Comcast is not MY religion

Comcast is the bane of MY existence.  Well, no, it isn’t really, I guess, but they sure do know how to not be productive when you need them.  Internet working?  Yeah, Comcast is great!  Cable working?  Sure thing, Comcast is great!  Having problems?  Oh, hey, can you hold please?  For about 20 minutes or so?  After you’ve navigated through a senseless barricade of robotic questions from an answering service that, sadly, has more personality than the people you just might eventually talk to?  Yeah, that’d be great.  So, you’re having problems, huh?  We’ll be out there, um…how’s Sunday?  Yes sir, I know today is Tuesday, but it’s all we’ve got.

And you wait.

And wait.

And then it’s Monday and your tech never showed, so you do it all over again.  Gosh, I love Comcast!  🙂

Anyway, internet problems now aside, some of these links I wanted to share are a bit old (by a few days I imagine, at worst), but share them I will anyhow.

  • I love Texas.  I really do.  I don’t know what we’d do without them, but they’re pretty confident about what they’d do without us.  MY wife is a Texan, MY dad is an adopted Texan, and there’s no shortage of pride from either, nor is there from the people there.  It’s a remarkable thing I haven’t found anywhere else.
  • Sigh.  I don’t care about his politics.  Check out those abs.  He’s so dreamy.  Gosh, we’re a lucky country to have this stud as our president.  Everything will be just fine from now on.  Maybe he can even save ME from drowning.  Yeah, at the beach, I mean.  Where else would he save ME from drowning?
  • You’re not allowed to have an opinion anymore.  You’re expected to have one.  And it damn well better be the same one that I have or I’ll sock you good!
  • This is the one I am the most behind on, and likely, everyone has seen it, but I don’t care.  Not at all.  This, to ME, is one of the more potent moments of humanity that I’ve come across in some time.  If you haven’t watched it, then watch it now:
  • People ask ME frequently, where I get MY ideas from.  Aside from the gloriously overweight skull in which MY brain is housed, I offer you two examples right now.  Here and here.
  • Man, did the dudes (you must call them that) that started Twitter just make Maureen Dowd look like an uneducated granny-ape or what?

Last night, I had the priviledge of a book signing at Bound to Be Read Books, in East Atlanta.  Even better, I was interviewed by the master of gay-indie-pop-folk, Wayne Fishell of the Wayne Fishell Experiment.  Wayne did a splendid job of accumulating questions that probed into the religious nature of Anointed, and a few that skirted the personal boundries of MY experiences with she-who-must-not-be-named.  And I had a blast answering them.  It’s no secret that I enjoy talking about MY book, far more that I will ever enjoy talking about ME.  Beyond and well above that, I love engaging in discussion about religion, and attempting to bring along any and everyone interested in doing the same.  For many years, I suppose I approached this from an insulated vantage, as nothing can bring the ire of an individual more than discussing your views on religion when they are not parallel to their own.  I mean, people get more fused over religion than any other topic, including politics.  And religion just sort of floats around and drapes over whatever it wishes as if it were some sort of insolent blanket looking for another thumb-sucking toddler to amuse.  Hence, MY desire to provoke religion into opening itself to discussion, rather than argument.

But with Anointed, I don’t have that shield to cower behind, nor do I have any desire to.  I’m not advocating a new religion, I’m just stating that it’s time to talk about it.  The religious (no matter their faith) spend so much time defending their beliefs and why they are, without question, the most profound and correct system of beliefs in the world, that they do not pause to learn and reflect on whether or not there might be a conjoined truth within all. 

Given then fact that there is a wonderfully hot meal sitting at MY side, and an episode of Survivor to catch up on, I will have to revisit that.  There’s an interesting story about a God named Mithra that I’d like to share with you.  It’s rather interesting, and opens the doors to many other questions, many other discusssions.

Now that I have defeated (been defeated by?) Comcast, I’ll be back again regularly.  I’m sure you just can’t wait.

The White House is…covered in bees! Ahhhh!

 No introduction for you!

  • I’m not a Kellie Pickler fan.  Never have been.  But I have to admit it: she knows how to give hope to starving Idol hopefuls everywhere.
  • Ok Billy Bob.  We get it.  You’re Bad Santa.  Enough already.
  • One of my cats–Ray–has a problem.  He’s a klepto.  He’s one of the most skilled thiefs I have ever seen.  He will wander around the room, sneaking looks at your bowl of popcorn, and measuring (you can tell) the distance of the bowl to the floor, and perhaps, even, the ratio of popcorn kernals to humans and the time in between each handful.  He can, in one fluid motion, lift to the couch by two paws, snatch popcorn in his mouth, and roll forward and out of reach before you even know what hit you.  He’s good.  But he’s not this good.  This cat is a pro.
  • Note to the world.  Brittany does not like cigarette smoke.  If you want to see her shake her goods for you, for God’s sake, DON’T SMOKE!  Brittany mad!  Brittany smash! Brittany…walk away?  Well, alright then.
  • “I JUST WANT TO BE A DOPE PERSON WHICH STARTS WITH ME NOT ALWAYS TELLING PEOPLE HOW DOPE I THINK I AM.” ~Kayne West~ God Bless you Southpark, for taking on the biggest ego in the world and turning him into a gay fish.  Oh, and hey, do you like fishsticks?
  • So, I’m just curious.  How does one go about sending 20,000 text messages in a month anyway?  And how much would you have paid to bear witness to her father’s wrath.  Hell hath no fury like a father scorned by a $5,000 phone bill!
  • The PETA Shop Boys?  Seriously?  Did PETA really ask this?  What’s next?  Are the folks at the EPA going to ask Disney to change their park’s name to Epacenter?
  • Oh, no!  The White House!  It’s…covered in bees…ahhhhhhhhhhh!
  • 6 Million dollars?  Why no, Hillary, I don’t.  I’ve got .37 cents.  Will that earn me a chance to go to the American Idol finale?  ‘Cause, you know…that’s, like, totally awesome and stuff.
  • Everyday, I’m just a little more grateful that we have Hannah Montana.  I mean, gosh, what would Miley do without her?  She’d probably run amock and take mostly naked cell phone pictures of herself and “accidentally’ get them posted on the…oh, wait.  Yeah.
  • The Onion has once again given us guidance in raising our kids and teaching them about sex.  They’re so caring over there.
  • God bless the stupid.  They give us so much to talk about.

fail owned pwned pictures

I want to be on Survivor, but I won’t actually send anything in to try out.  I thought about it a number of times years ago, back in the single days when a good meal was pizza, mac n’ cheese and some type of soda.  It’s never been about the million dollars (yeah, right) though.  I’ve always wanted to see if I was up to the challenge (at least lying isn’t a problem, right?).  Granted, that’s what I am supposed to say.  Fact is, money aside, I am a great lover of social survival, and the lengths to which people will go to ensure that they are on top.  It amuses ME that people are genuinely shocked at the end of each season, when they find out that one of the finalist (if not all of them) got there by lying.  They are lambasted and belittled by finger waggling contestants who seem to be less upset at the survivors than they are that they didn’t lie enough to be one of them.  Now, I’m not going to profess that I would win, if I were on the show.  In fact, I probably wouldn’t.  Somewhere along the line, I feel quite certain that MY insistence on feeling guilt for any wrong I have committed would prevail and I would expose MYSELF as the liar I never am but would be for money hell yeah.  Still, I’m pretty sure I could hang in there long enough to be able to screw up some plans and make life a living hell for everyone who is left.  Then I could be voted off, placed on the jury, and spend a week or two planning how much waggling MY finger needed to be prepared for.  It would be dramatic, show-worthy, entertaining to the core.  Then I would go on the show circuit, be talked at by Regis and Kelly, and wind up hosting my own entertainment news program on some back water channel you never heard of.  Gosh, what a success I would be!

Here is MY Survivor mug shot:









Little Sylar, I call it.  I will slice open your head, absorb your Power, and win a million dollars.  Or, at the very least, keep you from winning what is rightfully MINE.  Television like you’ve never seen it.  Except on Monday nights on NBC.  But, let’s face it, another season of Heroes as it is, and you’re not going to watch that anymore anyway.  Unless it gets past it’s Lost-like wandering plot that never goes anywhere but backward, and forward, and backward.  So, that leaves plenty of room for MY villanous Survivoring.  And, I’m certain, that you will be entertained.  It is ME, after all.  Matter of fact, that should be my letter to the Survivor team.

Dear Survivor,

You want ME on your show.  It is ME, after all.


One million dollars later, you are all better off for having seen ME manipulate and finger waggle MY way to stardom.  You will discuss it for years, and television will never be the same.  I WILL BE AWESOME!

See, this is what happens when you don’t have a Hannah Montana to balance out your life.  Where’s my cell phone?  I wanna take a picture of ME.

Letting Facebook Do the Work For ME

Quote of the day is from a CNN article about the growing concerns of the growth of Twitter: “I keep getting the fail whale.  Twitter got too popular too quickly.  I blame Shaq.”

The Fail Whale

The Fail Whale

A few bits today before moving on:

  • Terribly sad, sad news from Miley Cyrus.  I just don’t know if I’ll be able to go on. 
  • If you smoke, you should quit.  If you don’t care that I care, then at least think of your wallet.
  • I’m very disappointed that math was never quite like this.
  • What? Twilight isn’t real?  GTF out of here already!  I want vampires dammit!
  • The Pope has decided, for some reason, to offer his Holy insights on condoms.  Really?  Condoms don’t prevent disease, they make it easier to transmit them?  Is this a South Park episode?
  • A Republican hottie?  No way!  Thank you Mehan McCain!  There is hope for the future, and it has washboard abs!

Ok, enough for now.  I like links by the way.  You get many more.  Just not today.  Let’s talk about ME again.

In the ongoing effort to initiate you all into the finer nuances of ME, I have decided that further information is required into who, exactly, I am.  You should be thrilled now.  I’ll wait a sec for the effect to take root.  (Insert Jeopardy tune here)  There now?  Excellent.  Given that it would take some time to get together a list of oddities regarding ME, I decided to let Facebook do it on MY behalf.  So, from the meme of “25 Things About ME”, I offer you this look into MY life thus far.  Where necessary (by “necessary”, I mean to say, “Where I so chose to do as I wished”) I have made alterations or additions to the original.

1. If I could sit at a computer all day and simply communicate by the written word, I would do so, which would ensure that you all continue to find ME “funny and uplifting”. Or something like that. Talking…er…not always so much.

2. I have a dog, Curbie (or Poohsie Poo, as Alice calls him), 2 cats (Maggie the Hungry Bitch and Ray the Mildly Retarded), a rat (named One), and two bunnies (Nyven the Sweet and Cadbury “TARROC” the Bunny).  I am fond of them all, but find that having a 65 lb dog sleep on MY legs at night makes it difficult to move.  I deal with it.

3. Until very recently, I had no idea that women (generally speaking) actually found ME attractive.  I’m still not sold on this idea.  I avoid mirrors as if I were a vampire.  Which I might yet be.

4. I’m much better at being Timmy Christ than Billy Christ. Could be a function of self or of desire.  But Billy’s way more funnerer.

5. When I was, like, 8, I stole money from MY mom’s purse at home to go buy a big Chewbacca figure. No joke. Very sad. Unfortunately, MY mom happened to be in the store at that time and walked up behind ME while I was in line to pay for it. Um…not good.  Hearing, “So, whatcha got there son?” still haunts ME to this day.

6. I don’t believe that I am that good of a person. I don’t know why I feel that way. Maybe because I live in my head and know what’s there. You’d probably feel the same.

7. I don’t enjoy being poor. I refuse to be that way much longer.

8. I smoked for a week when I was 12. I got tired of rushing home to brush MY teeth before mom got home and quit. Way too much work.  I’m not that motivated.

9. After failing to cut the lawn (as ordered) at 15, I told my dad–from the lay sanctity of the sofa–“Do you ever notice how work gets in the way of having fun?” Genius.  I decided that day to be a writer.  Nothing could help ME realize MY dream more.

10. I went to a Debbie Gibson concert. Yes, I know. Just know that I am still not embarrassed by those 4th row seats.  And then I balanced that out later that year by going to see Motley Crue. Oddly, the canceling out effect did not take place. I somehow still remember the DG concert, depite MY best efforts. Total Recall? Memory wash?

11. Do not read MY work in my presence. I will hover. I’m terrified you won’t like it.  Additionally, do not read over MY shoulder while I type.  I don’t like the stalker feeling you leave ME with.

12. I miss MY cat Rocky. He was the best. I blame she-must-not-be-named to this day.

13. I came very close, in ’94 or so, to just getting in MY truck and driving off. Don’t know where I was going, but I just wanted to disappear. I had everything I needed packed, cash in MY pocket, and all the desire in the world. I stayed because of family.

14. I refrain from drinking to excess because I have seen firsthand what it can do to a person. I am sad when I see it happening to people I care about. And I won’t say anything to you because it’s your damn life you’re ruining.  I’ve got MY own problems you probably don’t have time to work on either.

15. I wonder at times if I am, in fact, Truman. I’d like to speak to the producer please.  Still one of MY favorite movies, in case you were wondering.

16. Cheese should not just be a food group, it should be a spiritual icon of hope.

17. If I had it to do all over again, I probably wouldn’t. MY littany of stupid decisions and faulty awareness have made ME who I am. I’m fine with that.  You should be too.

18. I am not hopelessly addicted to fantasy baseball as some may believe, though I will never cease to enjoy the banter between Billy Christ and Kim Jong Ilstein.  To the fray I feel I can now add the one we call, “Shank”.

19. I don’t make friends–REAL friends mind you–often at all. But if you are my friend, well, suck for you right? I mean, really, you want to be MY friend? Haven’t I scared you away yet?

20. I used to believe that writing a memoir would be pointless. But, over the years, as I continue to do stupid things that produce rediculously hard trials, I realize that even I am entertained. God, I’m an idiot.  Be prepared to laugh at MY expense.  I will leave you countless opportunities.

21. I am not atheist. I am not agnostic.  I am also not Mormon, thank you, 8lb 6 oz Baby Jesus.  I believe in God, and I believe in spirit.  And I believe that I will talk your ear off about it.  But I am not religious.  I don’t believe in organized “anything”.  I believe only an individual knows what is in their heart.  Don’t try to tell ME what’s in MINE.

22. I am a reality tv junkie. I totally dig watching people make asses of themselves.  I still dream of being on Survivor.  I would likely be the first contestant to vote others off Agatha Christie style.  DIE STUPID PERSON!  DIE!

23. When I was 12, I wanted to be a professional bowler. Kids laughed at me so I wrote horrible stories about them. I decided being a writer was way cooler. And therapuetic.  For the record, I did bowl in tournaments when I was 20 or so, averaged about 200, and topped out at a 299 for a high game.

24. As MY publisher can attest, I loathe the rules of grammar. I think they should destroyed as soon as possible. And, I, don’t, get, commas, or…elipses. 

25. I want you to succeed more than ME. Even more than that, I want to help you do it.  Just don’t let your pride get in the way.  You’ll regret it.

Funny thing is, I don’t do these memes often, but I like this one.  I’ll probably do it again at some point when I don’t feel it will bore ME to no end.  Feel free to opine.  I know I do.