god’s Pretty Things (don’t forget about the ugly)

Nature-Wallpaper-Sunset-HD-Desktop-BackgroundThe bright, beautiful blue sky.  The glorious sun setting and disappearing into the ocean.  The glorious full moon and shining stars in the night sky.

A magnificent waterfall cascading over a mountain.  The Grand Canyon.  The “miracle” of childbirth.

Many religious people point to the above items as proof of god’s existence, god creating this incredible planet we live on and god creating all humans in his image.

But what about these things:  A muddy, insect swarming swamp. A tar pit.  A volcano erupting, shooting lava and suffocating every living thing in its path.  A hurricane/typhoon devastating a coastline and destroying lives.

A child stricken with cancer, dying a slow, painful death.  A child bent over a pew, being sodomized by a priest and terrified to tell anyone.  An innocent person struck and killed by lightning.

“It’s a miracle, childbirth is a miracle.  No it’s not.  No more of a miracle than eating food and a turd coming out of your ass.  It’s a chemical reaction.  That’s all it fucking is.” Bill Hicks

If you are going to believe that god created all the pretty things, you have to believe that he also created all the shitty things too.  It’s only fair.

I’m still waiting for a reasonable explanation from believers as to why so many shitty things happen to good, innocent people.

And don’t tell me it’s “all part of god’s plan,” that’s just total bullshit.

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Fat Nurses; a Parade of Irony

I have always been a big fan of irony.  And nothing intrigues me more than a fat nurse.  That’s right.

Let that sink in for a minute.  A fat nurse.   A nurse who is fat.  A nurse who eats too much.

I’m not talking about the glamorized nurse on television who every male patient wants a sponge bath from, I’m talking about the squeaky shoe nurse.

The nurse with the very visible, large panty line that looks like a mini-parachute hiding underneath some intensely stressed scrubs.  The nurse with the fake tanned skin, pursed lips from smoking and a speck of leftover Twinkie sitting on the corner of her mouth.

Now I’m not at all offended by people who are overweight.  I’ve always struggled with my weight, mainly because I’m not willing to give up Cheetohs, Mountain Dew and beer.

I know what it’s like to be overweight, but you don’t see me telling people to cut down on eating Philly cheese steaks or that midnight grilled cheese sandwich.

I know that difficulty first hand.   Oh, and I never forget to add a piece of bologna to the grilled cheese.  For protein of course. Continue reading

How to Become a Hipster

If you haven’t been to a bar lately or walked in any mildly populated urban areas, there is a subculture out there called Hipsters.

I for one, think they are hilarious and can’t help but laugh at their desire to be cooler than everyone else. So, I decided to write a simple, step by step guide on How To Be A Hipster.

Just in case any of you want to be cooler than you already are. I’ve broken it down into 5 easy steps.
(Important note: this may not be an all inclusive list, I’ve only experienced hipsters at a short distance, please excuse any inaccuracies.)

Step 1: Beer
Forget your Heineken, Chimay, St. Bernardus, Sierra Nevada or Guinness, your days of drinking high quality, preservative free beer are over. Get ready for PBR (Pabst Blue Ribbon), Old Milwaukee, and Keystone.

That’s right, in order to be a hipster you must drink old, crappy, aluminum canned beers. And after drinking this type of beer, you will spend most of your mornings groaning on the toilet.

But it’s worth it, being cool is much more important than a few painful and runny bowel movements. Continue reading

Self-Interview with The Sandy Tongue

Self-Interview with The Sandy Tongue

(I’ve always wanted to be interviewed by some important publication like Vanity Fair or Playboy, but I fear it may never happen.  So, I figured I would interview myself.  I will be conducting the interview of myself as if I had written an acclaimed novel that later became a blockbuster movie, kind of like The Notebook.)

Interviewer Notes: Scheduling a meeting with The Sandy Tongue was indeed a difficult task, but finally, he agreed to meet me at Vol De Nuit in Soho.

It’s a Belgian beer bar, dimly light and mysterious, much like the Tongue.  He was wearing a non-ironic shirt, non-ironic pants and smelled of a normal scent.  He was drinking a Chimay White.

Interviewer: So, unless under a rock, everyone knows that you have become a tremendous success.  To what do you tribute this success?

Tongue: I’m confused when you say, “have become a tremendous success.”  I’ve always been successful, but now people just notice me more because they see my name on the cover of a book and scrolling across the bottom of a movie screen.

Interviewer: Well, that’s not exactly what I expected you to say. Continue reading