Are You There God? It's Me, Kevin
They say that Honore de Balzac used to write with a bowl of rotting oranges on his desk to hold writer's block at bay. I've got empty beer bottles on the floor, three pairs of headphones, some Andy Dick TV show, a bottle of vitamins and toenail clippers. I cannot be stopped. And my name doesn't bring to mind a sex maneuver involving Gold Bond Powder, a felt pillow and Jesus-strength myrrh.
Some have feared that SoK had died. As the Yogi of this Ashram, let me just tell you maggots: Like the South, the Brood X Cicada and the prophetic phoenix, I have risen. As foretold in the scripture, bitches.
Still, I haven't had a coherent thought for a week or two and this will not be an exception. But it does occur to me that there is a marked occurrence of my thoughts not corresponding with reality. For example, I laughed hysterically at the inspirational quote in my work elevator:
"Pleasure in the Job Puts Perfection in the Work."
--Aristotle
Turns out, I read it as "Hard work will set you free." I later again misread the appropriateness of my sense of humor, whilst attending a friend's wedding. Religiousness has a curious effect on people.
Me: "I got a great rock band name. So what do you think of 'Siegfried and Jesus?'"
Groom: "That is horrendous. I want to throw up on myself, clean up, then throw up on myself again."
I insist that, well, yes, it may be months until Roy can get back into the act. The show must go on. It's the spirit of Vegas. Some things are bigger than any one man. Who's best suited to deal wild, man-eating, genetically modified tigers? The Son of God. Damn skippy.
Sorry about all of this. I think this might be the least interesting religion writing since any Modest Mouse song.
I'm spending money like a drunken sailor and do not have a mustache. One will change.
Fire 'n Brimstone,
--Ed
Some have feared that SoK had died. As the Yogi of this Ashram, let me just tell you maggots: Like the South, the Brood X Cicada and the prophetic phoenix, I have risen. As foretold in the scripture, bitches.
Still, I haven't had a coherent thought for a week or two and this will not be an exception. But it does occur to me that there is a marked occurrence of my thoughts not corresponding with reality. For example, I laughed hysterically at the inspirational quote in my work elevator:
"Pleasure in the Job Puts Perfection in the Work."
--Aristotle
Turns out, I read it as "Hard work will set you free." I later again misread the appropriateness of my sense of humor, whilst attending a friend's wedding. Religiousness has a curious effect on people.
Me: "I got a great rock band name. So what do you think of 'Siegfried and Jesus?'"
Groom: "That is horrendous. I want to throw up on myself, clean up, then throw up on myself again."
I insist that, well, yes, it may be months until Roy can get back into the act. The show must go on. It's the spirit of Vegas. Some things are bigger than any one man. Who's best suited to deal wild, man-eating, genetically modified tigers? The Son of God. Damn skippy.
Sorry about all of this. I think this might be the least interesting religion writing since any Modest Mouse song.
I'm spending money like a drunken sailor and do not have a mustache. One will change.
Fire 'n Brimstone,
--Ed
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