Mugged By The Muffin Monster

The Thought For The Day:

It's okay to tell a girl you like the way she walks, as long as you do it politely, and she's not an amputee who uses those clip-on metal arm canes.


The candy store is closed, ladies and gentlemen, maybe never to reopen. Somehow, my sweet tooth has decayed and rotted in my mouth, the victim of too much righteousness. Every day now, when the news comes on, I run screaming for the remote like a child from the boogeyman... Make it stop, Momma, make it stop. If it isn't Islamic extremists using American skyscrapers as a backstop or Catholic priests buggering kids, it's the daily insane dance between the Jews and Palestinians fighting over a forsaken strip of desert somewhere in the eastern quadrant of Hell. The Muslims and Hindus are about thirty seconds from annihilating half of the India/Pakistani borders, and as we speak, ethnic cleansing is purging the Balkans and Ireland of all the undesirables in the holy game of My God Is Better Than Your God.

Every year during Holy Week or Passover or Ramadan or whatever Buddhists celebrate, we recall and glorify the Lord's murder of innocent children in Egypt to illustrate His Divine Power and the assassination of a certain Nazarene mystic so that we could start a new calendar. But what this will do for the overall plight of humanity, nobody can seem to figure out! Oh, there are lots of thou-shalt-not's to guide us all, because, after all, we're right and they're wrong, but the truth is, we're merely creating more boundaries and ways to be different and justify our 'right' to be better than someone else.

One thing I'm starting to realize is that whenever more than two people get together in the name of God, there damn well better not be any guns, numchucks, clubs, bombs, knives or other sharp instruments within arm’s reach. We conquer and invent and label things with the dogma of the week, and we socialize and hoard and pursue that money! It's good to be rich, especially when we can put labels on it like color and gender and God... After all, it's God's will that our toys be kept safe from their toys. Frankly, all that talk about what God wants and what God told those other strange people... well, it just seems a little silly right now. Hell, it's starting to sound crazy, truthfully.

Most of us seem to know what God wants. It's hard to believe that millions of those other people don't even have a God. No wonder they're so screwed up. They're blinded with scientific method and skepticism and (((shudder))) intellect, and they tend to blot out the truth with common sense. So, to fight against them, we resort to the basics; drugs, alcohol, power and greed.

As a recovering Catholic, I'd like to simply point out that at some point all of the self-serving bullshit has to stop! But, we all know that it won't. Not as long as there are coffers to be filled. So, we'll continue to bury our heads in the sand and we'll keep on trying to explain to our kids why that nice, quiet, dignified white-haired man with the robes and white collar tries to touch him in the bad places when they go into the sacristy. Of course, after our kids are grown (we don't want to embarrass anyone) and spending half of their life on some shrink's couch, we'll report it to the bishop, who will move the bad man somewhere he hasn't had a chance to work his miracles yet.

Finally, the Good Guys will get their chance to finally put the knife in those cheesy mackeral-snappers, and force the Cardinals into court. But don't expect any of these obese gas-bags to cough up a lung over it. By this time, they can't seem to remember any of the details of who or why or how it all happened, and the dance goes on. Meanwhile, we're all wearing the knees out of our Levis while we put the envelope into the basket. Pray and pay, dude… pray and pay. Just don't expect anything to change, because it just ain't profitable to get any wild-eyed notions about priests getting married, or a woman holding up the wafer to get all transubstantiated or whatever... what are you, some kind of freak?

Meanwhile, that train will just keep right on a rollin'... But, don't forget one thing-- all these big-business hypocrites know where the answers lie. They have a blueprint buried somewhere, in a place where the martyrs are buried, some stinking hole deep in a cavern in Israel or Palestine. They know what occurs when the cycle of ignorance is broken... after all, every day they look up at a lifeless image of an assassinated Jew hanging on a cross, reminding them that the beat must go on.

Don't forget that train...