"The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he hath anointed me to preach the gospel to the poor; he hath sent me to heal the brokenhearted, to preach deliverance to the captives, and recovering of sight to the blind, to set at liberty them that are bruised, To preach the acceptable year of the Lord". And he closed the book, and he gave it again to the minister, and sat down.
As I begin typing this, it's Sunday. I fully intended to go to church this morning. I went to Farley's later instead with my last eighty cents before the bank opens tomorrow morning; the girls drained my pockets yet again. Draft is only seventy five cents there on Sunday. There were only a couple of grizzled old men in the bar.
I was in an excellent mood, despite the fact that I think I tore the retina in my right eye, I discovered that all my Led Zepplin CDs had been stolen, and the girls had somehow gotten me to spend all my ready cash once again. I got a draft.
The fellow on my left started talking about the women he saw in church. "There were a whole lot of redheads", he said. I replied "how could you tell if they had their pants on?"
The gay bartender made some snide remark about the women I brought in there. What would he know? Good for him, though, the more of you turn gay the better. If you all turn gay I can have your women! So long as you don't hit on me, that is. If you try to pick me up I'll puke on your shirt, so be warned.
The guy on my left ordered a "Bloody Susan". I'd never heard of one of those. "It's like a Bloody Mary" said the bartender, "only there's more flow".
"Oh" I said, "Susan must wear a maxipad."
The fellow on my right said "I saw a couple of black girls in the store yesterday. They were standing in front of the female products and one said to the other 'so many choices! How do I know which one to get?'
"The other one asks 'what's you flow?' and the first one says 'linoleum.'"
He had just moved down from Chicago. "Are there ever any ladies that come in this bar?"
"No," I said. "Lots of women but no ladies." Of course, two attractive ladies walked in and heard me just as I was saying it. I took my foot out of my mouth, finished my beer and slunk off after attempting to recover with "damn, first time for everything.".
I refuse to "kiss and tell" so if you want to suspend my nerd license again you're going to have to come up with Gimped photos.
"Hell yes he got laid," said Tami. "Look at that smile on his face!"
"You're right," Amy said."He ain't foolin' nobody. He hasn't bitched and whined about not getting any pussy even once. And there's only one thing that will make him smile like that!
What was better than the date itself was that it turned out that Kelly hadn't been married after all; the court proceedings hadn't been for divorce, but custody. She hadn't married the child's father, but he had custody. When you're a political bigshot in Illinois, home of Al Capone, Dan Walker, George Ryan and "Big Jim" Thompson you can pretty much have anything you want, especially when your adversary is dirt poor.
I don't think I have one friend that I don't pity. I need low friends ion high places, but all I have is high friends in low places.
Tami says her husband calls her "Lucifer". The poor fool's right; the woman seems to be posessed by the spirit of pure evil. "It's easier to be bad than to be good" she says. Some of these women I've been hanging around with make Becky, AKA Evil-X, the adulterous slut that I used to be married to, look like an angel by comparison. And there's no way in hell I'd be with that ugly bitch again.
I should have never put my dick in Becky; perhaps she would have been a lifelong friend had I not. But then again, not only would my two daughters nave ever existed, who knows what my life would have been like?
Tami's one redeeming feature is that she's faithful to her womanizing husband, who's had sex with my prostitute friend Linda and most likely every other woman he could get his pecker into. I'll never forget the night Linda met Tami.
I was partying with Linda when Tami called trying to find some illegal contraband to frame an enemy with. Linda said she could get some, so we went to pick up Tami. As we pulled up next to Tami's apartment Linda made a nervous giggle and pointed to her apartment. "I had a 'date' that lived there," she said. To the rest of us, a "Date" is dinner and a movie and maybe a frew drinks, to a hooker a "date" is sex and money.
We pulled into the parking lot. "Oh shit," Linda said, "Her husband isn't Mexican is he?"
"No," I said, "He's from Peru."
"Oh my God" Linda said. Her face was white as a sheet when she met Tami. Linda made me swear to never tell Tami about Linda's tryst with her husband, who she'd not known was married. Not that it would matter. But apparently Linda told "Sam", aho told Amy, who spilled the beans to Tami. Tami was furious with me for not telling her, but I would have been wrong to break my promise to Linda; it would have only hurt Tami, and besides, I'd rather piss off a woman I couldn't have sex with than Linda.
Linda eventually became friends with Tami. Her husband called Tami "Lucifer". His pet name for her is "Puta". She desn't speak Spanish and I never told her what Puta is Spanish for.
I've discovered that Tami is a thief. She'd stolen from her own mother, shoplifted, stole medical supplies and toilet paper (which she uses more of than air, having to urinate seemingly every half hour) from her doctor, and emptied her husband's wallet and bank account on many occasions. I found out that the reason he was so mad about the flat tire was that she'd traded the jack out of his car for whiskey money and yuks. Apparently she enjoys seeing others suffer, and gets a kick out of people's anger.
She's a troll - an offline troll. When I'd been partying with her baby's father, a good friend of several years the previous Monday, he apologised for introducing me to her.
She's cockblocked me on many occasions, being there when I could have had a single woman in my abode. I mean, not even a prostitute will bang you when there's another woman in the house (unless she's getting paid for a threesome). She almost did it again Friday, calling when I was in the car with Kelly. "No you CAN'T borrow twenty dollars and God damn it I'm busy!" She knew I had that date with Kelly and I might get lucky! Like the Tom Petty song says, "even the losers get lucky sometimes".
She says she doesn't get much sex from her husband (the poor bastard), who's getting it from prostitutes and anyone else he can stick it in. She had just complained a few days earlier that he'd fucked her for the first time in a month and it didn't even last two minutes. "At least that means he hasn't been getting any anywhere else" she said. I'm sure that she thinks that since she's not getting any, nobody else should be getting any, either.
Tami makes it damned hard to be a good Christian. At least she hasn't tried to seduce me. Yet.
Friday morning I'd called Amy's boyfriend as I'd promised her, telling him she was in the hospital. She called later telling me she'd been transfered to a mental institution but was being discharged later. My cell rang as I was talking to Amy on my work phone. I told her call me back in five minutes.
It was her boyfriend, who'd called the hospital and been told she wasn't a patient. "I just got off the phone with her," I told him, "They transferred her to Westlake and she's supposed to get released today" I said. "She said she'd call me back."
"Well tell her to PLEASE call me" the poor fool said. Never fall in love with a lunatic. "Tell her I'm not mad at her, I'm just worried sick!" I promised to tell her. I did when she called back. She wanted me to meet her at Tami's when I got off work, which was at my usual lunch hour; I'd planned on taking the afternoon off for my date with Kelly. Amy's SUV was out of gas (of course it was out of gas, SUVs get about two miles per gallon) and at the hospital. I stopped by Tami's, who had promised me lunch (no, not pink tacos, Commander), said "hi" to her husband, and dropped the two of them off at Amy's car after loaning Amy twenty bucks for gas.
I called Tami's after my date and told them they could come over now but bring their own alcohol. It would be whiskey, of course, as the two of them are hopeless alcoholics. I didn't want to get the usual two beers out of my twelve pack as always happened when they showed up alcohol-free.
Kelly was supposed to come back Saturday night at six thirty, she was going to call. Tami's husband was supposed to fetch Tami from my house when he got off work. When he didn't call, Tami spent the rest of the night crying on my shoulder over the adulterous alien (yes, kids, it's aliens on slashdot).
Amy's boyfriend picked her up fairly early in the evening, before Tami's husbamd went AWOL. As Tami and I were on our way to the gas station for another half pint of cheap whiskey, Amy called. I gave Tami the phone and she cried to Amy about her adulterous husband's not showing up. Aparently Amy tried to cheer her up with some news of a personal problem of her own.
"You fucking bitch! Tami screamed. God damn you!" and laughed. "She just started her period, damn her! Every time she starts I start the next day!"
Her husband showed up the next night as if nothing was wrong, and she acted as if nothing was wrong as well.
Kelly never called.
Tami's husband brought some lame, boring sports movies that almost put me to sleep rather than Bad Santa , which Tami said was hilarious and which he was supposed to bring. "Did Amy leave any of those women things?" she asked. Luckily for her and my couch she had. I loaned Tami and her husband my last twenty bucks; I had eighty cents left to last me until tomorrow (Monday).
In June of '06 I had cataract surgery, which completely cured the cataract, extreme nearsightedness, astigmatism, and age-related farsightedness in my left eye. It doesn't, however, change the shape of the eyeball, which is the cause of nearsightedness. That shape leads to torn retinas, and the retina in the eye I had fixed tore six months after trhe surgery.
If you are extremely nearsighted, especially if you are over 30 or have suffered a blow to the head, and you see a shower of black snow and snakes, you have a medical emergency. Your retina is torn, and if you don't get it fixed the retina will detach and you will go completely blind in that eye.
A retina specialist at the Prarie Eye Center welded the retina back with a laser, and the parts the laser couldn't reach because of the struts in my implant (I'm now a cyborg, I guess. You will be assimilated. Resistance is futile!) he used the old-fashioned therapy for, which involves holding a metal probe supercooled by liquid nitrogen on the outside of the eyeball where the tear is on the inside.
If I'd been strapped to a chair at Guantanimo and they did that to me, I'd confess to smoking pot, mass murder, child rape, and being Osama Bin Laden. I'd even confess to copyright infringement, which as anyone who listens to the RIAA, Kiss, Metallica and Madonna knows is far worse than any of the other henous crimes I mentioned. The therapy proved once and for all to me that torture is NOT an effective interrogation method - I'm not, after all, a child raping mass murdering terrorist and I'm not an Arab. Bush needs to cut that shit out. He calls himself a Christian?
Anyway, I haven't been to church in a few months, even though the church is two houses down from my house.
Just about everything I've ever prayed for in my fifty five years on this planet I've gotten, and the things I didn't get, I later I realized that not getting them was a far greater gift than getting them. I've also been shown that thanking or praising God for His gifts is the kind of hubris that really pisses him off, as every time I've thanked him for answering a prayer, He took the gift back.
The last time I was in church they were passing around the microphone and I completely forgot hat praising God for a gift pissed him off, and told the congregation about being so nearsighted that if there were no such things as glasses I'd be legally blind, and how my blindness was cured. When I said my eyesight was now better than 20-20 and I didn't even need reading glasses over my aged eyeballs, the congregation gasped.
The sermon the preacher had prepared was mostly about Christ curing the blind. God was making Himself apparently evident to everyone there that day.
Later that day the eye started bleeding inside again, and by nightfall it was completely black. The eye that had beeen cured was completely blind.
Of course, I went to the doctor the very next day, and the retina was still intact. It cleared up eventually; I could see a little when I went to see him Monday but it was still too full of blood for him to tell if the retina was damaged, but by the end of the week it was clear enough for him to see it was ok, and eventually my sight came back. One hell of a warning!
My right eye, the one that's still nearsighted and farsighted has been flashing all weekend. This morning there's a shower of black snow and snakelike things in it. I'll call Dr. Odin first thing tomorrow.
Somehow I never made it to church. I went to Farley's later and spent all but a nickle of my vast fortune on a beer.
If you are a Christian, I wish you a Merry Chriatmas. If you are a different religion I wish you peace and prosperity.
If you are an athiest I thank God that you've never found Christ.