BEHOLD!!!
Your pathetic lives have just been enhanced to maximum level!!!
The Scriptures have been fulfilled and you can now purchase them for Money!
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Your purchase of this fine product is YOUR TICKET INTO HEAVEN!
If you have a copy of this book, you will know eternal bliss. If you do not purchase this book, you will know eternal menstrual cramping. For you males, I will give you a uterus, so don't think that you have lucked out.
No one escapes PMS hell!
Unless they purchase this book in electronic form. So, do it! And if you are lucky enough to have a kindle or something with a kindle app (like iphone, ipad, or android phone) you'll actually be able to read it. You can also download a free app (Adobe Documents is one) for your PC and Macs for fancy computer reading.
You buy now! I become richer, and you get a flat and toned stomach from all the laughter. Everybody wins!
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
Monday, August 15, 2011
Dear Red Cross
Today while I was walking to my hotel room in downtown San Francisco and thinking about how awesome it was going to be getting a glass of wine, I was stopped by a young girl and a young man wearing official Red Cross shit and a binder. The girl asked if I had a minute, and because day dreaming about wine put me in a good mood, I obliged her to lay out whatever bullshit spiel she was about to.
She stated that she was there (meaning "hanging out on the sidewalk where the hobos piss and sleep at night") to do public outreach for the Red Cross and asked me if I knew about the organization. I told her that I had, and at that point she started a rushed and canned presentation that was obviously written by a committee and had very specific points that were meant to tug at my heart strings about disasters and unlucky fuckers whose lives get ruined by "acts of god."
Being young and wishing to rush through her long winded spiel that she was obviously forced to memorize and repeat nearly verbatim over and over and over again, she brushed quickly over those moments. However, she did pause occasionally after asking specific questions that were meant for me to say "yes" to. And I did because I was partially paying attention.
Remember. There was wine to get to.
After a few of these questions and my suspicions growing like a young boy's genitals in the lingerie section of a department store, the young lady pulled out a form to get all my information and to sign me up for monthly donations to your organization.
When I told her that I couldn't do monthly donations right now, the young woman asked, "Why not?"
My suspicions turned to disgust...like a female store clerk viewing a young man wandering around the lingerie section of a department store. And my disgust wasn't just because this stupid bitch was all up in my shit and dared question who she should truly be groveling before.
No. No.
My disgust came because at one time, I was a missionary for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints.
And I did the same FUCKING THING!
I stopped people on the streets who were most likely thinking about booze. I gave them a half truth about what I was REALLY doing there. I gave canned, heartless speeches that included occasional affirming questions. And then, when I really got to the point, that I wanted something from these unwitting rubes, and they objected in a simple and polite way, I asked, "why not?" putting the person on the defensive and causing their brain to try to find a nice way of saying, "NONE OF YOUR FUCKING BUSINESS YOU TACTLESS DILDO!"
Now, I'm going to give your organization some free advice.
Stop!
Seriously, fucking stop! Whoever sold you the lie that this kind of bullshit works is fucking wrong.
You may think that you are getting monthly donations for very little administrative costs, but you are ruining your reputation in the process.
With this kind of selling tactic and for every person that actually signs up, there are an unquantifiable but large number of people who think, "Wow. Fuck the Red Cross. I thought they were there to help people, but are they now just a scam? Are they that desperate, that they have to push a 'hard' sell on to people just to get money?"
You want to do public outreach? Great.
You want to do get monthly donations so you can help more people in times of disasters? Great.
But DON'T USE MORMON MISSIONARY TACTICS.
I know that you are trying to help people. But this isn't HELPING!
If you look closely, you'll see that it hasn't worked for the Mormons, and it won't work for you.
I walked away from your representative disgusted and angry and without even a brochure, because when I told her that I couldn't donate now, but I could in the future, she said that she wasn't allowed to give out anything, BUT she COULD take my information down so that YOU could call ME. And when I said no to that, she then asked again, "Why not?"
Fuck you, Red Cross.
That's why not.
She stated that she was there (meaning "hanging out on the sidewalk where the hobos piss and sleep at night") to do public outreach for the Red Cross and asked me if I knew about the organization. I told her that I had, and at that point she started a rushed and canned presentation that was obviously written by a committee and had very specific points that were meant to tug at my heart strings about disasters and unlucky fuckers whose lives get ruined by "acts of god."
Being young and wishing to rush through her long winded spiel that she was obviously forced to memorize and repeat nearly verbatim over and over and over again, she brushed quickly over those moments. However, she did pause occasionally after asking specific questions that were meant for me to say "yes" to. And I did because I was partially paying attention.
Remember. There was wine to get to.
After a few of these questions and my suspicions growing like a young boy's genitals in the lingerie section of a department store, the young lady pulled out a form to get all my information and to sign me up for monthly donations to your organization.
When I told her that I couldn't do monthly donations right now, the young woman asked, "Why not?"
My suspicions turned to disgust...like a female store clerk viewing a young man wandering around the lingerie section of a department store. And my disgust wasn't just because this stupid bitch was all up in my shit and dared question who she should truly be groveling before.
No. No.
My disgust came because at one time, I was a missionary for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints.
And I did the same FUCKING THING!
I stopped people on the streets who were most likely thinking about booze. I gave them a half truth about what I was REALLY doing there. I gave canned, heartless speeches that included occasional affirming questions. And then, when I really got to the point, that I wanted something from these unwitting rubes, and they objected in a simple and polite way, I asked, "why not?" putting the person on the defensive and causing their brain to try to find a nice way of saying, "NONE OF YOUR FUCKING BUSINESS YOU TACTLESS DILDO!"
Now, I'm going to give your organization some free advice.
Stop!
Seriously, fucking stop! Whoever sold you the lie that this kind of bullshit works is fucking wrong.
You may think that you are getting monthly donations for very little administrative costs, but you are ruining your reputation in the process.
With this kind of selling tactic and for every person that actually signs up, there are an unquantifiable but large number of people who think, "Wow. Fuck the Red Cross. I thought they were there to help people, but are they now just a scam? Are they that desperate, that they have to push a 'hard' sell on to people just to get money?"
You want to do public outreach? Great.
You want to do get monthly donations so you can help more people in times of disasters? Great.
But DON'T USE MORMON MISSIONARY TACTICS.
I know that you are trying to help people. But this isn't HELPING!
If you look closely, you'll see that it hasn't worked for the Mormons, and it won't work for you.
I walked away from your representative disgusted and angry and without even a brochure, because when I told her that I couldn't donate now, but I could in the future, she said that she wasn't allowed to give out anything, BUT she COULD take my information down so that YOU could call ME. And when I said no to that, she then asked again, "Why not?"
Fuck you, Red Cross.
That's why not.
Monday, August 8, 2011
Raptor Jesus' Near Death Experience
I was reading many online fights over Near Death Experiences and Out of Body Experiences. After several days of reading websites and webfights over their "realness" I had my own NDE.
Once my brain decided to shut itself off, I went into cardiac arrest.
I flopped to the floor like a dead fish, and my spirit oozed out of my body like creamy caramel. After gathering myself together I began to float up towards the ceiling. I noted how disgusting the tops of the furniture was, and I thought "This is fucking gross. Someone should really dust up here."
I was greatly heartened that I was floating up instead of being dragged away by screaming shadows, but I was nervous about getting sucked into a jet engine.
Sure if I'm going to go, I'd rather take a bunch of innocent people with me, but maybe that thought alone would end my upward trip and instantly reverse the direction. However, I didn't need to worry about that much longer because before I could get to the moon and confirm that neither quakers NOR racist transformers lived on there, a tunnel opened up before me.
The tunnel was both neat, creepy, and campy and Willie Wonka was there to sing as I passed through towards the light. If I had eyes, I would have called the light blinding. Instead it was giving my soul an amazing tan, and I knew that I was going to heaven super hot. I would just have to find some body glitter.
The light fully enveloped me and I ended up in a place without dimension. I figured that either Dumbledore or Morpheus was going to greet me. That was not the case - I got the REAL Christ figure instead of just a symbolic one.
Regular Jesus looked good for someone who on earth had been so poked full of holes. He embraced me and bade me welcome.
His embrace lingered as he told me how proud he was of me and how much he loved me. I was a little uncomfortable as the embrace continued as well as his gushing.
His hand on my back suddenly slid to my ectoplasm ass and his face moved into mine his mouth slightly open.
Stunned, I pushed him back, and said, "Whoa! Look, Regular Jesus, I'm flattered but I'm not gay."
Christ nervously laughed and his eyes darted around, "What? I'm not gay! What are you talking about?"
My eyes narrowed skeptically, "Then what the fuck was that all about?"
"I just wanted to tell you that I loved you."
"With your fucking tongue in my mouth? I don't fucking think so."
"No..."
I interrupted with a sudden realization. "I get what's going on here. It's your dad! You're totally gay..."
"Shhhhhhhh!" Jesus quickly grabbed my arm and moved in close to ensure a private conversation. "You can't say that. Even if I were...that word...my father would go ballistic. So keep your mouth shut!"
"Man!" I began, "You've got some real daddy issues you need to sort out."
"Tell me about it," he responded resignedly.
"Why don't you just tell him? Yeah, he'll be pissed, but I'm sure he'll get over it."
"No he won't. It's a big deal up here."
"Bullshit."
"Yes it IS!"
"I don't believe you." I asserted. "I'm going to ask around."
Jesus firmly placed his hand on my chest. "No you won't!"
"Oh, what are you going to do? Kick me out? Send me to hell? Like Satan and your dad don't talk?"
"No. I'm sending you back."
"And what's that going accomplish?" I asked.
Jesus pushed me and I began to fall. "Remember," he said, "This is an Near Death Experience. No one will believe you anyway."
Once my brain decided to shut itself off, I went into cardiac arrest.
I flopped to the floor like a dead fish, and my spirit oozed out of my body like creamy caramel. After gathering myself together I began to float up towards the ceiling. I noted how disgusting the tops of the furniture was, and I thought "This is fucking gross. Someone should really dust up here."
I was greatly heartened that I was floating up instead of being dragged away by screaming shadows, but I was nervous about getting sucked into a jet engine.
Sure if I'm going to go, I'd rather take a bunch of innocent people with me, but maybe that thought alone would end my upward trip and instantly reverse the direction. However, I didn't need to worry about that much longer because before I could get to the moon and confirm that neither quakers NOR racist transformers lived on there, a tunnel opened up before me.
The tunnel was both neat, creepy, and campy and Willie Wonka was there to sing as I passed through towards the light. If I had eyes, I would have called the light blinding. Instead it was giving my soul an amazing tan, and I knew that I was going to heaven super hot. I would just have to find some body glitter.
The light fully enveloped me and I ended up in a place without dimension. I figured that either Dumbledore or Morpheus was going to greet me. That was not the case - I got the REAL Christ figure instead of just a symbolic one.
Regular Jesus looked good for someone who on earth had been so poked full of holes. He embraced me and bade me welcome.
His embrace lingered as he told me how proud he was of me and how much he loved me. I was a little uncomfortable as the embrace continued as well as his gushing.
His hand on my back suddenly slid to my ectoplasm ass and his face moved into mine his mouth slightly open.
Stunned, I pushed him back, and said, "Whoa! Look, Regular Jesus, I'm flattered but I'm not gay."
Christ nervously laughed and his eyes darted around, "What? I'm not gay! What are you talking about?"
My eyes narrowed skeptically, "Then what the fuck was that all about?"
"I just wanted to tell you that I loved you."
"With your fucking tongue in my mouth? I don't fucking think so."
"No..."
I interrupted with a sudden realization. "I get what's going on here. It's your dad! You're totally gay..."
"Shhhhhhhh!" Jesus quickly grabbed my arm and moved in close to ensure a private conversation. "You can't say that. Even if I were...that word...my father would go ballistic. So keep your mouth shut!"
"Man!" I began, "You've got some real daddy issues you need to sort out."
"Tell me about it," he responded resignedly.
"Why don't you just tell him? Yeah, he'll be pissed, but I'm sure he'll get over it."
"No he won't. It's a big deal up here."
"Bullshit."
"Yes it IS!"
"I don't believe you." I asserted. "I'm going to ask around."
Jesus firmly placed his hand on my chest. "No you won't!"
"Oh, what are you going to do? Kick me out? Send me to hell? Like Satan and your dad don't talk?"
"No. I'm sending you back."
"And what's that going accomplish?" I asked.
Jesus pushed me and I began to fall. "Remember," he said, "This is an Near Death Experience. No one will believe you anyway."
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
Raptor Jesus' Guide to Eating Babies
Poor, Irish folk got you down?
Trapped in a post-apocalyptic nightmare where there's no food and ash falls from the sky like snow?
Or simply tired of the same three restaurants?
Try eating Babies!
As a raptor, we've known for eons how delightful eating babies can be.
Steal an egg from a nest - Deeeeeeeeeelicious. Or possibly cull the weak or diseased from your own hatch. Yum yum yum. There are many reasons to try a chewy child treat, and none of them wrong.
But what is the best way to eat a baby?
Well, freshest is bestest as they say. But babies only last for two years tops, so you'll need to have some back up ideas.
Try juicing your freshly caught chillins. Add some vodka for a kid cocktail after a long hard day.
You've earned it!
Add some worcestershire sauce and a stalk of celery for the most authentic Bloody Mary possible.
Freeze dried babies are not ideal, but they can make an acceptable caserole or added to make a child chilli.
Frozen babies last about as long as any other meat, so watch out for that freezer burn.
Buurrrrrrrrr!
Fresh babies can be prepared any way you can think. Baked, grilled, fried, pureed into soup, or even Ba-By-Qued.
Only your imagination can stop you. Just remember, a baby in the pot is worth two in the backyard.
Bon Apetite!
Trapped in a post-apocalyptic nightmare where there's no food and ash falls from the sky like snow?
Or simply tired of the same three restaurants?
Try eating Babies!
As a raptor, we've known for eons how delightful eating babies can be.
Steal an egg from a nest - Deeeeeeeeeelicious. Or possibly cull the weak or diseased from your own hatch. Yum yum yum. There are many reasons to try a chewy child treat, and none of them wrong.
But what is the best way to eat a baby?
Well, freshest is bestest as they say. But babies only last for two years tops, so you'll need to have some back up ideas.
Try juicing your freshly caught chillins. Add some vodka for a kid cocktail after a long hard day.
You've earned it!
Add some worcestershire sauce and a stalk of celery for the most authentic Bloody Mary possible.
Freeze dried babies are not ideal, but they can make an acceptable caserole or added to make a child chilli.
Frozen babies last about as long as any other meat, so watch out for that freezer burn.
Buurrrrrrrrr!
Fresh babies can be prepared any way you can think. Baked, grilled, fried, pureed into soup, or even Ba-By-Qued.
Only your imagination can stop you. Just remember, a baby in the pot is worth two in the backyard.
Bon Apetite!
Saturday, July 23, 2011
To everyone who doubts and feels that the church may still be true.
Lean on my anti-testimony until you find your own. Until you can say that you know beyond a shadow of a doubt and with every fiber of your being that the church is full of racoon feces, let me say it for you, while you feel the spirit of the unholy ghost frost your crotch confirming my words.
Just like the parable of the Bachelor and the Seven Whores that gathered shots of Jäger to enter the frat party, such is the way of the exmormon.
Don't be the whore without booze that was left outside of the party and had to text her sister to pick her up and it was very embarrassing, and she totally felt like a loser. Don't be the exmormon without your own anti-testimony.
Listen to the former prophet's grandson, study the journal of discourses, and pray to me, Raptor Jesus, and no TBM will ever deceive you with the pretend truth.
Blog peeps and peepettes. It is my blasphemous prayer that you will take my counsel and cram it.
Alsodontforgettorock, Amen.
Just like the parable of the Bachelor and the Seven Whores that gathered shots of Jäger to enter the frat party, such is the way of the exmormon.
Don't be the whore without booze that was left outside of the party and had to text her sister to pick her up and it was very embarrassing, and she totally felt like a loser. Don't be the exmormon without your own anti-testimony.
Listen to the former prophet's grandson, study the journal of discourses, and pray to me, Raptor Jesus, and no TBM will ever deceive you with the pretend truth.
Blog peeps and peepettes. It is my blasphemous prayer that you will take my counsel and cram it.
Alsodontforgettorock, Amen.
Monday, July 11, 2011
For those of you who resign/want to resign.
But don't want to meet with the local leadership.
First of all, you of course don't have to. Second of all, it doesn't matter if you did.
However, I have to be honest in saying that I sometimes fantasize about going to your meetings with the Bishop and Stake President along with you as your "arbiter."
I do this because I would find it to be hysterical, and in my brain of hearts the scene would play out similar to a settlement meeting (but one from TV).
Bishop Buttkiss and Stake President Patronizing would sit across from us in a large room with a large desk. In the background you can see sexy people looking busy through the large panes of glass.
The Stake President is calm and collected in his expensive grey suit. His silver hair is perfectly parted and the right side has a slight curl to the bangs.
The Bishop looks haggard and weary in his cheap suit. His stress gut wheezes up and down, straining over his too small pants.
Raptor Jesus Esquire sits back almost lounging. One arm resting slightly on the arm of the chair. The other wrist sitting gently on the edge of the table. His long hair and bebearded face would seem almost out of place except for the clothes he wears. His deep navy blue suit is made darker by the black shirt underneath, but is offset by the silver patterned tie. His crooked smile and icy blue gaze never leave the Stake President's Face.
The client is trying her best to remain calm. She has been coached to keep her hands clasped underneath the table resting on the thighs of her pantsuit. No more dresses for her unless she chooses them.
The Bishop goes to speak but is interrupted immediately by the Stake President.
Stake President: Sister Hug-E-Bear,
RJ Esq: She's not your sister, Mr. Patronizing.
Both Bishop and Stake President breathe in noticeably and exhale slowly.
Stake President: Very well. Ms. Hug-E-Bear. We received your request for resignation but we must demand that you reconsider it.
RJ Esq: Let the record show that neither Mr. Buttkiss nor Mr. Patronizing is the boss of my client.
Bishop: Look, we just...
Stake President (flashing his teeth quickly at the Bishop and touching his arm): Siste...Ms. Please! How can you put your eternal salvation at risk like this??? And your family...
Client Hug-E-Bear goes to speak, she is obviously shaken. Raptor Jesus Esquire puts his hand up slightly.
RJ Esq: My client doesn't have to answer any of your questions. However, she has prepared a statement in case of this particular question. (He sifts quickly through papers until finding the right one. Tilting his head back so he can read the paper through the glasses). My client has requested (his eyes peer over his glasses to the two sitting on the other side of the table) that you "fuck yourselves...."
Stake President: This is an outrage!
Bishop: Disgusting!
RJ Esq: (continuing) She also requests that you, "Eat shit and THEN die."
Stake President (getting up): This is offensive, let's go, Bishop.
Bishop (quickly getting up as well): Absolutely.
Stake President (while walking from the room and waggling his finger): You are making a BIG MISTAKE!
(The Bishop is shaking his head in sadness as he begins to exit)
RJ Esq (voice rising as they leave the room): Furthermore, you can kiss Her Bum, ONE TIME!!!
The two sit alone in the room for a moment.
RJ Esq to client: See? That was kind of fun!
End Scene!!!!
First of all, you of course don't have to. Second of all, it doesn't matter if you did.
However, I have to be honest in saying that I sometimes fantasize about going to your meetings with the Bishop and Stake President along with you as your "arbiter."
I do this because I would find it to be hysterical, and in my brain of hearts the scene would play out similar to a settlement meeting (but one from TV).
Bishop Buttkiss and Stake President Patronizing would sit across from us in a large room with a large desk. In the background you can see sexy people looking busy through the large panes of glass.
The Stake President is calm and collected in his expensive grey suit. His silver hair is perfectly parted and the right side has a slight curl to the bangs.
The Bishop looks haggard and weary in his cheap suit. His stress gut wheezes up and down, straining over his too small pants.
Raptor Jesus Esquire sits back almost lounging. One arm resting slightly on the arm of the chair. The other wrist sitting gently on the edge of the table. His long hair and bebearded face would seem almost out of place except for the clothes he wears. His deep navy blue suit is made darker by the black shirt underneath, but is offset by the silver patterned tie. His crooked smile and icy blue gaze never leave the Stake President's Face.
The client is trying her best to remain calm. She has been coached to keep her hands clasped underneath the table resting on the thighs of her pantsuit. No more dresses for her unless she chooses them.
The Bishop goes to speak but is interrupted immediately by the Stake President.
Stake President: Sister Hug-E-Bear,
RJ Esq: She's not your sister, Mr. Patronizing.
Both Bishop and Stake President breathe in noticeably and exhale slowly.
Stake President: Very well. Ms. Hug-E-Bear. We received your request for resignation but we must demand that you reconsider it.
RJ Esq: Let the record show that neither Mr. Buttkiss nor Mr. Patronizing is the boss of my client.
Bishop: Look, we just...
Stake President (flashing his teeth quickly at the Bishop and touching his arm): Siste...Ms. Please! How can you put your eternal salvation at risk like this??? And your family...
Client Hug-E-Bear goes to speak, she is obviously shaken. Raptor Jesus Esquire puts his hand up slightly.
RJ Esq: My client doesn't have to answer any of your questions. However, she has prepared a statement in case of this particular question. (He sifts quickly through papers until finding the right one. Tilting his head back so he can read the paper through the glasses). My client has requested (his eyes peer over his glasses to the two sitting on the other side of the table) that you "fuck yourselves...."
Stake President: This is an outrage!
Bishop: Disgusting!
RJ Esq: (continuing) She also requests that you, "Eat shit and THEN die."
Stake President (getting up): This is offensive, let's go, Bishop.
Bishop (quickly getting up as well): Absolutely.
Stake President (while walking from the room and waggling his finger): You are making a BIG MISTAKE!
(The Bishop is shaking his head in sadness as he begins to exit)
RJ Esq (voice rising as they leave the room): Furthermore, you can kiss Her Bum, ONE TIME!!!
The two sit alone in the room for a moment.
RJ Esq to client: See? That was kind of fun!
End Scene!!!!
Monday, July 4, 2011
4th of July History Lesson to all my Un-American readers.
100 years ago today (and each year it is ALWAYS 100 years), god was helping give birth to the greatest country that he has ever given us, but Satan was trying to thwart that by controlling the evil Britannica king Merryweather Fanncyfanny by inviting the founding fathers to a tea party. George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, Jesus, and Captain Moroni showed up and king Fancyfanny tossed the hot tea RIGHT IN THEIR FACES!
It was an outrage! And war were declared.
As was the style at the time, the victor would be determined by a flexing contest. Gathering the finest oils and body glitter from France, the founding fathers rent their frilly blouses in twain and flexed with all their might.
Their shiny bulging muscles were too much to handle, and the Brits were driven back by sheer vascularity.
America had won it's Independence while the losers were forced to go door to door selling encyclopedias documenting their defeat.
Because of our heritage - this is why many American politicians are elected even today based on pictures of their rippling muscles.
It was an outrage! And war were declared.
As was the style at the time, the victor would be determined by a flexing contest. Gathering the finest oils and body glitter from France, the founding fathers rent their frilly blouses in twain and flexed with all their might.
Their shiny bulging muscles were too much to handle, and the Brits were driven back by sheer vascularity.
America had won it's Independence while the losers were forced to go door to door selling encyclopedias documenting their defeat.
Because of our heritage - this is why many American politicians are elected even today based on pictures of their rippling muscles.
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