The Church of Lost Souls

Thankful

I'm thankful I can get together with as much family as I will today to celebrate the holiday together. 

While I miss him terribly, I'm thankful my father is no longer sick and suffering, and is at peace.

I'm thankful for my mother.  I wouldn't trade her for any other.

I'm thankful for cousin Bruce, who who treats me more like a brother than a first cousin.

I'm thankful for Mary the Doxie, who puts a smile on my face each and every day.

I'm thankful for an amazing group of friends, who are able to look past me being a flake and a loner and accept me anyway.

Once again I'm thankful for Ken, "The Godfather", and Sue, for graciously inviting me along to University of Miami football games this fall.  I cannot afford seats on the 50 yard line 16 rows up from the field. 

I'm thankful my nephew Ross has grown up to be such a fine young man.

I'm thankful the Miami Dolphins have proved last year's rise from ineptitude was no fluke.

I'm thankful my best friend Rick finally moved back home, even if my motives are selfish.

I'm thankful for young cousins Sophia, Reyna, Sarah, Mason and Stella, who never fail to brighten our days and have injected new life and enthusiasm into our family.

I'm thankful sister Wendy found such a good guy in my brother-in-law Gail to keep her so happy and content.  And that they came into town to spend the holiday with us.

I'm thankful I've yet again been able to muster the strength I didn't know I had to make it through the most difficult year of my life, following what I previously thought was the most difficult year of my life.

I'm thankful to be loved and have people to love.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Wishing you all a wonderful day spent with many of your family, friends and/or loved ones, as well as a spread of food that is as appetizing as this:

 

Ugly Duckling

Evidently I'm not beautiful after all.  At least according to the members of the exclusive and pretentious dating website Beautiful People.  My experiment with their standards was not a success, as I received the following dismissal this morning:

"Dear Steven,

Unfortunately, your application to BeautifulPeople Network was not successful.  The members of BeautifulPeople did not find your profile attractive enough.

Please note, only one in five applicants are currently accepted into BeautifulPeople.com."

What's that saying about not wanting to be a part of any group that would have anything to do with you..?  Fuck 'em, I know I'm beautiful; maybe not on the inside, but definitely on the outside.

 

S.O.S. Dad

Everything is so fucked up, Pop.  I need someone to turn to, but you aren't here, and I haven't wrapped my head around that yet.  I know you can't help it -- what with you being tortured to death by cancer (reason enough for any rational and reasonable human being to fuck any and all gods up the ass with a broken bottle) -- but you aren't here when I REALLY need you.  Or REALLY need someone.

Despite my age I'm just a boy.  A boy who still needs his father.

I'm supposed to turn to others in your absence, but you were the patriarch.  And you were my Dad.  My father.  The father who didn't abandon me, then ignore and deny me after he abandoned, ignored and denied me.

My biological sperm donor can't be bothered to recognize or accept me, and the father who took me in and raised me died a slow, agonizing, demoralizing death three months ago.  Why can't the two of you trade places???  At least for Thanksgiving?

I'm guessing the cemetery will be closed on Thanksgiving as well.

Fuck them.  Fuck them in their tight asses with a turkey drumstick, and then a corn cob.  Sideways.  I will spend time with Dad on Thanksgiving, whether they are working that day or not.  And Dad will get his favorite: a piece of pumpkin pie.  If it's the last fucking thing I do.

For Larry (The Snake Guy)

"Snowballer."

You can't win this.

Careful What You Wish For

Is it better not knowing a god-damned thing or ... 

Can I get a do-over?

Mystery is sometimes better than cold, hard, redneck reality.

I wish I could douche my memory of the past two weeks. 

And flush my blood of...

*spit*

Trainwreck

Picture if you will sharing a table with a drunk fella and a stoned fella (you are perfectly sober), listening to them try to have a coherent conversation while all you can do is shake your head as they repeatedly fail to connect with each other because they are trying to squeeze a square peg into a round hole.  The word euthanasia came to mind.

A Disturbing Read

"When a child dies, faith is no defense"

Just Thinking

We've all driven more aggressively because we were running late.  Exceeded the speed limit by more miles per hour than we normally do, pushed it on yellow lights and/or rolled through stop signs because we needed to get to work, a date or a job interview.  But what on earth would cause anyone to ignore all self preservation instincts and try to beat a train?  I can't think of anything, including the birth of my child or the chance to sniff Scarlett Johansson's crotch.  Well, maybe the opportunity to visit a dying relative before they pass.

You know how college football fans occasionally get bent out of shape and rush the field following a big/surprise/long awaited victory?  Is there anything that screams at the top of its lungs "our program is unfathomably pathetic" louder than this practice?  Sure, you are obviously well aware your team sucks to epic proportions to have gone so long without a meaningful win or a win over another particular team, but do you have to announce to the world that you've been so lame for so long?  Why would you want to draw any attention to that fact?

I don't think anyone could provide me with a viable reason for not washing your hands after going to the bathroom.  And shame can only lead to 11 or 12 percent more people washing up?  Have we not a shred of common courtesy left in us as a society?

Nor could anyone convince me that sex change operations make any sense at all.  Sorry "Chaz," but you were not changed "from a woman to a man," you were changed from a woman without a penis to a woman with a penis.  You are still a woman.  And a sex change operation is giving in to the delusions of a lunatic instead of treating their desire to be a different gender as what it really is: a serious mental illness.  Then treating that mental illness.  I don't see how a sex change operation is any different than giving someone who likes to slather their naked body with peanut butter and jerk off in a cemetery while barking at the moon a big jar of peanut butter and the keys to a cemetery.

I consider myself to be a pretty liberal person, but sorry old-growth forests, I ain't giving up my soft toilet paper.  Uh-uh, no how, no way.  When it comes to my brown eye comfort is paramount.  Heck, I'd wipe my ass with velvet if could.  Or rabbit pelts.

Ya Gotta Love Mom

This weekend I overheard the following exchange between Mom and my ex-brother-in-law:

Him: "(My father) really hated me."

Her: "Don't kid yourself, I hate you even more than he did."

For the life of me I can't imagine I where I got my straight shooting from.