The Church of Lost Souls

Orgasms, god and the 'ex'

I read this little tidbit in this month's "FHM" magazine: according to Biology Letters (???), it takes the average woman 12 minutes to reach orgasm; the average man 2 and a half.  What's this about 'Intelligent Design'?  What the fuck is that all about?  Talk about a defective product; man was created to NOT satisfy woman.  If there is a god, he/she set us fellas up to fail!  Our women are destined to look elsewhere because we can't get the job done.  Thanks a lot Big G.  Given these findings, it puts an interesting spin on the debate over the gender of a supreme being--would this imply it was a 'he' or a 'she'?  If it were a 'she', it would be the other way around; women would get theirs first and men would often be left to their own devices (hands).  But if it were a 'he', guys would last a lot longer, so we could all have enormous egos and beat our chests afterwards.  Not to mention we'd all be hung like Clydesdales.  Then again, if you ask most guys they'll all tell you they're marathon men, and their schlongs are all at least 8 inches long.  Come to think of it, if god were female, all men would have huge yogurt cannons as well.  Based on all of this, I'm convinced there is no god at all. 

Speaking of sex, it's now been 6 months without for me.  It's no big deal--I don't miss 'sex', I miss sex with her.  I was discussing this with my shrink last time I saw him and he was concerned about me not missing it.  "Okay doc, I see your point.  I'll be sure to try to shag every strange woman I meet."  The way I see it, for the first time in 13 years I made love; sure, sex is great, but making love after all that time was magical, and made ordinary coitus pale in comparison.  Casual sex just isn't that high a priority for me anymore.  I've had a taste of the good stuff and now I'm willing to wait for it.  Hopefully it won't be another 13 years...

Goddamned

Pretty lousy day today was.  I'm still sick (and now feel worse than 'shit') and encountered endless hassles that make being sick all the worse (like burning my fucking tongue eating chicken soup).  But in light of what's happened on the gulf coast, it's hard to really complain about anything, isn't it?  So here are some thoughts (not complaints):

Pulled into a gas station to find the price $2.99 a gallon for regular, along with signs saying there was a $20 limit due to supply shortages.  In a post on August 22nd I was complaining about paying $2.69.  So we've got cities completely submerged, including one of the largest cultural centers in this country (New Orleans), about which the mayor today said "the city will not be functional for two or three months."  Martial Law has been declared as looters ransack whatever businesses are still standing.  Scientology volunteers have already showed up at sites devastated by Hurricane Katrina, handing out food and giving "messages," using one of the nation's most devastating natural disasters to recruit members.  The price of gasoline will soon surpass $3.00 a gallon and gas stations are reduced to rationing fuel.  It was announced this week that our poverty rate rose to 12.7 percent of the population last year, the fourth consecutive annual increase (37 million people living in poverty, up 1.1 million people from 2003).  We're fighting 'a war' that our Commander in Chief lied about in order to gain approval for, yet he still hasn't been impeached.  Despite overpopulation and dwindling natural resources, the Pope is urging Catholics to have more babies "for the good of society," as more children will provide "the security, the stability and the force of a numerous family."  One of our country's religious leaders, Pat Robertson, called for the assassination of the president of another country.  Etc., etc., etc.  Is it me, or is this the end of life as we know it?

And regarding Katrina, this is one of the reasons I don't believe in a supreme being.  There are 2 types of believers: 1) those (like my Jehovah's Witness friend and co-worker Chris) who believe in a god who is an 'absentee landlord'; god created earth and man but just sits and observes, not intervening because he gave us 'free will' and someone ate an apple.  2) those (like athletes who "thank god" after winning a sporting event) who believe in a god who created earth and man and does intervene, but conveniently only when good things happen to them, not when bad things happen to others. 

As far as the first type, why would a god have created an imperfect place such as Earth for us to exist on, constantly under the threat of hurricanes, tornadoes, monsoons, etc.  Isn't that like having a child but not locking your cabinets to keep harmful chemicals away from them or covering electrical sockets to prevent them from probing the openings with metal objects?  Their response always goes back to "original sin'--god gave us free will and told Adam and Eve not to eat the apple, but they did so, and as a result we're all fucked.  I guess that's where the saying "one bad apple spoils the whole bunch" comes from.  Forget 'original sin'; how about 'original sadist'?  Using that rationale, we should just leave loaded guns accessible to our children.  Tell them "don't touch," but if they do they do, because they were given free will.  Friend Bruce had some funny lines when we were discussing this: "the whole world is doomed because someone ate a stupid apple!  Why do we still eat apples then?  An apple doomed us to hell, yet we still call them cute names like Golden Delicious and Granny Smith!"

Regarding the second type of believers, I remember watching one of the national news channels the night Elizabeth Smart was rescued in 2003 after being kidnapped and spending 9 months with a couple of religious wackos.  The TV anchor's intro when breaking the story of her recovery was "Ladies and gentlemen, miracles do happen."  Elizabeth's aunt, Cynthia Smart-Owens, rejoiced "I just had to give thanks to God that she was found, that he has answered all the prayers."  But what about the families of the children that AREN'T found alive; why didn't he answer their prayers?  Is this selective intervention?  God picks and chooses which situations to intervene in, which children to return home alive and which ones to return home as decomposed remains?  And don't get me started on athletes praising god for victory; what, did he have the Patriots in his/her office pool?

God bless America.  And god help us all...

Leaving Comments

Apparently there's some sort of issue here with leaving comments.  If you try to leave a comment sometimes the following warning message appears:

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I'm trying to resolve this issue.  In the meantime, if you see this message just scroll down and hit Post again.  If the message appears again, just scroll down and hit Post again.  Basically just hit Post a few times.  Even I ran into this problem, but hitting Post again (sometimes it took me a couple of times) allowed me to post the comment.

Creep

Rocky Mountain Oysters anyone?

I'm still sick so during my lunch hour today I head to this Cuban place down the street from my office to pick up some chicken soup.  I order 2 quarts, 1 for lunch and 1 to take home for dinner, then take a seat at the counter.  While I'm waiting, I pass the time by looking over the lunch specials, which mercifully were in both Spanish and English.  I notice that one of the items was 'oxtail in creole sauce.'  I've gotta tell ya, one of the last parts I'd eat on an animal (after the genitals, of course) would be the tail.  I'm not sure why--maybe it's because when I think of a 'tail' I think of some whip-like appendage just above the stinking bunghole of a dirty animal used to swat away flies and other nuisances.  We've discussed this at work before and friend Bruce (from South Africa) swears oxtail is a delicacy; but then again, I don't think you would need more than 1 hand to count the things friend Bruce wouldn't eat.  I mean, not even going into the various offensive things he's brought in for lunch, he's not what one would call a 'picky' eater.  You know how there's the '5-second rule' applying to food that falls on the ground?  For Bruce it's the '5-hour rule.'  I've literally seen him walk around and pick up off the floor and eat stuff his kids dropped long after they left the office.  No wonder the Carrick's don't have a dog, they don't need one.  He's the one who cleans dropped or spilled foods off the floor--by eating it.  I'm just surprised he actually uses his hands to do so.

Anyways, so I'm sitting in this Cuban restaurant trying to think of the most repulsive thing I've ever eaten.  In my radio days I ate a couple of live meal worms, but passed on Cow Cod soup (a Jamaican dish made with bull penis), headcheese and SPAM.  When it comes to eating I don't fuck around.  I'm not eating pigs' feet, the organs of any animal, or anything that's name is an anagram for "spare parts and membranes."  I understand that hot dogs are probably made entirely of leftovers, but I've been eating and enjoying them my entire life, there's no turning back now.  Besides, I'm a Jew; I think we're required by law to eat them.

The most repulsive thing I've ever eaten was the result of a menu that WASN'T IN BOTH SPANISH & ENGLISH (fucking wetbacks)!  I was in Los Angeles during college and used to frequent these 'roach coaches' (kitchens on wheels) that were found on practically every block downtown.  They served awesome, authentic Mexican food (no sour cream, cheese or ground beef to be found) and I never got sick.  One day, I went to my favorite 'roach coach' and was in the mood to try something besides chicken or steak.  Mistake number 1 (why would you pass up chicken or steak, unless you were in a place that had seafood you knew was fresh?  Like they're gonna have veal on a mobile kitchen on the streets of downtown L.A.?).  From my limited Spanish, I knew that 'labios' was lips so that wasn't an option.  'Sesos y barbicoa' caught my eye, as I figured it must be barbecued something.  I attempted to ask the lady behind the counter what 'sesos y barbicoa' was but she didn't speak English and could offer me no help.  There was no one else in line, so I would get no answer.  But I was young, reckless and invulnerable back then so I said "fuck it, what's the worst it could be?"  I ordered 2 'sesos y barbicoa' burritos.  Mistake number 2 (don't EVER order something if someone cannot intelligibly explain what it is).

When I got back to my place I ate the burritos.  They weren't bad, in fact they were perfectly edible; but I didn't enjoy them as much as the chicken or steak so I knew I wouldn't be ordering them again.  Certainly not after I went back to this particular 'roach coach' the next time and found out what they were made of.  There happened to be a fella working the counter who could speak English, and out of curiosity I asked him what 'sesos y barbicoa' was.  "Brains" he replied.  "Excuse me?"  Once again, he said "brains, barbecued brains."  Suddenly I lost my appetite and didn't bring home food that evening.  And I never ate 'sesos y barbicoa' again.

Help

I get in the car this morning to drive to work and discovered more spiderwebs.  My schizophrenic A.C. was working, but damn, those sons-of-bitches are ambitious little arachnids.  And I've already told you how much I HATE spiders.  I love many animals, like most of them, and fear few.  Those include sharks, alligators and spiders.  I find it hilarious when I come across people afraid of toads or geckos; they are completely harmless (unless you're a dog that happens to lick a toad).  But my 3 can all fuck your day up.  And I'm driving on the highway in constant fear of one of those critters crawling up my leg or across my face. 

Does anybody have any suggestions on how to remove spiders from the interior of a sedan?

Wish List

I wish I had a dog

I wish this cold/flu would go away

I wish those closest to me actually knew how important they were to me

I wish beards weren't so fucking itchy

I wish my friend in the northeast the best at getting over her and her husband's loss

I wish gas prices would go down, drastically

I wish football season would get here already (9 days and counting)

I wish slower traffic would keep right

I wish there weren't millions of people in this country without healthcare

I wish everyone would perform at least one random act of kindness each day

I wish my conscience didn't prevent me from casually fucking strange women, like I did back in college

I wish my best friend Rick would move home

I wish I could go fishing at least once a week

I wish she cherished our time together as much as I do

Oh yeah...

I forgot to mention the spiders.  Yeah, that's right, spiderS.  I get into my car this morning to find several spider webs inside with little spiders lounging in the middle of them.  And when I went to get my bottled water out of the trunk, there was a large spider in the middle of a web back there.  I fucking HATE spiders.  So I swatted down the webs with a Sharper Image catalog and killed the little fuckers.  When I got in the car for my lunchtime sweltering, I found even more webs.  So I was stuck in traffic in an un-airconditioned car imagining spiders crawling all over me.

Anyone have any ideas about getting rid of spiders?  From my car?

Sick and frenzied

Just got back from running some errands during lunch.  I was pretty fuckin' close to having a complete, nervous breakdown.  Here's how easy it is.  First of all, I'm as sick as a dog; I feel like shit.  On top of that, I'm tired, because yesterday afternoon my electricity went out briefly, then only came back on in half of the apartment (of course the A.C. was in the half that did NOT come back on).  It wasn't as bad as Thursday night since I could at least plug a fan in, but add the heat to my scratchy throat and Creepy go little if no sleep.  No biggie, the day's halfway over; just let me get in the car and run my errands.  I start up the car and the A.C. doesn't come on.  Is there some sort of air conditioning conspiracy going on that I'm not aware of yet?  Of all luxuries to be without, especially when I'm already boiling due to a fever.

So here I am, sick and tired, driving around Miami Lakes with my windows down attempting to remain somewhat cool.  But it's no use--at every traffic light I begin sweating profusely.  Yet I continue on my way, and pull into a shopping center on the corner of Ludlam and Miami Gardens Drive so I can jump out, run into GameStop and pick up the latest Madden NFL game for Xbox.  There are no empty spots so I drive around until I find one, but since the stupid motherfuckers who run this place made the parking spots 4 feet wide so they could in theory fit as many cars in the lot as possible, I can't fit my American sedan into the spot without wedging it in-between the other two cars with the aid of KY Jelly.  Who drives cars that are only 4 feet wide?  There are probably some Hondas, a couple of Toyotas, and maybe a Hyundai or Kia or two that can fit in these spaces.  What is with this new phenomenon?  It seems like every place I go now has parking lots full of 'compact' spaces.  Sure, you could fit say 100 cars in there instead of 75, but what percentage of the population drives 'compact' cars?  And what about the proliferation of SUVs?  They've got to account for at least 25% of all vehicles on the road; where the fuck are they supposed to park?  I swear if I had any say in the matter people would have to pass an IQ test before being allowed to breed.  And if they fail, sterilization.

By the way, just as an aside, whenever I forget that I'm living in a Latin country, all I have to do is go to a shopping center in Dade County.  It all comes back to me...

So here I am in my large, American sedan, whose A.C. is currently not working, driving around and around this parking lot looking for an empty space--rather an empty space I can fit my car into--never coming close to reaching a speed that will allow enough air to come through the open windows to cool me down.  I finally find a spot that is just large enough for me to fit into, although I nearly had to exit via the trunk.  I go into the store and do my business, then get back into the rotisserie oven-on-wheels and head back to the air conditioned sanctuary of my office.  But once I get a few blocks from our building traffic slows to a crawl: construction.  Wasn't I just saying last week how the government should pay to have crews work road construction projects 24-hours-a-day/7-days-a-week to reduce the amount of time everyone is inconvenienced?  Apparently nobody was listening, and your ailing antagonist was forced to inch down the street while the sweat poured.  It was like placing an ice sculpture outdoors during the summer in a tropical climate.  Not to mention the fact that for some stupid fucking reason I grew a beard and it's itching like nobody's business.  I'm scratching my face as if I had ticks.  It was at that point I nearly lost it, put the car in park, got out and walked away like Michael Douglas in "Falling Down."  I could feel my last nerves coming unraveled.  Fortunately for all involved, I made it to the office before I self-destructed.  But my clothes are drenched with sweat, I am practically delirious from the fever and heat, and left my Halls throat drops in the car and don't want to leave the precious A.C. and go back out in the oppressive heat to get them. 

Today would have been the perfect day to call in sick and stay in bed.  Then again, there was no air conditioning in my apartment.  "How come it never rains, it only pours..."

Swimming lesson

This one too...

 

Watering hole

This amuses me for some reason...