Update
I was notified today that I'm being given the chance to get interviewed by a local high school for a position next week. I am very excited and I hope all goes well.

I have no idea why. Perhaps the understanding that I am an self important asshole would contribute to the fact that I am creating this post with no intention or merit behind my words. While not atypical, you'd think I would have better things to do with my time that just pontificate nonsense.

Perhaps it is my simple lack of motivation. That would, indeed, make planty of sense as to why I am doing this instead of the many other, more important things that I really need to be doing at this point and time.

Then again, I guess that is the point of the otter blog. Nothing I've ever said on here has been of any real merit. It's been all making fun of people, brooding over girls and love lost, and waxing bullshit on whatever psuedo issue pops into my head.

The otter isn't perfect, that's why he's emmaculate instead of immaculate. It's deep and that makes me smart or something.

For all the ones I have loved before.

Life is funny like that. To bring back memories of someone you haven't seen in about 6 years and bringing them back in such a way that you think about it on at least a semi regular basis.

Yeah, it happens and it happened to me. I knew a girl in high school. Then, she was about the cutest, nicest girl I have ever met, and she still is. As high school does to people, we graduated and went our sperate ways. Since that moment she hadn't crossed my mind, at least not until about three months ago. Since that time, I asked a friend, who just so happens to be dating her sister, how she was doing. An innocent question with no intent given, really I was just interested. We were all mutual friends in high school.

She is perfect. She was then, and, come to find out, she is now. It's not as much as I would like to find out where she is and we'll live our lives together in bliss, but rather I would just like to see her again and let her know how I feel. Feelings which I forgot I had. I know, I know, emo as fuck, but whatever. Perhaps, one day if it is meant to be, our paths will cross again. For now, however, she will just be on my mind, from time to time.

As far as the job hunt goes, no bites yet. I really need something so I'll keep working at it. Perhaps I fear it but that's another blog for another day.

The quest begins...NOW!


It has come to my attention that, now that I have finished college, I must start looking for a real job. OK, I'll play your little "look for a career" game, not like I have anything better to do.

I've got a BA in History from a fairly major university. If I wanted something based on my degree, my choices are really limited. I could either teach, write books, or be on of those historians talking shit about Hitler on the history channel. Did you know that Hitler liked to do Eva Braun doggy style? Neither did he, I just made that up. He seemed like a guy who would like to hit it from the back, gripped tight on those hips though. All I need now is to wear my glasses low on my nose and forge some sort of intimidating facial hair and I'm on easy street.

Writing a book would be a possibility, but that isn't a full time job. I need some benefits and shit. I don't have any health insurance right now so if I were to be stricken with vasculitis or, god forbid, lupus, I would be fucked. No matter how many pages I can write about the US Civil War, or how eloquently I can pontificate over draft riots, it won't save my body from the rigors of disease. It's never vasculitis but it's always lupus so it's really a crap shoot there.

So, it looks like I'm left to teaching. I can do that, I guess. I know my stuff, and I'm working my way in one step at a time. At least I would know better than to fill the children's heads with such silliness as hope and dreams. A special shout out to the state of North Carolina for making lateral entry so difficult. You guys rule. You're a true American hero, you probably drive a Ford truck, we all really love your stories, I hope you find true love.

When it all comes down to it though, I'm open to pretty much anything. I want a decent salary, benefits, and a little bit of a creative outlet. That's all I'm really looking for in a job. If you have one to give me, I'd be willing to entertain offers.

Put your arms around me, I'm feeling on your booty.

Ah yes, old friend, how long has it been? Musing and ranting about everything and nothing at all is apparently quite a chore since I can only bring myself to do it about every 3-6 months or so now.

I was just thinking and began to wonder whether or not the internet would like to have such thoughts for it to hold and offer to posterity the wonder of me making a complete ass of myself on a daily basis.

What was I thinking about, you may ask? I was thinking about happiness, what it means and what we pretend it means. There are plenty of e-philosophers who pontificate on such a subject daily, whether it be on their own blogs, message boards, or personal websites. I'm no different from them, and being in such unison I figure I can go ahead and add my pitance to the meaningless pot.

Happiness is, simply put, achieving what you desire. Everyone on this planet has wants and needs, regardless of culture, class or situation, to have them met is to be happy. However, I believe that our desires go out beyond the realm of actuality and find themselves rooted in mere possibility. Possibility without probability is hopeless and is where sadness lies. If a loved one passes on, our desires are to have them still alive with us. Since we cannot have what we desire, we become sad. Or, even worse, we being to fear the inevitability of not achieving our desires.

While happiness is a physical manifestation, desire is a social construct. While every person's happiness, or lack thereof, comes from their desires, everyone possesses different desires.

This all seems simple enough. In all actuality, it is. However it's something you don't think about on a constant basis, lest ye be damned. I always seem to get like this around this time of the year. You know, I read that scientists have done a study and named January 24th the most depressing day of the year. I understand where they're coming from there. The Christmas bills come pouring in, it's getting colder outside Valentine's day shit starts showing up in stores, as we well know Valentine's Day is a holiday created by greeting card companies to make people feel like shit, and we just shot our New Year's Resolutions all to hell.

Yeah, it's about that time.

Web Comic Adventure 2005

Haven't heard from me in a while I know. I added some adsense to the page. Click a link if you're interested in it and help me pay some bills.

I also started a webcomic. I don't know what it means. five-oh-four

check it out.

Later.

I'm lovin' it.

If you haven't heard, McDonald's recently ran a flash ad on the web that was just off. It included the phrase "I'd hit it" directed at a double cheeseburger. The ad is still on http://sports.espn.go.com/espn/page2/simmons/index . I sent them an email today, below is the text of said email

I recently came across an advertisement for your double cheeseburgers on this website http://sports.espn.go.com/espn/page2/simmons/index
and I must say that I was incredibly relieved when I saw it.

I am one of the few people who will openly admit that I engage in carnal pleasures with fast food. Seeing that McDonald's not only supports my lifestyle but also endorses it was great. It was like a huge weight was taken from my shoulders.

Normally people just shout at me "Hey, greasy wang" or "Go back to McDonaldland, sandwich humper" Now, I can finally hold my head up high, and shine. Shine like my mustard encrusted member in the brilliant light of morning.

In short, thank you McDonalds. Thank you so much. Now if only we could get congress to allow man/sandwich marriage, my life would be complete

:(

Well, I finally did it. I finally confessed my love for the bookstore girl. Since I don't have her current phone number or anything, I sent her a message over AIM. I know it wasn't the best wau to do it, but I had to do something and didn't know how else to contact her.

She was away, so I'm still waiting on a reply. I'll update when I hear something, if I hear something. Either it will be a crushing, defeating heartbreak or perhaps I'll luck out for once in my life, who knows. Here's to hoping.

This post is about anger and missed opportunities.

I have now come to posess a hate in my heart that is greater than almost anything that I have felt before.

I'm sure you all remember the bookstore girl. I told you all in depth about her a few posts down. Well, I'm a wimp. I drag my feet, I procrastinate, I am generally frightened, and I get nothing accomplished. Never has that been the case more than now.

I have recently found out that she has this thing for/with another fellow. For purpose of this blog, let's call him Ethan. Ethan, from what I can gather, is apparently better than me in every way. If there were to be a book to be written about this saga, I would most likely end up as the antagonist (I can always hope to be an anti-hero though). Even though the majority of this is speculation, as I haven't actually seen the two together it could be just a crush of her own, there is a degree of likelihood and it doesn't involve me.

I bet you're thinking to yourself that it's a pretty petty thing to hate a guy just because he's going out with a girl you like. Well, that's not why I hate him, and I'm not sure I even hate *him* per se. It's the fact that I had an opportunity, a chance to be with a wonderful girl, but I'm the most chickenshit human being to ever walk the face of this earth. Their relationship stands as a monument to my indecision, failure, and lack of self confidence. It tears me up inside. Why? Because it's always like this for me and I hate it.

There is a lesson to be learned in this, so for those who it applies, learn it well. It probably could be interpreted different ways by different people, so I'm not going to limit anyone to a specific lesson.

I'll try not to be so depressing next time.

This is one of those stories that just has to be told.

Yesterday, I saw three squirrels commit suicide. You'd think the natural way for a squirrel to off themselves would be to run out in front of a car. Not these bad boys. They jumped out of a tree.

I was in the art building here today, generally slacking off when I should have been working, and headed out to meet up with a friend for dinner. I was on my way to the dining hall, walking through the quad, and I hear a loud rustling up in the trees. I look up to see a blurry mass falling down from a good distance up in the tree, it landed about 4 feet behind me and I walked over to check it out.

It turned out, it was a squirrel. He was just laying there, dying. Then, he looked up at me as if to say 'I told u I wuz hardcore' and went limp. That's the point where I said 'shit' out loud.

I turned and continued walking when, almost right in front of me, falls another one. It almost hit this other dude in the head. If it would have, I would not have been able to meet my friend for dinner, for I would have pissed my pants. This squirrel landed *splat* on the brick sidewalk.

Almost at that very moment, I heard another one hit the ground. 'Holy Shit' I both said to myself and out loud, 'I need to get out of here' I looked at the guy who almost got impaled my the rodent and we exchanged confused and fairly scared looks.

So, it seems depression among squirrels is up 300% at my university. With reckless abandon, they are jumping to their certain demise. I swear to you that every bit of this is true.

I finally got to the dining hall and while my friend and I were eating, a furry walked by in full garb. It was the first time I had seen one that close in full costume. I feared the fact that he very well may have been the "squirrel master" causing the animals to commit suicide. However, this is another story for another day.

I got the opportunity to see Spiderman 2 tonight, (movies at the student union, 6 months late but free) and I must say that it was the most depressing movie that I have ever seen in all my 22 years on this planet.

This is just a warning, from here on in, I will probably get a bit...ok well really vulgar. If bad language offends you, here's a link to Hello Kitty Figurines on ebay.

This movie was so depressing, I wanted to jump up and start throwning my shit in handfuls at the screen. Why did it do this to you, you may ask? Well, let me go through it, character by character, and tell you exactly why.

First, Spiderman. The web-slinging superhero himself. His life was a rich, full, fucking waster. His grades were bad, he wasn't getting any sleep, he was fired from his job, his spiderman powers were fading in and out, and to top it all off, the girl he loved was fucking a spaceman. When he thinks it can't get any worse, what happens? Some crazy scientist wants to rape him with his biomechanical tentacles, and his best friend wants him dead. The only people who even remotely liked him were his aunt and the lanky, inbred, hillbilly, Romanian, Super's daughter from across the hall. All this made me want Spiderman to run down to the Target, buy their most powerful shotgun, and sleep with it in his mouth.

Now, Doc Ock, this biomechanical, tentacled douche bag has a terrible, terrible life. His first fatal flaw was that he was overconfident. Don't listen to anyone else who is even remotely sensible, Doc. You're clearly the genius, you know everything, and that's why your miscalculations killed your wife that you loved so much and turned you into some sort of mechanical monster with AI taking over your brain. You're sooooooo overconfident that you can't rest with the fact that your work failed, and you want to kill every fucking body. Why don't you just jump out of the screen and take a steaming, hot, shit in my gaping mouth? How do we try to make things better? Oh, it's Peter, I'm going to fight this AI and save everybody. NO, IT DOES NOT MAKE THINGS BETTER, YOU STUPID DOUCHE BECAUSE WHILE IT WAS AGAINST YOUR WISHES, YOU CLEARLY DIE A MONSTER AND IT DOESN'T MAKE UP FOR ALL THE SHIT YOU'VE ALREADY DONE. Fuck you Doc Ock, fuck you in your stupid fucking ass.

Aunt May? Her house is being repossessed, and she is still in a deep state of depression over the death of her husband.

Harry? He loses a shitload of money, he's ruined as a businessman, he's obsessed, totally taken over with killing spiderman, and to top it all off, he's being haunted by his father. The next sequel will be equally depressing, I bet.

Mary Jane? She's confused about who she loves and what she wants from life. She's fucking a spaceman, but she still loves Peter. However, she can't stand Peter because he cannot commit to her. Just like a woman.

Jonah Jameson? The spaceman? The fucking spaceman? The one who's woman strings him along and leaves him at the altar? No, his life doesn't suck at all...oh wai...

You see? It was a really, horrid, depressing movie. The ending does not fix things. It does not make me happy or optimistic about the future. It was funny because it made me think about going to watch Schindler's List. At least then I know that the allies are coming, eventually. Which is incredibly sad. You do not do this to me, movie people, you just don't do it. To top it all off, 3 is going to be even worse, you just wait.

*sigh*

Sometimes, a cowboy is just a man in a cowboy suit.

Never is this more true than on Halloween. Here, Halloween is a pretty big deal. I've never been able to understand why, exactly this has come to be, but it's true. I figure the primary reason is that it's an excuse to gather up about 20,000 people in the street in silly (and also often revealing) costumes, and drink until their asses almost fall off.

Being that I don't drink, or really understand the fit raised over Halloween here, myself and a friend ordered Chinese food and played Silent Hill 4: The Room. There is no drunken frat boy on the face of this planet, no matter how costumed, as scary and creepy as silent hill. Well, unless you factor in their social graces, then they're horrifying.

We've almost beat the game, and I am really enthralled by its storyline even though it has not even the remotest semblance of sense to it. I'm going to put the plot stuff here as a spoiler, so if you don't want to read it, don't highlight it. It's basically about this guy who, as a boy, was seperated from his mother and father and ended up in a cult. This cult taught him how to "bring his mother back" but it turns out it was all a farce (supposedly, I haven't reaced the end yet). Now, he's basically trying to summon the devil by killing people. The kicker? He's dead now. So, here's where you come in. All the sudden, weird stuff starts to happen in your apartment, the doors are all chain locked, there are holes in your walls leading to places you know, except they're all rusted and covered in "meat" It's all this dead guy's fault and guess what, you're the last step in his plan to summon the devil. So, you've got to stop him. He thinks hi mother is your apartment, that's why it's happening to you, because he never knew his real mother. All he knew is that he came from that apartment. Weird, eh? and that was fun. However, the interesting part was when I was going back home.

I've never seen the likes of this before. I walked by a half dozen bunny girls ( :-O furries) a dude wearing nothing but a cod piece, and another girl who was about 12 seconds away from falling dead on her ass, just to name a few. Of course, I was wearing my "smirking bastard" costume, because I found the entire situation quite amusing.

The characters Halloween brings out is amazing. These are people I have classes with, and on a usual day, they would act nothing like this, but on this night, they go buck ass wild. I always expect some kind of riot or fire with all these drunk people gathered in some sort of dress-up symposium, but it never happens. One day, I pledge this to be my sociological experiment: Why grown, intellegent (for the most part) people would engage in such activity. Sure, it's fun. Yeah, it's nice to be something other than yourself sometimes. Maybe it just wasn't made for my understanding; which is perfectly fine with me.

I've always thought about joining in (hey, psychology people, you know what this says about me right?), but never had the will to actually do it. I don't like crowds, they make me nervous. So...yeah.

May you always live in interesting times, I know I do.

I was sitting here, looking at my empty pizza box and almost finished art project and listening to Clem Snide, and I thought I would blog something. Then I thought that I would devote this entire post to the bookstore girl. The one you've all sort of heard about but don't really know what I mean.

I met her in my very first class here at university. It was the economics of North Carolina and it was taught by a weasely looking man, whom I never want to encounter again. The devil, he was, but I digress. We were put together in a group for a group project and there I found out that she was also in the program I am in for future teachers. Imagine that, huh?

So, we got along and we were friends. I had a crush on her, I did then, and I do now. However, I was afraid to say anything. I mean, we were friends (insert ladder theory here, friend zone? :-/) and if I asked, I'd still have to see her every day. Welcome to awkward town, USA.

About a year ago, we were talking and she told me that she was going to leave the program. I was a bit stunned and heartbroken, I knew I'd miss her and I knew I only had one semester left where I would see her.

That last semester was kind of awkward. It was almost like she was gone already. We'd still talk, but it wasn't the same for me and I could tell it wasn't the same for her either.

That pretty much brings us to the present. In about August she got a job at the local Borders bookstore (ergo, bookstore girl) and I've been thinking about her quite a bit. The only difference between now and then is that now I have nothing to lose and everything to gain. If I ask her and she says no, well, I never see her anyway so brush it off. If I ask and she says yes, the party will be at my place. There will be Mountain Dew and possibly cake. I don't have much seating so you might want to bring a folding chair.

I said I was going to devote this entire post to the bookstore girl. Well, that was a bit of a lie. I will comment on a comment that I recieved on the last post where I was asked what distro I was using. It's Ubuntu, and it's pretty neat.

Thanks for stopping by

2004: A Linux Odyssey

I have made the jump from windows over to Linux, and thus far, I must say, I have been rather pleased. Linux has been running much more smoothly than anything I ever tried to run under windows, and it has certainly been doing it much faster.

While I'm still getting my feet wet, I think I'm really getting the hang of all of this stuff, but I guess time will tell.


Now for something a little less technical and a little more like me. I'm planning on asking out the bookstore girl at the next opportunity I get. Mark my words, this time, I will be successful. (confidence is a good thing, right guys?...right?)

However, if I do this, that means Mission: Norah must come to an end. Which would be bittersweet for me because while my efforts would have been in vain, I would have the bookstore girl and that would make things much better. So, Norah, sweetie, honey, dear, this is your last opportunity.

You stay classy, San Diego.

...and so, it begins.

That's right ladies and gentlemen, as of 12:30 am on the 13th of September, Mission: Norah has started.

What is Mission Norah? you may ask. Well, simply put, the goal of Mission: Norah is for me to make dear sweet love to Miss Norah Jones in a consentual manner. Consentual being the key word. Norah is obviously too classy a gal for suprise sex. I mean, you got to do it up right. A fire in the fire place, a little Barry White on the stereo (my usual music of choice is 'Feels like Home' but I think Norah might get a little weird, what grooving and grinding to her own music and all). However, I digress, that's basically the goals and intentions of Mission: Norah, in a nut shell.

Why is Mission: Norah happening? That's a good question. Mission: Norah is going down because I think it would result in something that would be good for humanity as a whole. This is exactly the type of thing that society is missing. Sexual intercourse between a stranger and a beautiful, young, female celebrity. I'm sure this will give the country the kick in the pants that it needs. It will boost the economy, end world hunger, stop all war, but most importantly, I will have laid a celebrity and, in the end, isn't that what's really important here?

Now an aside to Miss Norah Jones, if she has some how found this post googling her name just to see how enormous of a celebrity she has become. Miss Jones, the fate of a grateful nation is in your hands. You have the opportunity to become more than a celebrity; you can cross that threshold between celebrity to superstar, then on to WORLD ICON STATUS. All that is needed is one little thing. Don't go frosty on me now, baby.

Now, how can I help the cause? Well, if you're Norah Jones, you know exactly how you can help. If you are not, you can donate through the link over there on the side. It's not required. Not in the least, but it would help the cause and with your help, Mission: Norah will be a success.

Mission: Norah-- Surely I will bed her.

Today was the big art critique for our first multimedia project. Mine went rather well, actually. If I wasn't so lazy, I would upload a pic of it. I think I may have been picked out to be the teacher's gimp, as I am one of only two non-art majors in the class, and the other one is a girl who is really quite attractive. However, I don't have enough evidence to back this up yet, so it's another post for another day.

On the critique itself. I didn't wake up this morning until about 11am. I didn't have to, which makes it all the more sweet. I looked out the window and it was raining as though piss was being poured out of the proverbial boot. I was pissed, but there were still about three hours until I was supposed to arrive at the art building, project in hand. About five minutes before I was supposed to leave, it stopped. Oh sweet miracle of miracles. Then, to make the situation even better, I was able to catch the bus instead of having to make the 1/2 mile walk. I arrived, and I was the first one to be 'critiqued,' which was the second time this week this has happened because I was also "randomly" selected to go first in my digital media class. The majority of the comments were very positive. As a matter of fact, they all were, aside for a couple of nit picky structural things the teacher had to say, but never mind that. I, of course, was a smart ass during my artist statement, I had an answer for every question, no matter what it was. I was smooth, and that's the way I like it. It wasn't long before it was Helga's turn.

You remember Helga? In the last post, I called her Nancy. She got this nickname as a suggestion from a certain deceased artist after I suggested calling her "HLG" (hairy leg girl). Add an e and an a; it just works. Yes, she is still crazy. Yes, her project was about the creative spirits. No, she didn't include her menstruation cycle in the piece. I was kind of disappointed in that. She requested a seperate room to display her work. Her project consisted of a mailbox. She had painted it, and crafted a skull, a bull and some other little knick knacks that she attached to the outside of the mailbox. Inside the mailbox, she put cards inside envelopes, and requested that everyone take one of the envelopes with them. Accompanying the cards was this retena scorching heat lamp of sorts that damn near blinded me when I looked inside the box. She went through the whole spill about how she wrote poems to the creative spirits, called out to them for help, and how they had changed her whole life as of 2 years ago in her artist statement. Yes, she almost started crying again. I was hoping for a bit more drama, that would have made for a better story for you guys and a more interesting class for me, but it just was not to be. Maybe next time.

The Washingtons go to wifey, you know how we get down

Here's a little blog post that I hope will be a bit more light hearted than some of my others here recently. It's a story about a girl, but it's not what you're thinking. Well, if kind of is, but it's not. Anyway here goes.

I've been given the pleasure/misfortune of being in a multimedia class this semester here in college and in this class there was this girl, for the sake of this post we'll call her Nancy. I saw Nancy in class and afterwards we started talking at the bus stop. She seemed to be a nice girl and everything. She even has an ipod. I'm not sure what that last bit means, but dammitall she has an ipod. She was being kindly flirty but not really anything overt and I, being the 'so lonely' guy I am, I was really considering asking this girl out, she was nice, talented, well spoken, and other good things. Then it all came to a screeching halt.

I look down to pick up my bag, and, out of the corner of my eye, I see what I only assume to be the Amazon rainforest. Her legs had a thickness of hair on them that I have never encountered before in my life. Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not *that* superficial. I mean, I understand that women don't always shave their legs. They're busy, what with trying to break the glass ceiling and what not, and it's only natural that one may not always get the chance to shave in this busy work a day world. Hey, it happens with men too. However, this hair was thicker than mine, it had been there for quite some time and I was afraid that, at any moment, a jaguar was going to leap out and attack me. I was willing to look past this though. I mean, she's still nice and everything. Plus, if we ever were to play footsie, it would tickle, and that would be fun.

However, today I came to find out that she's bat shit insane. There's really no other way to describe her. Today our art professor came around, discussing our projects with us. Our first project in this class is supposed to be something about ourselves in a box. Well, after taking a shit on my ideas, he moves on to our friend Nancy. This is when I can to the conclusion that holy shit she's insane. She started talking about these spirits, these creative spirits and how they helped her make art. She spoke of how she would, in the privcy of her room, write poems to these spirits, begging them to help her. She also wanted to do something with the moon and moons, and through these moons her femininity [read menstruation cycle]. At this point and time, my penis was shriveling up inside of me, and it only got worse. Out of FUCKING NOWHERE, she just starts crying and has to leave the room. HOLY SHIT. I was going to do what now? I don't know what she was on about but I'm quite sure I can't stand this dramady for any kind of relationship.

It is, however, probably for the best, because when she would have turned me down, what would that have said about me. It is apparent right now that my life is a rich, full fucking waster, but I'm quite fine with that at the moment, at least it's exciting...not to mention entertaining.

Dorm room update (final update):

Today I got confirmation that I do, in fact, have a dorm room for the fall, and I am excited. My roommate, turns out, is from the country of Amsterdam, which is pretty cool as I enjoy meeting new people from different countries and cultures.

Here's the thing, aside from the steady marijuana supply ;-) , I know nothing of the culture iin Amsterdam, if any of you reading this are from Amsterdam, or know anyone who is, drop me a line. At least then I'll sort of know what to expect.

Here's an interesting entry.

As a human being, you got to have faith in something. Whether it be some sort of diety, spirit, some sort of fungus that kind of looks like Patrick Swayze, or whatever, human beings need faith in *something* to survive.

Well, my faith has almost been pushed to its limits because of recent events and to tell the truth, I'm not really too sure what to believe anymore.

Tonight was a good reminder why I feel this way.

I'm going to go ahead and admit that I am a Christian. I'm not ashamed of it, but it's not really something I talk about in the average situation. My father has been the choir director at our church for about 10 years and tonight, he was fired.

Now, doin't get me wrong, the position was only part time, it didn't pay hardly anything and he has another, real job, but it's the circumstances surrounding the situation that piss me off to no end. First, a little back story.

About five years ago now, our current pastor left our church for the first time. It was rather unexpected, he left the congregation holding the ball with our pants around our ankles and our asses flapping in the breeze. Then there let loose a shit storm in the church the likes of which I had never seen and thought I would never see again (until now, but I'll get to that in a minute). The only thing that remained as a constant, and quite possibly one of the only things that held the church together was my father as the music minister. However, this was a church on the brink.

Then all of the sudden, out of the blue, like the phoenix rising from the ashes, our preacher returned. Pretty much with a "look, I saved the church, kiss my ass" mentality. I don't know if he expected the church to totally fold without him, or what, but who really cares. In the times in between now and then, he was real buddy buddy with my father, myself and my family, seeming like he was one of our best friends. He even drove to Baltimore, Maryland from North Carolina when my sister had surgery at Johns Hopkin's and he pretty much stayed this way up until yesterday...fucker.

Anyway, thew signs started up about a year ago that he had got an itch and wanted to leave again. He had a grandson born and his wife had lost several family members and was feeling rather homesick. Why he decided to get sneaky about it and not be a man and just say he wants to leave, I'll never know. Then shit starts going down.

The pastor decides to SELL HIS HOUSE and live in a trailor in the church parking lot (still taking the housing allowance the church pays him and skimming all his utilities for free off the church). The one thing about these campers, they have wheels, and they have wheels for a reason. They fucking move. If you were to blind to see his intentions here, you're fucking insane.

A couple months ago, there was a called staff meeting at the church. The church was out of money and may or may not be able to pay the bills. The fuck? Well this certainly is interesting, we've never had this problem before. So his solution to the budget crisis? Buy some more expensive shit. There is some definate misappropriation of funds going on here somewhere.

So tonight, they fire my dad. When I say they, I mean he, and the committee that he has manipulated. He just recently made a clause that the preacher had to have a seat on every committee. Wonder why that was? But basically they ganged up on my father and fired him. Of course, my father asked why and of course, they didn't have an answer except to make up a couple of bullshit things on the spot, things that would really have no merit over someone's job.

If you're still with me after that rant, I commend you on a job well done and thank you a great deal.

So, now I'm left with this, fuck this crooked preacher and fuck organized religion. I know of nothing that I couldn't learn on my own that I could from a preacher behind a pulpit. You're not required to go to some sort of church to be saved, there are plenty of people who are in chuch every time the doors are open that aren't saved.

Pretty much now, we can never go back to this church again, and I never would want to. It's pretty shitty but that's the way it has got to be.

Someone get my flamethrower, it's time to burn some bridges.