandchild there on that sizzling afternoon. GREAT…or so I thought.

There I was, having the time of my life, jumping off the diving board and racing to the waters edge for another leap. I even swam laps to the shallow end of the pool and back. Somehow, I forgot about sharks and simply seized the day. UNTIL…

The screen door slid open and my aunt appeared. She was well aware of  my bizarre fear of sharks, but she assumed that I had gotten over the fear. Standing at the edge of the pool, she yelled, “watch out for the shark!”

My aunt laughed–I didn’t.

I swam as fast as I could to the waters edge. Words can be extremely powerful! I wanted to continue swimming, but I couldn’t muster the courage. She couldn’t believe it. “Are you crazy? You’re not going to swim because of sharks?”

In a word, “YES!”

I know it may seem insane, but until a person learns how to deal with a phobia, it will control his or her life. No matter how silly the fear may be. Although I have gained the ability to conquer my fear, it continues to exist. Every time I am in the center of a pool, I have the feeling that a shark will swim up and bite me, in the same manner that Jaws attacked the young lady at the beginning of the movie.

There is one aspect of the fear which boggles my mind. Whenever I swim in the ocean, where an actual shark can show up, I have zero fear. I am that crazy guy who is swimming so far out that you can barely see him; I can’t explain why the fear only occurs in pools. I even had a manatee swim by me while in the Atlantic Ocean, off the Florida coast. I saw the huge mammal passing, and didn’t even flinch. I also scuba-dived while in Cancun, but I wasn’t frightened. We jumped into small two-seater speedboats and raced towards the reef. I jumped in with no trepidation, completely trusting the instructor, who promised me “there will be no sharks.”

While on vacation in Jamaica, I even jumped off the booze-cruise and swam to shore. (I was drunk out of my mind and I honestly didn’t think I was going to complete the swim. Halfway there, I switched to hybrid mode, using the efficient and energy-saving backstroke. Always remember to GO-GREEN!) I also didn’t worry about sharks when I jumped off the cliff at Rick’s Café, landing in the ocean beneath. Longest fall of my life!

One might assume that my fear of sharks would make me hate the perfect, genetically engineered, killing machines but I don’t. In fact, I love sharks! One of my favorite experiences happened in Florida. (No, not with a stripper in Miami. Does your mind ever leave the gutter?) I’m referring to SEAWORLD in Orlando.

“Shamu?” You ask!

No, I’m not into whales. (Literally or figuratively!)

Seaworld has an attraction called Terrors of the Deep. It’s probably the largest fish tank in the world. (I didn’t research this fact because I would be crushed to discover there is a larger tank, in some location that I have yet to visit.) The massive tank is filled with all sorts of dangerous marine species. For me, the stars of the show were the many great white sharks. The best feature of the tank is the slow-moving walkway, which is located in a tunnel at the bottom. Being able to watch great white sharks swim over my head and alongside me was an experience that I will never forget. (Yeah, I like sharks!)

I guess I like all marine life—sharks are just my favorite! This is most likely the reason I love eating fish so much. The experience at Seaworld has always remained with me, which is why I keep fish as pets. My roommates and I now have two large aquariums, and you guessed it…THERE ARE SHARKS! Well, not exactly! In the industry, they are called iridescent sharks, but they’re really just catfish which look like sharks. We wanted to get piranhas, but they are illegal in Massachusetts, so we settled on a red-tail catfish. (Don’t tell PETA, but I love watching fish feed. I wrote settled on a red-tail catfish, but they are probably more ferocious than piranhas. **YouTube: ‘red tail catfish eats fuzzy mouse,’ you won’t be disappointed.**)

We regularly fed our fish the flakes, until the discovery of “feeder-fish,” which are tiny goldfish. The procedure is to buy many feeder-fish, then release them into the tank. The larger fish will eat the “feeders” whenever they get hungry. (It makes for a great show. **This is merely survival of the fittest!**)

We have a large tank, full of different species, and we once released thirty-two feeders. Several entertaining days later, there were only three feeder-fish remaining. I can concur with Darwin because the three feeders survived and grew to adulthood, before dying. The autopsy report from the veterinarian claimed the cause of death was AIDS, but he wasn’t completely certain!

**Kids say the darndest things** I spend a good amount of time with Amari, my nephew, and I remember one day sitting in the kitchen, in front of the fish tank. I was eating fish, obviously. (If you’re ever in the Boston area, I recommend Nos Casa Café, located on Dudley St.) He turned to the tank, then turned to my plate and said, “Don’t you feel bad?”

“Why?” I replied.

“Because you’re eating fish in front of the fish. That’s just wrong!” He reasoned.

“They don’t care!” (That was my reply, but deep down inside, we all know that they do care. **I shed one tear!**)

One day I will swim with great white sharks, in a cage of course; I like sharks, but I’m not crazy! I also want to own the world’s largest in-home aquarium. Most people can picture their dream home—I imagine my dream fish tank, with a house surrounding it. My connection to the movie Jaws is everlasting. Anyone who has ever witnessed me give a toast will recall the famous line, “Here’s to swimming with bowlegged women!”

Sadness grabbed hold of me upon my return from a trip to Miami a few years ago; I discovered that my two sharks were dead. I cared for those fish for over two years, and they grew to be a part of the family. I was so distraught that two years elapsed before I could purchase new fish. During my youth, I remember watching an episode of the Cosby Show, and Rudy was inconsolable because her pet fish, Lamont, died; I thought the burial ceremony was ridiculous. My how little the ignorant know—losing a pet fish is one of the most heartbreaking moments in a person’s life. To Rudy Huxtable, I say, “I’m sorry!”

The largest of the three sharks, has been with me more than three years, and we have made it through some tough times; I almost lost him last summer. An incident transpired with a stingray, late one cursed night. Before leaving for work, I noticed the stingray in the corner of the tank. I stepped closer, to get a better look, and determined that he was dead. Upon further inspection, I could see that his tail was completely torn off. “What the Hell happened?” I thought. I knew there would be no answers, but I had many questions.

“Who would harm an innocent stingray?”

“Was this the act of some sick human being?”

”Why did this have to happen in our tank?”

The shark was almost motionless at the other end of the tank, and he had a laceration on the right side of his face.

“How’d that happen?”

I determined that there were enough clues to solve the mysterious incident. It is my expert opinion that my shark was involved in a regrettable altercation with the stingray. I concluded that the stingray hit the shark in the face with his stinger, causing the shark to retaliate. He delivered a death-blow, ripping the stinger off, but he didn’t escape without paying the price. The Ray’s sting caused the shark to go into a state of shock, which lasted almost three days; I thought he was a goner. Eventually, order was restored. The remaining fish no longer questioned whether or not they were living with a killer, and the shark’s face healed; he is now known as Scarface.

So, when people ask me, “do you like sharks?”

I pause for a moment before replying derisively, “Yeah, lil’ bit!”

“Farewell and adieu, to you fair Spanish ladies. Farewell and adieu, you ladies of Spain.”




I Go To Hell

If you recall, I was slowly descending towards the pits of Hell.

I can see the flames, and I have no choice but to come to grips with my fate. All of a sudden, one of the scariest moments happens–the cloud I am standing on begins to evaporate; I believe that I am going to end up in a freefall towards the fiery depths, but a new flooring appears. It takes a few moments, but I finally realize–I am in a hand-basket.

Something extremely weird occurs. I was expecting to feel the heat from the fire, but the temperature fails to change. The flames surround me, but they seem to be fake. There is also a roaring thunder, louder than the one which I heard during the storm that killed me, but the sky remains clear and blue; I am exceedingly confused. I can see a large sign on the blood-stained floor which reads, “Parking reserved for Hell hand-basket! All other vehicles will be towed at owners expense.” My heart sinks when I notice several dogs, from the Resident Evil series, devouring what appears to be a human carcass. The hand-basket touches down directly on the target, and the dogs stop eating. They seem to be intrigued by my arrival and rush towards the landing area. With the ferocity of a hungry great white shark, chasing down a wounded seal, they attack. (Let me take this moment to mention tomorrow’s blog entry, ‘My Obsession With Sharks!’) Thankfully, the wood is reinforced with steel so they can’t reach me, but I remain terrified by the devilishly aggressive barking. “Where’s Michael Vick when you need him?” I wonder. (Sorry, I couldn’t resist) I recognize the loud voice which yells out, “STOP!” It is God, and for an instance, I feel safe.

Did he change his mind? Was this trip in the hand-basket a way of teaching me a lesson? I can’t wait to find out!

The dogs disappear along with the hand-basket. I am a bit apprehensive, but I know that I have to run towards the voice. At that moment, there is only one thought running through my mind; I remember ‘Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade.’

[I slowly begin to walk]

Me: “The penitent man shall pass. The penitent man shall pass.”

I feel a presence following closely, which causes me to run down the narrow hallway. I avoid the chunks of human flesh and the puddles of blood, with the agility of a hungry African Cheetah chasing after a swift antelope. (How ironic…a former atheist running towards God for safety.) I sprint towards the end of the dimly-lit hallway, and I am shocked to see that God is no longer 6 cubits tall, but a less intimidating 6 feet.

Devil: “I thought you didn’t believe in religion? What’s with the penitent man talk?”

Me: “I just came from Heaven and now I’m in Hell…HELLO!” [He shakes his head] “What happened to you? How come you’re not a giant?”

Devil: “You are confused. I am not who you think I am.”

Me: “Don’t start with that ‘I am that I am’ stuff again.”

Devil: “We’ve actually never met. I am who people refer to as the Devil, but you can call me ‘Lu’.”

Me: “Lu?”

Devil: “Yeah. It’s short for Lucifer. My rap name is Lu Cipher! I spit hot fire, pun intended.”

Me: “Let me guess. You spit that real shit, and not that fake commercial bull that is out–right?”

Devil: “Here we go, my brother told me about you and your comments.”

Me: “What Brother? I know you’re not talking about God.”

Devil: “Follow me and everything will be explained.”

{A massive door opens, leading to a VIP room. Everything inside is white, the leather couches, the walls, the coffee table, the rug, etc. In the center of the space is a large fountain statue of a mermaid. I do a double take when I realize that Lu is already seated on one of the couches. I look back and notice that he is also standing by my side.}

Me: “Is this some kind of magic?”

Devil: “No, that’s my brother. You know him as God.”

[My jaw drops!]

Me: “What the Hell is going on here? Excuse the pun.”

Devil: “Grab a seat and we’ll explain everything.”

God: “How was the trip?” [Laughs]

Me: “It was ok…there was some turbulence, but overall I felt pretty comfortable. It would’ve been nice to have a seat, but I’m not complaining.” [He shakes his head, disapprovingly.] “What’s going on? I’m a little freaked out; why are you not 6 cubits tall? Why is the Devil…I mean Lu, saying that he’s your brother? Why are you in Hell? And more importantly, why is there a big water fountain statue of a mermaid in the middle of the room?”

God: “Calm down. First of all, it’s not water; It’s Johnnie Walker Blue Label.”

Devil: “Grab a cup and see for yourself.”

[I grab a glass and place it under the flowing liquid.]

Me: “Blue? Really! I’d expect, with all of your powers, you guys would be drinking some magical godly drink.”

Devil: “We do; it’s called Blue Label…You didn’t think Johnnie Walker actually created it.”

[I take a sip.]

Me: “Wow…now that’s smooth! Well done my good man. Or shall I say, my bad man!”

Devil: [Shakes head.] “Funny.”

God: “As far as the statue is concerned, we love the movie ‘Splash’.” [Shrugs] “What can I say!”

Me: “Splash? Tom Hanks, Daryl Hannah? This is too crazy!”

God: “Let me explain what’s going on. Well, I can’t explain how we came to exist; only someone who has a vast understanding of Biology would be able to comprehend. In fact, humans won’t discover the truth behind our existence until the year 2234.”

Me: “Wait, so you mean to tell me that humans will actually be able to prove that you exist?”

Devil: “Me too! But they will remain confused until 2079. That’s when the world’s brightest minds will figure out that we are twins, and not adversaries.”

Me: “Twins? That’s insane! What about all the competing for souls that was always preached on Earth, and all of the other teachings from the Bible?”

God: “All a bunch of nonsense!”

Me: “I knew it!”

God: “I have to admit, I enjoyed the conversation that we had earlier, and your ‘Virgin Birth’ post was hilarious; we still go back and read it every now and again. I spoke to my brother and we have decided that you can live in area one, with complete access to the VIP Lounge. Here, we will explain anything that you want clarified. How the Bible came to exist, can be explained during your next visit, but for now, we’ll discuss the basics.”

Me: [Filled with excitement.] “I can’t wait to hear that story.”

(***Be on the look out for ‘The Creation of The Bible.’***)

God: “You have to understand that most of what is preached on earth, is the creation of humans. We don’t bother to control what people do. It was agreed upon, a long time ago, that we would only focus on sending people to the proper afterlife location; humans have freewill.”

Devil: “What would be the point of controlling everyone? We enjoy being surprised by how each individual chooses to live his or her life.”

Me: “I’m glad you guys enjoyed the story. (How could they not!) Let me get this straight. You guys simply wait until people die, and then judge them based on their behavior?”

God: “Not exactly. We don’t really care what people do; it has no bearing on whether we send them to Heaven or Hell.”

Me: “You don’t care? That’s unexpected.”

God: “Heaven and Hell are human creations, and there is no such thing as sin. We simply have the ‘Good Place’ and ‘The Fun Place’.”

Devil: “The Good Place, which humans refer to as Heaven, is boring. The people we send there are the do-gooders. They spend their entire lives believing in my brother and they feel that they will be rewarded, so that’s what we do. I can’t stress this point enough; IT IS A BORING PLACE! All they do is sit around singing hymns and telling Bible stories. And to them it’s Heaven.”

God: “Every now and again, one of us will go up there and say some Bible quote to get them all riled up; it’s so ridiculous how simple they are.”

Me: “So, if he goes by the name Lu, what should I call you?”

God: “Alejandro!”

Me: [I Burst out laughing!] “What? You’re kidding right?”

Devil: “Alejandro? When the Hell did you come up with that?”

God: “No, I’m just kidding. I was people watching and the radio was on. That Lady Gaga song came on, and I can’t get it out of my head. I mean, great song, but I can’t walk around singing some dudes name.”

Me: “I can definitely understand that; I hate when the wrong song gets stuck in my head! [Singing] Don’t call my name, don’t call my name…Roberto.”

God: “Ale-Alejandro, Ale-Alejandro…it’s been all day; I can’t get the damn thing out of my head.”

Devil: “If you guys get that song stuck in my head, I’m going to be pissed off!”

Me: “It’s better to be pissed off, then pissed on!”

Devil: “Really? That’s so old.”

Me: “Old but good…kind of like your mother!”

Devil: “Do you know what we can do to you?”

Me: “My fault Lu. I didn’t know you were so sensitive. Should we hug it out.”

[Spreads arms out. And his hands turn into balls of fire.]

Devil: “Yeah, come over here. Give me a hug.”

Me: “Na, I’m good.”

God: “Getting back to your question, I actually love it when they call me Big Poppa!”

Me: [Laughing.] “There is no way in Hell, I’m calling you that.”

God: [Laughs] “Na, You can just call me G.”

Me: “Ok, that’s easy enough. What about the flames? Why didn’t they burn me?”

God: “They aren’t real. We just added them so the people in the Good Place will continue to believe that everyone down here is burning for eternity; They’re so gullible.”

Me: [Laughing.] “What about Hell, and all the people who did bad things while on earth?”

Devil: “I’ll take this one. The people who commit horrible atrocities, are sent to the furthest part of the Fun Place. It’s not a bad area, just far from us. They have fun just like everyone else down here, but we just don’t want to be around them; there is no desire to hang with some guy who viciously murdered seven people. We don’t believe in torturing anyone; we’d have to be a couple of psychos to do that. Do you suppose we would create humans, and then torture them because they make a few mistakes? ,

Me: “Nope. That wouldn’t make any sense.”

Devil: “Precisely! We have guardians who keep each area separated. The closer you are to the VIP Lounge, the more access you have in the Fun Place. People are free to move into a different area, but only to an area that is further away from the VIP Lounge; each area is numbered. Area one is the closest to the VIP Lounge, and the higher the number, the further away you will be. Understand?”

Me: “Yeah, it makes perfect sense, but let me make sure I got it right. If you are in area fifty-one, you can move to any area except for areas one through fifty.”

Devil: “Exactly. It’s interesting you mentioned area fifty-one. That’s where all the conspiracy theorists stay. I definitely recommend  checking it out some time; those people come up with the craziest ideas.”

Me: “Speaking of area fifty-one. Are there aliens?”

Devil: “Logically, you would think so, but the answer is no. There are no aliens.”

Me: “What about spirits?”

Devil: “Yeah, I guess. Sometimes, we get crazy people who jump out of the hand-basket. They roam around earth doing all sorts of spooky things.”

Me: “What was the point of making me think I was going to Hell?”

Devil: “This is the Fun Place. We enjoy messing with people!”

ME: “Speaking of messing with people, doesn’t it bother you that you have such a bad reputation?”

Devil: “Yeah, that bothers both of us. I’m one of the coolest people ever, and they make me out to be evil; it sucks!”

Me: “Yeah, they hate you. Lu, I can understand why you’re upset, but G? You have a great rep!”

God: “Did you read the Bible? They make me out to be some jealous narcissist with anger issues, who destroys cities and kills indiscriminately. I don’t know where they come up with that garbage.”

Me: “So you guys understand why I never believed in all that religion crap?”

God: “Of course! That’s why you’re down here. We can’t understand how anyone would ever believe those stories. I mean for god sake, no pun intended, there are two creation stories in the beginning of the Bible. Faith is the biggest crock in the history of the world. It was created by people who weren’t intelligent enough to explain how the world works. I’ll get into more details when we discuss the Bible next time.”

Me: “What are the rules down here?”

Devil: “It’s pretty simple. We already discussed moving to different areas. Everyone who is down here is immortal; there are no injuries or diseases. It’s pretty much a free-for-all. Go wherever you want, and hang with anyone you want.”

Me: “Sex is allowed?”

Devil: “Would it be the Fun Place without sex? It’s the best; no condoms, no diseases and no pregnancies.”

Me: “You mean to tell me, you guys are allowed to have sex?”

Devil: “Who can possibly stop us? If you want to take a vow of celibacy, go right ahead my friend—with all these women down here…I’ll be doing my thing!”

Me: [Laughing.] “You’ll have to excuse me; I don’t know what I was thinking. Before I forget. What happens to all those suicide bombers who believe they will be rewarded with seventy-two virgins?”

Devil: “They get the virgins, but there is no sex in the Champaign room, if you will.”

Me: [Laughing.] “What? You mean to tell me that everyone who is in the Good Place is spending an eternity without sex? What do they do?”

Devil: “Did you not hear me stress the point…IT’S BORING UP THERE!”

God: “Yeah! There’s no sex; they sing all day and go over the Bible. For fun, they watch over family members and judge the ‘bad people’ on earth. They actually cheer when I send someone to ‘Hell.’ You should have heard the loud eruption that happened when you were descending—they definitely weren’t feeling your stories.”

Devil: “You remember the thunder that you heard during the trip here? That wasn’t us—it was the thunderous applause.”

Me: “I was so confused by the thunder—the sky was perfect. Hey G, why did you kill me so dramatically?”

God: “I had to…they were watching and cheering me on! That whole turning myself into a giant thing and quoting the Bible; I have to do it for them.”

[A man walks into the room.]

God: “I would like to introduce you to our assistant and good friend, Rodrigo Borgia.”

Rodrigo: “Hello, it’s great to finally meet you. I enjoyed reading your stories.”

Me: “Pope Alexander the sixth? That’s who you guys chose to be your assistant?”

God: “Yeah, he was one of the first people on earth to understand that the Bible was a bunch of myths. We can’t blame him for using that knowledge to manipulate the people who were less intelligent than he was. In fact, I’d say over ninety percent of the Popes are down here.”

Rodrigo: “Surprised? I’m actually a great guy!

Devil: “Yeah, he’s a fun guy to hang out with. He’s got some great stories.”

Me: “What about all the tales they told about you? Aren’t you the one who…” (Look up Pope Alexander VI. He was a disturbed man to say the least.)

Rodrigo: “Hey, hey. There’s no need to bring up the past. What can I say, I wasn’t perfect!” [Laughs.] “I’m sorry to interrupt, one of you has to go up there.”

God: “Now what?”

Rodrigo: “They’re upset because there is man in America who has been claiming to be Jesus, and he has a pretty large following.”

Me: “That reminds me. What about Jesus?”

God: “We’ll discuss Jesus, when we talk about the Bible.” [I nod my head understandingly.] “You going up this time, Lu?”

Devil: “HELL NO!”

God: “Sorry guys, looks like I have to go deal with this headache.”

Devil: “Sucks to be you!”

[God gets up and leaves.]

God: “Ale-Alejandro, Ale-Alejandro!”

[We all laugh.]

Devil: “Follow Rodrigo, he’ll show you around and get you acclimated.”

Me: “Ok, I’ll be back so we can talk about the Bible.”

Devil: “Alright, we’ll see you next time.”

[I exit with Rodrigo.]

Rodrigo: “I’ll show you to your room, then we can go and meet some ladies!”

Me: “Sounds good!”

[Until Next Time!!!]


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