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Jason Rimbaud

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  1. Jason Rimbaud
    Is The Christian God Of The Bible Moral?
    Part Six: The Punishment of David
    An InDepth Look At Morality From An Atheist Perspective
    Written By: Jason Rimbaud
     
    Most of us have heard the story about David besting the giant Goliath with just a sling. How, when he was still a young boy, was anointed to be the second King of Israel. He wrote numerous psalms, left his kingdom to his son, Solomon, who was reputed to be the wisest person who ever lived. 
    Did you also know he made a lifelong friend with King Saul’s son, Jonathan? So close they were, when Jonathan died in battle, David wrote a psalm about him. Saying Jonathan’s love was so extraordinary, it surpassed the love of a woman. Gaaayyy! 
    I’m not here to talk about whether or not David and Jonathan were tending to each other's peens. Though if you read between the lines, it kind of looks like they did. 
    Today we are going to talk about a story that many people do not know about our beloved King David. And this story takes place about halfway through his forty-year reign. That would put David in his mid-fifties. 
    We pick up the narrative in 2 Samuel 11:1 In the spring, at the time when kings go off to war, David sent Joab out with the king’s men and the whole Israelite army. They destroyed the Ammonites and besieged Rabbah. But David remained in Jerusalem. 
    For context, the Ammonites were descendants of Lot, you know the one whose wife turned to a pillar of salt because she dared look back at her home as god destroyed it, and they served Molech. They were also thought to be extremely cruel during wartime. 
    David had newly united Israel, so though the King was supposed to go to war, he might have been needed in Jerusalem to oversee his newly formed kingdom. Yet others say this dereliction of duty resulted in his sin. 
    Let that be a lesson to all you Kings: if you remain back while other people slaughter their enemies, you might stick your peen into another man’s wife.
    2: One evening David got up from his bed and walked around on the roof of the palace. From the roof he saw a woman bathing. The woman was very beautiful,
    I like it, David was a peeping Tom. I guess Jonathan’s allure had worn off by this time, and he was looking for some strange.
    3: and David sent someone to find out about her. The man said, “She is Bathsheba, the daughter of Eliam and the wife of Uriah the Hittite.”
    Bathsheba means: daughter of the oath. 
    I like that David, from his perch atop his palace, was stroking one out as he watched her bathe. And he liked her so much that even after he came off the roof of the palace, he found someone and said, what do you know of that hot piece of ass.
    4: Then David sent messengers to get her. She came to him, and he slept with her. (Now she was purifying herself from her monthly uncleanness.) Then she went back home. 
    I wonder if those messengers might have been soldiers. Considering he was the king, the ultimate power in the land, and she was married, do you think it was consensual? I’d bet dollars to donuts it wasn’t. 
    I also like how the writers of 2 Samuel made sure to mention it was her time of the month. Like that was a bad thing. Her uncleanness. Lucky ancient Hebrews had multiple wives so they didn’t have to be around those horrible women when they were on their periods. They could just bang one of the others.
    5: The woman conceived and sent word to David, saying, “I am pregnant.”
    What rotten luck? On the first try, David put a bun in the oven. That’s some powerful sperm. 
    But knowing what we know about women’s cycles, when he saw her, she was performing a purificatory ritual after her period. And the first time he banged her, she got pregnant. This couldn’t have happened on a single day. That meant David was obsessing over this naked woman for a few weeks.
    Or maybe he banged her more than once. 
    6: So David sent this word to Joab: “Send me Uriah the Hittite.” And Joab sent him to David. 
    Remember, Joab is leading the armies David is supposed to be leading. And Uriah is one of his soldiers, fighting for David’s cause. And he just banged his wife. 
    Just a fun fact, David had six wives already. So each time one of these fuck heads says that gays getting married destroyed the sanctity of marriage, show them this passage. When marriage was invented, it was never between one man and one woman. That came much later.
    Not to get off on a tangent, but why was it perfectly fine for men to have multiple wives, but it's never been okay for women to have multiple husbands? I guess, when men are the ones who wrote the book, they’d stack the deck in their favor. 
    7: When Uriah came to him, David asked him how Joab was, how the soldiers were and how the war was going.
    8: Then David said to Uriah, “Go down to your house and wash your feet.” So Uriah left the palace, and a gift from the king was sent after him.
    9: But Uriah slept at the entrance to the palace with all his master’s servants and did not go down to his house.
    David makes a pretense of inquiring about the war. Though why he’d ask a soldier instead of Joab, well, that becomes clear quickly. 
    After a few pleasantries, David’s like, hey bub, you’ve been away from your wife fighting these bad guys. Why don’t you go home, wash your feet, stick your peen in your wife so you think you’re the father of my rape baby. 
    But Uriah is like, no dog, I’ve been banging my fellow soldiers so I’ll sleep in your doorway, you know the place all your servants sleep. Must have been a bitch getting in and out of the palace if all the servants were sleeping at the entrances. 
    10: David was told, “Uriah did not go home.” So he asked Uriah, “Haven’t you just come from a military campaign? Why didn’t you go home?” 
    Hey Uriah, aren’t you horny after killing so many people? I know when I’m done killing for the day, I want to fuck my wife. Why don’t you want to fuck your wife?
    11: Uriah said to David, “The ark and Israel and Judah are staying in tents, and my commander Joab, and my lord’s men are camped in the open country. How could I go home to my house to eat and drink and make love to my wife? As surely as you live, I will not do such a thing!”
    Uriah was like, my god, my commander, and my soldiers aren’t here; I’d rather be there sleeping with them instead of my wife.
    Uriah’s refusal to fuck his wife is really pissing David off. He needs to cover up this rape, he needs Uriah to raise his bastard baby. 
    12: Then David said to him, “Stay here one more day, and tomorrow I will send you back.” So Uriah remained in Jerusalem that day and the next.
    13: At David’s invitation, he ate and drank with him, and David made him drunk. But in the evening Uriah went out to sleep on his mat among his master's servants; he did not go home. 
    David tried to get him drunk. After a few mugs of wine, everyone wants to bang their wives. But not Uriah, he was more concerned about his comrades in arms than he was about banging Bathsheba. 
    Which makes you wonder what type of shrew did David fall in love with if her own husband didn’t want to plant a seed inside her.
    14: In the morning David wrote a letter to Joab and sent it with Uriah. 
    15: In it he wrote, “Put Uriah out in front where the fighting is fierest. Then withdraw from him so he will be struck down and die.” 
    Damn, David is cold. Hey Uriah, go back to your comrades. Here’s a letter; make sure you don’t fucking read it though. 
    Imagine if you’re Joab. He gets this letter from the king, essentially ordering the murder of one of his soldiers. Obviously they’ve been fighting in this siege for a hot minute. And he is being told to sacrifice one of his own men and doesn’t even know why. 
    What’s a boy to do? 
    16: So while Joab had the city under siege, he put Uriah at a place where he knew the strongest defenders were.
    17: When the men of the city came out and fought against Joab, some of the men in David’s army fell; moreover, Uriah the Hittite died. 
    Oh snap. To cover up a rape, David has the husband murdered. That’s some next-level chess playing right there. 
    I can see David justifying this murder in his head. I know I got her pregnant, but I brought her husband all the way back here so he could stick it in and think he was the father. He said no. Then I got him drunk, did some over-the-robe hand stuff to get him primed. And he went to sleep in my doorway. So I had to kill him. Right? He gave me no other choice. 
    Upon being informed of Uriah’s death, David sends this message back. We pick up in verse 25: David told the messenger, “Say this to Joab: ‘Don’t let this upset you; the sword devours one as well as another. Press the attack against the city and destroy it.’ Say this to encourage Joab.”
    David basically said, don’t worry, shit happens. Joab has to be thinking, no, shit didn’t happen. You made me murder my fellow countrymen. If anything, you are the shit that happened. But David is king, so I’m sure Joab just went about murdering more people. 
    26: When Uriah’s wife heard that her husband was dead, she mourned for him.
    The male writers of the bible couldn’t even say her name. Just called her the wife. I know you were raped, and then the person who raped you murdered your husband, but we’re only going to refer to you as the wife. Just up and take it. 
    27: After the time of mourning was over, David had her brought to his house, and she became his wife and bore him a son. But the thing David had done displeased the LORD.
    So after he murdered her husband and after he raped her, he forced her to live in his house as his latest wife. 
    And I can hear you saying, we’ve heard this story before. 
    This isn’t even the story I’m getting to. This is the lead-up, the amuse-bouche as it were before the main course. 
    Buckle kids, the next chapter is a doozy.
    Samuel was the prophet, and the one who contributed to writing 1 Samuel. But by this time, Samuel is dead, and Nathan is the new prophet. 
    And shortly after the events we just referenced, Nathan comes to the king and tells him a story. 2 Samuel 12:1-7 tell of two men. One is rich, the other is poor. The rich man had everthing, sheep, cattle, women, slaves, while the other poor man had a single little ewe lamb he had raised from birth. 
    The scripture says this little lamb grew up with him and his children. It shared his food and drink, and he even slept with it in his arms at night. And that it was like a daughter to him. 
    That might be code for this poor man was a lamb fucker. 
    But be that as it may, a traveler came to visit the rich man. And instead of killing one of his many animals for the evening meal, he took that little ewe lamb from the poor man and served that as dinner as well.
    Upon hearing this story, David raged in his anger. How could someone in his kingdom treat another this way? He promised that man who did this should die. For he took everything from another.
    I guess with all his servants sleeping in the doorways, they must have seen Bathsheba being snuck into the palace and then out again. So all the servants were talking and that must have gotten back to Nathan. 
    Let’s pick up in verse 7: Then Nathan said to David, “You are the man! This is what the LORD, the God of Israel, says: ‘I anointed you king over Israel, and I delivered you from the hand of Saul
    Well, technically it was David’s lover, Prince Jonathan, that saved David from Saul’s wrath, but why quibble? 
    8: I gave your master’s house to you, and your master’s wives into your arms. I gave you all Israel and Judah. And if all this had been too little, I would have given you even more. 
    Look dude, I gave you this palace, and all of Saul’s wives. Because women were thought of as property to be given to anyone a male wanted to without their consent. Was every woman in the bible raped if they were given out like the door prize at a Secret Santa Party? 
    9: Why did you despise the word of the LORD by doing what is evil in his eyes? You struck down Uriah the Hittite with the sword and took his wife to be your own. You killed him with the sword of the Ammonites.
    I don’t think David despised the word of the lord here. I think he despised Uriah for not banging his wife when he was given every chance. 
    10: Now, therefore, the sword will never depart from your house, because you despised me and took the wife of Uriah the Hittite to be your own.
    It is estimated that 2 Samuel was written anywhere from a few years after David’s death to a couple hundred years. I know that’s a huge window, but this verse was written to explain why Israel always seemed to be at war with their neighbors. 
    I know we’ve been at war with our neighbors forever, but it's a punishment from god. You see, one of our ancestors raped a girl and killed her husband, so as punishment, our god, the one that loves us, punished all of us because of what he did.
    And if you think that is fucked up, that because of David’s sin, all of the Israelites were punished, then the next verse is going to make you see red. 
    11: “This is what the LORD says: ‘Out of your own household I am going to bring calamity on you. Before your very eyes I will take your wives and give them to one who is close to you, and he will sleep with your wives in broad daylight.
    12: You did it in secret, but I will do this thing in broad daylight before all Israel.’”
    Yep, the always loving and moral god of the bible, decided that David’s punishment was to make Israel always be at war, and his wives are going to be taken to the roof of the palace and raped for all to see. And the rapist is going to come from David’s own household.
    That means one of his sons; that is who makes up David’s household. 
    God was like, I know you were the rapist, but because I don’t give a shit about justice, I’m going to have your innocent wives raped in front of all of Israel to get back at what you did.
    On a side note. Do you know what the punishment was if a married woman had sex with another man? Stoning. So not only were the wives possibly raped by their own son, but all those good Israelites who followed their loving god were bound by law to kill them afterwards by throwing stones at their heads. 
    13: Then David said to Nathan, “I have sinned against the LORD.” Nathan replied, “The LORD has taken away your sin. You are not going to die.
    14: But because by doing this you have shown utter contempt for the LORD, the son born to you will die.” 
    What the actual fuck? You said you were sorry, so I won’t kill you. But I’m going to kill your fucking kid. Because it was the child’s fault somehow? 
    This is the shit you get when you read the bible. And as irreverent as I’m being, I’m not taking it out of context. I am reading the book most Christians have never read. This is not a moral action from a just god. 
    This is cavemen writing down stories they told one another after banging their wives at the end of the day. Sheep herders with the understanding of a toddler. You hurt me so I will hurt you back.
    15: After Nathan had gone home, the LORD struck the child that Uriah’s wife had borne to David, and he became ill. 
    Still can’t say the bitches name. It's Bathsheba, and she lost a child because she was taking a bath one day.
    David prayed and fasted for seven days before the child finally died. Not only did god strike down the child, but he also made sure it fucking suffered for seven days first. 
    And you expect me to believe in this god because a bunch of shepherds told a story around a campfire one night to explain why a child of the chosen one, David, died after childbirth. 
    That’s all this is. A fucking story to try to explain something they couldn’t understand. 
    For seven days, David wept, prayed, begged, anything he could think to do to get god’s mind changed. And when the kid finally died, you know what happened next.
    We pick up the narrative after David gets the news his child is dead in verse 20: Then David got up from the ground. After he had washed, put on lotions and changed his clothes, he went to the house of the LORD and worshipped. Then he went to his own house, and at his request they served him food, and he ate. 
    I know you just killed my child because I raped someone, but glory be to you anyway, you wonderful, loving, just god.
    22: He answered, “While the child was still alive, I fasted and wept. I thought, ‘Who knows? The LORD may be gracious to me and let the child live.’
    23: But now that he is dead, why should I go on fasting? Can I bring him back again? I will go to him, but he will not return to me.”
    I figured it was worth a shot. But he’s dead. I’ll go on about my day; I have a lot of murdering left to do. 
    24: Then David comforted his wife Bathsheba, and he went to her and made love to her. She gave birth to a son, and they named him Solomon. The LORD loved him;
    25: and because the LORD loved him, he sent word through Nathan the prophet to name him Jedidiah. 
    If god was just going to give him another son and love that one, why did he have to kill the first one? Just fucking love two! And what kind of punishment was that? The only thing that was punished was the kid that suffered for seven days. 
    I know you are wondering, if god renamed him Jedidiah, why do we know him as Solomon in the histories? 
    Those devilish sheep herders had an explanation for that as well. Solomon remained his family name, the royal name, the historical name. But Jedidiah, which means beloved by the lord, was his secret spiritual name. 
    And you still think this story really happened? You still don’t think this is a bunch of campfire fairy tales people told to amuse themselves.
    But we still aren’t done. Because if you’re thinking the bible doesn’t go into detail about the rape of David’s wives, you are mistaken. Because god must swing his dick around.
    The rest of this story gets messy. 
    Because, as usual, god’s punishment doesn’t happen right away. It's twelve years down the road before this punishment comes into affect. 
    And along the way, Amnon rapes his sister Tamar. Then David’s other son, Absalom, kills Amnon, David’s eldest son. Goes into hiding, finally returns, and then chases David from Jerusalem. 
    We pick up the story in 2 Samuel 16:20 Absalom said to Ahithophel, “Give us your advice. What should we do?”
    21: Ahithophel answered, “Sleep with your father’s concubines whom he left to take care of the palace. Then all Israel will hear that you have made yourself obnoxious to your father, and the hands of everyone with you will be more resolute.”
    22: So they pitched a tent for Absalom on the roof, and he slept with his father’s concubines in the sight of all Israel.
    So a priest, who once was loyal to David, is now pledging his loyalty to Absalom, tells him to rape a bunch of women on the roof. 
    But the button is put on in verse 23: Now in those days the advice Ahithophel gave was like that of one who inquires of God. That was how both David and Absalom regarded all of Ahithophel’s advice.
    Absalom thought he was being told by god to rape some women. That’s our great lord of the bible, a rapist. I bet if Absalom burned a sacrifice when performing said rape, god might have joined in on the orgy. 
    The next chapter is Ahithophel giving more advice to Absalom on how to capture David, who fled with his loyal soldiers when Absalom took Jerusalem. Then he gets different advice from another who convinces him to change his plan. 
    This is because god now wants to destroy Absalom. Remember, Absalom started this quest because David’s eldest son raped their sister and was not punished. Or, if you believe Nathan's prophecy, God was going to bring trouble on David’s house. 
    Now that the women was raped because David did a thing, god wants David back on the throne, because now David has learned his lesson from twelve years earlier. And Absalom served his purpose.
    We take up the story in 2 Samuel 18:9 Now Absalom happened to meet David’s men. He was riding his mule, and as the mule went under the thick branches of a large oak, Absalom’s hair got caught in the tree. He was left hanging in midair, while the mule he was riding kept on going.
    One of the soldiers ran back to tell David’s servant Joab, remember him, the commander of the armies. Hey dude, that man is just swinging in that tree. David said not to touch him, to be gentle.
    But Joab was having none of that. He said I would have given you ten shekels of silver and a warrior's belt if you had killed him. But the servant was like, nope. I’m not gonna piss off the king by killing his son.
    We pick up in 14: Joab said, “I’m not going to wait like this for you.” So he took three javelins in his hand, and plunged them into Absalom’s heart while Absalom was still alive in the oak tree.
    15: And ten of Joab’s armor-bearers surrounded Absalom, struck him and killed him.
    Did you see it? Joab stabbed three javelins into Absalom’s heart, then his men killed him. So did he die twice? Or is this just a fanciful tale sheep herders told around a campfire at night? 
    But this story still isn’t finished. Because I’m not here talking about the politics of ancient Israel. We are trying to figure out if the god of the bible is moral. And we still have one more button to add to this tale. 
    Because we pick up the final piece in 2 Samuel 20:3 When David returned to his palace in Jerusalem, he took the ten concubines he had left to take care of the palace and put them in a house under guard. He provided for them but had no sexual relations with them. They were kept in confinement till the day of their death, living as widows.
    That is a mic drop if I ever saw one. 
    David rapes a woman, then causes the murder of her husband, and is punished by having his firstborn die, and then god causes the rapes of ten women, who are then forced to live as widows locked in a house.
    Just to be clear, this wasn’t a whim on David’s part. The custom of the day had rules and laws that said a king’s wives or concubines who had relations with another claimant to the throne could no longer be part of the active royal harem or marry anyone else. 
    When god ordered that rape, he was condemning those women to more than just bodily harm. He was condemning them to a life of misery. They were victims of an immoral god who couldn’t figure out a better way to punish one of his beloved males.
    And this was allowed because women were treated as property. A thing that could be bought and sold and passed down to children as inheritance. Your holy book doesn’t even think women are people.
    But I am far from being finished with this series. And next I’ll talk about a subject that is so clear and so blatant, I never understand how good, honest people can look me in the eye and wave it away with apologetics. And that’s slavery. 
    Next time we meet, we will see if god condones slavery in the bible and if treating humans as property is moral. And if not, when did it change?
  2. Jason Rimbaud
    It's been a long time coming but I am finally writing again.  I have several more chapters complete and having a blast creating this world.  It's like a comfortable old blanket and I wrapped myself tightly with it.  Hope you like it.
     
     
    The sun had long set behind the mountains of the town of Glacier Bay.  The moon bathed the town in a soft light with a backdrop of twinkling stars in the October sky.  The trees gently swayed in the offshore breeze that hinted at the bone chilling weather that was to come but for now, the air was crisp and refreshing.  The leaves had changed giving the streets and parks a colorful facelift that brought in visitors from all around.  The last influx of outsiders bringing their pocketbooks before the long winter brought snow and ice and all the winter games along with it.  Some folks said that winter was gods way of testing the human spirit.  Much like the grass and trees, humans tended to go into a hibernation mode throughout the winter.  Surviving on the nutrients they had gathered in the spring and summer to get them through the harsh starving months of winter.  The world seemed a bit sadder in the winter months, most of the habitants of Glacier Bay walked with their head down, their faces covered by scarves and bundled up in colorful hats, gloves, and bulky winter coats.  In the summer, they would wave and shout out to their neighbors, most times stopping for moment to ask about families and goings on.  But with the onset of winter, one was lucky to get a polite wave as they rushed by seeking indoors over the blistering cold.
    On this particular night, Scott Taylor was staring out at the glacier that gave the town its name.  The glacier, brightly lit by the moon, reflected across the bay giving off the illusion the water was ice, calm and still.  This illusion was ruined every few minutes when a gentle wave would crash into the bottom of the glacier echoing off the mountainside. 
    Scott tucked his long blonde hair behind his ears and looked towards the town he had lived in all his life.  Glacier Bay, nestled at the base of a range of mountains that almost saw snow on the peaks all year round.  The glacier snaked its way down the mountain until it spilled out in the bay that was protected by a natural seawall.  When the town was first settled in the late 1800’s, the townsfolk had carved a deep channel for boats to enter the bay safely in the natural wall.  This was once upon time to protect the fishing vessels that were moored at the docks during the winter months.  Nowadays there was not much commercial fishing anymore.  All the boats moored at the dock were built more for pleasure and unused for most of the year except when their rich owners could get away from the city for a few short weeks and enjoy all the town had to offer.  Many local boys like Scott, made really good money taking care of the boats for their absentee owners throughout the year as well as maintaining the carefully manicured lawns and removing the snow from their vacation homes throughout the year.  It always amazed Scott how much someone was willing to pay to keep a house they would visit once or twice a year.  It seemed like a waste of money that could be better spent in other ways.  But Scott was never one to look a gift horse in the mouth.
    As he peered across the bay, he eyes drifted to the lighthouse.  There was no need for a lighthouse since the 1950’s and it had long been turned into a tourist destination with daily tours during the summer months.  A small gift shop in the base of the lighthouse offered those who had the need to buy souvenirs and keepsakes to remember their trip to Glacier Bay.  It had been closed for weeks now, abandoned until the spring.  Too many things in Glacier Bay seemed to be dormant for his liking. 
    Scott glanced at his watch and wondered again what was keeping his friend.  His eyes drifted back to the high school.  Thirty minute ago the lights had all but been turned off, signaling the end of the play and the participants headed home for the night.  Even if there was traffic leaving the parking lot, his friend should have arrived twenty minutes ago.  He pulled his coat around him tighter, it wasn’t that cold yet.  But sitting still on a bench for almost an hour had caused a chill to sink into his bones. 
    For the hundredth time, he checked his phone to see if there were any texts.  Since he had arrived, his sister had texted him three times about the ending of the play, his mom wanted to know what he was doing Saturday night and if he was free for dinner.  And a few more from random friends, but there was nothing from Jake.  Silent; much like the last week had been.  The old saying was true; you almost never miss what you have until it is no longer there.  And after a week of silence from his closest friend, he found that he missed him terribly. 
    Scott reached into his pocket and pulled out his cigarettes.  It was definitely a habit he was trying to quit but the craving was always worse when he was bored.  He hadn’t so much taken his first drag when he heard footsteps on the gravel walkway below.  Jake must have ridden his bike, otherwise he would have seen the headlights of his car as he drove around the lake.
    Though the moon was bright and the sky was clear, he couldn’t make out the face of the figure as it approached him.  But he would have known that shape anywhere.  He had seen that shape for eighteen years.  He peered intently as the boy walked towards him.  Once he was close enough to see, Scott could see his face was drawn, his eyes intent as he looked at the ground.  His hands were shoved in his pockets and his breath steamed in the night with every exhale.  He had ridden his bike.
    Jacob Rainer, his next door neighbor for most of his life.  The one person that knew every secret, every prank, everything he had ever done in his life.  They were together when Scott got the bright idea to jump off the roof with sheets tied around their necks; they were also together when Scott convinced his friend that crossing the bay in old man Thomas’s row boat was a good idea at 2am in the middle of winter.  From the time they could walk, they had been inseparable.
    The two boys, both eighteen and heading into their final year of school, could not have been more different.  Neither in looks nor in personality.  Jake was average size, short cropped brown hair, and always seemed to ponder each decision carefully before acting.  He was well liked by his peers and received mostly A’ and B’s in all of his classes.  Being the middle child, at home he would disappear as his younger sister seemed to garnish all the attention and his older brother couldn’t keep from arguing with his parents about everything.  Everyone who knew him would testify that out of all the kids, he was going to be the one that made it and made it in a big way. 
    Scott took another drag from his cigarette and waited for his friend to sit down next to him on the bench.  But that did not stop him from looking at his friend with an expectant look on his face.
    Jake moved his hand in front of his face, trying to avoid the cigarette smoke that lingered around Scott’s head like a halo.  “I really wish you’d quit those.”
    Scott shrugged, “Everyone needs a bad habit.”
    Jake settled back into the bench, and stretched his legs out in front of him.  “Nice night.  Won’t be long until winter arrives though.  I can smell the snow in the air.”
    Scott threw the cigarette on the ground and stamped it out with his foot.  “It is almost November.  Hell, Halloween is just around the corner.”
    Jake looked at his friend sideways.  “What are you going as this year?”
    Scott turned his head and looked at his friend, “Are we really doing this?  Small talk, like you haven’t said a word to me in a week, and you want to know what I’m dressing for Halloween.”
    Jake ignored the outburst, something he did often.  “I’m going as a father,” he said quietly.
    Scott’s eyes widened at the declaration.  “Well shit.”
    Jake stared at the ground, not wanting to make eye contact with Scott.  Instead he dug his toe around in the dirt.  “Remember the fall dance at the club back in August.”
    Scott couldn’t help but chuckle as he remembered that night.  That was the night he dumped two bottles of whiskey in the punch, one hour before he puked on Mrs. Turners shoes.  As much trouble as he received for ruining her shoes, it would have been worse if they would have known he was the culprit that spiked the punch.  “What about it?”
    “Christine and I…”
    “Christine?” Scott interrupted.  “Blankenship.”
    “Remember, Becky and I got into that fight.  She was mad at you for spiking the punch,” Jake explained.  “Becky went home with Julie and Christine was pretty drunk, so I offered to give her a ride.”
    “Yeah you did,” Scott said, laughing. 
    Jake stood up, and spat out angrily, “This is why I can’t talk to you sometimes.  Not everything is a joke.”
    Scott stared up at his friend for a moment.  Then he said in a quiet tone, “You’re serious.”
    “I’m gonna be a father Scott.  And I’m scared shitless.” Jake stated before turning around to face the glacier. 
    “Wait a minute,” Scott said, shaking his head.  “You slept with Christine the night of the dance and didn’t tell me?”
    Jake glared at his friend.  “Not everything is about you.  And no, I didn’t.”
    Scott pulled out another cigarette.  “Okay, lets start at the beginning.”
    Jake rubbed his eyes tiredly.  “Christine was hammered that night.  I would never take advantage of someone like that.  But she was all over me, and managed to kiss me before I kicked her out of the car.”
    Jake sat back down next to his friend and grabbed the cigarette and took a long drag before exhaling the smoke upwards.  “That’s how you do it.  Not in your friends face.”
    “Rodger,” Scott said with a grin.  “Continue.”
    “Becky and I were having problems.  She was so worried about what would happen at the end of the year when we go off to college.  It was so frustrating, I mean, why couldn’t we just be happy now, and worry about next year, next year.” Jake stated with a sigh. 
    “A few days later, Christine showed up at work, being all flirty.  Wondering if I wanted to get coffee after I was finished.  It was nice, hanging out with her, just being in the moment, not worried about college, and how many kids we needed to have, where we were going to live, you know.  Just two people enjoying each other.”
    Jake stopped for a moment and eyeing the cigarette before taking it again.  “So we hung out off and on for the next few weeks.  And I swear, nothing happened.  We were just talking.”
    “When did Becky find out?” Scott asked as he lit up another cigarette.  
    Jake took a another drag, looked at the cigarette in his fingers, and threw it on the ground.  He stated with a frown, “You sure seem to smoke a lot nowadays.”
    “What can I say, I’m an addict.”
    “Three weeks ago, Becky saw us at the coffee shop, she went crazy.  She wouldn’t let me explain, she started accusing me of cheating on her with her best friend, calling us all sorts of names.  It was in the middle of the coffee shop.  I’m surprised you didn’t hear about it.”
    Scott shrugged.  “I’ve been busy.”
    “That was the night it happened.  Right over there,” Jake gestured at the end of the walkway.  He grabbed the cigarette again and took a long drag.
    “Look Jake, I don’t mind if you smoke my cigarettes but you have to stop putting them out after one drag, their expensive,” Scott said with a frown.  “Are you sure she’s pregnant?”
    “She was pretty sure after a week because she missed her period.  Three tests later, and I’m gonna be a father,” Jake sighed.  “At eighteen, just like my father.”
    “That’s heavy,” Scott stated with a grimace.
    “And the really messed up thing,” Jake said quietly. “I don’t love her.  I love Becky.”
    “Does she know?”
    Jake shook his head.  “No one knows.  Just Christine, me, and now you.  Not even her parents.”
    “No wonder you’ve been avoiding me all week,” Scott said, his eyes wide in disbelief. 
    Jake stared off into the distance as he said, “I told her.  That I didn’t love her and that I wanted to be with Becky.”
    “How did she take that?”
    “She just starting crying,” Jake said, rubbing his hands through his hair.  “I can’t seem to do anything right lately.”
    “There is one thing you did perfectly,” Scott blurted out. 
    Jake stared at him flatly.  “Don’t be an ass.”
    “I’m just saying maybe you should’ve tried for that ass and you wouldn’t be in this situation.”
    Jake couldn’t help but chuckle.  “I’m not a pervert like you.”
    Scott laughed.  “I’m not a pervert anymore; it’s legal now in almost all fifty states.  We can get married and everything.”
    Jake shoved his friend playfully.  “What you do I wouldn’t call it legal in any state.”
    “They have all been consensual,” Scott said, pausing before adding with a grin, “except that one time but we won’t talk about him.  He deserved what he got anyway.”
    “Gross,” Jake stated dryly.  “I don’t know what I’m going to do.”
    “Is she going to keep it?” Scott asked carefully. 
    “I’m not sure.  I didn’t know how to bring that up.  Fuck, I already told her I don’t want to be with her, I didn’t think asking about abortion was appropriate.” Jake admitted.  “I’m such an asshole aren’t I.”
    “Best thing to do is talk to your dad.” Scott offered. 
    “He’s going to kill me,” Jake said with a frown.  “He always told me not to do what he did.”
    “Look on the bright side,” Scott stated as he stood up.  “You didn’t, you’re not going to marry the girl you knocked up.”
    “Oh, you are so dead,” Jake snorted and started chasing his friend who had starting running towards his truck parked in the lot down the path.
    “You could never catch me slowpoke,” Scott called out over his shoulder before really turning on the speed.  His long legs made running seem effortlessly, and he had been running his entire life.  On his best day, Jake couldn’t keep up with him unless he slowed to a jog and this time was no different.
    By the time Jake caught up to him, he was leaning against his truck and the motor was already warming up.  He did notice that Jake’s bike was already in the bed of his blue pick-up.  Riding out to the glacier in the middle of the night might be fun but no one wanted to make the long ride back.
    Jake half-jogged the last ten yards, his chest heaving as he took large gasps of air.  He held his side and winced.  “I don’t know how you run that fast and still smoke that many cigarettes.”
    “Genetics,” Scott said with a smile.  He smoothed down his long blonde hair and jumped in the truck.  “Get in before you fall over.”
    “I was built for short bursts,” Jake explained as he climbed inside the 4X4 truck with a grunt.  “I’m much better on the wrestling floor.”
    Scott turned on the heat full blast as he spoke, “And yet, oddly enough, I turned out to be the gay one.”
    “That is true.  I’ve probably had my face in more boy crotches than you have.  If I’m not gay by now, I’ll never be,” Jake said proudly. 
    “You are one of the few on the wrestling team that could honestly say that,” Scott said, moving his eyebrows up and down suggestively.
    “Those are my teammates, I don’t want to hear about what they might do with you behind closed doors,” Jake complained half-heartedly.
    Scott laughed, loud and deep.  “Remember that time we went to that away game in Hillersville, now that was a wrestler that knew which end of a boy was what.”
    For the rest of the ride back to town, Scott told one outlandish tale after another about his many conquests and crazy exploits.  Like most boys do of a certain age, there was a large amount of exaggeration and all out lies.  Jake knew that Scott was far from being a virgin, and he did have a more active sex life than most boys in the school ever dared dream.  Most times he just hoped that most of Scott’s stories were fanciful tales designed to get a rise out of his listeners. 
    Scott was well known around the school at having the weirdest sense of humor.  No matter what the circumstance, he could always be counted on to say the most offensive thing at any given time.  It was something that Jake actually respected him for.  It took a very confident person to say whatever and not care what everyone else thought.  Scott truly marched to a different drum than anyone else.  He was never sure which boy was the good influence on the other.  All he knew, Scott was someone he could count on to always be there.  No matter what.
    For his part, Scott was at a complete loss of words.  He couldn’t even begin to understand what his friend was going through.  So he did the only thing he could do, try to take Jake’s mind off his problem, even if it was only for twenty minutes on the ride home. 
    Jake was almost smiling by the time the blue truck pulled up to 803 Campus Circle at 11:53pm.  Scott put the truck in park and stared ahead.  “Talk to your dad.”
    “I’d rather talk to your dad,” Jake stated with a grin.
    Scott laughed again.  “He’d be so happy to talk about sex with girls with someone.  You’d make his day.”
    “How’s he been the last few weeks?” Jake asked, looking at his friend intently.
    “He’s getting use to it,” Scott said with a shrug.  “Mom said it was okay for me to come to dinner tomorrow night.  So that’s a good thing.”
    Jake reached over and put his hand on Scott’s arm.  “Look Scott, I’m sorry I’ve been so distant lately.  It’s not because…you’re gay.  I don’t care about that.  And truthfully, I kind of always suspected.”
    “Really?” Scott asked.  “Why didn’t you say anything?”
    “Why didn’t you tell me?” Jake countered.
    Scott turned his head for a moment and looked out the drivers window.  “I guess I was scared.”
    “Of what?”
    Scott turned to face his friend.  “I think I knew that you wouldn’t care, deep down.  But I didn’t want to lose you.  You are one of the most important things in my life.  And I was scared to take a chance that you wouldn’t accept me.  Or worse.”
    “Or worse?” Jake asked.
    “Like, if you thought I was hitting on you on those times we would wrestle around.  Or the showers, or sleeping together,” Scott said honestly. 
    Jake made a face and said quickly, “That’s gross.”
    Scott’s eyes widened as Jake continued thoughtfully, “One of the reasons I always thought you were gay was when we wrestled and you’d get a boner.”
    “I so did not,” Scott denied laughing. 
    Jake laughed, for the first time that night, a deep belly laugh.  “Exactly my point.  You are more like my brother than my own brother.”
    Scott stated through his laughter, “Truth.”
    “I didn’t know what to say about this Christine thing, I was avoiding you because it’s got my head all twisted,” Jake admitted.  “But I realized that you might think it was because you came out.  And it’s not.  Honest.”
    Scott sighed.  “Thank you.  I will admit I was wondering if that was it.  It was weird not being able to talk to you about this stuff.”
    “Hey, you can always talk to me, I might not understand it all, but I’ll listen,” Jake said with a small grin. 
    “Thanks.  And you’re not worried what everyone will say at school about you,” Scott asked.  He had already heard some of the things that have been said.  For the time being, nothing had been said to his face but he figured it was just a matter of time.
    Jake laughed again.  “Scott, I don’t know how to tell you this, but I wasn’t the only one that suspected.”
    Scott was truly stunned.  “Really.”
    “Becky and even Julie told me that years ago.  Mike mentioned it in passing,” Jake said through his laughter.  “I think everyone knew and probably no one really cares.”
    “Well shit, I could’ve saved all that stress,” Scott said thoughtfully.  “If only my father would’ve suspected.”
    “He’ll come around,” Jake said confidently.  “He just always wanted a grandson.”
    “Well, maybe he can adopt Christine’s baby,” Scott snorted out, not being able to stop himself.
    “You really are an asshole,” Jake said, shaking his head.  “Really, a big asshole.”
    “You could come over and visit him, bring him presents,” Scott said more enthusiastically, gesturing wildly.  “Take naps with me in my bed.”
    “Just keep laughing,” Jake warned, but the corner of his mouth was curling up in a grin.  “Though, you are a great napping partner.  You like to cuddle.”
    “One time,” Scott admonished.
    “Best nap I ever had,” Jake said laughing.  “That’s when you’re father should’ve suspected.  When he walked in on us that day, you had even drooled a bit on my shoulder.”
    “You’re laughing now,” Scott replied.  “But Mom asked me if you were my boyfriend.”
    Jake stopped laughing and asked, “Seriously?  What did you say?”
    Scott put his hands behind his head and said, “I told her it wasn’t my place to out other people and if she wanted to know she should ask you.”
    Jake smacked him right in the stomach, hard.  Scott made a sound, and grabbed his stomach, though he didn’t stop laughing.  “It doesn’t help that you stopped coming around these last few weeks.  No telling what they are thinking.”
    “Well, I can bet they aren’t thinking I got some girl pregnant,” Jake said wistfully. 
    “No, can’t say that they are,” Scott agreed.  “Anything you need, just ask.”
    “Thanks.  But it’s time for me to go inside,” Jake stated as he stared at his darkened house, a lone porch light shining a light on the walkway.  “I’ll see you.”
    Jake opened the door and headed towards the front of the house.  Scott stared at him until he disappeared inside and the door closed.  Scott checked his phone and read a text that brought a grin to his face.  He replied, “I’m on my way.”
    He started up his truck and headed across town whistling.  He had wanted to tell Jake about the reason he came out but didn’t think it was the right time.  Not when Jake was worried about being a father to a girl he didn’t want to be with.  Not to mention that when Becky found out she would probably break up with him.  No seventeen year old girl wants to be a girlfriend of an eighteen year old that is having a baby with her best friend. 
    But that was for a later time to worry about.  For now, he was going to see the reason he came out.  And for now, that was all that mattered.
  3. Jason Rimbaud

    Personal Questions

    By Jason Rimbaud,

    A boring look into the existence of Jason Rimbaud
     
    In the forums of GayAuthors, in the Games and Humor thread, there is an entry called Personal Questions. Basically it’s a forum game where each person asks a personal question and the next person answers the question before asking his own personal question.
     
    As I read through all the questions and the replies, I realized that there was numerous questions I would have love to have answered. So I thought it would be a good idea if I took some of those questions and answered them in my Blog for my one loyal reader who might want to know a bit more about me then I have shared thus far in my Blog.
     
    Basically, I’m out of ideas for Blog Entries so I’m going to pretend that people want to read my answers to these questions they asked other more interesting people.
     
    So without further interruptions or pointless digressions that go nowhere except to boredom. I give you personal questions as asked by lots of more interesting people to other interesting people.
     
    What is your favorite item of clothing? You might think this is embarrassing but I have an underwear fetish. And before you get to thinking that I’m some kind of freak and that your laundry isn’t safe in the dryer while you run across the street to get a bagel and a chocofrapalatta. You see, I don’t perv on your underwear, no, I perv on my own stash of underwear. And not my dirty underwear either, I like to buy all sorts of underwear. So for the moment, my favorite article of clothing is a pair of Batman boxer briefs, so comfortable against my dangling bits.
     
    Where was your first kiss? On the lips
     
    Where was your first kiss? My first kiss happened on a park bench during a summer rain storm with a girl named Michelle. She was also the first person other than me to touch my no-no parts above the jeans.
     
    What is the one gift you got that you cherish and why? Three years ago for my birthday, “M” bought me an orange fleece Hoodie that is as soft as baby’s tears and as warm as fuzzy bunny slippers. And though “M” is long gone and nothing but a memory, on cold nights I still like putting on that Hoodie and cuddling up in front of the TV.
     
    What was the last date you went on and how did it go? It was this last Christmas Eve and this great guy took me out to one of my favorite restaurants. We had a great bottle of wine, awesome conversation and then later, because he paid for dinner, I gave it up to him.
     
    What’s the story behind the worst scar you have? It was the summer I turned twelve and I came up with this brilliant idea that my friend and I should pretend that we were knights of the round table and go on a quest like King Arthur and his Knights. After a few hours of being knights, I decided that I should switch sides. Everything was going great until he swung Excalibur and I forgot to duck. His sword hit my face in a downward slashing motion that started at the top of my right eye, my eyelid, eyeball, and my right cheek. After I got out of the hospital, I realized that I would have to wear corrective lenses for the rest of my life. Luckily, the scar is barely visible.
     
    What is the one thing you are most proud of accomplishing? My sobriety. I haven’t done as much as a taste of cocaine in five years, three months and six days. And it feels surreal, I can remember telling my therapist all those years ago that I would never do cocaine again and I wouldn’t need a rehab program to do it either. She was very supportive of me but she felt that a rehab program would be something I would need to continue onwards. I don’t recommend that other addicts tackle sobriety the same way I did. I’m just relaying the story how I reached the lowest point in my life and I knew I had to make a change. Everyone must work on their sobriety in their own way.
     
    What would you say is your sexiest body part and why? Hmm, I guess my one loyal reader might guess that I would say my perfectly shaped cock or maybe I’d describe my prowess of lying on my back. Well, you would be wrong if you thought that my loyal reader. Because the sexiest part of my body is my blue eyes, the only good thing my fuck face father ever gave me.
     
    How did you imagine your life to be now when you thought about it ten years ago? Ten years ago I probably thought I’d be dead long before I’d make it ten years in the future.
     
    What is your favorite part of the day? Whenever I make it back to my apartment and close the door behind me and the madness that is humanity is locked out.
     
    What is something that you do that everyone else thinks is weird? I never sleep with my head against the headboard of any bed. Matter of fact, my own bed is in the center of my room where I can walk around the entire thing. In hotels, I sleep with my head on the foot of the bed with my feet pointed at the headboard.
     
    What is something that you do that everyone else thinks is weird? Whenever I first try on a pair of shoes I must try the left one on first. I find it very bad luck to put on shoes using your right foot first.
     
    What is something that you do that everyone else thinks is weird? When doing laundry, if anyone, even my boyfriend, touches my clothes before they are folded and put away and then taken out and put on my body, I have to re-wash them. “M” use to mess with me all the time; he’d open one of my drawers and pretend to touch my clothes.
     
    If there was one thing about yourself you could change, what would it be? It would definitely be to change my anal retentive behavior. Seriously, do I really have to make sure that all the rooms in my apartment are vacuumed in straight lines in sync with magnetic north? Does it?
     
    If you had a free pass to have sex with any person in the world, no strings attached and your spouse/significant other was okay with it...who would it be? Considering this question doesn’t specify any person living or dead, I have to go with Elvis. There is just something erotic about the thought of fucking the King of Rock-n-Roll.
     
    If we were in a relationship and I was breaking up with you what’s the worst possible thing I could do to hurt you...other than physical violence? Share my secrets that I trusted to you with your friends.
     
    Have you ever been in trouble with the law and if so, what for? I have to just choose one instance. Let’s see, I was once arrested for being drunk in public. I also received a ticket for drinking in public years ago.
     
    What is the biggest lie you ever told? I once told this really Hot Guy (who I actually quit my job and got a job at his restaurant just so I could be close to him) that his boyfriend was cheating on him. Though now that I think about it, that lie actually came true a few weeks later when I got the boyfriend drunk and had my way with him at a party. Hot Guy and boyfriend broke up a few weeks later and it took me another six months to get Hot Guy to sleep with me. Sadly, a few weeks later I realized that now that I had Hot Guy I didn’t really like him very much so I left him, drunk and passed out at a New Year’s Eve party one of my friends threw and went home with another guy.
     
    Where was the strangest place you have ever been taken on a date? When I was twenty-one, and trying to be more “normal”, I agreed to go out on a date with a guy instead of just fucking him after too many shots behind the local gay bar. He was a really nice guy and ended up taking me to a Church game night. After the shock of not getting struck by lightning, and using all my willpower not to spill the beans that there was two queers in the middle of “gods house”, I vowed to never try to be “normal” again.
     
    If you could physically change one part of your body to your complete liking what would it be? My cock, it has just the slightest bend to the right and I would love to be able to make it completely straight.
     
    What’s the worst nickname you’ve had? Gutter Pants, you can imagine why I’d be named as such.
     
    If you could go anywhere, where would it be? If I could go anywhere, again no one specified a real place or a fictitious place, so I’d like to go to Heaven and ask god why he’s such a fuck face.
     
    What’s the biggest secret you’ve ever kept for a friend? That the night before his wedding he came over to my house and the two of us had sex for the last time.
     
    Do you have parents that stayed together or are you a part of a single or blended family? Hm, a question about my family; I think I’ll pass on this. Well, they were never divorced so I guess I can say they stayed together.
     
    What’s one thing that you wanna try but too embarrassed to tell anyone about? I’m not embarrassed to tell anyone anything that pops into my little head.
     
    Who did you look up to growing up? Arthur Rimbaud...if you don’t know who this brilliant writer is, look him up.
     
    What is your earliest memory? I was around eight years old and the neighbor boy and I use to sneak under my bed and dry hump each other. I have other memories but what fun are they compared to this.
     
    What is the worst thing you hate/hated about your current/last boyfriend or girlfriend? “M” had the annoying habit of getting food to-go and then leaving it in my refrigerator. I don’t know if he even had the intention of ever eating the bits of crap he left for me to find weeks later.
     
    How big is your...? Considering who ever asked this question never finished saying how big my “what” is...I’m going to finish it for them. How big is your cock? Big enough to make any guy go gay, if only for a few hours while he is with me.
     
    What is something that is considered a social norm that you’ve never done? Cry at a funeral.
     
    What’s your favorite sexual position? It depends if I’m topping or bottoming. Shall I go into details?
     
    What makes you most nervous? Sitting down one on one with another human being and dropping the walls that keep me safe.
     
    What type of things do you find funny? Really, that’s a question you want to know. Watching a baby running down the sidewalk before taking a header into the pavement, watching a bicyclist ran into the side of a car, Bill Maher, Tosh.O, any George Carlin CD. I could go on but then I’d start offending you politically correct humans.
     
    When was the last time you did a random act of kindness and what was it? It was a few months ago, I went to Taco Bell and bought fifty taco’s and passed them out to all the homeless people I saw on my way to work.
     
    What is the number one thing on your bucket list? I don’t believe in writing bucket lists, I firmly believe that you should never put off something you want to do for a later date. Live like today is your last, always.
     
    Which is the shortest time it took you to like somebody? Again, this question is open for interpretation. Is it like somebody or like like somebody? So I’ll answer however I want. His name was Jason, some of you might recognize the name, and I remember the first day I met him. I looked at him, he smiled, and I asked if he wanted to smoke a cigarette with me, we went outside and by the time we came back inside, we were fast friends.
     
    What is your favorite comfort food? Now, remember, comfort food could take whatever form brings you comfort. And my comfort food is sautéed asparagus. It brings me back to when I was a kid, before the devil gay inside me came out to play, when my parents still loved me. We use to sit around the dinner table, laughing and talking, just being a family.
     
    Where is the craziest place you’ve had sex? I wonder if you’d believe me if I actually told you the craziest place...this guy named John and I once had sex on a public bus around 1am one night. We had just left the bar and were both extremely horny, had a thirty minute bus ride home, we couldn’t wait. He undid my pants, crawled up on my lap and rode my bent dick all the way home.
     
    Where is the craziest place you’ve had sex? This guy named John and I, a devout but twisted Catholic, once did the dirty in a confessional booth. And I can honestly say that was the most intense sex I’ve ever had, it was amazing.
     
    What is the happiest moment in your life? I’m still searching for that moment. Because each time I think I achieved that moment, something else that is equally brilliant happens and takes it place.
     
    What’s the worst thing anyone could do to you? Make me fall in love and then turn their back on me. That would crush me in ways that would destroy even someone as jaded as I.
     
    When it comes down to it, what is your ultimate dream life? My dream life is one that I cannot recognize or achieve so it’s best not to think about it.
     
    Do you have a good relationship with your parents? Laughing, I’m laughing at this question.
     
    Have you ever smoked marijuana? Exactly three times I smoked pot and ate brownies three times. I am not a fan of cannabis. But I’m not against anyone smoking it.
     
    What’s the worst thing that has happened to you? Sobriety...it has given me the means to look back at a life filled with regrets with none of the tools to medicate the memories.
     
    If you could murder someone and get away with it, would you? Yes, without even thinking about it. I’d kill my father. Sometimes I wish tombstones could talk back.
     
    What do you consider your biggest failing? That even after all these years, my fuck face dead father still affects me.
     
    Would you ever trust your online boyfriend with money? Never. Mainly because I’d never have an online boyfriend because I’m not delusional and can get a guy in real life.
     
    If you could have one wish (for yourself alone) what would it be? I’d wish my family didn’t hate the fact that the person I love has a cock just like me.
     
    Are you happy with your life now? Mostly.
     
    Do you like peanut butter? Not on sandwiches but peanut butter is always fun to have lying around the bedroom if you get my drift.
     
    Have you ever stolen anything? Yes, and let’s leave it at that shall we.
     
    What is the one thing you wish people to remember you for? That I was honest...well almost.
     
    Have you ever shaved “down there”? I’ve shaved down there, up there, around there, pretty much anywhere, not a fan of body hair.
     
    When was the last time you questioned your own motives for doing something and why? I don’t question my motives; I usually just go with the flow. Why question things I’m going to do anyway?
     
    What is the one thing you wish you had said to someone, but couldn’t bring yourself too? “M”, I’m sorry.
     
    What is your favorite color? Blue if its shirts and such...black if it’s coats and pants, and red if it’s underwears.
     
    Where are you ticklish? Why don’t you come over and I’ll let you find out.
     
    What other windows do you have open right now? Awesomedude.com, AuthorsHaunt.com, GayAuthors.org, and HomoEmo.com. I really hope further down they don’t ask what I’m doing right now.
     
    Do you sing in the shower? Yes, in the shower, on the toilet, in the car, on the train, on the street, on stage, pretty much anywhere except work. Though I guess I sing at work sometimes as well.
     
    What time of the day do you usually get the most done? After midnight usually, I love the quiet time of the night after the weirdo’s go to bed.
     
    How many sex toys do you have? Three, not sure if I should disclose which type of toys I own...fleshlight, vibrator, and duel headed dildo.
     
    What’s the most creative thing you do? Answer these questions.
     
    What is your favorite meal to make for someone else? Chinese food, it always leaves them wanting more in a few hours.
     
    When was the last time you said, “I’m sorry” and why? Christmas Day, after getting an amazing blowjob and I couldn’t return the favor due to consuming too much egg nog that had my insides running in circles. Matter of fact, after several I’m sorry’s, I ran out of his apartment and straight into my bathroom for twenty minutes. Not fun.
     
    Would you rather be the best looking guy in the world or date the best looking guy in the world? After careful thought, I decided I’d rather be the best looking guy in the world. I think dating the best looking guy in the world would drive me crazy wondering if he was going to go out with someone better than me. Yes, much better to be the one cheating on the uggo than the other way around.
     
    What one trait can you not do without in someone? A sense of humor...because they are going to need it to date me.
     
    Do you have any songs that remind you of certain people/places/times? Runaway Train by Soul Asylum...several years ago, an ex-boyfriend of mine accused me of always running away whenever I’d get close to someone. He was as usual, right.
     
    What is the most vivid dream you’ve ever had, and why is it so memorable? I had a very erotic dream about my ex-boyfriend (one that I really wished never got away) and when I woke up, for a few minutes, I thought we were still together and I almost expected him to walk into my room and jump into bed with me. It was rather disappointing when reality came back and I realized it was only a dream.
     
    Will you be willing to be a surrogate for my baby if I asked you nicely? Never in a million years will I use my baby gravy for anything other than for dripping down someone’s cheek/cheeks. One of the best things about being gay is we never have to have those sick, loud, pooping machines. Why would any gay guy in his right mind ever want to have a family like “them” is beyond me?
     
    Have you ever wrecked your car? Nope, I’m a good driver.
     
    What is your favorite movie character and why? It varies depending on my mood. Lately my favorite character is Eric Draven from the movie The Crow. What is more romantic than coming back from the dead to avenge your girlfriend’s murder? I know.
     
    When did you break your heart the last time and why? I have never broken my heart, I leave that to the men I fall in love with.
     
    Speaking of punishment, what is the cruelest punishment you’ve received by a mate? One of my ex-boyfriend made me go to his family Christmas dinner one year, sober, because I had promised to go to his nephew’s christening and while he was waiting for me to pick him up I was half-way to Atlantic City to go gambling with my friend, Jason, who was my secret fuck buddy for five years.
     
    When was the last time you pooped? About seven hours ago. And it was a good one too.
     
    What was the last dream you had about? Aliens had attacked the earth and my boyfriend and I was driving in the dessert trying to outrun the invaders in a Chevy truck. It was so good I didn’t want to wake up.
     
    Have you ever tasted your own cum? Really...do I have to answer that? I’m sure my loyal reader could guess the answer to this question.
     
    What is your biggest regret in life to this point? That I let Jason go without telling him how I felt about him.
     
    What would you do for $1,000,000.00? Whatever it took.
     
    Where would you never want to live and why? Texas, because everything and everyone in Texas is fucking crazy.
     
    What is your favorite sex act? It kind of depends on if I’m a top or a bottom in said sex act.
     
    Who is your best friend? Daniel, he’s the one person that always makes me feel safe no matter what craziness is encompassing my life.
     
    What’s the worst thing your parents have ever caught you doing? I was sixteen, and my father caught me bent over the couch getting fucked by a nineteen year old guy. It was also the last thing my parents ever caught me doing.
     
    What is the last book you bought? Nikki Sixx’s This is Gonna Hurt.
     
    Who was/is your last crush? Again this question doesn’t specify online, real life, or fantasy so I’m going to answer with my online crush. Though I’ve never seen a picture of him, I have the hugest crush on the author known as Julian. Yummy yummy he is.
     
    If you could choose to have one superpower, which one would it be? I’d like to be able to fly...then I could chase the sun.
     
    What scares you? Honesty...the scariest thing on earth.
     
    What are you wearing right now (underwear too)? A pair of slim fit black jeans, red boxer briefs, and black tank top. I know, boring right.
     
    Have you ever had sexual intercourse with a female? Yes, more than one time. Every once in a while I feel like sleeping with a girl.
     
    Where’s the weirdest place you’ve had sex? On top of a fire truck with a paramedic.
     
    If you could throw everything away, what would it be for? Happiness, true happiness without faking it.
     
    Which is the shortest time it took you to have an orgasm? It was the day after I first had sex with Jason, he was at work and I was thinking about the time we had. I went to the bathroom and in less than a minute I was rinsing out the sink. It was the most intense I’ve had by myself. And I still remember it though it was years ago.
     
    Who do you think about when masturbating? It’s always the guy I’m on the prowl for, and never the guy I just fucked.
     
    What is your ideal man/woman like? Preferably he’s a brunet, around my age, a nerd star that wears glasses, has a sense of humor, and likes me for who I am and not what I project to be.
  4. Jason Rimbaud
    How’s it going?
     
    What, not a good enough opening for you? I concur.
     
    Howdy!
     
    What, too hickish? Okay.
     
    What’s up peeps?
     
    What, too street for you? Check.
     
    Where’s all my bitches at?
     
    I could go on but what’s the point. f**k it.
     
    So the other day I picked up a little train twink from the train. Well, to be more accurate, I got picked up by a little twink boy the other day on the train.
     
    My life has been running smooth on all cylinders for the last few weeks. Now that I’m single, I have fallen into a comfortable routine revolving around work and an atom sized social life. I force myself to go out at least once a week with “friends” whether I feel like it or not. This seems to be working as I find myself in a better frame of mind than I have been the last few months.
     
    What else? I picked up a friend with benefits that has kept my sex life moving forward.
     
    Question: Is sex usually mind-blowing fresh out of the gate? Or do you find that sex at first is awkward only to improve as you become more familiar or open with your partner?
     
    Last Friday night on the way home from work, I saw the funniest shit ever and if I wouldn’t have been a direct witness, I would never have believed it. I mean I’ve seen shit like this in a movie but I never thought I’d see it firsthand, live and in Technicolor as they said back in the days.
     
    Which is such a stupid phrase, is it not? What does it mean, back in the day? And is there a special day they are referring too or are there numerous “back in the days” reference points? And if there are, who keeps track of all those events? Can anyone answer that for me, please?
     
    It was 11:30 at night, I had just finished a thirteen hour day followed by an hour train ride to my car, followed by a twenty-minute drive home. And before you ask, yes, I was very tired.
     
    After I exited off 101 Southbound I headed west before making a left turn on a fairly busy street. A street that stays busy even at 11:30 at night. So as I turned left, you can imagine my surprise when I see a 40ish Latino man running down the center of the street. Okay, running might not be the best description; he was shuffling down the center of the street and every few steps one of his feet would stamp down on the pavement. Of course I was curious as to the reason behind this odd behavior so I slowed down as I passed him. And that’s when I saw it…
     
    A few weeks ago, I met this guy on Grindr…I have since deleted my account as it was fun for a while but I quickly became bored with all the freaks that populate Grindr land…I’ll call him “A” for now so you have a frame of reference. From the moment “A’s” lips touched…err…came into contact…err…sucked my cock, I knew I found something special.
     
    You see, from the very beginning, sex with “A” was amazing. And each encounter since that first time, it seems to get more and more intense. And quite unlike myselves, with “A”, I am usually the bottom.
     
    Maybe it’s because he’s older than me…maybe it’s because my expectations were that low when we first met…maybe it’s because it’s just not about the sex with “A”…or maybe it’s because I’m just that good that whomever I decide to f**k gets better just by being with me.
     
    I would now like to offer a disclaimer: the above statement is made with my tongue firmly pressed up against my cheek. Even I’m not that arrogant…usually.
     
    I had to report for work a bit earlier than usual due to a 9:30 am meeting the owners called for all the managers, front and back of house. So instead of catching the 10:02 train like I usually do every day, I had to catch the 8:02 train.
     
    Here’s the part of this tale where I’ll explain I am so frigging happy that I don’t have to do that on a daily basis. If I had to go to work every day crammed inside a metal tube with hundreds of cranky humans sipping on their morning coffee like its crack cocaine, I would probably put a gun to my mouth and get it over with. Though if it weren’t for that early morning meeting, or the fact that train was packed to the brim, then train twink and I might not have ever met. So hurrah and some other stuff.
     
    Two months ago, I had the opportunity to partake in a killer writing project hosted by Awesome Dude and put together by the wonderful and talented emu known as Camy. And since I’m not sure if the details of that project are public yet, I’ll not say what it is but it’s going to be freaking sweet. Anyway…
     
    Once upon a time I was a fairly prolific writer on line. And over at Author’s Haunt, I have a handful of short stories, thirty or so poems, and who can discount my Blog, which I use to post in four or five times a month. I’m not sure when I lost the time or the drive to write but I’ve been pretty quiet the last two years or so.
     
    But all that changed two months ago when I first found out about this writing project. Suddenly the fire was back and I started writing again like a madman. But unlike before, I wasn’t writing poetry or even Blog entries, I was creating original fiction again like I use to back in my youth.
     
    Unfortunately I didn’t make the deadline for that Awesome writing project, but I’ve been writing my crusty balls off and have over fifty-thousand words written at present. I’m f**king stoked and I can’t wait to get it finished so I can offer my one loyal reader a new story to dislike.
     
    As I slowed down to stare at the 40ish Latino man, and I swear on my bald head this is true, I realized that he was chasing what I can only assume was a twenty dollar bill that the wind kept just out of his reach. And he was laughing his balls off, as if to say that he couldn’t believe this was happening to him. He would shuffle forward a few steps, stamp his foot down in a poor attempt to capture the wayward bill, only to have the wind push it a few more feet away.
     
    I damn near crashed my car as I drove past him due to my laughter. It was only after I parked my car that I could’ve kicked myself in the taint for not capturing the whole thing on video to post on YouTube. That would have been the next sensational viral video. But I didn’t capture it on video and there’s still the matter of train twink to convey so I’ll move along.
     
    Even though sex with “A” is bordering epic…and even though I know he’d like to take it to the next level…I think I’m going to keep it strictly casual for the moment. I threw everything I had into Mark and I’m so not ready to go down that twisted road again anytime soon. But enough about that shithead.
     
    So I’m sitting in my usual seat on the train, the handicapped sideways so I don’t have to ride backwards seat, and I’m reading a new story by Gay Author’s, Jwolf, called Big Haired Bitches. Have you read it? If not than you should go right now as it’s loads more entertaining than this drivel you’re perusing now. It’s so laugh out loud funny you just might poop yourself.
     
    Okay, that’s pretty gross, forget I said that.
     
    So I’m lost in the story and for two stops I don’t even bother to look around the train at the other passengers. But for some reason, at the third stop, I look up when the doors open and in walked this early twenties Asian twink with multicolored hair, skinny jeans, bright pink T-Shirt, and in his hands was a black hoodie. And glasses, this train riding twink was rocking the nerdstar in a way that made things stand up and pay attention.
     
    In gay years I’m almost 80 and he was so young and so f**king epic hot I broke off eye contact because I didn’t want him to think I was perving on him. Which I so was perving on him. So I turned my head and glanced about the already crowded car to try and cover up my staring.
     
    At the very next stop, the old smelly lady that was sitting next to me got off the train which left her seat vacant. Even though I’m reading my story I notice out of the corner of my eye a young hip professional looking bitch make a move at the empty seat next to me. But in a move that could’ve been right out of the Matrix, train twink pushed through the crowd that was exiting the train and basically dove into the seat next, lightly crashing into me as he peered at the young hip professional looking bitch with an innocent twinkle in his eye.
     
    Now she’s glaring at train twink, so intent is her glare I’m surprised that daggers aren’t shooting out of her cold dead eyes. She shifts her gaze over towards me as if to say I should give up my seat. I fight the urge to stick my tongue out at her so instead I kind of shrug and go back to my story.
     
    But now I can’t focus on Jwolf’s story because I am wondering what train twink is thinking about this situation and then I start imagining what’s rambling around inside young hip professional looking bitch’s ugly fat head. And before you ask, yes, these random thoughts cross my mind all the time at the most inopportune times.
     
    When “A” and I are fooling around, I blurt out the most random shit. Sometimes it ruins the mood and other times it just makes us lose our rhythm because we’re laughing so hard. I don’t know why these thoughts pop into my head nor do I understand why I can’t stop them from falling out of my mouth. It is what it is.
     
    Train twink isn’t sitting next to me for longer than two coke fueled heartbeats before his right leg falls against my left leg. I glance over and he’s slouched down in the seat with his head leaned back against the window, his black hoodie crumpled up in his lap, and it looks like he’s sleeping. Well, at least his eyes are closed.
     
    As I look at him, I wonder if he’s asleep, or if he’s so tired that he doesn’t realize his leg is pressed up against a stranger or if he even cares.
     
    Either way I move my leg over an inch or so and start reading my story again, though I am now even more distracted because I keep stealing glances at train twink. Two heartbeats later, his leg moves over and again comes to rest against mine. This time there is a bit more pressure in his “resting”, like he wants me to know he’s doing it on purpose. So I relax my leg and let it fall into his.
     
    You know I don’t hold anything back here so even though I’m a bit embarrassed to admit this, I’m such a horn dog that this little bit of contact makes me feel all warm and fuzzy bunny slippers. I look over at train twink and though his eyes are still closed, he now has a small knowing smile on his face.
     
    “A” is a really nice guy, seems stable, has a bit of money, a cool apartment filled with nice things, incredible in the horizontal games we play a few nights a week, and a blast to hang out with. I think I would have a hard time finding someone better.
     
    And it’s shocking to think we met on a hook-up site like Grindr. Which makes me wonder if he’s still trolling Grindr, I only see him a few times a week, and if he’s as randy as I, he had to be finding fun elsewhere like I am.
     
    Since I was a little boy, I’ve always been intrigued by the story of Peter Pan. And it’s not that I want to remain a boy forever nor is it because I really believe of Peter Pan is nothing but one long homoerotic tale.
     
    I think the main reason Peter Pan holds my fascination is what I feel was left out of the story. The idea behind this story is dark, really dark. We have a pirate that is obsessed with “killing” Peter Pan, we have the lost boys that sleep together in a tree content to “play” with each other for the rest of time, magic, fairies, and treasure. It’s a faggot’s delight.
     
    For going on twenty years I have an idea for a story based on the world and characters of Peter Pan, or at least the world as I have imagined it would have been had this story not been written for kids. In some of my more creative moments I wrote down all these ideas and outlined the story and I must say, I have some really good ideas strung together. And if I didn’t think so strongly against writing fan fiction I might sit down one day and write it all out.
     
    But that day is far away in the uncertainty of the future.
     
    Question: Did you stop reading this Blog entry and go read Jwolf’s story Big Haired Bitches like I told you to a few pages ago?
     
    So train twink and I are sitting there on a crowded train, almost cocooned in a bubble due to all the people standing around us. All I can see is crotches and asses as the train jostles us back and forth. So it almost seems we are alone as train twink and I flirt like two boys who just discovered the wonders that dwell between our legs.
     
    And the only thing running through my mind as we shyly flirt with one another is I hope the train doesn’t lose power, or the big earthquake everyone is predicting doesn’t happen at this moment, or that the tunnel that goes across the bay doesn’t collapse and the ocean doesn’t come pouring in drowning us all as we press our legs together.
     
    Sometimes I damn near hyperventilate when I’m riding the train due to the scenarios that my brain weaves. This is so off topic but the story I’m currently writing was outlined, planned, conceived, and even partially written on my daily train ride. Two hours a day leaves a lot of time for tapping out useless words strung together by periods and what have you.
     
    I look over at train twink and find him staring back at me with a playful grin on his face. He rubs his leg against mine and then looks down at his hoodie covered crotch. Of course my eyes follow and I look down as he lifts up his hoodie just high enough so that I could make out his obviously very excited self. My eyes widened with lust and he laughed, low and raspy like he just woke up after a night of smoking too many cigarettes.
     
    I’ve lived in the Bay Area for almost six years now and I must say I’ve always had such great luck picking up guys on the train. Maybe it’s the motion of the train as it glides across the tracks. Maybe it’s the train system drugging the passengers in an effort to keep them calm as they pack us in like sardines. Or maybe it’s because I’m dead sexy.
     
    Though now that I think about it, it’s probably because I’m a total whore and other whores can sense me coming a mile away. Maybe it’s a pheromone I excrete like yesterdays ball sweat. Either way, I’m not dogging a good thing I’m just making a general observation about the gays in my area.
     
    Remember I’m on this earlier train because I have to go to a meeting that my owners have demanded we attend. And I’m a workaholic that puts my job before my own self interest. But I’m also newly single and…well…I’m a whore who is use to early morning delights. What’s a whore to do?
     
    Question: What would you do if you were in my position? Would you get train twinks FaceBook info and go to work with the intention of contacting him when you have the time? Or would you blow off the meeting and have some dirty fun under the sheets? What do you think I did?
     
    “A” keeps me pretty entertained and for the moment I’m content to keep playing with him right now. If this causes me to lose my slut card, then so be it. After all, I’m almost thirty-seven years old. Maybe it’s time I grow up and stop f**king every little thing that crosses my path.
     
    f**k that…
  5. Jason Rimbaud
    It’s Thursday, September 21st, 2017 and I’m in Daly City California.  It’s my day off, nothing special about that except that “N” is working the morning shift and I have the whole day off to do whatever I want.  If I want to stay in bed all day naked, watching YouTube videos, I can.  Or if I want to do a marathon of jerking off to free porn on the whole interwebs, I can and no one can say anything about it. 
    And don’t think I didn’t contemplate that last one this morning after waking up with a full on robot chubby that wouldn’t go away that defies all logic for a forty-two year old man.  One of the reasons I was so happy with growing older was the mistaken thinking that my libido would diminish with the onset of old age.
    And yes, I know that forty-two isn’t old compared to some of the other humans that populate this planet nor am I saying that forty-two is old.  All I’m saying is that I was really hoping that I wouldn’t be the horny man I was in my twenties. 
    The man/boy that slept with the butt-crack of dawn for no other reason then I couldn’t think straight the moment things became erect.  And to be truthful, that was the only reason I slept with a little person when I was 22.  And because I wondered if his cock looked like a normal sized cock, for the record it did.  Nor was it because I wanted to see how massive my cock would look like going in and out of his little butt.  For the record he was a top…but that’s another story.
    Why at my age do I still wake up with a hard-on?  And even more curiously, why am I still horny the moment my boyfriend walks into the room?  When will I get the dreaded EDS the TV tells me happens to every man over forty?  For Christ sakes, I’m in my forties, do I still have to contend with my cock boning up with every stiff breeze that comes along?
    My boyfriend left at 7:15 this morning to go to work.  Apparently he had a few private parties and several larger groups for breakfast and needed to make sure he was there in plenty of time to oversee this madness.  And right after he left, I lay in bed with my other head ready for some fun. 
    So I did what every man/boy does when his penis is taking over…that’s right, I got up and turned on my X-Box 360 and started playing Assassins Creed 3.  And if you are wondering, I did not feel like a pervert playing games at 7:30am with a boner.  Nor did I have a brief/thirty minute fantasy what it would be like to have sex with Conner from the game.  And I am talking about a full thirty minutes of constructing a complicated story of what point in the game we would meet, the details of our first awkward encounter that slowly builds over time until we climax on the grass overlooking the manor with Achilles somewhat reluctant approval as he looks on.
    Besides my raging hard-on, the only thing I wanted to do today on this glorious day off, was to get hot wings from Buffalo Wild Wings in Daly City, Ca in the Serramonte Centre. 
    I believe that everyone who has been reading my Blog for any amount of time…mostly a few years ago when I actually updated my Blog more than once every few years, would know that I am quite addictive to all things hot…exclusively hot wings.  I will go to any amount of trouble to acquire those artery clogging morsels of ecstasy.  Lie to policeman, check, leave work early on a faulty pretense, check.  I’m not saying I would kill a human for those tasty treats, but don’t be the asshole that makes my life difficult at work and then stand in between me and those chickens that are fried in fat and then tossed in hot deliciousness.  Seriously, don’t do that because I’m not sure what or who I would choose.  Better to error on the side of caution then test my morals when it comes to hot wings.
    When “N” left for work, I was horny and really needed to release but I started playing video games instead of taking things in hand as it were.  Then after driving myself to the brink of madness wondering what it would be like to have sex with a 3-D construct, I really needed to curb my horniness with something tangible. 
    I played Assassins Creed 3 until 11am.  I know, that’s like three and half hours playing a game.  But all I was doing was waiting until Buffalo Wild Wings opened so I could indulge in man’s simplest pleasures.  Okay, seeing as I was talking about jerking off, I wanted to indulge in man’s second simplest pleasure, the consumption of Hot Wings.
    At 11:25, I called in my order to Buffalo Wild Wings.  May I have a medium traditional wings, all hot BBQ extra extra extra extra wet, with a side of Blazing sauce, a Chili Queso Dip with no pico de guillo.  I don’t really give a shit if I spelled that wrong.
    I’ve lived in the Bay Area for thirteen years.  I started going to Buffalo Wild Wings sometime in the last three years.  Just so I can give you full disclosure, I’ve ordered the exact same order at least once a week for the last three years.  It might have been longer/shorter, but I’ve spent way too much fucking money on this addiction that will probably put me in an early grave. 
    I arrived at Buffalo Wild Wings at 12:30pm, because I stopped at the grocery store to buy Fosters beer and Jack Daniels Tennessee Honey.  But before I talk about my Buffalo Wild Wings experience, I stopped at the local Lucky Grocery Store to do two things.  First, I wanted to exchange my bag full of coins, they have a coin star that you can exchange your coins into money.  When I first walked into the store, can you believe there was a line to use the coin star machine.  Three people in front of me and I joined the line as I was listening to Penn’s Sunday School Podcast and really not in a hurry.
    After about five minutes, the guy leaves and the next guy goes to the machine and places a paper bag on the counter.  His actions was hidden with his body, but after a few minutes and I didn’t here the sounds of the machine counting the coins to convert into money, I peered to my left and noticed that he had a paper bag filled with already rolled and packaged coins.  The type of packaging that looks like when you get coins from a bank.  And he was slowly breaking open the rolled coins and putting them into the counting thingy. 
    “Fuck this” I thought and walked back to my car to place my oversized container in my trunk.  All I wanted to do was cash in my coins, it wasn’t like I needed the coins to buy my groceries.  I then walked back into the store and grabbed two bottles of diet coke, three 24 ounces of Fosters beer, and a 750ml of Jack Daniels Tennessee Honey whiskey.  I walked to the front of the store, and they only had two registers open, and they had to have at least ten people in each line.  Of course, the self check-out lines was completely empty, but seeing as you can’t buy alcohol in the self check-out lines, that really didn’t help me. 
    “Fuck this” I thought as I dropped my basket and walked out of the grocery store.  After all, I had lots of places I could buy beer and whiskey without waiting in line on my day off.
    I drove to Serramonte Mall, where Buffalo Wild Wings opened a massive store.  When I walked into the store, it was 12:30, almost forty minutes from the time I called in my order.  I walked up to the counter and there was three younger girls behind it talking amongst themselves.  It felt like five minutes before I was even greeted but it was probably less than a minute.  But sixty seconds is a long fucking time to stand somewhere where three different people can see you and no one even says hello. 
    Seriously, right now, just start counting to sixty in your head and imagine you standing at a counter with someone standing behind it yet not saying a single word to you.  It feels like forever right.  That’s how I felt.
    Finally after three hours/thirty seconds, someone says hello.  I give my name, they read my order back to me, medium traditional wings, all hot BBQ extra extra extra wet, side of blazing sauce, chile queso dip no pico de guillo, that will be 30.92.  I give them my card, I total it 35.00 dollars and she says, your order isn’t ready it will be another five minutes.
    I sit down on the bench and continue listening to Penn’s Sunday School podcast.  After eight minutes, I walk back to the counter and inquire about the status of my order.  This is when the girl behind the counter decided to tell me, “There was a mix up of your order and they are re-making it, it’s not that busy so it should only be another 15 minutes.”
    I’m not mad that they lost my order, I’ve worked in the restaurant industry for more than twenty years, I understand that mistakes happen and orders get lost.  If they would have said something to me when I paid for my order, I would’ve sat there quietly while they figured it out.  But they didn’t tell me that when I paid, what they said was it would be another five minutes.
    And yes, I was really enjoying Penn’s Sunday School podcast, but I was also watching them.  It’s a habit I’ve picked up over my years of running restaurants, I always watch the staff members.  And in my watching, I saw that they were talking amongst themselves, pointing at me, and pointing back at the kitchen.  Then I also observed them getting on the phone, gesturing towards me again, and then a minute or two later, a manager walked up to the front and started looking at the computer while looking at me everyone moment or two.
    But I understand that things happen and though I knew deep down in my heart that something happened to my order, I was waiting patiently.  But after waiting eight mintues, knowing that something was wrong, and rightly/wrongly waiting for them to explain what happened to my order, I walked up to the front only to be told off-handedly, that they were re-making the order and that something happened.
    No apology, no saying they are doing everything they can to fix it, no offering a soda while I wait for the order to be corrected, nothing from the manager at all. 
    And I will be the first to admit, I was pissed.  From 7:30 in the morning, all I could think about was getting Buffalo Wild Wings, getting beer and whiskey and watching the remake of Magnificent Seven.  And once again, Buffalo Wild Wings fucks up my plans.
    Earlier I told you that I have been ordering from Buffalo Wild Wings for longer than I can remember.  What I never admitted too, was that they screw up my order at least 1 out of 5 times.  Now before you ask me why I continue to go back to the place that fucks up my order that often, I will point out that I have an addiction and I will always need hot wings in my life.  Always.
    I am rather proud that I didn’t yell, or demand some kind of free stuff, all I said was I’ve been waiting for almost 50 minutes and I want my money back. 
    I want to say again, that Buffalo Wild Wings have screwed up my order so many times that I am immune to their incompetency and always check my order before leaving the restaurant.  Over the years, I’ve gotten to know the front of house staff, and have seen lots of staff and managers come and go.  And usually all I do is smile and take whatever bad experience they throw at me because in the end I get what I need, Hot Wings.  I’ve seen great FOH staff, who cares but mess up continually, bad FOH staff that can’t get an order right if there was a gun to their head.  And everything in between.
    And before you say, the FOH staff can’t control the kitchen, I know that.  But Buffalo Wild Wings put the ticket on the bag, and I’ve seen the ticket never mention that I want no pico de guillo in my Chili Queso Dip.  I’ve seen tickets that never says extra extra extra wet on my Hot BBQ wings.  That is not a kitchen error, that is a FOH mistake. 
    And what really pissed me off today, when the manager told me they lost my ticket and was remaking the order, what pissed me off, she turned away and started talking to the girl next to her about the date she had the night before. 
    And I will be the first to admit, I’m not a nice guy sometimes.  I have a sharp wit and sometimes it can be extremely harsh when I’m not at work.  That didn’t happen today.  I was calm, and politely asked for my money back.  The manager looked at me, and said okay.  She processed my order, gave me the slip that said my order was voided and that my card would be credited for the amount.  She then turned away from me again and resumed her story about the night before.
    For the first time in my life, and it has already been established that I am forty-two, I looked up the corporate office and sent an email detailing my experience.  I didn’t demand my money back, nor did I swear and lose my mind which is what I would normally do.  Instead I detailed my experience today, and asked for them to try and fix the issues that seem to happen at each and every Buffalo Wild Wing I have ever frequented.  I said, “I wish I could quit you, because after giving you so much money over the years and having so many issues with your staff, I wish I could quit you, but I probably won’t because I love hot wings so much”.
    It’s been five hours and I haven’t heard anything back from their website complaint department and I wasn’t really surprised.  When you are such a huge corporation, people are going to give you money no matter what and that they believe that with all the new guests they get each week, they really don’t care about existing guests.  But that logic is flawed, and what they don’t seem to understand, sooner or later they are going to run out of new guests and there will be no one left to try their restaurant.  I spend so much of my energy making sure that all my guests are taken care of, I sometimes have nothing left to give to my boyfriend after a long day at work. 
    I left Buffalo Wild Wings with the idea that I would go to my local Hot Wing place that doesn’t really have spicy hot wings but have decent hot wings that I could purchase and then add my ghost pepper sauce to kick them to another level.  But when I arrived at their establishment, they were closed for remodel.  And then went to another hot wing place in Daly City and they were out of hot wings until 1pm because there shipment didn’t arrive on time.
    It’s now 5pm and I’m at home.  I did get my beer, and my whiskey, and I’m rather drunk, which is why if this Blog entry has mistakes or a rambling feel to it, it’s not my fault I’m on an empty stomach and rather drunk. 
    I still have a hard-on, I have no hot wings, and my boyfriend isn’t home yet from work.  Sometimes life just sucks no matter how hard you try and maintain positivity. 
  6. Jason Rimbaud
    I was perusing the Blogs over at GayAuthors.org when I happened to read a new Blog called Marty's Musing. I don't know Marty but the title caught my attention and I urge everyone to go there and read it as it is definitely the "muse" that started me down this long rambling entry of my mine.
    https://gayauthors.org/blogs/entry/17900-o-muse-where-art-thou/
     
    To briefly give everyone an overview, Marty once upon a time use to write a fair amount but for the last ten years or so has focused on other things in his probably amazing life. And a few months ago, he started getting the urge to dip his toe back into the writing pond and was having some difficulty finishing a story he began all those years ago. He also had a few new ideas but after writing a page or so he would find himself getting discouraged and abandon the words on the paper. At the end of his post, he posed these three questions.
     
    1. What is the cause of writers block?
    2. How does an author overcome writers block?
    3. O muse, where art thou?
     
    After reading Marty's post, and it's only about five paragraphs long and I have included the link above so I urge you to read it. As of this writing, there are about five comments and they are perfectly nice, encouraging words that I have come to expect from the members of GA.
     
    Things like don't force it, let it come naturally, just take some time and wait for good ole "muse" to return. Things like, go to the story prompts and see if anything gets your mojo flowing again. And for some reason, these positive answers who's sole intent was offer encouragement to someone that was feeling a bit down got me a bit fired up and I starting to respond to what had been said before me.
     
    And then much like I always do, my reply got to be pretty long with some colorful language, some blunt honesty, and childish musings about a subject I might not know anything about. So after a moment, I decided to post my reply in my Blog to keep from hijacking someone else's entry and to ensure I don't hurt anyone's feelings.
     
    I don't believe in the traditional idea of "muse" and its whoring reputation it carries around the world. You know the one I mean; you first meet "muse" at a coffee shop. You have a double shot of espresso with almond milk and you tell everyone you're sick of everyone raping the cows for their joy juice but secretly wish you could enjoy real milk in your beverage but don't want the judgmental guy behind the counter to give you a disappointed stare when you order. So you sit there, sipping your dairy free beverage and suddenly, "muse" walks in the cafe.
     
    "Muse" skips past the guy with the ironic mustache trying to construct the perfect sentence in his essay about the dangers of drinking milk. Pirouette's around the housewife peering intently at her Hawaii Five-0 fan fiction crossover with Magnum P.I.. Frowns at the out of work screen writer who is steadfast in his belief that he alone has the script that will finally show the amazing talent that is Nicolas Cage before sliding into the seat across from you and give you that dirty little smile as if to say, 'how you doing'.
     
    "Muse" seems to be very impressed that you are drinking a dairy free beverage and starts to gently rub your instrument under the table, discreetly at first. Suddenly your fingers are flying over the keys, your writing so fast you can't help but look around to make sure everyone can see that you are writing so fast and that the elusive "muse" has settled on you to employ its magic.
     
    Ironic mustache guy leaves in huff, his hopes of stopping the consumption of milk dashed forever as "muse" continues to do dirty things to your instrument. Housewife leaves, her face a little flushed but completely stumped how to finish the scene where Chin Ho Kelly and Magnum finally consummate thirty-seven chapters of longing on the hood of the iconic red Ferrari. While the out of work screen writer continues to struggle with the perfect script for Nicolas Cage. And sadly, this screen writer never stops at this attempt, never.
     
    Because now "muse" is no longer content to discreetly stroke your instrument. Now "muse" has progressed to doing something so dirty I can't even describe it with human words. But that doesn't matter, because your fingers are flying over the keys. You have a look of ecstasy on your face and everything is right in the world and you owe it all to "muse".
     
    This behavior continues for hours, days, maybe weeks that turn into months, and sometimes it could even last for years. You and "muse" seem to have an understanding, you'll keep writing in public spaces and "muse" will continue to rub your instrument.
     
    Once upon a time, I use to produce a fuck-ton of content. I have nine complete novels posted on Nifty and seventeen short stories that I uploaded over a span of about four years. I'm talking a hundred thousand words plus novels. I also wrote dozens of poems that some might have read once upon a time. 
     
    And trust me, I'm not claiming that these stories and poems were great or even good, I'm just saying that I use to produce a lot of content when I was younger.
     
    I will also say that I am rather proud that save for one sequel, every story I ever posted online is complete.
     
    When I was younger, I wrote a story that attracted some reader attention and garnered me hundreds of encouraging emails that stroked my fragile ego. And when that story finally came to an end after 32 chapters, the encouraging emails stopped arriving in my inbox. And I missed those glorious words.
     
    So to keep those emails pouring in, for the first time I started writing and posting chapters immediately after finishing them. I skimmed over them barely but really didn't have an idea on where I was going. But I was confident that I knew these characters and didn't think I needed to worry about the end. I knew I would get there.
     
    The first chapter was posted, and again, dozens of emails. The next chapter, I only received half the amount as before. And with each chapter after, the emails all but dried up. So by the time I got to chapter five, I was completely lost and the story fizzled away and I abandon it to the internet.
     
    The fans who loved the first story lost interest in the sequel because truthfully I didn't really have an idea I was just winging it and it showed in the writing.
     
    I didn't know then but I was scared. I wrote about some characters people liked and hoped to capitalize on my earlier success by offering up a shitty premise. Not even my sub-conscious mind could work out a plot that was so paper thin before I even put words to screen.
     
    I think a lot of people believe "muse" to be a fragile creature, one that is meant to roam free, to traverse where it will without any guidance or structure. As if any attempt will stifle the creativity it brings you. Many writers treat "muse" in this manner, with kid gloves, hoping not to anger the delicate flower that could leave you at a moments notice to rub some other instrument.
     
    Like one day you'll be at a party, you and "muse", and you turn your back to get a tuna poke on a piece of kale appetizer and when you turn back around, "muse" is off in the corner giving someone else a hand-job. And the frustrating thing, you've seen this other person's instrument, and its not as impressive as yours, but "muse" is going to town and suddenly you feel taken advantage of and then your instrument shrivels up until its barely a tip and no amount of writing in a public space can bring "muse" back to stroking your instrument.
     
    You continue to go to that same coffee shop, order the same boring milk free beverage, you sit in the same spot, hoping to attract "muse" again to your instrument. But "muse", that fickle so and so, rubs everyone else's instrument but yours. You get depressed, eventually you start ordering espresso with real milk cause you just don't give a fuck anymore and one day you wake up and you aren't even writing, you just surf FaceBook and comment on cat photos.
     
    I think writers tend to create blocks as they try and appease this thing called "muse". Whether its sitting in the same spot every day, listening to the same piece of music, having the room at the correct temperature, complete silence or even chaos. All these rules and structures they somehow believe will get "muse" back to where it belongs, under the table stroking your instrument. And in the end, writers allow these things to rule their creative life.
     
    Merriam-Webster defines muse: to become absorbed in thought, especially to think about something carefully and thoroughly.
     
    You don't get to the more popular definition of muse until definition number three, a person or source of inspiration. And that definition is the second one if the word is used as a noun.
     
    So why do most people believe that "muse" is more the third definition over the first. The definition where it clearly defines what "muse" is, to think about something carefully and thoroughly.
     
    So to answer Marty's first question, what is the cause of writers block. Maybe you didn't carefully think through the story in the first place.
     
    I'll add a question of my own, how can you hope to finish something if you have no idea where you want to go?
     
    I know there are writers out there who post chapters online as soon as they are written with little or no thought of where they are heading. And those same authors will argue they allow the characters to take them on the journey and they as well as the reader will find out together how the story ends.
     
    But how many of those stories are ever finished? Maybe 2%, if we the audience are lucky.
     
    Or the other side of the same coin, the never ending saga. You know the one where the author keeps rambling on for dozens of chapters chronicling in great boring detail events that never seem to progress the plot forward. Seriously, every story has to have an ending; its the nature of what we do. Overly long stories are nothing but a glaring sign screaming 'I don't have a clue where I am going but please take this journey with me and hopefully there will be a resolution sometime if "muse" allows it'.
     
    And let's be brutally honest here, most of these type of stories are complete shit. And the ones that aren't complete shit would never have a chance at professional publishing.
     
    Much like Marty, I too left writing some ten years ago to focus on a career that I ended up hating. I am currently trying to change my life path and have gotten back into writing almost every day.
     
    And like Marty, I went back to an old unfinished story and struggled for about three months to complete it. I already had seventeen chapters finished with a dozen more that had half-baked ideas but I could never get it moving in the right direction.
     
    The frustration was there mixed with a lot of fear that maybe because I stopped writing all those years ago, I somehow lost the ability to put words on the screen. And for a moment, I faltered. 
     
    I went over my past writings, hoping that "muse" would again grant me the inspiration to start writing again. I found an old outline I wrote on June 25th, 2002 on a yellow legal pad during a slow day at work.
     
    As I read the twelve page outline, a few things stood out among the shit. Some really cool characters, a few great scenes, a ton of out dated technology and some really stilted dialogue. Even without a strong idea, I was convinced this was my next project, my grand return to online writing.
     
    It was a constant daily struggle to accomplish anything. For every good scene I wrote, I would delete entire pages of shit that just didn't make any sense. It was the most difficult time I've ever faced attempting to do something that gave me so much pleasure in my younger days.
     
    After one particularly rough day, I took a break and went outside to empty the trash and then it hit me. The reason it wasn't going well was because it was shit. If its only a collection of cool ideas with some half-drawn characters but no plot to speak of, was it any wonder I wasn't moving.
     
    I was trapped at a certain point and no matter what little trick I did, I couldn't gather the "muse" long enough to do anything except stare at that dreaded blinking cursor. I hadn't thought about it carefully and thoroughly.
     
    Which leads to Marty's second question, how does an author overcome writers block?
     
    Merriam-Webster defines writers block: a psychological inhibition preventing a writer from proceeding with a piece.
     
    Makes perfect sense to me, most of the things we encounter in our life begins in the mind anyway. Why would a block be any different?
     
    What are some of the reasons one might get writers block besides the things I already covered above. 
     
    Fear is one that comes to mind first. Fear of letting other people read what we wrote, to voice our opinions, our viewpoint, or whatever it is we are trying to convey.
     
    Perfection is another. I can't write until its perfect. We fall into this trap of not even attempting until we think its perfect. 
     
    I hate to bust your bubble, but perfection takes time, and re-writes, and editing, followed by more re-writes. Perfection will come, but it will take time.
     
    Timing is another block. You start writing something like I did, but you really didn't have more than the seeds of an idea and quickly you lose focus and the story dies on the page. Ideas need time to be nurture, water the seedling and then shape it until you have a usable idea that will be turned into a realized story.
     
    So back to Marty's question, how do you overcome this dreaded affliction? Before I give you the definite and only answer, and I do have the answer. I'll give a few ideas on how to get some movement on your thought process.
     
    Lets pretend we are back in our favorite coffee shop with our diary free beverage and "muse" isn't stroking our instrument. Get up and go for a walk. Change your environment and ruminate on the idea at hand. Maybe change your music selection, read a few pages of your favorite book, play video games. Sometimes getting your conscious mind off the problem will allow for your subconscious to tackle the issue without you banging your head on the table in front of everyone.
     
    There a thousands of ways to alter your frame of mind, and all of them have one thing in common.
     
    There is a famous saying, 'the only way out is through'. Sometimes you have progressed so far that it is easier to continue the path ahead then to turn around and go back.
     
    Whether you change your environment, or your music selection, or the task you are accomplishing, all of these are paths of movement. You have to move from the place you are currently to somewhere else. Sometimes that movement might be forward, sometimes that movement might be sideways, or sometimes that movement is backward. And like in my case, sometime that movement is starting over from scratch. Standing still will never defeat the block in your life.
     
    J Michael Straczynski is a well respected writer of television, movies, comic books, books and any other medium that involves creating. He created Babylon 5, Sense 8, reimagined Thor, transformed how people write Wonder Woman and is hired often to re-write screen plays and polish them. 
     
    He is also famous for writing every single day. No breaks, no vacations, no holidays, no time off. Just like Steven King, who once stated that he wrote at lease five thousand words every day, JMS continues to write on a daily basis.
     
    That is the answer to Marty's question. You can only overcome writers block by writing. Writers get blocks, authors do not. Somehow authors have learned that writing is not a gift from the "muse" of legends. It's a skill that is honed by doing your ten thousand hours. It's getting up every day and writing before work, or after work, or on the train commute, or however you do it but all authors do the very same thing, they write every day.
     
    After I gave up on my old work, I saw a prompt as I was going through some Blog posts on GA.
     
    Prompt 706-Creative
    Tag-Sleep
    The patient has been in the hospital for longer than you have been alive. They barely look eighteen and doctors keep running all sorts of tests. You were hired to exercise the patients muscles, keep them groomed, and clean. While bathing them today, the patient woke up, what happens?
     
    I didn't happen overnight. I thought about this prompt for the rest of the day. When I cooked breakfast the next morning I thought about this prompt. A few days later when I was doing laundry, I thought about this prompt. The next week while playing video games I thought about this prompt. This idea consumed me for a few weeks before I sat down and wrote this paragraph...
     
    "Nuresh Rajendran whistled happily as he pushed the cart down the brightly lit hallway. He had just celebrated his 65th birthday the week prior and had been awarded a small gold watch. That watch signified thirty years of service, and though he moved a bit slower than he once, he still hadn't lost his love of the job."
     
    So to answer Marty's third question, oh muse, where art thou? It's where it's always been. In the idea that is carefully and thoroughly thought out before attempting to write it down.
     
    J
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
  7. Jason Rimbaud
    Before I really get into the reason I started writing down these random letters to form words that structure the following incoherent sentences that you are about to read, I want everyone to understand why I decided to write this in my Blog instead of responding in the forum thread where I first started ruminating on this topic. I am writing it here mainly because I think I’m going to offend a few people that read this and more than likely piss off the rest.
    A few months ago, I came across a topic in the Lounge that got the wheels in my tiny little brain a whirling. So much did my head spin around and around, that even all this time later, I’m still thinking about the topic.
    I really don’t remember who started the Topic all those months ago, and it’s really not important as it doesn’t really have anything to do with who started the topic but what path that topic got me traveling on.
    To the best of my ability, the topic was “Do You Identify as Gay?”. It also included a poll of three choices…I identify as part of the gay community, I identify as someone who has sex with the same gender, I identify as something else (please explain). Or something along those lines anyway.
    When I first read this topic, the results were as following…
    72.41% or twenty-one posters identify as part of the gay community
    13.79% or four posters identifying as someone who has sex with the same gender
    13.79% or four posters identifying as something else
    And for full disclosure, I identify as something else. This something else with the tagline, ( please explain), is the reason I am writing this today and the reason I have done more research about this topic in the last few months than I have in the last twenty years.
    I have never spoken to the person who started the topic, nor am I judging that person or anyone that participated in this particular thread. I believe there is something deeper here in regards to my own journey then the author or other posters intended.
    And let me preface this by saying, I am not attacking, judging, or refuting anyone that shared their own experiences in this topic. Nor am I discounting their beliefs or personal truths. I am only referencing them as it led me to a better understanding of my own self.
    Upon first reading this topic, I believe I understand what the motivation the author had when they created the poll and the questions they proposed. And without putting words in anyone’s mouth, I believe the intention was to see how the other members of GA viewed themselves in a larger, cultural way. And on the surface, I think it was a harmless question without malice.
    The post started off something like, “I’m curious to know how many people on here identify as part of the gay community versus how many just identify as having same sex attractions without feeling a part of the larger, cultural gay community”.
    I first read this question more of, ‘hey, tell me how you feel about your place or lack thereof in the gay community at large’. I don’t believe there is anything wrong with the question that was put forth. I felt, and still do after all this time; it was more a curiosity to see into the lives of other individuals and to understand how they might see themselves in a grander scheme of life as it pertains to the “gay community”.
    And after reading all the response, a particular comment stuck out from one user. And again, I might be paraphrasing, but the poster said something like, “I have come back to this post several times because it rather irks me. I am gay. However, I am not a member of gay clubs, sports, or other so-called gay organizations. The feeling I get reading this, is that unless I “join up”, me and the others like me, are really not gay”.
    This comment intrigued me, so much so that I started doing some research into the poster. And no, I wasn’t stalking that user, but I did find out while I was stalking him that he identifies as a Dom in a BDSM relationship.
    The user clearly stated that he did not feel part of the gay community because he refused to ‘sign up’. And a few posts later he added, “My lifestyle is even smaller. Mainly found in small clubs, and yes online. But even thought we have BDSM clubs, I am not a member. Though my husband and I live that way. Does that make me less a Dom? No, Not at all”.
    Please understand that I know absolutely nothing about this user except what I have read in that particular topic and I am not refuting what he feels. I know nothing about BDSM except surface facts nor do I care to learn about this…lifestyle for lack of a better term. I do know that it’s not for me even though I understand that the participants feel a need to experience their life in this way and that there is a strong bond of love and trust in regards to their relationships. I feel everyone is entitled to love however they find it. And this post is not about BDSM but rather about the feeling this poster voiced about community.
    Webster’s define community as: a group of people living in the same place or having a particular characteristic in common.  It goes on with a second definition: a feeling of fellowship with others, as a result of sharing common attitudes, interests, and goals.  A few of the synonyms listed: group, body, clique, faction.
    When the user identified as gay but didn’t really have a connection to what most would call the gay community, preferring to just live their lives as they see fit and damn anyone that doesn’t agree with them. This statement got my little head spinning around. While this is an admirable trait, and one that I wholeheartedly agree with, it made me curious why he didn’t feel a connection to the greater gay community.
    I don’t know this user and didn’t feel comfortable enough to ask certain questions regarding BDSM and why this user didn’t feel a part of the community, so instead I went online and started doing research about the subject to see if I could get a better understanding of why he might have answered like he did and more importantly, why the question seemed to irritate him.
    And in my limited research about the subject, I found that most in a BDSM relationship identify first as a Dom or a Sub, then secondly as gay if they mention it at all. My understanding, BDSM is more important to how they live their truth than a label about sexuality. This seemed to be a logical reason why this user didn’t connect with the gay community.
    And yet it got me thinking why I don’t connect with the gay community though I live in San Francisco, seemingly the Mecca of gaydom for the United States and maybe for the rest of the world.
    I don’t have a lot of gay friends. And being gay does not now nor has ever really defined who I am as a human being. In my youth, I went to the clubs on the prowl for sex. I used more boys as dumpsters and playthings than ever made any real connections with the shallow people I met in those spaces. But that was a small part of biology, I was horny and wanted to find a release into the next willing receptacle but that wasn’t who I was or what I thought I should be. My community has always been those like minded individuals that share my same love of movies, video games, books, and historical places. At times, other gay people have fit that mold, but often as much, my friends are made up of all races, orientation, and gender.
    I have found in my travels, the “gay community at large” are shallow, promiscuous, addicts, that are too self absorbed to be good friends much less good human beings. And yes, before you get all angry, there are always exceptions. But go to any club on a Saturday night, and you’ll see rampant alcohol and drug abuse in the gay community, unsafe sex practices, and old men trying desperately to hang on to their youth by any means necessary.
    And if it seems like I’m judging them, maybe I am. But I don’t want to be associated with those types of humans. And it’s true, go to any straight club and you will see the same exact behavior which I think only proves that I don’t identify with them either.
    To get back to the user who identifies as BDSM, he would also say, ‘my lifestyle is even smaller’. He’s proud to say that he doesn’t belong to any BDSM clubs. He simply chooses to live out his best life with seemingly little regard for what others might think. This is a behavior I can support.
    Webster’s define lifestyle as: the way in which a person or group lives.
    The user is living his best life with someone who loves and respects him and for all purposes; he is living the lifestyle of a gay man. The user also used the phrase, ‘join up’. And this made me think about the grander implications of that statement.
    I feel that too many of our brothers and sisters are made to feel left out based on some of the marginal stigma surrounding certain lifestyles, especially if it’s on the fringe of the larger gay community. If the user, who identifies as a Dom, cannot feel like he’s a part of the gay community because he refuses to ‘join up’, then what does that say about this gay community? Is it because as humans, we tend to judge those that are different than us? If that’s the case, then we are no better than the homophobe that judges us because they do not understand us?
    To counter that point, the user that started the post topic and put forth the poll answers to begin with, stated, ‘For example, I personally identify as gay and very much feel a part of the larger gay community. Most of my friends are gay, I go to a mostly-gay gym, I play in a gay sports league, I go to gay bars/clubs/circuit parties, and whenever I travel I make it a point to check out the local gay scene. What I love about being gay in the cultural sense is that no matter where you go, you already have an established tribe/community that you can find support in through shared identity. I've found in my post-college years is that we are a community that tends to protect our own, and we've created our own institutions separate from the straight world to fulfill that purpose. It's ghettoization to an extent, but after living in the stuffy confines of straight life for so long, I've found that this much smaller community offers freedom to a level and in a particular way that people who aren't a part of it will never get to experience’.
    I think I could argue what the poster was referring to is not so much the ‘gay community’ but more of the gay lifestyle. Or what that perception of that lifestyle is from someone on the outside looking in. I do believe there is a certain perception of what most would call the gay community, and for a good portion of us, we would never identify ourselves in that manner.
    Urban Dictionary defines gay lifestyle as: a stereotype used by social/political conservatives to describe gay men being promiscuous, drinking, bar hopping, using drugs, cross-dressing, and orgies.
    Okay, I’ll be honest, the bit about cross-dressing made me laugh so hard I almost choked to death when I read it. But can you honestly say, you have never thought the same exact thing at least privately in your own brain. To most, the gay lifestyle doesn’t describe us much less define us. I have often lamented that who I choose to sleep with is such a small part of what makes me…me…that I rarely talk about it. I don’t go to Pride, I don’t participate in circuit parties, I don’t have orgies, nor do I have random encounters using phone Apps. That is not my lifestyle, nor has it really been.
    So why am I writing this? It’s not to bash the author of this topic, nor the user that doesn’t identify as a member of the gay community. The reason I wrote this and the reason I have been thinking about this topic for months, is because I was looking at this through the wrong lens.
    There was a time when gay individuals needed to bond together, first for safety, and then for support from a world that didn’t really accept us. And yes, having that support system truly saved who knows how many lives over the last decades. How many young people who didn’t commit suicide because they found a place that was safe for them to live their truth and find happiness within those communities? How many of the younger generation can go to proms with their same sex partner now all over the country? How many states have legalized same sex marriage? So much has changed for the gay community just in the last ten years that I never thought I would see in my lifetime. And thankfully, it has changed.
    Yet I truly believe one of the worst things we can do as a community is retreat into our gay clubs, gay bars, gay sports leagues, and leave the rest of the world behind. We didn’t affect change by hiding in the shadows. We changed the country because we got out in the light and demanded that we needed to be treated first as humans, with the same rights as all other humans, then by allowing straight people who didn’t know any better that we have the same goals, values, and desires that all humans possess. Who we sleep with is irrelevant in the grand scheme of life.
    My community, as defined by Webster, has always been made up of a fellowship of likeminded individuals that share my same attitude, goals, and life values. That is my community, and like most communities across the country, it’s not a gay community, it’s not a straight community, it’s a mix of beautiful humans that all strive to achieve a better life for those they love, and for those as yet unborn.
    I have seen a lot of ‘gay communities’ that do not share my same values and goals. And I will not be a part of them just because they also happen to sleep with other men. That would be like saying, I will only vote for this particular person because they also have the genetic coding that made their eyes blue like mine. Eye color and genital preference is so far down on my list of priorities in those I choose to surround myself with its practically nonexistent.
    If you find a gay community that shares your same attitudes, goals, and values, than great, you might have found the ideal life. But don’t get so hung up on only participating in ‘gay communities’ just because there are gay people there. Instead, create your own communities by including all people that share your values, embrace those that can bring something positive in your life and exclude all those, even the gay ones that would drag you down.
    Gay or straight, all communities are made up of humans first, and most of us are a wonderful, kind, generous, honest, loving, and accepting group that can do extraordinary things when we share a common purpose.
    I know that my thoughts might not be for everyone who reads them. And that’s okay. We are all on different places in our walk of life. I do know that over the last few months my perception of community changed and I believe I am a better person for it. So I thank whoever started this topic, and those that contributed to the thread as they all helped me come to a better understanding of who I am as a human and where I want to go.
     
    J
  8. Jason Rimbaud

    The Maltese Falcon

    By Jason Rimbaud,

    There Will Be Spoilers Ahead Of The Amazing Movie Maltese Falcon.
    For those of you that have never seen this movie, The Maltese Falcon is a movie starring Humphrey Bogart as Sam Spade, Mary Astor as Brigid O'Shaughnessy, Peter Lorre as Joel Cairo, Sydney Greenstreet as Kasper Gutman. It is based on a Dashiell Hammett novel of the same name, and written & directed by the talented John Huston in his first directorial role. 
    A private detective takes on a case that involves him with three eccentric criminals, a gorgeous liar, and their quest for a priceless statuette.
    The movie starts out with introducing the main character, Sam Spade and his partner Miles Archer played by Jerome Cowan. A woman comes into the office, Miss Wonderly, who is trying to find her missing sister who was last seen in the presence of a man named Floyd Thursby. Through a disjointed story that Spade and Archer don't seem to believe, they agree to shadow Miss Wonderly when she goes to confront her sister and the man Thursby. 
    Some hours later, Thursby is dead, Archer is dead, and the police think Sam Spade killed them both. Thus the plot of this movie really begins. 
    We also find out that Sam Spade has been having an affair with Archer's wife. Sam doesn't really like Archer but after all, they are partners. It really wouldn't look good for Sam's reputation if he didn't solve the murder of his partner despite what he might feel about him.
    After the murder of Archer, Sam finds out that Miss Wonderly is actually searching for a solid gold statue called the Maltese Falcon that was painted black to protect it from treasure seekers.  Sam also finds out that she has not been so forthcoming as she also has partners in this quest to find the bird. One is Gutman, the tall fat man that is eerily polite yet also quite menacing in his own right.  
     
    Villain Number One, Gutman, a brilliant scene where Sam confronts the fatman, (a term that is used throughout the movie). This was Sydney's first scene in front of a camera, though he had been a stage actor for over 40 years. Here you can see how formidable he can be across from a veteran star like Humphrey Bogart. 
    Villain Number Two, Cairo, a man that uses gardenia drenched business cards and is overtly homosexual for a movie made in the 40's. The brilliant Peter Lorre plays Cairo to a tee, single minded, delicate, yet truly sinister in the way he interacts with Sam Spade. 
     
    Villain Number Three, Wilmer, a gun for hire that looks up to Gutman as a father figure. Wilmer is also the murderer of Thornsby and the ships captain that was in cahoots with Miss Wonderly in smuggling in the falcon. 
    There are many twists and turns in this classic film noir story. And Sam must navigate the lies and deceit of the main players without losing his life. It all culminates in an almost twenty minute finale as Sam negotiates with Gutman and company to sell the falcon while trying to puzzle out who is who in this sordid tale. 
    Its is mesmerizing to watch the scene when the falcon actaully shows up and Gutman and company realize its a fake. The Maltese falcon is still out of reach, and they must continue their search. The three murders that has transpired seemingly secondary to their quest. 
    After putting all the pieces together, Sam confronts the murderer of his partner Archer. 
     
    One of the most iconic movie endings. What is the falcon? The stuff dreams are made of.
    The Maltese Falcon is one of my favorite movies, its dialogue heavy that manages to keep you on the edge of your seat. The entire movie is almost shot over Humphrey Bogart to give your the illusion that you are finding out the plot points as the character Sam Spade is. Unlike the prior two movies based on this book, this one forgos the happy ending for a realistic turn that leaves you almost sad that Sam had to turn over the lady he loved for his morals. 
    I greatly urge you to watch this film, its on par with some of the best movies ever made. 
    Jason
  9. Jason Rimbaud
    So earlier this year, I started a show called Watchmen on HBO. I was actually a huge fan of the movie when it came out in 2009, and was really excited to see what HBO was going to do with that property. And I was really excited to find out that it wasn’t going to be a remake of the movie but more of a continuation of that story in the same universe. From the opening scenes I was hooked and after I watched the last episode, I wanted to find out who created it.
    And that’s when I was introduced to Damon Lindelof. And as I have nothing else going on I did a deep dive back into his credits to see what else he has done.
    Tomorrowland, never saw it, The Leftovers, never heard of it. World War Z, didn’t like it. Star Trek, Into Darkness, loved it. Prometheus, never watched it. Cowboys and Aliens, didn’t like it. And then I saw Lost in his credits. And then I saw that along with J.J. Abrams, Damon co-created and wrote more episodes than anyone else and served as the show-runner because J.J. was busy doing other things.
    Full disclosure, I’m not a huge J.J. Abrams fan. I think he single-handedly destroyed what little bit of love I had for Star Wars left after The Rise Of Skywalker. And though the re-make of Star Trek was okay, I thought Into Darkness was by far the stronger movie. And I think like most people, I was introduced to the highly over-rated Benedict Cumberbatch, in this movie.
    After finding out that Lindelof was the co-creator and prolific writer of Lost, I was intrigued to see how Lost would hold up to Watchmen. Judging by his age, and when Lost came out, I figured the writer that wrote Watchmen would be more mature, more confident, then the writer who wrote Lost. But Lost was a cultural pheromone back in the late 00’s, and I only missed it mainly because I didn’t have TV back then and streaming shows weren’t invented yet.
    And again full disclosure, I have seen a few episodes of Lost way back in 2004 and have heard the debate about the last two seasons, but I hadn’t really ever watched the show from start to finish much to the chagrin of one of my closest friends who figuratively eats and breaths this show even after it’s been almost ten years since the finale episode was shown. (Side-note, IMDB TV started streaming Lost for free May 1st, 2020 to mark the ten year anniversary of the finale)
    And since I’ve been out of work since March 18th, 2020, and rarely leave my condo in the hills of Twin Peaks in San Francisco, and the fact that I am pretty much bored with anything else on Netflix, Hulu, and/or Amazon Prime, I contacted my friend and asked if I could borrow the first season of Lost to finally see what the fuss is about.
    You would have thought I asked him to be god-parent to my non-existent kids he was so happy. He started rambling on how we can finally talk about Lost and how excited he was to go on this journey with me as someone who never watched the show.  Like he could finally see it for the first time again through my eyes.
    And since my husband and I are really taking the shelter in place seriously, it was decided that my friend, “O” and I would watch the show together via face-time every day. Because I wasn’t going to allow him to come to my condo, I’m not sure he even knows what Covid 19 is much less that he’s suppose to stay inside his house. But that’s another topic.
    So on an infrequent trip to Target, I bought the first season of Lost and we picked a date to start watching the show together. I’m not sure if you ever watched a show before with a super fan, but it wasn’t more than 15 minutes into the episode before “O” started spouting off things that were foreshadowing later episodes down the line. I quickly realized watching it with him was not going to work so we came up with a new system. I would watch the show, make a few notes, and then afterwards we would discuss the episode and talk about where I thought it might be heading and so on. But only if he would refrain from answering any of my questions I might have or guesses of the future.
    And that lasted about ten minutes after I was finished with the two part pilot episodes. So now, I’m watching season one alone, but I continued to make notes of the show and what will be following, is my take of Lost Season One, episode by episode.
    I am trusting that anyone who is reading this, will refrain from making spoilers in the comments, or correcting any of my guesses on where I think the story is going.
    And when it was going to be “O” and I watching together, we came up with a few rules that I continue to follow. I won’t refer to any of the actors by their real names, only their character names. And anything I say about anyone on the show is directed to their characters and not the actor portraying said character. During the course of this first season, I went back to earlier episodes and either watched it again or added to my notes as certain things stood out to me in later shows that didn’t occur to me during my first watch along. Any added comments will be in bold so you know when they were written.
    For the first several episodes, many of the main characters were never mentioned by name so I made up names for them until they were formally introduced on the show.
    And though I probably shouldn’t have to say this, I will be spoiling each episode as I post these Blogs.
     
    Lost Season One: Pilot Part One: (Jack Centric)
    The show opens with a close up of someone’s very blue eye. Blue eyes is wearing a suit and tie and is in the jungle. A yellow dog runs past and Blue Eyes gets up and runs through the jungle until he comes out on a beach. The sound seems muffled until the camera pans to the left and we see completely chaos and the screaming and noise from one of the engines comes blasting into the scene. Littered down the beach is wreckage from a plane crash.
    Blue eyes frantically looks around until he hears someone yelling and sees a man trapped under a wheel strut. As he runs down the beach, the camera focuses in on several actors on screen who I assume will become the protagonists of the show. Black Man is screaming out for Walt several times,
    Blue Eyes calls for a few people to help him and together they lift the wheel strut and pull the man to safety. Blue Eyes sees a very pregnant lady and rushes to help her. Claire has the most annoying Australian accept I ever heard, and I’m assuming it’s not a real accent.
    Blue Eyes realizes that Claire is fine and instructs Big Dude to take her somewhere out of the way and if the contractions come faster than three minutes apart to come find me. That’s when we are first introduced to Jack.
    Jack sees Pretty Boy trying to give a black lady CPR and tells him he’s doing it wrong. Pretty Boy is clearly panicking so Jack sends him off to find a pen, more to get rid of him than for any reason.
    After he saves Black Lady, he sees the wing of the plane is starting to fall down, and wouldn’t you know it, its right over the very pregnant lady and Big Dude. He rushes over and saves them in the nick of time when the wing crashes down and explodes. (I’m assuming because of the gas?)
    Jack goes into the jungle and takes off his coat and shirt, he has a deep gash in his side. He has found a sewing kit, and from his coat pocket, he pulls out a small bottle of Vodka. Then a beautiful lady from the Hobbit movie comes out of the jungle and after a few words, sews up Jack’s side.
    Jack tells her a story when she asks why he isn’t afraid. He tells her a story of his first lead surgery where he cuts something near the spinal cord, and he knew that he had to do something. So he allowed the fear to flood him but only for five seconds. Then he would get back to work. Pretty interesting story and gives the viewer a lot of information about this doctor that is going around helping everyone so doggedly. 
    I loved how he helped everyone else before he took a moment to fix what I can only assume is a very painful cut on his back.
    Later that evening, the whole camp is suddenly aroused when something is heard crashing in the jungle. It looks massive as whole trees are knocked over and it seems to move very fast, and it has the most eerie sound. We don’t get a chance to see it but it’s big and menacing.
    Flashback, Jack is sitting in his seat and flirting with the flight attendant, he makes a joke about the weak drink and we see why he had vodka bottles in his suit pocket, pretty cool call back. Across the aisle from Jack is the Black Lady he saved on the beach by giving CPR. She mentions she doesn’t like to fly and that her husband is in the bathroom. Jack says he’ll keep her company until the husband returns. Right before the turbulence started, the one where I’m assuming was the reason they crashed, Merry from Lord of the Rings runs past being chased by the same flight attendant that gave Jack the Vodka. The turbulence became so violent the little masks fell down and someone behind Jack who didn’t have his seat belt on was thrown up into the air. Pretty cool.
    Jack, Kate, Merry decide to head off into the jungle looking for the nose of the airplane. Jack thinks that if they can find it, that all planes carry a transceiver that will allow them to contact any rescuers that will be looking for them.
    They see the nose of the plane resting against a tree so they go inside and climb up the aisle way. Its pretty gruesome, at one point Merry almost falls down and he grips the leg of one of the dead bodies.
    Once at the cockpit, Jack breaks open the door and one of the pilots falls out and down to the ground. Jack asks if Kate was okay, and Merry replies, “Charlie’s okay too.
    One of the pilots is alive, but pretty banged up in the crash. But he informs Jack and Kate, that a few hours out of Sydney, the radio went dead so they turned back around to head back. They are at least a thousand miles off course and no one will know where to look for them.
    He shows them the transceiver and Jack asks, where is Charlie? Kate goes looking for him and he comes out of the bathroom. Moments later, the unknown/unseen monster is back and after a moment, rips the pilot out of the plane. Jack, Kate and Charlie run out into the jungle, the monster seemingly right behind them. Its pouring rain and they get separated, with Kate hiding in the middle of a few trees. She is frantically looking around and thinking back to Jack’s earlier story, she starts counting to herself, one, two, three, four, and she says boone, which is weird.
    The rain stops and she finds Jack and Charlie who look up, and the body of the pilot is high in the trees and fade to black.
     
    Lost Season One: Pilot Part Two (Charlie and Kate Centric)
    Opens on Jack, Kate, and Charlie walking in the jungle trying to operate the transceiver. And for no real reason, except for plot, Kate asked Charlie why he went to the bathroom in the plane. Conversations like these usually have some significance later on in movies and TV shows. Charlie says that he was so scared he had to throw up, does a throw-away comment about being a coward.
    Flashback, Charlie is running past Jack and Black Lady but this times follows Charlie as he searches in vain for an open bathroom. Once he finds one, he locks the door behind him and pulls out some yellow looking powder from his shoes. He takes a bit of the powder and eats it and quickly relaxes a bit. So Charlie is an addict. Turbulence starts and he drops the bag of drugs into the toilet. He struggles for a moment before leaving the bathroom to find a seat and straps himself in just as  the plane lurches about violently.
    Blonde Chick is sun tanning herself on the beach while everyone else seems to be doing something. Pretty Boy asks her for some help and she implies that she’s going to wait until rescue. Pretty Boy is her brother and the two start arguing.
    Pretty Boy leaves and Claire, the pregnant chick, is talking to Blonde Chick and Claire confides that she hasn’t felt the baby move since the day before right after the crash.
    Black Man is once again yelling out for “Walt”.
    For those of you keeping track, mainly me, this is four times thus far Black Man screams out “Walt”.
    But Walt is out looking for his dog, which I’m assuming is the one Jack saw in the opening moments of the show. Walt is screaming out Vincent and finds a pair of handcuffs in the jungle. Black Man finds him right after and in a very angry tone says something like, I told you to stay on the beach. Walt replies back as only an adult writing for a child would, and we realize that Black Man is Walt’s dad. I kind of get the feeling that Black Man doesn’t really like his son much. I’m sure its suppose to come across as worried, but I feel like Black Man is not a good person.
    Middle Eastern and Blonde Southern Guy are rolling around the ground fighting. Southern Guy is accusing Middle Eastern man of being a terrorist and Middle Eastern is accusing Southern Blonde for being the prisoner that goes with the handcuffs. They are pulled apart by Big Dude and we find out Middle Eastern name is Sayid, a former Republican Guard during the Iraq War as a communications expert. Big Dude is named Hurly, and I really like both of these characters right off the bat. Something about Sayid tells me he is very confident and extremely intelligent. Plus he has cool hair.
    Sayid informs Hurly that the transceiver is working but they need to get to high ground to get a strong signal to be able to broadcast their position. He points to a high point in the distance.
    There is a man with a piece of metal sticking out of his stomach that will die if something isn’t done soon. Jack is trying to figure out what he should do and gives a rundown what will happen to the man if nothing is done.
    Lost now gives us a moment to focus on some of the other survivors, one couple is Asian, and from the looks of it, they are married, but the way Husband talks to Wife, they are extremely conservative and Wife looks about crestfallen while Husband tells her to button up her shirt. Though I found it funny that the moment Husband turned around Wife defiantly unbuttoned it again.
    Husband is preparing what looks like sushi, and tries to go about getting people to eat it. Hurly makes a joke that as hungry as he is, he won’t be eating it.
    Lost again goes out of the way to imply that Black Man and Walt do not really get along at all. But Black Man speaks in clichés and comes across as angry all the time.
    We find out that Blonde Chick is named Shannon. Pretty Boy and Shannon are again arguing about who knows what, but that prompts Shannon to approach Sayid, Kate, Charlie, about going out with them to higher ground. Pretty Boy goes along as well, presumably to protect his bitchy sister.
    Southern Blonde Man is reading a letter with a look of concern on his face and smoking a cigarette. This is the first time I’ve wanted a cigarette since I stopped two months ago when I went into Shelter At Home. He sees the group heading out so he decides to come with them. We find out that Southern Blonde Man is named Sawyer.
    An Older Bald Man, who we’ve seen in the background until now, and really the only time we see him fully is when it was raining and he was sitting in the rain with a look of glee, is sitting on the beach playing with a game of Backgammon.
    Walt approaches Bald Man and without turning his head, Bald Man says, Backgammon is the oldest game in the world. Two players, two sides, one is light, one is dark. Then he looks at Walt and says cryptically, “Do you want to know a secret?”
    This struck me as important, because normal people wouldn’t say one side is light, one side is dark, they would say black or white. Something is being set up with this character and his mysterious declarations, so I know to pay attention with this guy.
    Sayid and company are walking in the middle of the jungle and Sawyer keeps pressing Sayid to try the transceiver but he doesn’t want to, to protect the batteries when all of a sudden a crashing sound is heard and what I know to be for a fact a bear due to hours of playing Red Dead Redemption 2, comes crashing out of the jungle at the company. Everyone runs away except Sawyer who stands his ground with a look of determination on his face. Once the bear is close enough, Sawyer raises a gun, where the hell did he get a gun, and shoots the bear several times before it drops down almost at his feet.
    It’s a polar bear, in the middle of this jungle…now that was badass.
    Jack has settled on a course of action for the man with the metal sticking out of his body, and has enlisted Hurly to help him find any antibiotics that will help with his infection.
    Flashback, we see the man before he got a piece of metal inside his stomach, sitting on the plane flirting with the flight attendant, and we see Kate sitting next to him. After a brief conversation between the two about juice, we see Kate is the one that was handcuffed and she is this man’s prisoner. Now we know where the handcuffs came from and who they belong too.
    Kate takes the gun from Sawyer and in a comical scene, asks how to take the gun apart. She takes out the clip and the bullet in the chamber, and then gives it to Sayid. Sawyer makes a crack about giving it to the terrorist so everyone decides that Kate should have it. She takes the gun but Sayid has the bullets. Kind of funny, that they trust her for some reason, not knowing that she is the prisoner. Though the way she was acting with the gun, maybe murder wasn’t her crime.
    Sayid figures they are high enough, so he turns on the transceiver and gets a few bars but can’t broadcast because there is a stronger signal somewhere on the island that is broadcasting already. He tunes into the signal and a French Lady’s voice who is on a looping broadcast. Pretty Boy says Shannon can speak French so she translates the message, Everyone is dead, I’m all alone now on the island.
    Sayid figures out that the message is on a loop, and has been broadcasting for 16 years and 5 months. The camera pans back and then for a close up of Charlie’s face who asks, “Where are we?” Fade to Lost Logo.
    Wow, some pretty cool characters, a few mysterious ones, a criminal, a polar bear, and some kind of pre-historic monster stalking around the jungle. I’m hooked for now, can’t wait for the next episode.
  10. Jason Rimbaud

    New Goals For A Pretend Writer

    By Jason Rimbaud,


    Life In Glasses
    Have you ever read something you wrote twenty years ago and literally cringe in embarrassment? I have so many times it’s becoming a constant state of cringe. And believe me, I’m a master of cringing. 
    I’ll give you an example of a cringe that came over me about six months ago..
    Twenty-one years ago I wrote a fanfic about the members of Nsync. Which I find to be strange as I have never been a fan of their music. Nor have I been attracted to any of the members of Nsync, then or now. 
    I always found my taste in men to be a bit on the nerdy side. Give me a man who wears glasses, a bit awkward in social situations, and I’m all in. If you add in a darker skin tone then I get a mental erection and it's all over but the moaning.
    A few of you might know my husband is ethnically an Indian who was born in Malaysia. He’s almost 5’ 10” and weighs 120 pounds skinny butt naked. Does he wear glasses? Check. Is he smart? Extremely. Is it any wonder why he gives me mental erections just by walking into the room?
    Back to the fanfic I wrote. It was twenty chapters and just over 100K words. The plot revolved around an assassination attempt of a US Senator at a concert in Hershey Pennsylvania. Of course the protagonist meets the members of this boy band and the plot is off and running to a climax I still believe is pretty good.
    But you ask, is the story any good? I can say honestly, it had some really good scenes, a fairly interesting plot, mixed together with some of the worst writing I have seen in a long time. Trust me, I read it, then I read it again. It wasn’t great by any standard.
    The tone was all over the place. Due to the main plot, it was a bit dark. After all it was about assassinations at the core. I tried to weave suspense throughout the narrative, and I think I tackled that part okay. But then I would have a scene of graphic sex, eight or nine pages of graphic detail. So it was this weird mix of death, humor, and jerk off material. Sound like a story you want to read?
    Yet can you believe at the time, I would receive up to fifty emails when I posted a chapter. I thought I was on top of the world. Which only goes to prove the theory that even a bad writer can get sympathy platitudes. 
    I actually had an idea for a sequel. Thankfully it never materialized as I would have another novel to look back on and cringe.
    Why did I fail to write the sequel you might ask? A few months after I completed the novel, I kind of went off the rails with a love affair of cocaine and Oxycontin that I wallowed around for a few years. And that addiction morphed into a habit of picking less than ideal boyfriends that only fueled my drug addiction that caused me to choose bad boyfriends which fueled my drug addiction.
    And if any of you are wondering what life was like during that time of my life or if you are contemplating on getting a drug habit, I urge you to scroll down to the past blog entries and you can experience all the chaos that comes with those addictions. 
    Or if you want to really experience what goes through a drug addict's mind, you can always read my poetry. I might have stopped writing stories but I never stopped writing. I poured all my mania, my anger, my drug addled thoughts into some pretty amazing pieces. In poetry I found a way to confront my demons and exorcized them one piece at a time. I am still rather proud of my poetry.
    Then I somehow gave up the drugs and the poetry. I swapped them for blog entries. Those posts really delved into the characters of my sordid past and focused on my journey into sobriety. They were funny, sad, and at times would drive any sane person mad at the stupidity of my actions. But through it all, I remained honest and wrote with an intensity that scared me at times and healed me at others. I showed the bad along with the bad, and was unashamed. 
    Then just like real life, days turned to weeks, months turned into years, and slowly my life got on track. I’ve been clean for over fifteen years. I focused on my career that afforded me an amazing life in San Francisco. And that focus on career came with a hefty price. I had walked away from writing and found peace and a measure of what I thought was happiness.
    Then I met the man who would become my husband. That is when I found out there was another level above a great life. For five years I went from great to perfect. I had found my life partner, the person that would spend every night sleeping next to me. That person that can make me smile just at the mere thought of his name. And when he decided that our life needed something else to make it better than perfect, he brought a cat home named Peaches. And then somehow it got even better when he brought home another named aptly, Kali. 
    And life is still perfect. And I know some of you might be thinking there is a “but” coming. You would be wrong. My life is still perfect. We started our own business. I’m doing something I love. And yes it’s slow getting off the ground, and we are still struggling to be successful. But I’m happy.   
    Throughout that feeling of happiness, I had a growing feeling deep down in the darkness of my heart. It was a feeling I had lost long ago. That feeling that urged me to get back to what I’ve always said was my first love. 
    Even before the love of drugs, I had a love for writing. From my earliest memories, I have wanted to be a writer. And for a multitude of reasons, I slowly lost that love to create stories. Yes, I wrote poetry, blog entries. Those were things that were needed at the time for my own sanity. But I wanted to get back to crafting stories.
    So I made a plan to get back to where I knew I wanted to be. Firstly, I would gather all my writings that were posted in various places under a bunch of different names before I settled on Jason Rimbaud for a pen name. I had numerous short stories and novels, mostly on Nifty. And I’ll admit that in those early days, I wrote a bunch of stroke material. 
    Secondly I wanted to start writing seriously again. So in July 2022, I made myself a promise that I would write at least two hours every day. And thus far, I have stuck to that promise without missing a single day. 
    I have written a bunch of flash fiction, even a few short stories since then. I also wrote a bunch of blog entries that no one will ever see due to the fact they focus on my husband and our lives together. They are way too personal to ever share. 
    The flash fiction stories were a way I could dip my toe back into serious storytelling. I needed to relearn how to write stories. I had been writing true to life ramblings so long I had forgotten how to structure a real fictional narrative. And that was a huge challenge for me.
    Then in mid-November, I saw a writing prompt somewhere and got this idea about a story involving a pink jockstrap. And I got really excited about this premise. So excited that I actually wrote it. And then I got brave enough to ask a few people to help me with the edits and beta reading.
    Was the story great? I’m not sure. They gave me amazing feedback and insight but by the time I was somewhat satisfied it was New Years Eve. It’s a bit too late to post a Christmas story after New Year’s so I think I’ll save that until next year. I do feel a bit bad as they had to wade through lines upon lines of crappy writing and I never posted it.
    But that’s not what this post is about. And judging from their feedback, I have a lot to relearn about story structure, plot, and characterization. I mean, you can’t walk away from something for twenty years and expect to be mediocre when you return after only six months. 
    My passion for writing was not diminished in the slightest. Their critique actually started a fire inside me. So what I’m really saying in this post, I am actually re-writing that old fanfic about Nsync. 
    Of course I removed all mention of Nsync. I created my own fictional boy band. I also updated the story to be more modern and expanded the cast of characters. I cut entire chapters and trimmed certain scenes, plus added a bunch of new content.
    And then there’s the sex. I had to tame the sex a lot. I didn’t eliminate it all together, because for some reason not only am I getting back into reading light erotica I’m also interested in writing it again. What am I saying with all this?
    I rewrote the entire story completely. Now I’m going back and adding/cutting/expanding the story from the beginning. My goal for this year is to finish the story and see if anyone would like to host it on their site. 
    I’m relishing the journey of finding my voice after so many years of writing tongue-n-cheek blog entries. And I think some readers might find this change confusing as they expect a more cheeky tone in my writings. I know in the long run I will feel more fulfilled in doing something that makes me extremely happy. And for a guy that has no reason to be as happy as I am currently, I am grateful.
  11. Jason Rimbaud

    Untitled Stories

    By Jason Rimbaud,


    Life In Glasses
    In the last eight months, I somehow managed to write about two hundred ninety-five thousand words over six stories. And out of those six, four are first draft complete. 
    Untitled Story Number One: Set in Hershey Pennsylvania and revolves around a plot to assassinate a sitting US Senator on the road to a presidential nomination and the contract killer who decides to stop it. The first draft is 96,345 words.
    Untitled Story Number Two: The story takes place in the US Virgin Islands as our protagonist deals with the loss of his parents after a sudden illness. He meets a boy at a house party and quickly falls in love. But everything isn’t as it seems and when the press catches wind of his budding romance, choices must be made by both boys that will alter their lives forever. A short story with 22,889 words.
    Untitled Story Collection Number Three: This chronicles the affair between two singers, one at the height of his career and the other climbing his way to the top. The idea of this story began with my short story already posted online at Gay Authors many years ago entitled Fractured. Told over a span of five years and through four short stories, this is a tale of addiction and the struggle to find one’s identity amongst the lens of fame. Total word count is 89,545.
    Untitled Story Number Four: What happens when a closeted boy gets a pride themed thong as a secret santa gift? Who gave it to him and why? Based on a writing prompt at Gay Authors and was my entry for last year's Christmas story. Sadly it was not finished in time as it was a complete mess even with help from two of our Awesome Dude writers who tried to edit it. Hopefully it will be retooled for this year's entry for Christmas. Word count 14,289
    Untitled Story Number Five: In 2023, Tyler was forced into questioning his sexuality for the first time in his life. After reconnecting with an old friend he quickly falls in love. Now a senior in high school, he is pressured into raising his GPA from 3.5 to 3.7 from his father who has grand plans for his only son. As midterms approach, his barely passing grade in Calculus forces him to take drastic action on the very eve his entire world comes crashing down. Can his boyfriend save him from himself or will Tyler have to face things alone? In progress, current word count is 48,584
    Untitled Story Number Six: In 1995, Daniel steals a car and runs away to the big city to escape his homophobic parents. He is caught after crashing the car and sent to a boarding school that specializes in gay conversion therapy. He returns at the start of summer and has to navigate the court ordered restitution to pay off the stolen car, his overly religious ex boyfriend who is trapped in denial that the only way he can survive is to lash out in violence. Can Daniel survive the summer before he turns eighteen or will he be trapped in a town he hates. In Progress, 22,923
    Earlier this year, I made an end of year goal that I will have at least one story completed and readying for posting online. Thus far, I am well on my way to achieving this amazing feat seeing as I opened a restaurant last year and have just finished signing a Letter of Intent (LOI) on our first brick & mortar restaurant in downtown San Francisco. We have moved on to the financing stages and if all goes well, by mid August our very first restaurant will be opened and ready for customers. 
    With a new restaurant opening looming above my head, I don’t know how much time I will have to focus on my writing. So to achieve this goal, I will choose one of the above stories to complete before the end of the year. If anyone has a particular one that interests them into reading more, I am taking suggestions. 
    On a completely different note, in the mid-eighties, I read a book of short stories called Thieves World, a shared world fantasy series created by Robert Asprin and featuring some of the most well known writers of the seventies and eighties. My memory is that authors could use any characters already created or introduce new ones set in the city of Sanctuary. 
    As the series continued, I became fascinated by multiple stories taking place in the same location independently of the other stories. Twenty years ago I tried, and failed, to mimic this by writing multiple stories set in the same small town of my youth. This would be a semi-autobiographical tale told through a fictional lens.
    For several reasons, this concept failed. I was not a good writer and the story quickly got away from me due to lack of plot and/or planning. Recently I revisited this concept and two of the above stories are set in the same location. 
    I guess my hope, after I finish playing in this setting, is that maybe another author might want to jump in and play around in my world. Either by continuing any of the stories I post or creating new ones. But first I have to actually finish something.
    Wish me luck on signing my lease, I’m so excited to actually be able to see people enjoy my food in a restaurant setting instead of just doing take-out.
  12. Jason Rimbaud

    TGI Friday's & A Broken Nose

    By Jason Rimbaud,


    Life In Glasses
    TGIF’s & A Broken Nose
    By: Jason Rimbaud
    It was the year 1997. I was young, with luscious brown hair that fell past my shoulders. I was fit, hard bodied like only the young can have without exercise and down to fuck anything that captured my attention. But I was trapped in the midst of my only at night relationship with a straight boy named Jason and frustrated beyond belief. 
    I was also at an emergency room at 3:45 am and being questioned by a policeman about injuries Jason had sustained in a fight. 
    For those of you that haven’t followed this long outdated Blog, then you might want to read I’ll Never Wear Boxers Again to fully understand my relationship with Jason, my undercover lover.
    During this particular year, at this particular time, Jason was balls deep in (love) with a female bartender at a local restaurant/bar called TGI Friday’s. You must remember, back then, TGI Friday’s actually had great food. Though they might have been better known for their “flare” bartenders and happy hour specials than anything. 
    It was common on most nights where the forty plus seats at the bar weren’t filled with regulars. Due in no small part that they offered a subscription based trivia game called NTN Buzztime that you could play against other players all over the country. 
    You’d ask a bartender for a controller, log in to your Buzztime account, and then play against other players in a plethora of trivia that normally lasted for thirty minutes at a time. I never participated in the sport theme trivia games but many a night, Jason and I spent hours playing that damn game until they kicked us out at closing. 
    We had been going there for almost a year so we had gotten to know the bartenders and most of the regulars pretty well. I was also involved in a rather heated rivalry with another regular patron by the screen name of FitzFuc who was my only real local competition in my never ending quest to maintain my high score on Buzztime. 
    You might not believe this, but my perfectly bald head is filled with useless information that makes me a devastating player at any bar trivia night. But I am finding more and more these trivia nights are less focussed on general trivia and more on themed nights which I find a bit boring. 
    But in 1997 and for all other purposes, I was head over heels in love with Jason. If you went back and read I'll Never Wear Boxers Again, then you know how it started between us about a year earlier. 
    And since we never openly acknowledged our lust filled nights, I was confused, lovesick, and angry most of the time surrounding this secret relationship. With the amount of alcohol we consumed, my undercover burgeoning drug use and intense feelings, I’m surprised we didn’t have more violent arguments. 
    I’ll preface this story by saying I wasn’t the only one confused. Jason was in deep denial about his feelings for me and often used me more as a cumdump than a boyfriend. Though his intentions were probably more honorable than mine but both of us was stuck in this endless circle of sex, lust, anger, and hurt. 
    At one time or another, each of us tried to break this unhealthy cycle we had created for ourselves. As a gay man it was easier for me to find a willing receptacle. All I had to do was go to any gay bar and dance around in my underwear, twenty minutes later I’d be thrusting into some random dude or bent over taking a dick in the backroom.
    Jason had to employ a different strategy to find sex. His modus operandi was quantity flirting. He had figured out that sooner or later some random girl would agree to fuck him if he asked enough girls. So during this period, there were many nights he’d come home horny as fuck and needing to play around with me to scratch that itch. 
    Over the course of our “relationship”, I lost count of how many times I would see some ugly skank slip out of his room and make that long walk of shame back to whatever rock he found them under. And some of these “girls” he should’ve been more embarrassed than he was for taking them to his bed, but that’s a him problem. 
    With him being so deep in denial with his sexuality, those encounters might have been a way for him to justify the fact he wasn’t really gay no matter how many times I slipped inside his ass. As long as he was still sexing up girls, then he wasn’t really a fag but maybe bisexual.
    And that was an important distinction for him to make, which he did often. Usually it was right before I put my dick in his ass, he’d look up at me and say, “I’m not a fag.”
    What was I going to say? My dick was literally an inch away from the very place I wanted it to be. So I would always respond, “Me neither.” Then I’d do about the gayest thing one can do to another man. 
    But I was talking about 1997. I was working the mid shift, 12 pm to 8 pm, so after going home and taking a shower, I met up with Jason around 9 pm at TGI Friday’s. He had been there since five so he was pretty fucked up. 
    Our beer of choice at TGI Friday’s was Killians Irish Red Lager. They were served in a 23 oz chilled glass and we would normally knock back seven or eight before the night was finished. And in between each 23 oz Killians Irish Red Lager, we’d have a shot of our favorite drink. 
    Okay, they weren’t technically shots. I think I should explain before we move on. 
    Our shots were one of TGI Friday’s signature cocktail, the Malibu Baybreeze. This was a cocktail that had 2 oz of Malibu (coconut flavored) Rum, Pineapple Juice, and topped with Cranberry Juice in a ice filled 12 oz glass. 
    For some reason we loved that drink back then. So after each beer, we’d order this cocktail and then race to see who could finish it the fastest. The only rule, we had to drink through the straw. My personal record was five seconds. 
    Over a period of time, especially when they were really busy, the bartenders would grow tired of making so many of these cocktails, we had a habit of ordering them for several of the regulars. So for us, they started making us doubles and putting them in the 23 oz glasses. My personal record was about eight seconds.
    I know what some of you might be thinking. There was no way we would have the equivalent of sixteen beers and who knows how many double cocktails and still manage to walk upright. Then you would be wrong, very wrong.
    Jason and I were professional drinkers back then. We’d drink a solid five or six hours and then I would drive us twenty minutes back to our apartment. Don’t judge me, you do unbelievably stupid things when you’re twenty-two. 
    From the day I turned 21 until I turned 30, each football Sunday, five of my friends would drive about 45 minutes away to this amazing sports bar called Kokomo’s. There were closer locations to all our houses, but one of my friends, Five, was in (love) with one of the waitresses at that location so he made us go there.
    I can’t remember her regular name, but she also did strip shows in her private basement bar, and I remember her professional name, Velvet. Of course I’d remember her stage name. She was the only female stripper that ever gave me a boner. But that’s another story for another penis.
    Even though we’d arrived for the first game of the day at 10:30 am, Velvet didn’t start until 3 pm. We’d make sure we sat in her section so when she did come on shift, she would always be our waitress. We’d actually eat lunch and also dinner because we wouldn’t leave until the late night Sunday game was over. We’d basically drink for about twelve hours.
    Then we had our Friday game nights at my apartment. We’d all meet up at my apartment and play card games all night. It was standard practice for Jason and I to polish off two cases of beer and a 750ml bottle of Vodka. So our consumption was legendary in the circle of bars we frequented. Not only did we spend money like drunken sailors, we also tipped crazily. 
    How could two twenty-two year olds afford to drink like this you might ask? Prices weren’t the same as they are today. We could get a pitcher of beer for $10, .10 cent wings, and $2 well shots. So our Sunday football all day tab was about $150 and we split that five ways. 
    As a business owner, I am appalled by what I’m about to disclose, just remember times were different back then. Restaurants/Bars were making money hand over fist. Rent, labor, cost of goods, were maybe a third of what it costs now. Hell, bartenders/servers were only making $2.83 per hour because we really did live on our tips.
    Because we tipped so heavily back then, our bar tabs started shrinking the longer we frequented any establishment. After drinking for six hours, it was normal for me to receive a twenty dollar tab. We’d each, Jason and I, tip the bartender forty dollars and call it a night. So for eighty dollars, the bartenders were basically giving us who knows how many free drinks a night.
    Life was different, I had a 1200 square foot basement apartment with two bedrooms, a private entrance, and it cost me $800 a month. Jason and I split everything down the middle so our basic needs cost less than $600 a month. As a bartender in a very busy restaurant, I was making $200 in tips on a bad morning shift. Saturday lunch shift I was walking out with about $400, so I had cash coming out of my ears. 
    There was one time after it got cold enough to warrant wearing a jacket, I grabbed one at random from the closet. When I put my hands in the pocket, I found tip money from the last time I wore it five months earlier. I had so much cash back then I had completely forgotten about the three hundred dollars. 
    But we’re talking about 1997, one of the more violent arguments I ever had with Jason. So when I arrived at TGI Friday’s, Jason was fucked up and in a bad mood. He had met his bartender crush’s boyfriend and it finally sank in no matter how much he tipped her, she was not going to suck his dick in the parking lot at the end of the night. 
    The other bartender, Nick, informed me Jason already had about eight beers and four of our “shots”. He was hoping I was there to bring him home. Nick had been a bartender for years and knew the signs of someone drinking in anger. But Jason was adamant that he wasn’t ready to go home yet and had no interest in stopping for the night. 
    There lies the dilemma of any bartender with a regular heavy tipper. If they cut off the drunk person, they run the risk of losing that income, on the other hand, if they continue to serve said drunk person, they run the risk of an altercation in the bar or worse, an accident on the way home. 
    I was only there for about ten minutes when Jason told me to fuck off and leave him alone. Remember, I was twenty-two, and you do stupid things at that age. So I did just that. I paid for my unfinished beer and I fucked off to the gay bars.
    TGI Friday’s was located on Union Deposit Road, about ten minutes away from Stallions, the largest gay bar in Harrisburg at that time. By the time arrived, Jason had called several times. He was angry that I left him there and was looking for a “fight”. I wasn’t in the mood to indulge him in an argument. So I ignored him.
    Stallions was a three level club but during the week, only the bottom level was open. The upstairs levels were the nightclub, dancing and drag shows while the bottom level was more like a neighborhood bar. There were a few pool tables, some arcade games, dart boards, and they hosted Karaoke on Tuesday nights. This was by far my least favorite level but it was the only one opened that night.
    Brandon, the downstairs bartender, was a good friend of mine. He was early thirties and had a nineteen year old twink boyfriend named Nicholas, not Nick, Nicholas. Nickolas was short, maybe 110 pounds, with a flaming red mohawk and a lip ring. I always thought Nickolas was hot but as he was Brandon’s boyfriend, I stayed away. 
    My last night in Harrisburg, some eight years later, I fucked Nicholas in a one room apartment next door to Stallions but that’s another story for a tired penis.
    Brandon was average height, a bit chunky but very cute with short brown hair. He served me my first legal drink in a gay bar called Strawberries the night I turned twenty-one so I had a soft spot in my heart for him. Those first few months he kept me away from the pervs, creeps, and drug pushers and introduced me to a group of gay’s that I regularly hung out with as we made our rounds of queer circle. 
    There were only about ten people there that night when I rolled in around 10pm. It was Wednesday night as I surveyed the crowd, I didn’t see anyone I knew other than Nicholas and Brandon. So I sat next to Nicholas and ordered my go to gay drink at the time, a Greyhound. 
    Nickolas was newly out to the world. He was a little punk rocker whose usual attire at the time was red checkered pants, black leather work boots, leather harness and nothing else. He was also a huge flirt and on the prowl to bring in a third for their sexual escapades that normally happened in the bar after they closed. 
    Don’t ask me, I just knew to keep my hands off his scrawny little ass. There was no way I was getting involved with that trainwreck of a couple no matter how many times they enticed me or how many free drinks Brandon gave me. And it was a lot. 
    Brandon liked them young and later on, after they broke up, Nicholas told me that Brandon had urged him to get me in a threesome with them. Nickolas was hot, but something about Brandon just turned me off so I always declined. But I will admit, one of the only reasons I did fuck Nickolas eight years later was to rub it in Brandon’s face right before I left. 
    This particular night, Nickolas was wearing a pair of black spandex shorts, black leather work boots and a smile. And the moment I sat down next to him, he jumped into my lap and kissed my cheek. I might have copped a feel of his little package as he squirmed around in my lap, maybe, but I’ll never tell.
    It was strange for me to be there on an off night, as I had the reputation of only showing up when I was looking to fuck. So Brandon said something along the lines of, “What are you doing here on a Wednesday?”
    “Relaxing after a long day.” Though Jason and I had been playing around for almost a year, I had yet to tell anyone about him. So I was dealing with all that emotion alone.
    “Let me help you with that.” Brandon declared and poured us Purple Hooter shots. 
    I had really only gone there because Jason was being an asshole and I wasn’t really looking to get hammered as I had an early shift the next day. But who could say no to a purple hooter. Not me, and after three greyhounds and two purple hooters, my will to call it an early night went out the window. 
    Nickolas and I started a game of pool. Back then, I played pool all the time. My buddy “Five” and I spent at least three hours a week playing at a local pool hall with regulation sized tables. I was really good once upon a time. On a bar sized table, I was virtually unbeatable. 
    Full disclosure, I loved playing pool with Nickolas, mainly because I would stare at his narrow ass every time he bent over to shoot. So as the night progressed, I was becoming increasingly horny and actually thought about taking them up on their offer to play. But that was as close as I would ever come to indulging their fantasy. Because a quarter after midnight, a tall slender boy with a caesar haircut, piercing blue eyes, and a sexual swagger walked in and asked if he could play winner. 
    I took one look at this boy and flashed him a smile and said, “I’ll play any game with you.”
    His name was Brandon, I know, confusing right. But he was known throughout queer circle as having all meat and no potatoes. And later that night I found out that was correct. He had an eight inch cock, straight and thick but little bitty balls that would have been perfectly fine on an eleven year old boy. Not a twenty-five year old man with a dick that could choke a horse, or a Jason.  
    For sake of clarity, my friend, I will call Brandon 1. I could give Brandon 2 another name but where would be the fun in that. 
    Nickolas quickly figured out that I wasn’t going to play with him so he went back to the bar to sit with Brandon 1 while Brandon 2 and I started to play. It was apparent from his first break, he was a great shooter. And after four games, we were tied, two to two. That’s when the night started getting interesting.
    First off, the loser of the next game had to buy the next round. So when I went to the bar to order the drinks, I asked him, “Do you know him?”
    Brandon 1 frowned. “He’s kind of a whore.”
    “I like whores.”
    I could tell Brandon 1 didn’t like the guy. I wasn’t sure if it was because he had intentions on me for that night or if Brandon 2 wasn’t really a good dude.
    “Everyone says he doesn’t like to use condoms and he’s always staying for the afterparty at Strawberries.”
    Strawberries was right next door to Stallions and was a little narrow bar that was famous for a group of guys to stay after closing and run trains on naive twinks and do copious amounts of drugs. 
    Partipating in crazy sexapades didn’t bother me, but not playing safe did. AIDS was a huge deal and a guaranteed death sentence not to mention all the other STDs going around the gay community. As horny as I was, as dumb as I was, I was always careful to play safe. 
    As the months went on, I found out that most of what Brandon 1 told me that night was a lie. It was true, Brandon 2 was a whore, but so was I. He always played safe and didn’t sleep around near as often as his reputation suggested. 
    It all started because Brandon 2 had been seeing one of Brandon’s 1 friends that ended badly due to rampant drinking and drug use about six months earlier. A group of these older gay men were mad that Brandon 2 wasn’t a naive twink that could be passed around at those famous after parties at Strawberries. 
    Full disclosure, a few months after my twenty-first birthday, I was that naive. But that’s another story for a naive penis. 
    And the most interesting thing I found out about Brandon 2 was never mentioned at all. He loved watersports. 
    Jason had called me several more times that night but I always ignored it. I fully intended to honor his wishes by fucking off and leaving him alone. And some time later, when Brandon 2 followed me into the single occupant bathroom and started sucking my dick, I figured I’d start forgetting Jason by riding Brandon 2’s eight inch cock. 
    Brandon 2 still lived with his parents, so we couldn’t go back there. And I lived twenty minutes away in Grantville Pennsylvania, a place not easily accessible without a vehicle. So Brandon 2 didn’t want to come home with me. But I did manage to blast a load down his throat before I left with a promise to hook up again soon. That didn’t happen for another six months or so but it was worth the wait, let me tell you.
    By the time I made it home, around 1am, I was pretty drunk and ready for bed. Jason had not returned yet and a part of me was worried. I knew he was fucked up more than usual and he would never leave his Jeep there so the odds of him driving home was rather large. 
    But I was mad and being twenty-two, I shut my bedroom door and went to bed. I think I might have been asleep before my head hit the pillow. 
    “Hey asshole.” 
    I don’t know exactly what time Jason barged into my room, but I do remember coming awake and seeing him looming over me like some kind of vengeful angel. Before I could really blink the sleep from my eyes, Jason’s fist connected with my cheek and I fell back against the bed.
    No matter who you are, getting sucker punched in the face awakens something primal inside you. I’m not a tough guy by any means. Over my lifetime, especially back in High School, I had my share of fights. I’m naturally strong and can take a punch without collapsing like a sack of potatoes. So it really didn’t surprise me that I immediately jumped out of bed and went into a defensive stance. 
    I was still trying to process what just happened, and Jason lunged for me again. I’ll admit to all of you, there wasn’t a lot of force behind Jason’s first punch. Maybe it was because he was drunk and having trouble standing, or maybe he really didn’t want to hurt me. But when he lunged at me again, I didn’t have the same problem he did. 
    My fist connected and I felt his nose break. Blood immediately began flowing down his face and he looked at me in shock. LIke he couldn’t believe I had actually punched him. Then his eyes filled with anger and he attacked me. 
    We fell back on my bed, blood pouring down on the both of us, as we wrestled around for a bit. I slept naked, and not only was I self conscious about my nakedness, but I really didn’t want to hurt him. So I tried to block his blows and get him into a position where I could get away from him.
    Then a wild punch connected with my eye and I decided enough was enough. I threw him off me and started punching him as hard as I could. I made sure not to hit him in the head, I focused all my blows on his back. All I really wanted to do was stop him from hitting me. So after about six or seven hits on his back, I jumped off the bed and stood there gasping for breath. 
    Jason was groaning in pain, holding his broken nose as he tried to stop the blood. He was writhing around my bed and I grabbed a shirt from the floor and threw it at him. “Are you done?”
    Jason put the shirt up to his nose and said, “I’m done.”
    “Then get the fuck out of my bed. You’re bleeding everywhere.” 
    It took him a few moments to gather the energy to get off my bed and stumbled out of my room. I slammed the door shut behind him and stripped my blood soaked bedding. After putting the sheets in the washer, I remade my bed and was just about to crawl inside when I heard Jason calling for me. 
    As mad as I was about him attacking me in my sleep, I was still madly in love with him. And I could hear the pain in his voice as he called out for me. All the anger melted away and I ran out and saw him lying on the kitchen floor. 
    He had a towel filled with ice clutched in his hand but was face down moaning in pain. 
    “What’s wrong?” I asked. I know, he had a broken nose and I was asking what’s wrong. But I was still a bit drunk.
    “I can’t breathe. It hurts. I think you broke my ribs.” Jason managed to say between breaths. 
    That’s when I ran over and knelt down beside him. I lifted up his shirt and looked. I could see where I punched him, his skin was red and angry looking. The next day, the left side of his back would be one big bruise but that night, it just looked hot. 
    His eyes were already bruising and the blood flow from his nose had pretty much stopped. He looked horrible. I immediately felt sorry for him. “I’m sorry.”
    “After this, me too.”
    “What do you want me to do?” I asked him as I tried to move him into a sitting position. 
    “I think I should go to the hospital.”
    “You can’t drive, I’ll bring you.” I offered. 
    He looked at me and then reached out with one finger and hit the tip of my dick gently. “Maybe you should get some clothes on.”
    On the way to the emergency room, Jason came up with a story to explain where he got his injuries. We both knew, the moment an ER doctor saw him, he would know he was in a fight and report it to the police. 
    Twenty minutes earlier, we were trying to kill each other and now we were conspiring to lie to a police officer. The basis of the story, Jason was out at a bar somewhere downtown, and after he left, a few guys jumped and robbed him. Then he drove home where I decided he should go to the hospital. 
    As we suspected, the ER doctor called the police and after they triaged him, the officer took his statement. Then as Jason was filling out the paperwork, the officer found me in the waiting room and interviewed me. 
    This wasn’t the first time I had lied to a police officer and it wasn’t the last. And from the look on his face, the police officer didn’t believe a word I said. I have no idea what he thought really happened but our story was so weak, Jason couldn’t remember which bar he went to, nor where he was parked, nor could he offer a description of any of the attackers. But I think the main reason he didn’t believe our story was that Jason had his wallet in his personal effects when he was admitted.   
    We were pretty quiet on the ride home. It was almost five am and he had to be at work at 8am and my shift started at 10am. He had a broken nose, a cracked rib and a bruised kidney, needless to say, only one of us made it to work that day. 
    The explanation he gave me behind his anger never made sense either. Yes, he was mad that his bartender crush wasn’t interested in him, and yes he was mad that I left him at TGI Friday’s, and yes he was mad that I went to Stallions and got a blowjob from Brandon 2, but none of that was the reason he attacked me. 
    After my shift the next day, I went home to check on him as well as to shower. He was propped up on the couch watching TV, bored out of his skull. When I went into the bathroom, he followed me and sat on the toilet as I showered. 
    “What are you doing tonight?” He asked.
    “Maybe go to Stallions.”
    “Why don’t we just get some beer and hang out here. I’m off tomorrow.”
    Truthfully, I was still angry that he had punched me. And I wanted to go back to Stallions to see if I could find Brandon 2 again. So I answered noncommittally. “Maybe.”
    “If you’re going to just hook up, you could always fuck me.”
    I started laughing. This entire situation was so ridiculous. Even in my young confused brain I knew what we were doing was bizarre to say the least. “You’re so banged up you can’t even walk. I’d break you.”
    “I’ll just take some more pain killers.”
    We ended up staying home that night. And somehow, we even took turns topping. We snuggled in his bed and I pretended we were a couple. It was nights like these, alone in the safety of our apartment, wrapped up in one another’s arms that kept this dream alive of us one day becoming a real couple. 
    When we arrived home from the hospital, I helped him get undressed and put him to bed. I made sure his phone was charging and right before I turned off the light, I asked, “Do you need anything else?”
    “After all this, the least you could do was give me a blowjob.”
    There it was. Our relationship summed up in a single sentence. After I broke his nose, his ribs, and bruised a kidney, after all that, the least I could do was suck his dick. Any normal human would have run away from this situation. But I have never been normal and I didn’t run away. I sucked his dick.
  13. Jason Rimbaud

    Chit & Also Chat Equals An Upset "N"

    By Jason Rimbaud,


    Life In Glasses
    Chit & Also Chat Equals an Upset “N”
    May 12th, 2022
     
    I can’t believe it’s already May 12, 2022. Life seems to move faster and faster the older you get. I’ll be fifty in two and half years. Where the hell did the time go? Just yesterday I was twenty year old chasing fuzzy bunny slippers and now I’m lucky to find my slippers. Not sure if that is a euphemism. But it sounds dirty so I’ll allow it. 
    So I’m bald. But that’s been for like ten years now. I’m one of the lucky ones. My head is perfectly round like a bowling ball, it also has three holes in it. Wait, I’m forgetting a few holes, that’s so not like me to forget a hole I have. Told you I’m getting old.
    Remember when I was obsessed with my drug weight and how I hated to be sober because it made me fat? And once I quit drugs my friends used to say that I was finally getting to a “healthy weight”. Which we all know is code for fat ass. Well, no one accuses me of that anymore. And I’m a few pounds heavier than I used to be.
    I’m married, for three years now. We have been together for almost seven years. So my days of chasing train twinks and straight boy crushes are long behind me. As well as any type of sex. I’m trying to tell you that I never have sex anymore. And it’s not like I don’t try to jump my husband's bones/bone at every opportunity. For some reason he hates it when I try to dry hump him in the middle of Target. He’s such a prude sometimes. 
    I am now the owner of two cats, Chit and Chat. So my once pristine carpets are destroyed and filled with stains. And not the fun stains that I am accustomed to cleaning. Fur balls, and vomit and that’s just from my husband. 
    My job is amazing. It keeps me busy but opening new locations and getting into the corporate side of the business is so much fun. I don’t want to tell them that I would do it for half the money they are paying me. Even I think they pay me way too much for the work I accomplish. 
    My husband, I love the way that sounds by the way. My husband just graduated from an online college for accounting. He decided to change careers at *insert age*, and is now living his best life as a stuffy accountant. Did I mention that he crammed a three year program into one year? Did I also tell you that he did that while working a full time job? Did I also tell you that he graduated with one of the highest rankings in the year? Boom, humble brag about my husband, no regrets.
    The last three months, I have begun gathering all my writings, Blog entries, poetry, and converting them to Google Docs so I can keep them all in the same place. During this process, I first started with my Blog at AwesomeDude. I went all the way back to the very first one with the intention of copying and pasting into Google Docs. But I found myself re-reading the entries and I found so many errors, spelling or grammatical that I actually rewrote all of them. From start to finish. I wasted almost two months rewriting them all before I started on my poetry, and I am now working on all the stories I posted under a name that none of you know. 
    Did you know that twenty years ago I was rather prolific on Nifty writing fan fiction? Did you also know that I won several Boy Band awards writing under my first pen name? You didn’t, because they were all fucking horrible. I know, because I am reading/rewriting them now for some weird reason. Maybe one day I’ll let you read them so you can see how much they suck. 
    Getting back to my Blog, boy was I a mess back then. Do you remember those angst filled, drug induced, straight boy crushes that almost killed me? I don’t. It was like looking at someone else. I guess I am so far removed from that person that I actually enjoyed reading the old entries. On entertainment value, I’d say my Blog was a 9 out of 20. On personal growth, 20 out of 20. 
    I posted on several different sites over the years. And as I have been gathering them all together, I have come across stories I completely forgot I wrote. Poetry that was really good, it’s under my name but I’ll be damned if I remember writing them.  Is this what happens when you finally get your shit together and grow up? 
    I used to be a clean freak, I’d have marathon cleaning sessions. In each room of my apartment/house, all the carpet had to be vacuumed in the same way, each with complete straight lines. I washed the baseboards every week, dust the tops of doorways, clean all the doors to my kitchen cabinets. Scrub the floor and if I’d find even one little stain on my carpet, I’d shampoo the entire thing. But that was before “N”.
    Upon reading my Blog, it seems that all the men I dated/fucked are messy. It’s easily the one thing that connects all my hookups together. I still hate leftovers, I don’t understand why you need to have leftovers? Why? You never fucking eat them. Throw them away. Why do you constantly make me clean up after you by cleaning out the fridge every few days of leftover food that you just had to save? 
    “N” comes home from work. Before I tell you that, let me explain a little about “N”. “N” is 110 pounds if I put rocks in his pockets and weigh him fully dressed including shoes. And he’s five foot nine inches, so he’s not short. The only reason I tell you this is to explain why I do five loads of laundry each week with only two people in the house. 
    “N” wears this every time he leaves the house. Three to four pairs of long johns, a pair of jeans/pants, three pairs of socks, a Tank-Top, a T-Shirt, a pullover sweater, a hoodie, and of course undies. That’s seven days a week! 
    Before I came into his life, I’m not saying that he wore the same long johns, socks for days on end, but he was only doing one load of laundry a week. I’ll let you decide his clothing habits. 
    So when my lovely husband comes home after a long day at work. The other thing about “N” is, when he was going to school full time, he was also working full time. He is as dedicated, driven a person as I ever met. He’s smart, way smarter than I will ever hope to be. He’s hot, fucking hot in a can’t believe I get to see you naked whenever I want kind of way. He’s so fucking hot if I wasn’t so in love with him I’d want the whole world to see his naked ass. But he’s a messy mother fucker. 
    He comes home from work, after studying five or six hours in the morning before working an entire day, and his shoes get thrown in different directions, he takes off his long johns, and pants, and undies in one motion. So I have three to four long johns, pants, undies, all inside out, layered on top of each other. His socks come off the same way, three pairs inside out layered, his sweater and hoodie, inside out and layered…in a heap on the kitchen or living room floor. 
    He then gets a new pair of undies, sleep pants, three pairs of socks, a Tank Top, T-Shirt, and a sweater/hoodie. Then he crawls into our bed, we have three thick comforters and he still complains he’s cold. I’m in the house, in a pair of shorts, sweating because he has the fucking heat turned up to the hell setting. Our two cats, Chit & Chat, are literally open mouth breathing because of the heat. And he’s fucking cold. 
    He then gets ready for bed. He takes off the sweater/hoodie, the T-Shirt, throws them on the floor next to our bed, and goes to sleep. In the morning, he gets a new T-Shirt, sweater/hoodie and puts them on. After he takes a shower, he takes off his undies, his three pairs of socks, his Tank-Top, his T-Shirt, and his sweater/hoodie and puts them on the bathroom floor. Right next to the laundry basket, because he prefers his clothes on the floor. I love him. 
    We have four laundry baskets around our house. For one, because for some reason we go through a lot of dirty clothes. But mainly because I always have a laundry basket handy for me to pick up his clothes from the floor and put it inside the basket. He then starts the whole process all over again. I do a lot of laundry. Do you understand how much time I spend just turning his clothes right side out before washing them? You don’t because no one is as messy as my husband. Not your husband, or any husband that has ever been a husband in the history of the entire fucking world. 
    September marks the 16th year I’ve had a Blog on Awesome Dude. Sixteen long years of rambling, digressions, and pointless rants that my one loyal reader has had to put up with. I feel sorry for whoever that person is. I probably have made him/her/they dumber in the process. But that’s the risk you run when reading anything I write. You must have missed the disclaimer. 
    I’ve been toying with the idea of doing something special in September. Like maybe I’ll post nudes in my Blog, one nude for each year my Blog has been hosted at Awesome Dude. I could probably find a nude from every year. Then all you could see the way I’ve gotten balder on my head and hirsute in my ears and upper shoulders. By the way, no one ever told me that not only does hair grow out your ears the older you get, but for some reason my eyebrows are getting bushy as well. Fuck you all for keeping that secret from me. 
    I also thought I could do a Blast from the Past section in my Blog. Posting something once a month to remind my one loyal reader of the absurdity of my past. Or I could work in the titles of my old entries with a link for those who might want to revisit those digressions. Seriously, when I read the entry “I’ll Never Wear Boxers Again”, it might be one of the best things I wrote here. 
    But all that sounds like a shit ton of work and I’m way too lazy to do any of that. Though I did have fun going through my photos finding all the nudes I’ve taken over the years. I don’t want to slut shame myself, but I was a fucking slut. Some of the photos I looked at and thought, why did I get laid so often in my youth? There is a whole series of just Las Vegas photos that would make a seaman blush. Boom, my first cum joke of this Blog, no regrets. 
    “N” had wanted a dog from the first moment I met him. I’m not an animal person. If anyone remembers an entry called “Giant Can Of Red Bull, Spearmint Gum, and a Pack of Marlboro LIght's” would know that. I completely refused to get a dog. They are messy, dirty, and stain the carpets. I would not have a dog in my fucking house. Plus, I have a hard enough time cleaning up “N’s” shit on the daily. The last thing I want to do is clean up actual shit from the street a few times a day. The one thing I make “N '' do, he must clean the litter box. And if he “forgets” I dump a bit of fresh litter on his side of the bed to remind him. Just a little game we like to play. Don’t you worry about that. 
    Chit is an orange tabby female cat. According to “N”, orange tabby females are very rare. Chit was brought home about 10 months ago. Chit is a very nice cat, cleans herself often, has a clean butthole, and much to “N’s” chagrin, is my cat. Chit follows me around the house, no matter where I’m at, Chit is right there next to me. Chit helps me do laundry, helps me clean, offers advice while I’m playing video games, watches me while I eat. What else, she’s 11 pounds at 10 months old, so she is still a kitten. Oh, and she fucking sleeps on my face every night.
    “N” is always cold. I have tried to get Chit to sleep with “N”. But for some reason, Chit is not happy unless her ass is firmly pressed up against my mouth. I sleep on my left side, facing my wonderful if not messy husband. My arm is stretched out like I’m trying to stay connected to him in our sleep. Chit sleeps in the corner of my arm, her head facing “N”, her ass in my mouth. And when I move my head back a few inches to get a breath that’s not filled with hair, she presses back until she makes contact with my mouth. Six hours a day I have to put up with this cat needing me to breathe on her ass.  
    Chit wakes me up every morning at 3am by slapping my face with her paws. She will continue to slap me until I roll over on my back where she will then sit on my chest, her face about an inch from my mouth and demand head rubs for about twenty minutes. Once she decrees that she is finished with head rubs, she will smack my face for me to roll back over on my side where she will assume her position of staring at my husband with her ass back in my mouth. At five am, she will start head butting me until I get up to feed her. Once she is fed, I am dead to her for about seven hours. She sleeps next to my husband, purring in his ear. 
    Chit is a very proper cat. She lays down with her paws crossed, staring blankly at me as I move around the house. The upside, I can do anything I want to her  and she doesn’t seem to care. I touch her paws, trim her nails, rub her belly, all this she takes in stride. Have you ever given someone a “raspberry”. You know, you put your lips on them and blow out. I do this to her all the time, and she just sits there with a look on her face of “continue, let me know when you are done.” 
    To get my revenge on her, when she is sleeping in the ray of sunshine that comes through our patio door, I start rubbing her head, her belly, anything to wake her up. Then once she goes back to sleep, I’ll do it again. One time I timed it, I fucked with her sleeping for thirty minutes and she didn’t move more than her tail twitched. Chit likes to take showers with me. She gets soaking wet and likes to run to my sleeping husband plop down on his chest. It’s one of his favorite ways to wake up in the morning. 
    About two months ago, “N” decided that our perfect little proper cat is depressed. So he brings home a little psycho that we named “Chat”. Chat was abandoned, so she never had a mother to teach her things like, how to groom herself, how to cover her waste, or how to do anything. So we have a complete psycho that has disturbed our lives in ways that we will be feeling for years to come. 
    If you thought I was mean to Chit for fucking with her while she sleeps, then you haven’t seen nothing what Chat does. It took us about a week to bring the two together. Chit and also Chat are now friends. They sleep together, groom each other, steal one another's food, shit in the same box, and generally cause mayhem in our lives. 
    I know I said Chit was a proper cat. But that was a lie. Chit has destroyed my carpets, my couch, my top comforter, and all the strings to every single hoodie I own. All of them. She is a complete nightmare walking. I cut her nails, we have scratching posts all over the house, but she refuses to use them. I fucking hate her. 
    No matter where Chit is, Chat will stalk her in a way that only a two pound kitten can do, unsteadily. Chat will creep up and then run at full speed and launch herself into Chit. I find it crazy that Chit is so gentle with Chat. She could easily knock her into next month but I’ve seen Chit actually run into a wall to avoid stepping on Chat. 
    The other day, remember, Chat has only been in our house for five weeks, Chit must have gotten tired of the smell because Chat hasn’t learned to groom herself. Chit ran over and forced her to the floor, and started cleaning her from nose to tail. “N” and myself were cheering her on by saying, “clean her butthole, teach her to clean her butthole”. And Chit being a proper cat, did just that. No more smelly Chat. Boom, kind of a Friends reference, some regrets. 
    “N” was hoping when he brought Chat home, that he would finally get a cat of his own to shadow him all over the house. He took off four days to make sure I was at work so she would bond with him. He demanded that only he be the one to feed her. After the first day was over, and I was heading into work, the moment the door shut behind me, Chat started crying at the door and did so for the rest of the day. When I get home, Chat comes running to me no matter what she is doing. 
    So now I have two cats, Chit and Chat, sleeping on my face. Chat is learning that if she smacks me in the face during the night, she will get head rubs too. I now get woken up in shifts, one for Chit, and one for Chat. Believe me, I thank my husband every morning by waking him up when they wake me up. It's a game we love to play. A game that has evolved into my husband threatening to move into the guest room if I insisted on playing it with him. We so love to kid each other. 
     
    Where was I? That’s right. I’m happy.
  14. Jason Rimbaud
    ‘Have you considered my servant, Job?’
    Thus starts one of the most diabolical stories I was told as a child. 
    This story can be found in Job, Chapter One, and goes painfully on for 41 more chapters. We are only going to focus on the first two or three and the final chapter, as the middle part is multiple people trying to get Job to curse god. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves.
    Job 1:1, In the land of Uz there lived a man whose name was Job. This man was blameless and upright; he feared God and shunned evil. 
    Just another place in the bible where god gets off on Hebrews fearing him. Of course they fear you, you fucking psychopath. You’re worse than a woman scorned. You’re petty, vindictive, and have a habit of punishing other innocent people because this person over here offends you.
    2: He had seven sons and three daughters,
    3: and he owned seven thousand sheep, three thousand camels, five hundred yoke of oxen and five hundred donkeys, and had a large number of servants. He was the greatest man among all the people of the East.
    Ten kids, a bunch of animals, and a large number of servants. I’m sure I’ll tackle slavery at some point in this series, but for now, we’ll use servant instead of slave, though it's not that cut and dry. 
    I will point out that even though his large number of servants were no doubt a mix of slaves, indentured slaves, and laborers, the bible does say he was a just and kind master who believed that all men were there because of the creator. So not a complete bastard. 
    4: His sons used to hold feasts in their homes on their birthdays, and they would invite their three sisters to eat and drink with them. 
    From this verse we can assume his children were grown, at least his sons, since they had homes. Which means they also have wives, maybe kids, and a large number of servants.
    Hell, if they are anything like their horny father, they were popping out babies left and right. 
    5: When a period of feasting had run its course, Job would make arrangements for them to be purified. Early in the morning he would sacrifice a burnt offering for each of them, thinking, ‘Perhaps my children have sinned and cursed God in their hearts.’ This was Job’s regular custom. 
    That’s how scared he was. Maybe my kids cursed god in their hearts. And we all know how to satiate god’s lust for death, is to burn an animal. Something has to die, or god starts to get that itch. What a bloodthirsty savage! 
    This is a god that loves to see blood flow and the stench of burning flesh. Your son had an unclean thought about his peen, you need to kill a bull stat.
    So Job kills animals on the off chance one of his kids might have done something unpleasing to his vengeful sadist god. No wonder god thought he was the greatest man of all the East. 
    6: One day the angels came to present themselves before the LORD, and Satan also came with them. 
    The Satan used here was not a person, but more of a title. It means the Accuser or Adversary. This was nothing like the modern take on the little red man with hooves and horns. This person was actually a part of the heavenly host. His job was to travel the earth and make sure humanity was not lacking in integrity. Or some type shit. 
    Why would god need a Satan if he was all powerful, all knowing? That’s right, plot. 
    7: The LORD said to Satan, ‘Where have you come from?’ Satan answered the LORD, ‘From roaming throughout the earth, going back and forth on it.’
    8: Then the LORD said to Satan, ‘Have you considered my servant Job? There is no one on earth like him; he is blameless and upright, a man who fears God and shuns evil.’
    Have you seen my main man Job? He kills many animals to sacrifice to me. He is perfect and shits his pants at the thought of pissing me the fuck off. 
    9: ‘Does Job fear God for nothing?’ Satan replied
    10: ‘Have you not put a hedge around him and his household and everything he has? You have blessed the work of his hands, so that his flocks and herds are spread throughout the land.
    11: But now stretch out your hand and strike everything he has, and he will surely curse you to your face.’
    Satan was like, of course he “fears” you. You protect him because he kills so many animals. Everything Job touches turns to blood…err gold. But if you take it all away, Job will stop fearing you.
    Which in angel speak means, no more blood sacrifices. You’ll have to get your fix somewhere else. 
    12: The LORD said to Satan, ‘Very well, then, everything he has is in your power, but on the man himself do not lay a finger.’ Then Satan went out from the presence of the LORD.
    Job was successful because god had protected him. So to prove to Satan, who at the time Job wasn’t even on the heavenly bodies' radar, wrong. He says, Job is yours, fuck with him until your heart is content. But you can’t kill him.
    This is a man who is doing everything right. Considered to be the best man in the entire East. Out of boredom, or out to just swing his dick about, god says, go on, do your worst.
    Are you understanding this so far? A man doing everything he was taught on how to please and fear god, was just thrown to the wolves for no other reason except it was Monday and god was still a bit hungover from the weekend.
    13: One day when Job’s sons and daughters were feasting and drinking wine at the oldest brother’s house, 
    14: a messenger came to Job and said, ‘The oxen were plowing, and the donkeys were grazing nearby, 
    15: and the Sabeans attacked and made off with them. They put the servants to the sword, and I am the only one who escaped to tell you.’
    So the five hundred oxen and donkeys were stolen. Usually god just slaughters the animals, so at least they survived. But all the servants didn’t. I don’t know how many servants it takes to oversee 1,000 head of livestock, but I’m sure it’s more than a few. 
    After googling some info, for five hundred yoked oxen to be plowing, you’d need anywhere between 125 and 250 people depending on the type of work. For five hundred donkeys to be grazing, maybe twenty to oversee them. 
    Let’s go on the low side, 150 servants were killed. That’s 150 people not going back to their wives and children. That’s 150 wives, if Job is any judge, with 10 kids per, which gives us 1500 people affected because god is a dick.
    Maybe not all the men had kids. 700? What number is low enough to be able to say god is not an immoral monster? As it is, 150 servants were just wiped out because…
    But god is just getting started in this current form of blood sacrifice. 
    16: While he was speaking, another messenger came and said, ‘The fire of god fell from the heavens and burned up the sheep and the servants, and I am the only one who has escaped to tell you.’
    There are the dead animals. I knew that fucking psycho would get around to killing animals. But in this one, he got a twofer. Because when he sent fire down from the heavens, not only did they all die, but they got burned, which snt that heavenly smell of burning flesh heavenward. 
    Not to mention all the servants who also died. Innocent servants who had done nothing wrong. But god didn’t care about them; he was out to prove that Job was the best and brightest. Who fucking cares about some slaves?
    I have this image of god beating it like a twelve-year-old as all that stench from the burning flesh wafted up to heaven. I wonder if he has a cum sock under his robes or if he just shoots it all over the face of the earth.
    So seven thousand animals were wiped off the face of the earth. Google says max 30 shepherds. 
    That brings the death toll to 180 humans dead because god wants to prove how awesome his servant Job is.
    But as things with this moral, just god, we are just getting started. 
    17: While he was still speaking, another messenger came and said, ‘The Chaldeans formed three raiding parties and swept down on your camels and made off with them. They put the servants to the sword, and I am the only one who escaped to tell you.’
    Three thousand camels, let's keep adding up the death and destruction, shall we?
    Google says 30 to 100 herdsmen. Let’s go half, and say 70. We’re up to 250 servants/slaves dead. 
    18: While he was still speaking, yet another messenger came and said, ‘Your sons and daughters were feasting and drinking wine at the oldest brother’s house
    19: When suddenly a mighty wind swept in from the desert and struck the four corners of the house. It collapsed on them, and they are dead, and I am the only one who has escaped to tell you!’
    I don’t know if all seven brothers were married, or if the sisters were old enough to have husbands. Nor does the text say if there were grandkids involved or how many servants it took to run the house, but I think it’s safe to add at least fifty more people to our list of dead. 
    To prove that Job was a good man, god allowed 300 innocent people to die. And there is nothing funny about that. 
    20: At this, Job got up and tore his robe and shaved his head. Then he fell to the ground in worship
    21: and said, ‘Naked I came from my mother’s womb, and naked I will depart. The LORD gave, and the LORD has taken away; may the name of the LORD be praised.’
    22: In all this, Job did not sin by charging God with wrongdoing.
    This is the entire chapter of Job One. At the start, he had everything; at the end, he had nothing. And yet he still feared the wrath of god. 
    This is next-level devotion, and god should have stepped in to stop it. But as we are all finding out, god is a dick and the opposite of just or moral.
    Job 2:1 begins On another day the angels came to present themselves before the LORD, and Satan also came with them to present himself before him.
    So from the text, we can assume that in a single day, Job was destroyed financially, he lost his family and all his animals. 
    But now, on a different day. The heavenly host finds god, doing whatever it does to fill his time—no doubt constructing ways to destroy more animals. Remember back in Egypt, he killed all the animals in the land a few times. 
    God must have been bored, smoking a blunt, flipping through the channels of all the burning animals. Because he brings up Job again.
    Like the poor man hadn’t enough calamity fall upon his household. God’s like, just in case you forgotten, how about that Job guy…wink wink nudge nudge.  
    2: And the LORD said to Satan, ‘Where have you come from?’ Satan answered the LORD, ‘From roaming throughout the earth, going back and forth on it.’ 
    So I was taught to believe that god was all knowing. Why is he always asking people where they are coming from? Aren’t you supposed to know everything? 
    3: Then the LORD said to Satan, ‘Have you considered my servant Job? There is no one on earth like him; he is blameless and upright, a man who fears God and shuns evil. And he still maintains his integrity, though you incited me against him to ruin him without any reason.’ 
    Go back and read the first chapter. Satan didn’t do shit. He was minding his own business, going to and fro. God was the one who said, have you considered my servant job like a proud owner of a new puppy.
    When did Satan incite him to do anything? God didn’t have a good reason to ruin Job’s life, or the 300 innocent people who died. No good reason except I was bored. Or like an egomaniac who has to prove that he is bestest in the world. Fucking evil mass murderer. 
    4: ‘Skin for skin,’ Satan replied. ‘A man will give all he has for his own life. 
    5: But now stretch out your hand and strike his flesh and bones, and he will surely curse you to your face.’
    You already took everything. This is the moment god should have said, I already proved you wrong. But he didn’t. Matter of fact, he kind of rubbed it in Satan’s face. Remember when you said he would curse me if I removed my protection. He didn’t. You are wrong. 
    Remember, at this point in the story, there is no mention of god doing anything to help his poor servant Job. 
    I remember being in Sunday School, the person talking about how we need to be like Job. When bad things happen, we need to bow down and worship god. And as a child, I was like, yeah, we need to live in fear of god and no matter what, we should thank him for all the good and all the bad that happens. Because that fucker has a plan. 
    God never has a plan in the bible that works out. He made humans, and regretted it. Let’s forget that he is all knowing, all powerful, and in all places simultaneously. And since he knows all, he knew before he made man that they would cause him to regret making them. 
    He could have made a world where Adam and Eve never ate from the tree. He could have made a world where he didn’t put the fucking tree in the garden in the first place. But he did it anyway. He’s a fucking joke of an all powerful god. 
    That means when he murdered everyone on earth with a flood, he knew that before he fucking made them. So they were created to be a disappointment and die. Some great planner you are there.
    Who knows how many millions of people were on the earth when the flood wiped them out, but his genocidal nature has slaughtered tens of millions. Good god you worship christians. 
    6: The LORD said to Satan, ‘Very well, then, he is in your hands; but you must spare his life.’
    I know he’s a good man, who has proven his point, but since you want to talk shit, go ahead, do your worst; you just can’t kill him. 
    He knows the fucking future. He knows that Job isn’t going to give in. Yet he’s allowing this faithful servant to be subjected to torture to prove a point to Satan, not to Job. That’s next level sadism. This is nothing but to prove to all of heaven that he’s always right. No matter who gets hurt or killed in the process. 
    The apologetics for this story is that since god created us, he can do what he wants. And anything god does is already moral, so…fuck you, Job, I have to win a bet with Satan.
    7: So Satan went out from the presence of the LORD and afflicted Job with painful sores from the soles of his feet to the crown of his head
    8:Then Job took a piece of broken pottery and scraped himself with it as he sat among the ashes.
    9: His wife said to him, ‘Are you still maintaining your integrity? Curse God and die!’
    10: He replied, ‘You are talking like a foolish woman. Shall we accept good from God, and not trouble? In all this, Job did not sin in what he said
    Who knows what kind of sores, but Job is going through some stuff. And like a pious man, he is saying, god gives us good and the bad. 
    And in Isaiah 45:7 ‘I form the light and I create darkness: I make peace and I create evil: I the LORD do all these things.’
    I’ve already spoken of this. And he plainly says it. In this “perfect” world god created, he created systems and natural disasters knowing innocent people were going to suffer. And he’s perfectly fine in doing so, because he really wants people to serve him for some reason. 
    And don’t forget he loves us so much he gave up an entire weekend for our sins. Though that depends on which version of the gospels you use as reference. Some say it's three days, but if he was crucified Friday night and rose early Sunday, more like 36 hours. 
    And it wasn’t really a sacrifice. He rose from the dead, so what did he really sacrifice? A bit of time being dead. Live with my asshole parents for 15 years and come talk to me about sacrifice. 
    So we are barely two chapters into this story. The rest of the 40 or so chapters are Job’s three friends, Eliphaz the Temanite, Bildad the Shuhite, and Zophar the Naamathite, trying to convince Job to curse god. 
    Which is weird for a friend to do. Because if you curse god, then you will die. So his friends are what, trying to convince him to die so they can divy up his land after his death. Bang his wife? I’m not sure what their endgame is in all of this, but it goes on for chapters and chapters. 
    Then the wife is constantly berating him for continuing his faith in god. While his friends switch to a new tactic and accuse the man of having a secret sin which brought about god’s punishment. 
    And all through the next 40 chapters, Job never wavers. 
    God finally speaks to Job through a storm, and asks why Job is questioning god’s plan. Berating the poor man because he dared raise his hand and ask, why me? There is no explanation, no comfort given, just a bunch of would you ask the wind why it blows the tree over. 
    So in Job 42:7 After the LORD had said these things to Job, he said to Eliphaz the Temanite, ‘I am angry with you and your two friends, because you have not spoken the truth about me, as my servant Job has. 
    8: So now take seven bulls and seven rams and go to my servant Job and sacrifice a burnt offering for yourselves. My servant Job will pray for you, and I will accept his prayer and not deal with you according to your folly. You have not spoken the truth about me, as my servant Job has.’
    Eliphaz, I am pissed at you, and you will be punished. 
    Oh snap, are you going to kill my family, take my goods, burn my sheep?
    Nope, you have to take seven bulls and seven rams and kill them for my offering. 
    That’s it. 
    Yep.
    So we lied about you, and you make us give you an offering. Your servant, Job, did everything right, and you took everything from him, but we have to kill an animal, and we’re good. 
    Pretty much.
    Remember, at this point in the story, Job has nothing. He may or may not still have a wife, as the last time she was mentioned was back in chapter two. Did Satan take her too? Who knows? The bible doesn’t say because women aren’t worth talking about.
    If they aren’t being sold as wives, kidnapped and raped as war brides, or tempting some poor righteous person with sexual thoughts, they are glossed over and forgotten about. Almost every woman in the old testament is portrayed in that manner. A temptress, a harlot, a temple slut banging animals.
    So Job prayed for his friends, the lord forgave them. And finally, after all that was said and done, the lord restored Job’s fortunes and gave him twice as much as he had before. 
    11: All his brothers and sisters and everyone who had known him before came and ate with him in his house. They comforted and consoled him over all the trouble the LORD had brought on him, and each one gave him a piece of silver and a gold ring.
    So god didn’t really give Job anything. His friends and family gave him silver and gold. Which he then used to restore his fortunes like he did the first time. But the next verses kill me. 
    12: The LORD blessed the latter part of Job’s life more than the former part. He had fourteen thousand sheep, six thousand camels, a thousand yoke of oxen and a thousand donkeys.
    13: And he also had seven sons and three daughters.
    Some dirt farmer sheep herder, when telling this story, is like fourteen thousand sheep, six thousand camels, twice as many as before. Seven sons and three daughters, just like before. 
    So here is where we aren’t sure if poor Job’s wife had to pop out ten more kids or if Job got a new wife. More than likely, the kids came from all the “servants” Job banged.
    No apology, no little aside to explain why god suddenly shit on Job. Just, here’s some more stuff.
    Like, why are you sad? I gave you twice as many goods as before. 
    I kind of miss my original kids that you murdered for no reason. 
    But I gave you ten more. 
    That doesn’t mean I forgot about the original ones, you fucking monster.
    And since everything got replaced, he got another 300 “servants”, so more people enslaved. 
    This is a horrific story that was told to me about accepting god’s plan. That god is constantly sending things to test our faith. What a fuck piece of shit? 
    Job, yeah, he’s my faithful servant. 
    Can I fuck with him?
    Sure. 
    Really, but he’s your faithful servant.
    Yep, and I know the future, so I know it will be pointlessss.
    Then why are you allowing this to happen?
    Dunno.
    You don’t know. 
    Okay, it's to bring him closer to me. When I take everything he has away from him, I will be the only thing left. And if he still is faithful, then I’ll be exalted above all others.
    So it's all for your fragile ego. 
    Pretty much.
    I’m sorry. This is not a story about a moral god. This is nothing but ego stroking a baby who is jealous and hates anyone who doesn’t worship him.
    I will continue to search for any time, find anywhere where this christian god is a moral, righteous god.
    When next we see each other, I will talk about King David and the time god punished him by having someone else rape ten of his wives on the roof of the palace in Jerusalem for all to see. 
    In Part Six: David’s Punishment. 
     
       
  15. Jason Rimbaud
    I’m sure everyone has heard that expression, life is what you make it. Or you only get out what you put in. Relationships are just like that, if you don’t put anything into a relationship, you won’t get anything in return. 
    A little while ago, I received an email about Awesome Dude forums finally coming back online after a few months of being unavailable due to reasons I won’t go into here. 
    And though the AD forums have been more than a bit silent for the last few years, I’ve always considered Awesome Dude as my online home. Which is weird because for almost twenty years, I only had one story posted there. I had more than that at GA, three stories for the same amount of time. 
    But that got my tiny brain pondering why that is. I joined GA in March of ‘06. It wasn’t for another five months before I discovered AD in August ‘06. Why did I gravitate towards one and not the other?
    Because I only got out of it what I put into it.
    I first discovered Nifty around ‘99 or so, maybe a bit earlier but I really can’t remember that far back. All I know is I found a place where I could read gay stories written by people who felt like I did. A place I could read without wearing pants. It was an eye opener to say the least.
    And when I realized that Nifty would actually take any story featuring gay people whether it was good or bad, and then readers would take the time to email you regarding your story, I was over the moons. (naked butt joke) 
    I know exactly what the purpose of Nifty is, it’s a bunch of “O” faces and damp tissues. It’s gotten a tiny bit better over the years but it’s mainly a site for people who like to jerk off to the written word as opposed to porn videos. 
    I know no one knows this, but back then I considered myself a serious writer. Someone who was on the way to writing the next great American novel. I didn’t write stories so people could only make the “O” face. Not me, erotica was a form that was beneath me. 
    That is why I decided that I would write fanfiction. And not just any fanfiction, but Boy Band fanfiction. Because as we all know, the next great American novel was going to come from writing about the band Nsync. 
    Who knew that ten years later or so, Snowqueen IceDragon would write a global phenomenon from a fanfic of Twilight, movie franchise to boot. If only Twilight had been out when I actually thought I was a great writer who knows what I could have accomplished. 
    At this time, I hadn’t told anyone that I wrote stories, much less stories with gay characters. Nor did I even like Nsync, their music, or was attracted to any of the members. A fact that holds true today.
    If I was my younger delusional self who decided to write about boy bands today, it would be K-Pop fanfic. Asian’s are fire! I married a South Asian, most of my hook-ups have been of some kind of Asian descent. The only two races I’ve hooked up with the least, have been White or Latino guys.
    That’s still a huge number because I was a slut in my day, I just hooked up with more Asians than any other race. 
    I chose to write fanfiction because at the time, Nifty had an entire section dedicated to Boy Bands, and they had a yearly awards competition called Boy Bands Awards. (Since I wrote that sentence I went and checked, the boy band awards were a semi-annual event at times as well)
    So in my youthful arrogance, I decided that I was going to show all of Nifty how much everyone else sucked and how awesome I was. So I wrote the first one, a little six chapter story set in the Virgin Islands where our plucky hero meets Justin Timberlake and love ensues in a very G-rated way. 
    I might have stooped so low to write fanfiction, but I refused to have any sex in it. I implied sex, but wouldn’t go all out describing it. Because I wasn’t a hack writer. And no one jerks off to my amazing stories. If they cum from my stories, it’s because of my amazing dialogue and intricate plots that brought them to the edge of orgasm.
    Believe it or not, I received hundreds of emails over those first six chapters. I had done it, I had shown everyone how amazing I was. Then the awards came around, I wasn’t even nominated. 
    That was because I had just started, no one knew me yet and I told myself that all awards are nothing but a popularity contest. The best story didn’t win, the authors who were the most popular won. So I doubled down and wrote five more, all featuring Nsync in some ways. 
    If I didn’t like Nsync, why did I write about them? I really did not like BackStreet Boys and couldn’t force myself into thinking any of them as sexy or talented. Nor have I ever made the “O” face when reading about them. Gross. 
    Back then, there weren't a bunch of options, really. I couldn’t write about Hanson, they were kids back then and I’m not attracted to kids. There was Westlife, 98 Degrees, maybe a few more. But in my research of the previous Boy Band awards recipients, it was either Nysnc or Backstreet Boys. Yes, I've been making spreadsheets for years. 
    As a piece of trivia, I never once wrote that Lance was the gay one. Obviously my gaydar isn’t very good. (full disclosure, since I wrote this sentence I actually went back and read that first story, I made Lance gay in the first one so never mind, my gaydar is awesome!) 
    The second year came around and I actually won a few of those coveted Boy Band Awards. And I have my notes from the other stories nominated back then, because I took the voting very seriously and read every single one of my competition. 
    And then the results were listed, I was validated how awesome I was. I had shown all those other writers who write about sex that you don’t have to write about sex to be amazing. 
    In my delusion, I was riding high. I actually showed a few friends the stories I wrote and they responded not as I expected nor in a kind manner. But I was not deterred, I continued writing new stories, I had my fans who apparently liked my cookie cutter stories. 
    Once I felt that I had built up a big enough fan base, I decided to unleash my original story on the world of Nifty. I released the first chapter, I might have gotten fifteen emails, by the time I published Chapter six, I received nothing. It seemed that Nifty didn’t really embrace a writer that didn’t include sex. 
    But what did that bunch of deviants know about art, and amazing writing? They didn’t know a good story when they saw it while wearing pants.  
    I recently read that story and I completely understand why no one responded, it was horrible. I mean really bad, and without even the promise of sex to entice anyone, people stopped reading. And I stopped writing. My hopes of being recognized as the best writer of the century were dashed. 
    For five or so years, I stopped creating stories and did the odd poem but that was the middle of my six years long hidden affair with a straight boy named Jason. The one I ended up being the best man at his wedding to a girl. That was also the year I moved away from Pennsylvania to get as far away from him as humanly possible. 
    I moved to San Francisco and two weeks later I turned thirty. So by the time ‘06 rolled around and I discovered GA and then AD I was thirty-two years old. Nose deep in a rather strong drug addiction to pills and powder. If you want to dive deep into the madness that was Jason Rimbaud read my Blog at Awesome Dude. 
    To say I was not in the proper frame of mind to play nice in an online space would not be outside the realm of possibility. Being a drug addict was a lonely state of being, I did not play well with others. 
    You only get out of it what you put into it.
    When I first joined GA, I did absolutely nothing one does to fit inside any community. I didn’t introduce myself, I didn’t participate in any of the forums, I didn’t add anything to the stories section. 
    Was it any wonder why I felt unwelcome? Or why I thought the members were clique-ish? Please don’t misunderstand me, I was treated like I was unwelcome, and the members were clique-ish. And I’ve got news for you, that still exists today. 
    At the moment, there is a group of people that actively dislike me. Either they’ve told me privately, or through their actions they made their intentions known. Either by trolling my comments, ignoring my comments when I address them directly, or ignoring me when I try to join in on the discussion they are having in an open forum while answering everyone else. 
    If there are that many that are vocal or overt in their dislike, I’m sure there are many more that harbor the same feelings but don’t care enough to take the time to let me know.
    Remember, you only get out what you put in.
    But for now I am referring back then. I was in a different place in my life and during that time, I think it’s fair to place the blame 50% on GA and 50% on me. Because I didn’t like the g-rated forum rules, I didn’t like that they put you in moderation jail until you reach a certain reputation, and all my interactions with the moderation team back then always had a snarky response. (maybe it could have been my drug addled comments that made no sense or my lack of self awareness) 
    Didn’t they know I was the best thing that ever happened to GA? 
    Right around the time I first joined GA or shortly after, there was a falling out between some of the moderators and the site itself. I never really got the whole story nor do I care. But when a group of people left GA to start a new site called Author’s Haunt, I was already feeling unwelcome so I went with them. 
    I didn’t make a comment in the forums bad mouthing GA or even say I’m out. I just quietly took my amazing writing away and refused to share it with GA or its clique-ish members. (Full disclosure, at this time I had yet to post a single story on GA) 
    I guess that was my way of going into the corner and sulking. I am a loner in my real life and understand that I’m different than most. 
    Full Disclosure, the only moderator I remember from that time period is Cia, who had always been amazing in all of our exchanges both back then and now.
    Matter of fact, in the last ten years or so, save one time, all my interactions with the moderating staff have been respectful, helpful, and pleasant. So please remember I am focusing on things that happened twenty years ago or so and does not represent my current view of GA or the current moderating team.
    So at the time, before Author’s Haunt, Awesome Dude seemed a better fit for me when I still had delusions of being a great author, who would change the world with my pearls of wisdom. I did say I had a substantial drug problem during this time period, right? 
    Author’s Haunt is where I finally realized and admitted to myself I was not a great writer on a fast track to change the world. I might have continued writing poetry and sharing them online, but I stopped sharing the stories I continued to write because I felt they sucked. 
    Once Author’s Haunt went belly up, I really don’t think it lasted more than two years, I went back to Awesome Dude, where at least a good portion of the members interacted with me, even if it was to say that I should get help. They at least cared about me. 
    Over the years I’d dip my toe back over at GA, maybe post a poem that no one read or cared about. So I would retreat into my corner, firm in my belief that GA was unwelcoming, the members clique-ish, and they just didn’t appreciate my talent. 
    You only get out of it what you put into it. 
    I am extremely self-aware and know I’m not a really likable person online or in real life for that matter. I’m direct, blunt, and back in the day never sugar-coated anything. I have a hard time connecting with other people in a meaningful way for lots of reasons. Add that weirdness that you can't see body language or my stupid smiling face, I come across as rude. 
    When I see someone behaving in a manner I deem stupid, I tend to let them know they are being stupid. And if that behavior inconveniences others, I point out how selfish they are being. 
    I truly despise selfish, oblivious people. The type of people that will wait for you to pull into your parking space in your apartment complex. Then before you can open your car vdoor, back into their space right next to you. Open their car door, and then with the door open so you can’t open your door, proceed to answer a few texts. With their car door being open, I can not open my door so I am stuck inside my car.
    And to prove my point, I waited patiently and timed how long they would keep me from getting out of my car. Five minutes and ten seconds they sat in their car with the door open. They watched me pull into the space, but they were so oblivious of anyone around them, and didn't even think twice about blocking me inside my car. 
    I am not afraid of confrontation. I had no problem telling him in many different ways how stupid and selfish he was. This started a neighbor war where for the next six months, I amazingly got seven screw punctures in my tire. The same tire, seven times. Once they moved out, I’ve never gotten another screw in my tire. 
    In retaliation, I unplugged his Tesla multiple times a day. Even setting alarms in the middle of the night to go into the parking garage to unplug his car. 
    I think if I didn’t have a unique way of speaking to people face to face, where I can say the meanest thing yet they can’t tell if I’m joking or not, has probably saved me from getting my ass beat multiple times. 
    So yes, I understand that my sense of humor rubs people the wrong way. And the ironic thing, when I do say something that upsets someone, especially online, I probably re-wrote what I said a dozen times trying to find a way to convey what I want without upsetting them. 
    If you ever wonder about my motivation behind anything, just try to look for a joke. Everything I post is an attempt to amuse myself and other people. And I’m not saying I achieve that goal even 20% of the time, but I am usually going for the joke. So
     if you read something and it offends you, take a step back to realize I thought it was a harmless joke and my very dry sense of humor didn’t land properly. 99% of the time, I am never mean on purpose. I’m just socially awkward and haven’t fully realized that what I find funny most normal people do not. I’m a work in progress. 
    I am a naturally gregarious person that tends to hide everything behind a smile. I laugh a lot, and never take myself or anything seriously outside of cooking. 
    I have a lot of shortcomings and since I started couples therapy, there are many areas I am striving to be a better human. It’s hard to curb my bluntness. I say exactly what I am feeling in the moment. And the moment I say it, I tend to let it go and move on. I find holding grudges are a lot of work so I usually just move on.
     So I never understand why people get upset by what I said. And even if they do, why can’t they just let it go and move on with life instead of obsessing about something I said by accident. 
    In my head, I never come from a mean spirited place, so I wonder why people take it that way. 
    None of these behaviors are conducive to making friends, either online or in real life. While I do have a small group of friends that are just as crazy as I am, I don’t play well with others. I have a hard time with empathy and often get confused why someone is mad at me. 
    That is why I spend most of my time either working or hanging with my husband. Who has the patience of a saint.  
    You could say the most awful things to me, and I’d probably agree with you, laugh because I found it funny, say something about myself even worse, and then go about my day and never give you another thought. 
    It doesn’t help that I have a self deprecating sense of humor. I say bad things about myself all the time. And I don’t mind other people viewing me as a fool. My therapist says it’s my way of overcompensating an over-confident attitude that borders on arrogance. 
    Even though I don’t understand human behavior that well, I am trying to put myself in their shoes and curb my natural instinct to just walk over and tell them they are stupid. 
    I am really working on how I comment on people’s stories as of late. 
    Before, I would blurt out all the ways you messed up or how your story doesn’t make sense, or it’s confusing, or I just think you suck as a writer. Now, if I comment at all, I focus only on the sentence, the paragraph, the word play, a character that I liked and ignore all the rest. I am trying to avoid anything negative in my comments. 
    Because people don’t think the same way I do. I take criticism as someone’s way of saying hey, I wish you could do better, or I know you could do better. Honest criticism is something I really want from people. I’ll listen, I’ll see if it is applicable, and take what I can and forget about the rest. 
    I am learning that just because you post something online, then say I welcome criticism, you really don’t want criticism. You really want praise only. Most writers online are supremely confident in their abilities as long as you don’t push them. Then their confidence breaks and they lash out.
    I like to hear opposite points of view, it’s the only way I can test to ensure I am right. Same goes for writing, push me, dig into what I wrote, if I can do better, then I really want to do better. If I find your criticism isn’t valid, I move on without any hard feelings.
    I came up with a new tactic. When I read a story that makes me want to honestly tell the author what I really think of their baby, instead of commenting. I write exactly what I want to say to them, I hold nothing back. Then I take that review, save it to my google drive, and move on with my day. 
    We all win. I get to say what I want to say, the writer isn’t offended so no one is trolling my comments, and the moderators don’t have to step in and punish me. 
    Because I no longer believe I’m a good writer, because I know it will never be anything but a fun hobby, I don’t really care if people like my silly stories. I know I can be entertaining with dialogue and can give different voices to my characters. But to the art of writing, plotting, constructing, structure, I have a long way to go to even consider myself okay. 
    I believe the difference between me and some of the other writers, I do want to improve, and continuously strive to become better at my hobby of choice. 
    I re-write, I try to tighten the plot, I try to make it as good as an okay writer can. Because I do want to be good one day. And that takes practice, it also takes challenging yourself to learn how to be better. 
    I started posting my first multi-part story recently and I’m a bit shocked that a small group of people seem to like it thus far. Since I write for an audience of one, my husband, having a hundred people or so like my silly story is a bonus. 
    And full disclosure, I no longer think erotica is beneath me. Matter of fact, I am now writing stories where parts of it you very much can read without your pants. 
    I wrote these stories for my husband. If I can make my husband roll his eyes and chuckle occasionally, then I am over the moon. And if you don’t find me amusing, you are in good company. My husband rolls his eyes so frequently at my antics, oftentimes I think they’ll never stop spinning. 
    So what is the point of this?
    After years of me writing stories and him reading them, my husband started urging me to share them since I spent so much time and effort on them. All of my free time is basically taken up with me sitting at the dining room table writing and re-writing these stories.
    I didn’t have a high opinion of GA at the time. Remember, from pretty much day one I felt unwelcome, not in with the popular kids. I also didn’t think I was good enough to join in on the fun. Besides no one likes me on that site. 
    Then a few years back, I wrote a little werewolf tale for Halloween from a prompt. I think I got one comment, and that was from the author of the prompt, and then I didn’t hear anything else. That only strengthened the notion that GA was just too clique-ish for little ole me. 
    I still didn’t participate in the forums, I didn’t comment on other people’s stories, I behaved in my usual loner attitude so when I did comment, I believe the members were like who is this fool. 
    Plus the rules have always grated on my nerves. You can’t swear in the forums, you have to keep everything G rated, you can’t post your entire story in one shot. You have to use trigger warnings, which completely ruins any hope of surprising the reader with an unseen twist.
    You would think rating your story M would be warning enough but no, we have to cater to those who are so fragile they become triggered by reading words on a page.
    Did I mention that I don’t hold those views today, we are still discussing how I felt back then. And I never knowingly broke any of these rules, I do understand if I want to play in GA’s sandbox I need to follow the rules. And I do as I respect what Myr created all those years ago and gave some many a place to meet other like minded people, especially way back then. 
    So last year, my husband saw GA was hosting a secret author contest. He urged me to submit something. I voice my concern that GA didn’t like me so they wouldn’t like my stories. He said, if it’s secret, they’ll never know who wrote it. Then you’ll see if they like your writing even though they might not like you. 
    So I agreed. I submitted the story and then he encouraged me to participate. And in my usual fashion, I commented in the thread attempting to make him laugh. 
    He’s a perpetual guest at GA and refuses to join for reasons I’m not really clear on. Though he reads a lot of the stories and the forum comments. His favorite author just happens to be one of the ones that don’t enjoy my presence. 
    So in all the madness that ensued in the secret author contest, I realized a few things about GA. There are still some members that are unwelcoming, clique-ish, and who don’t appreciate my writing. I still received snarky comments from people who don’t like me. And I pissed some people off because they take themselves way too seriously and did not like the fact that I didn’t take them serious enough.
    But unlike all the other times, I found a few people who let me be weird and seemed to tolerate it. Plus I discovered I like sharing my silly stories with people who seem to like them. It’s not a lot of people but a few do and what more can you ask for? 
    Why wasn’t GA my first internet home? Because I got out of it exactly what I put into it.
  16. Jason Rimbaud
    It wasn't until I talked to you on the phone
    That's when I realized just how much I missed you
    Your voice brought back so many memories
    I haven't thought about the "thistle" incident in years
    And for a time it was like 1995 all over again
    When we were still an "us" and mostly happy
     
    It wasn't until we both hung up the phone
    That's when I realized just how little I missed you
    We both know that this life is ever changing
    This is a fact based on a principle we both understand
    Friendship was nothing more than a mutual effort of "use"
    And when the "use" was depleted so too was the friendship
     
    I don't have to like this reality but I do understand it
    So when "us" ended I forced myself to move on
    I'll admit there are times I wonder how you are fairing
    There are times when I yearn to see your child
    There are times when I feel like I lost my right arm
    And there are times when the loss of you is overwhelming
     
    And in these times I say f**k growth, f**k change
    And f**k all things new and improved
    I say let's stay the same, let's never grow
    Let's never alter and let's never stretch our wings
    Let's stay comfortable and out of control
    Let's stay mediocre, hidden, let's stay children
  18. Jason Rimbaud
    Is The Christian God Of The Bible Moral?
    Part Four: The Exodus Hoax
    An InDepth Look At Morality From An Atheist Perspective
    Written By: Jason Rimbaud
    I remember as a young child hearing the story of how Yahweh freed his chosen people from the evil Egyptians. It was so exciting to hear about god performing all these miracles to prove to Pharaoh that he was the I AM THE I AM. And he had all the power to free his chosen people and lead them to a land filled with milk and honey. It was always told from the perspective of how wonderful and powerful god was to free over a million Israelites from bondage. 
    But as I grew older and started reading the bible for myself and not just listening to what my pastor told me, I began to understand what I was reading and there was a bit more to the story than I originally thought. And that story was horrifying. The story of the Exodus was one of the main reasons I stopped believing that the christian god was moral and one I should be worshiping. 
    THE EXODUS
    So we begin our story in Exodus chapter one. And for this story, I will be using the NIV version. 
    So remember the Hebrews had been in Egypt since Joseph had been sold into slavery by his jealous brothers, where he rose in prominence in Pharaoh’s court. Then during a famine, Joseph brought his family into Egypt where they flourished for generations. They apparently lived side by side with Egyptians and everything was great until long after Joseph died, when a new Pharaoh came into power. 
    Now the bible never says what this Pharaoh’s name is, but through historical documents it is believed to be Ramses II. Though that is only speculation as none of the hieroglyphs in Egypt mention any of the events described in the Exodus story.
    So this new Pharaoh, the father of Ramses II, who knew not Joseph, looked around at all the Israelites that had infiltrated his kingdom. And when he realized these uber violent people were so numerous he feared they would side with Egypt’s many enemies and work to overthrow him. So he came up with a plan to make them his slaves before they could reproduce so much they would become more numerous than Egyptians.
    At this time in history, in the entire land of Egypt, there were somewhere between 3 to 5 million Egyptians. Considering scholars say about 1 million Hebrews were supposed to be freed for their Exodus, that fear wasn’t that far off.
    So Pharaoh put them to work building cities for his empire. But the meaner he was to those poor Israelites, they more they fucked and popped out babies. So even being enslaved did not stop their reproductive tendencies, Pharaoh came up with a new plan. 
    We pick up the narrative in Exodus 1:15, “The king of Egypt said to the Hebrew midwives, whose names were Shiphrah and Puah
    16: “When you are helping the Hebrew women during childbirth on the delivery stool, if you see that the baby is a boy, kill him, but if its a girl, let her live.”
    The bible leads us to believe that the Hebrews were so numerous that Pharaoh was fearful of them, yet they only had two midwives for all those Hebrews. Doubtful, but I’ll play along.
    17: The midwives, however, feared god and did not do what the king of Egypt had told them to do, so they let the boys live
    The bible repeatedly says things like this, feared god, what does that even mean? Does that mean the god these Hebrew’s served was a petty, vengeful god that they did not want to anger due to the repercussions he would inflict upon them? Sounds like a good and moral god to me. 
    And I’m not sure Pharaoh understood how babies are made. Because if he’s murdering all the male children, and one of those slips through, that boy could still impregnate a lot of girls. Just having one a day could possibly yield 365 new Hebrews in one year alone. 
    However, if you kill all the girl babies, and one of them slips through, they could only pop out one Hebrew a year no matter how many times they get seeded. And knowing what I know of boys, if there were no girls to impregnate, they’d just start fucking each other and the Hebrews would eventually die out anyway.
    So after a period of time and the Pharaoh notices that there seems to be a lot of male babies shitting all over the bricks for his new towns, he summons the midwives back to him. 
    18: “Why have you done this? Why have you let the boys live?”
    19: The midwives answered Pharaoh, Hebrew woman are not like Egyptian women, they are vigorous and give birth before the midwives arrive
    20: So God was kind to the midwives and the people increased and became even more numerous
    21: And because the midwives feared God, he gave them families of their own
    So god rewarded the midwives for lying to Pharaoh. So much for number 9 and not lying. And he gave them families of their own, so why didn’t they kill their male children? I’ve lost the thread. 
    22: Then Pharaoh gave this order to all his people, “Every Hebrew boy that is born you must throw into the Nile, but let every girl live”
    So even in their slavery, those Israelites just kept fucking away. No matter how much work those Egyptians threw their way, they’d get home with enough energy to throw a bone into their wives. Maybe making bricks all day made them horny, all that hot mud...hands mixing mud into molds…gross.
    The bible doesn’t really say how long a period of time this murderous infanticide continued. All it really says is one day a Levite woman popped out a male child, as the bible states, a fine child, so this woman hid the baby for three months. 
    But for some reason, after three months she could no longer hide him, so she put it in a basket and left it amongst the reeds of the Nile river. And then out of some morbid curiosity, she sent the infant's older sister to see what horrible incident might befall the child from a distance.
    I’m assuming the Nile had crocodiles, hippos, all manner of birds, leaving the baby amongst the reeds was almost a fate worse than chucking the baby in the river. But logic, and the writers had to have a miraculous event for their soon to be hero. This was a much needed device to prove that this child was saved by god. 
    It came to pass that on that very day, the Pharaoh’s daughter went to the river to bathe, apparently the Pharaoh’s palace and the slave quarters were across from one another. The daughter saw a basket floating in the reeds and sent a servant to fetch it. 
    Much to her surprise it was a Hebrew male baby that her father had been hell bent on murdering for who knows how long. So she decides to keep it. Don’t think too long about what would happen if Pharaoh’s daughter suddenly had a Hebrew baby running around the palace and Pharaoh started asking questions.
    Pharaoh’s daughter sees the baby’s sister lurking about and calls the girl over. The sister offers to get a Hebrew woman to nurse for Pharaoh’s daughter. Of course Pharaoh’s daughter says yes, and I’ll pay you, so the sister runs and fetches her mother to be the nursemaid. 
    Now I’m sure there was an Egyptian nursemaid that would happily do the daughter of Pharaoh a favor but let’s forget about that logic. Instead, Pharaoh’s daughter gives the baby back to its original mother and says to feed this child that I shall name Moses because I drew him out of the river. Well, technically the servant plucked the child from the river but why let semantics ruin a good origin story. 
    The bible doesn’t say how long the mother got to keep her son before she gave it away like one would give an animal away. It had to have been long enough so Moses was old enough to understand that he was actually a Hebrew and not Egyptian. Maybe it was because he looked like every other Hebrew, or maybe because his mother told him all about his heritage, or maybe Pharaoh’s daughter told him about his miraculous birth. So the passage of time is a bit fuzzy. But the bible does pick up the story conveniently at the same time that Moses commits his first murder. 
    Exodus 2:11, “One day, after Moses had grown up, he went out to where his own people were and watched them at their hard labor. He saw an Egyptian beating a Hewbrew, one of his own people
    12: Looking this way and that and seeing no one, he killed the Egyptian and hid him in the sand.
    So according to biblical scholars, at the time of this murder, Moses was forty years old. So he had been living in Pharaoh’s house, learning how to be a prince, warfare, political maneuvers, and who knows what else was taught to Egyptian royalty for forty years. Why did it take him so long to decide that murder was the best option? You can’t tell me this was the first time he visited the work site in forty years, he had to have known his Hebrew brethren were being abused before now. 
    13: The next day he went out and saw two Hebrews fighting. He asked the one in the wrong, Why are you hitting your fellow Hebrew?
    14: The man said, Who made you ruler and judge over us? Are you thinking of killing me as you killed the Egyptian? Then Moses was afraid and thought, What I did must have become known
    So Moses was shocked that when an Egyptian disappeared on the job site, that a few questions were asked. And why was he surprised that other Hebrews were talking about the Egyptian prince that murdered someone to stop a Hebrew from getting abused. 
    15: When Pharaoh heard of this, he tried to kill Moses, but Moses fled from Pharaoh and went to live in Midian, where he sat down by a well.
    So Pharaoh, one of the mightiest rulers in the world at this time, couldn’t find a forty year old man that only ran away some 300 miles. A man can walk 300 miles in six or seven days. And if you search by chariot, a mode of transportation that can get up to 40 miles per hour, you can cover a lot more ground than if you were walking. So Pharaoh searched for this man and through all these searches, it was never known that a Levite man suddenly appeared in Midian one day. Not a single person mentioned that fact, oh by the way, a stranger appeared the other day and sat right over there by that well. And after a bit, some girls came down to water their sheep and some Egyptians were harassing them and this stranger chased them away. And then the priest gave this stranger his daughter as a reward. 
    I wonder if we are to believe that Moses, a prince of Egypt, was unmarried at 40 years old. Or when he fled Egypt, did he just abandon his family? The bible conveniently leaves out some 35 years of Moses’ life. I guess they didn’t want to include family abandonment in their god freed the slaves story. 
    In my religious upbringing, we all had the idea in our heads that Moses was an impulsive young man who in a fit of rage killed the Egyptian by accident. All the story books depict him in that manner and as a young man, the movies portrayed him in this manner as well. But the reality is Moses was an old man, skilled at life, who murdered someone in cold blood. Looks like number 6 just bit the dust. 
    I am constantly amazed at the lengths apologists will go to warp events to fit into their modern morality. We can’t have our hero, chosen by god to be the mouthpiece for all of Israel to be a murderer, we’ll just portray him as a young man who killed someone by accident. And he felt really sorry about it and he had to flee for his life. 
    His wife, Zipporah, after some time, pops out a baby boy who is named Gershom, meaning I have become a foreigner in a foreign land. And for a time Moses is happy herding sheep around the desert and banging his gifted wife. 
    In verse  23: During that long period, the king of Egypt died. The Israelites groaned in their slavery and cried out, and their cry for help because of their slavery went up to God.
    24: God heard their groaning and he remembered his covenant with Abraham, with Isaac, and with Jacob. 
    25: So God looked on the Israelites and was concerned about them.
    Not sure why in the two hundred years or so of slavery that the moans and groans of the Israelites didn’t bother god before but it’s nice to know that after some 400 years, god remembered that he made a pact with Abraham. 
    For all the time Moses was off playing house with his wife, the Israelites continued to fuck like crazy, popping out babies left and right. They took the bible’s instruction to be fruitful and multiply to heart. And though birth control was known at this time, the Ancient Hebrew tradition was not to use it. They believed that semen is a gift from god, a view I hold as well, semen is the gift that keeps on giving. So male contraception was not allowed, though the bible mentions coitus interruptus in Genesis 38:9.
    Another little moral tale we can talk about. In Genesis 38, Judah, one of the founders of the twelve Israelite tribes by the way, had a run in with his merciful, just, moral god. If you read Genesis 38, in just ten verses, god murders two of Judah’s sons. One of them is murdered, because Judah instructed him to sleep with the wife of his dead brother, who was murdered by god for some reason. When Judah’s son refuses to get her preggers, when he was fucking her he pulled out and spilled his semen on the ground. Genesis 38:10 states, “What he did was wicked in the LORD’s sight, so the LORD put him to death also.” 
    Let that be a lesson to all of you that explode on your stomach while watching the Real Housewives of Ancient Hebrews. Stop spilling and wasting your seed, semen should only be for popping out another baby you can brainwash into worshiping this merciful, just, moral god.
    Back to those pesky Israelites bitching about how god promised to be with them always. But for some 400 hundred years, god must have been busy sulking somewhere because he was like a deadbeat father, nowhere to be found.
    But something must have reminded him that he had chosen these people. It wasn’t when Pharaoh was drowning Hebrew boy babies left right and center, or when they were being beaten by harsh task maskers. When that was going on he couldn’t be bothered. But something made him turn his gaze over to Egypt and suddenly he felt some good ole fashion revenge was in order. That was something he could get behind. 
    Exodus chapter three takes up the narrative, Moses was out in the middle of the desert tending to some sheep when he saw a bush that was on fire but did not burn up. And we’ll overlook that Moses was in the middle of a desert, following some stupid sheep around, probably a bit dehydrated, maybe a touch of sunstroke, but no, there really was a bush that didn’t burn and had magical powers that relayed messages from god. Okay Mose.
    So god tells him he has seen the misery of the Israelites and decided to liberate them. He basically said that after 400 years, their suffering was harshing his buzz and he could no longer ignore it. 

    He then proceeds to reiterate he will bring those Hebrews into a good and spacious land, a land that flows with milk and honey. But god failed to mention it was also the home of the Canaanites, Hittites, Amorites, Perizzites, Hivites, and Jebusites. And by the way, for you to have this land I promised you, you are going to have to murder hundreds of thousands of people along the way. So another time number 6th is ignored followed closely by number 7. 
    And if you are wondering what it means for a land to flow with milk and honey, it basically means an abundance of nourishment and rich food. Though the Hebrew writers weren’t the first ones to use such terminology. A very similar term first appears in the ancient Ugaritic text referring to the Canaanite god, Baal. Just another example how the Ancient Hebrew writers stole phrases, saying, gods, creation myths from other people. 
    Then the writers set up gods name, because remember, until this time, Yahweh, hasn’t really been established yet as the Hebrew god. The name in Exodus is I Am The Am I. I am because I say I am, yep, that’s logical. And totally something sheepherders would think sounds smart and godlike. 
    Moses doesn’t like god’s plan at all and tries to worm his way out of being the spokesperson for I Am The I Am. Remember, he’s still wanted for murder back in Egypt. But that little fact doesn’t stop god, nope, he says go and tell the elders of Israel that I am the god of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. For 400 years, the Hebrews have been telling anyone that would listen that they are chosen people of this god. So by simply telling the elders this, they will automatically accept this old man murderer Moses. 
    Hey god, they will never believe me. I was raised an Egyptian, for forty years I kept them in bondage, you should send someone else.
    Don’t worry Mose, just tell them I’m this god they already believe in. They’re only slaves, they’ll believe anything you tell them. 
    It's not hard to fulfill prophecies when you know the history. 
    Then after Moses kind of agrees, he tells him to go to Egypt, and take the Hebrews on a three day journey into the wilderness to offer a blood sacrifice to the LORD our god. Yahweh really needed to have blood spilled in his name because he’s a bloodthirsty savage. Or it was because humans who invented god were bloodthirsty and since everyone else around them was doing blood sacrifices, they just adopted the same practices. At least they weren’y sacrificing children to their god, like other people, they only murdered innocent animals, they were so cosmopolitan.
    This next bit is important so I will pick up from the bible in verse 19: But I know the king of Egypt will not let you go unless a mighty hand compels him. 20: So I will stretch out my hand and strike the Egyptians with all the wonders that I will perform among them. After that he will let you go. 21: And I will make the Egyptians favorably disposed towards this people, so that when you leave, you will not go empty handed. 22: Every woman is to ask her neighbor and any woman living in her house for articles of silver and gold and for clothing, which you will put on your sons and daughters. And so you will plunder the Egyptians.
    These few verses are important for two reasons. One, god knows that the Pharaoh is not going to let the people go. He knows he’s going to have to go all cavemen shit on them. And two, he’s going to allow the Hebrews to steal from their neighbors and the neighbors are going to be happy to have it happen. He’s going to make sure they are happy, he has that power. Sadly that power doesn’t work on Pharaoh, just on the neighbors of the Hebrews. Why Egyptians and Hebrews are living side by side is rather odd, slaves don’t normally live amongst their masters. 
    Moses is now back to trying to convince god to choose someone else. So god gives him three superpowers to convince Pharaoh to let the Hebrews go. Remember, right up there, god says they aren’t going to relent until I show my mighty hand. And so he gives Moses the ability to turn a staff into a snake, he can make his hand become leperous at will, and he can turn water into blood. 
    Moses still doesn’t agree, he knows those superpowers are stupid just as I do. That’s the best you can come up with? And only a bunch of dumb sheepherders could ever believe in magic staffs, transmogrify, and sleight of hand. He’s all powerful all right. But that’s the average christian, they believe in this shit. 
    So Moses says I can’t talk good, so god gives him a brother, A-a-ron to speak for him. Where the hell was his brother? Did he follow Moses to Midian? Why didn’t he get tossed in the river? Did his mother hide him as well? Was he better than Moses and she hid him all the way up to adulthood and just tossed Moses aside? Talking about mother liking him best. 
    Well god, I can’t go to Egypt, I’m a wanted man because of the whole, murder thing. Don’t you worry, everyone who wanted you dead are now themselves dead. 
    So god waited until everyone who knew Moses was dead. That’s a narrow scope of powers right there, I can’t free the slaves without murdering a bunch of people and I can turn your hand leperous and change water into blood. Magic. Go get my people free.
    In chapter four we again see the bloodthirsty side of god emerge. 
    Verse 21: The LORD said to Moses, When you return to Egypt, see that you perform before Pharaoh all the wonders I have given you the power to do. But I will harden his heart so that he will not let the people go.
    22: Then say to Pharaoh, This is what the LORD says, Israel is my firstborn son
    23: and I told you, Let my son go, so he may worship me. But you refused to let him go so I will kill your firstborn son
    24: At a lodging place on the way, the LORD met Moses and was about to kill him…
    That took a dark turn. For this series, I am using the NIV bible because It reads better. But why was god about to kill Moses? Up to this point in the story, Moses was doing everything god wanted him to do. I guess it was Wednesday and god hadn’t killed anyone in a few days and was starting to get the itch I guess. 
    I read multiple versions and all say the same thing, god was going to kill Moses because... 
    25: But Zipporah took a flint knife, cut off her son’s foreskin and touched Moses’ feet with it. “Surely you are a bridegroom of blood to me she said
    26: So the LORD let him alone.
    Apparently god doesn’t care what type of blood sacrifice he gets, he just needs that sweet sweet blood to flow, even if it comes from an infant's dick. So I guess we have Zipporah to thank for my parents allowing the snipping off the tip of my dick. 
    PS: for all of you campaigning to stop circumcision, fuck you. Uncut dicks are ugly and they smell weird. 
    So circumcision started when god commanded Abraham to cut off his tip as a sign of dedication to the covenant. Why wasn’t Moses’ kid already circumcised? Who knows, plot. But I guess god has always wanted blood. 
    Chapter Five is a bunch of repeating motifs, let my people go. Who the hell is your god and why should I listen to him? Pharaoh has a tantrum and stops giving the Hebrews straw to make their little bricks and orders them to gather their own straw but they have to make the same number of bricks each day despite the lack of straw. The Hebrews complain that Moses has made it harder with his talk of freedom while god seems to be oblivious. Maybe he was still high from all that infant’s blood from the other day. 
    This is what great storytellers do, they amp up the conflict right. Now they have to make the same number of bricks but they don’t have the supplies, so when god actually frees them, it will seem even more miraculous. Let’s keep building the tension. Let’s make it so horrible on those poor Israelites that future generations won’t even think twice about not believing. This is a not so subtle form of control. 
    Exodus 6:1 Then the LORD said to Moses, Now you will see what I will do to Pharaoh. Because my mighty hand he will let them go; because of my mighty hand he will drive them out of his country.
    This is narcissism at its textbook definition. Yahweh is so insecure he had to prove his existence to a people that can never be included in the covenant of Abraham. Remember the one that a fictional god chose the Hebrews to be the special ones. 
    The rest of chapter 6 is trying to prove Moses’ lineage. They had to show that he was indeed connected to one of the twelve tribes of Israel. And since most archeologists don’t even believe this story is real, this entire chapter only serves to prove their guy is related to that guy which proves the divine influence. 
    When you are trying desperately to justify one of the most brutal acts of genocide, you will do anything to relay those events in the best possible light. By tracing Moses’ heritage back to Abraham, that gives you the divine “right” to go into Canaan and slaughter everyone. Because they are the chosen people and Cannan is the promised land promised by an all powerful god that delivered them from slavery. See, we aren’t really monsters, we are just following our god’s whims. 
    Archeologists also tend to believe that the Israelites had always been in Canaan, and the stories are nothing really but stories and probably never happened even close as depicted in the bible. Don’t forget, for most of Egypt and Israel’s contact, Egypt ruled over Israel. One of the reason’s in the 18th dynasty for Egypt’s wealth, is because many Israel cities were paying them tribute. 
    Chapter 7:3 And I will harden Pharaoh’s heart and multiply my signs and my wonders in the land of Egypt.
    4: But Pharaoh shall not hearken unto you, that I may lay my hand upon Egypt, and bring forth mine armies, and my people the children of Israel out of the land of Egypt by great judgements.
    5: And the Egyptians shall know that I am the LORD, when I stretch forth mine hand upon Egypt, and bring out the children of Israel from among them
    6: And Moses and Aaron did as the LORD commanded them, so did they
    7: And Moses was fourscore years old, and Aaron fourscore and three years old, when they spake unto Pharaoh
    For those of you that don’t know how old a score is, it’s twenty years. So Moses was 80 years old, and A-A-ron was 83. And notice for the second time, the writers purposefully go out of their way to say that god will harden Pharaoh’s heart. God is going to make sure Pharaoh does not let the people go, because god wants to stretch forth his hand and wreck some shit. And in case you are mansplaining that god wants to teach Egypt a lesson so they will never bother the Israelites again, in less than two hundred years, Israel will be completely ruled by Egypt and right after that it will be the Babylonians, then the Persians, then Alexander, then the Romans. And before that, it was the Summarians who ruled everything.  
    At this point in history, Israel isn’t even a nation yet, and when they do become a nation, they won’t be ruling themselves for long. So the writers, who are making this story up, are just as bloodthirsty as their supposed god. 
    Chapter Seven continues, Moses goes to Pharaoh, he says let em go, Pharaoh says na, so Moses throws his staff on the ground and it turns into a snake. Pharaoh calls his own magicians and they throw down their staff and they too become snakes. Superpower number one is matched by Pharaoh. It really doesn’t matter that the writers say Moses staff ate the other snakes, Pharaoh didn’t let em go. 
    Verse 13, again god hardened Pharaoh’s heart, this is the third time. Pharaoh was circling around the idea of letting them go but god made sure he didn’t, why, because god wasn’t done inflicting destruction on the Egyptians. Maybe it was all those years they spent as slaves, and god wanted revenge. Though since he was god, he could have stopped them from ever becoming slaves but where is the fun in that. 
    So being that Yahweh is a kind, loving, moral god, instead of reaching forth his hand and changing Pharaoh’s mind, he decided the best course of action is to inflict plagues on Egypt instead. This way he can kill a maximum number of people to try to cure his ever raging bloodlust. 
    THE FIRST PLAGUE: WATER TO BLOOD
    EXODUS 7:14-25
    The rest of the chapter is rather repetitive, basically Moses tells Pharaoh let my people go, Pharaoh gives him the finger, so A-a-ron waves his magic staff over the waters, the rivers, the ponds, the baths, and all the water is turned to blood. God took away all the drinking water in the middle of the desert for seven days. How many people died in that little miracle?
    The human body can barely make it three days without water and he took it for seven days. And everything in the water died, so all the fish, alligators, piranhas, I don’t know what else lives in the water but all the birds would be affected, the cattle, oxen, dogs, pigs, sheep. This little vendetta is really starting to take a toll on these poor Egyptians. And apparently he’s just getting warmed up.
    I like the fact that god didn’t decide to punish Pharaoh, instead he decided to punish all the other innocent people who lived in the land. The Nile river flowed a long way, so everyone downstream was affected as well, what about all those who weren’t Egyptian. Yea, god is a dick. 
    Why isn’t that the end of the Egyptians? If there is no water, everyone would die. Why didn’t the water stay blood until everyone was dead? Then the Israelites could plunder everything and just walk out. Because god likes to hurt people, so we are onto plague number too. 
    THE SECOND PLAGUE: FROGS?
    EXODUS 8:1-15
    Chapter Eight has Moses going back to Pharaoh, supposedly after seven full days without water. Pharaoh still doesn’t relent, so does that mean god turned back on the water? I don’t know and the bible doesn’t say. 
    Now god said I’m going to infest your entire land with frogs. A-a-ron stretched forth his hand over the river (I guess god turned the water back on), and frogs came everywhere. Then Pharaoh had his magicians do the same thing, and they brought frogs. And instead of getting an epic frog war, Pharaoh says remove the frogs and I’ll let the people go. Moses says give me a timeframe and Pharaoh says tomorrow. Moses goes back after the frogs are gone and Pharaoh says, fuck you, and then hardened his heart. 
    This is the fourth hardened heart statement, we can only attribute two to god and two possibly to a diet with high levels of cholesterol. Maybe Pharaoh was having a bunch of mini strokes and A-a-ron was taking advantage. 
    THE THIRD PLAGUE: GNATS
    EXODUS 8:16-19
    Okay, so the threat level of the plague’s seemed to be lessening the further we go. Turning water into blood, evil, frogs, beside the noise and the pooping, not so much. A-a-ron stretched forth his hand and all the dust in the land became gnats. That’s a lot of gnats. But this time, Pharaoh’s magicians could not replicate this horrible scary feat. Once again, Pharaoh hardened his heart. 
    I think any normal sane person, after the suffering his land and people had to endure to this god of Israel, would have said get the fuck out and take your dick of a god with you. But this is a made up story so the writer had to keep building the tension. 
    THE FOURTH PLAGUE: LORD OF THE FLIES
    EXODUS 8:20-32
    So this is where the story differs. This time Moses is asking Pharaoh to allow the children of Israel to journey into the desert where they will make sacrifices to Yahweh. He’s not asking to let his people all the way go, just go for three days so their sacrifices wouldn’t anger the Egyptians. He further explains that for this particular plague, flies would consume all of Egypt, all it’s citizens, its animals, but in Goshen, where the Israelites dwelled, it would be blissfully fly free. Does this mean that for the first three plagues, the children of Israel suffered through them as well as the Egyptians? 
    Once the flies are doing their fly thing, and Pharaoh sees that Goshen has no flies, he relents, orders Moses to take his people and make his sacrifice. So Moses has A-a-ron turn off the plague of flies and then Pharaoh, you guessed it, hardened his heart and says I don’t think so.
    THE FIFTH PLAGUE: LIVESTOCK (or what I’d like to say, innocent bystanders)
    EXODUS 9:1-7
    If there is one thing we know about Yahweh, he fucking hates animals. Remember we already discussed if a man fucks an animal, both of them should be put to death. And now, he attacks all the Egyptian livestock, horses, camels, donkeys, cattle, sheep, and goats, by giving them all a plague. But to the Israelites livestock, they are spared somehow. The bible says in verse 6, that all the animals died. All of them died. Not sure how many survived the whole no water for a week, but all of them died. After investigating that none of the Israelites animals had died, Pharaoh didn’t harden his heart, instead he just had an unyielding heart. Little different, I guess the writer saw the repetition and wanted to say it another way. 
    THE SIXTH PLAGUE: BOILS
    EXODUS 9:8-12
    Now god is getting serious. He’s already killed all the animals in the land, who knows how many people all the way down the Nile, but now he figures boils are the next best thing. A step up from gnats and flies, not as drastic as killing all the animals, but inconveniently painful.
    Exodus 9:9 It will become fine dust over the whole land of Egypt, and festering boils will break out on people and animals throughout the land. The people I can understand, but I feel like I am kicking a dead horse, see what I did there?, but why punish the animals with boils? 
    And I thought all the animals were dead already? I can’t believe the bible has a contradiction, I am gobsmacked. 
    Pharaoh’s magicians tried to duplicate the boils but couldn’t stand because of all the boils they had on their body. So once again, god hardened Pharaoh’s heart according to verse 12. That’s three v three. 
    Many christian apologists offer as an explanation why god doesn’t come down today and reveal himself to the world, humanity would no longer have free will to serve him. But from the beginning of this story, god purposefully took away the Pharaoh’s free will at least three times in the story, maybe six times. Luckily the bible is infallible and has zero contradictions.  
    THE SEVENTH PLAGUE: HAIL
    EXODUS 9:13-35
    This plague is rather long, almost an entire chapter. And there are several verses that directly impact our pending question, is this god a moral god. So I will be quoting more than I have previously. So forgive me but I think it’s important as this story is the foundation for Jewish, Christian, and Islamic religions. Without this Exodus story, do we even get to either of those three basically ruling the world? 
    13: Then the LORD said to Moses, Get up early in the  morning, confront Pharaoh and say to him, This is what the LORD, the god of the Hebrews says, Let my people go, so that they may worship me
    14: or this time I will send the full force of my plagues against you and against your officials and your people, so you may know that there is no one like me in all the earth.
    15: For by now I could have stretched out my hand and struck you and your people with a plague that would have wiped you off the earth.
    16: But I have raised you up for this very purpose, that I might show you my power and that my name might be proclaimed in all the earth.
    17 You still set yourself against my people and will not let them go
    18 Therefore, at this time tomorrow I will send the worst hailstorm that has ever fallen on Egypt, from the day it was founded til now
    19 Give an order now to bring your livestock and everything you have in the field to a place of shelter, because the hail will fall on every person and animal that has not been brought in and is still out in the field and they will die.
    20 Those officials of Pharaoh who feared the word of the LORD hurried to bring their slaves and their livestock inside
    21 But those who ignored the word of the LORD left their slaves and livestock in the field
    I guess in this plague, god was feeling a bit peckish, maybe from all those deaths of the animals the plague before, so he warned everyone. But not before he said I could’ve wiped you off the face of the earth, but I didn’t. 
    Hello, already in this tale how many people and animals have already died. All the animals in the land have died twice already. Not to mention the people from lack of water, having no food to eat because the damn frogs ate everything, the disease that must have spreaded due to all those animal carcasses rotting in the desert sun. 
    Like this way was any better than killing them all out right. I guess they wouldn’t have suffered first and they also wouldn’t have known that Yahweh was the author of their destruction. And god really needs the wicked to know he’s the one punishing them. 
    25 Throughout Egypt hail struck everything in the fields, both people and animals; it beat down everything growing in the fields and stripped every tree
    26 The only place it did not hail was the land of Goshen, where the Israelites were.
    27 Then Pharaoh summoned Moses and Aaron, This time I have sinned, he said to them. The LORD is in the right and I and my people are in the wrong
    So I have a problem with the word sin. At this point in the story, Pharaoh hasn’t technically done anything wrong. He won’t let his property go having a burning man in the desert. As was the custom of the day, your slaves were your property to do with as you will. If anyone sinned it was those pesky bitchy Israelites. 
    Because Ephesians 6:1 Slaves obey your earthly masters with respect and fear, and with sincerity of heart, just as you would obey Christ. Obey them not only to win their favor when their eye is on you, but like slaves of Christ, doing the will of god from your heart. 
    I know that’s from the New Testament but since Jesus said he came not to change the law but to fulfill it, what’s right is right and since god doesn’t change, the Israelites were wrong. How’d you like that bit of mental gymnastics right there?
    So verse 28 Pharaoh is pleading with Moses, your god has beat us into submission. So Moses said I will stop this from happening even though I know you are about to fuck me again. But remember, all your animals are dead again, and all the people god bashed in the head won’t be coming back, you really should reconsider. It is even told that the flax and barley was destroyed though not the wheat and spelt (whatever the fuck that is). 
    34 When Pharaoh saw that the rain and hail and thunder had stopped, he sinned again, he and his officials hardened their hearts.
    35 So Pharaoh’s heart was hard and he would not let the Israelites go, just as the LORD had said through Moses.
    And I could stop right here and my point would be proven. If god already knew before the very first plague that Pharaoh would hardened his arteries, then why all these plagues in the first place unless it was to cause as much damage as godly possible. He killed animals, fish, birds, people, who knows how many already and the worst of the worst hasn’t happened yet. 
    The christian god of the bible has no morals, no sense of right or wrong, only vengeance and blood lust. Or the writers of this fairy tale had the morals of savages. To be fair, everyone had the same morals back then. It’s not like I’m picking on the Hebrew writers. They were no worse than any of their contemporaries. But remember, christians deem this book to be true, and that god is somehow moral. His wanton destruction of animals, needless cost of human lives, and catlateral damage to all living along the Nile is reprehensible. And it was all to prove that he has a bigger dick than Amun-Ra. 
    Though to be more accurate, he was whipping out his dick not at Amun-Ra, but probably Hapi (god of the Nile) and/or Khnum (guardian of the Nile) since most of the plagues dealt directly with the Nile. But we’re only on number seven and the worst is yet to come. For those keeping score, 3 v 5
    Can you imagine being an Egyptian in the furthest reaches of Egypt, like on the edge of the empire. You have experienced all these plagues and have no idea why or that there is a contest of wills between Pharaoh and god happening at the capital. All you know there was no water for a weak, frogs overran your house, you got gnats, then flies descended on your and your family, all your livestock was murdered from an unknown pestilence, you woke up with boils on your dick and now hail falls down and kills all your animals (again) and your two kids who were playing in the fields. 
    THE EIGHTH PLAGUE: LOCASTS
    EXODUS 10:1-20
    I’m only going to quote two verses from this plague. 
    1 Then the LORD said to Moses, Go to Pharaoh, for I have hardened his heart and the hearts of his officials so that I may perform these signs of mine among them
    Again this plague is locusts, a form of grasshopper that eats every living plant, tree, shrub, tiny animals, bugs, they are particularly nasty. And the bible says they covered the ground throughout all the land of Egypt eating everything that was left, basically everything that survived the hail storm. Not only seeing the sky black with swarms of locusts, but they ate everything, this would result in hundreds of thousands of people starving to death. And god knew it would not get him the desired result. no result. Matter of fact he boasts that he’s only doing this so the children of Israel will know how much of a bastard he can be and that they should never forget that. 
    20 But the LORD hardened Pharaoh’s heart, and he would not let the Israelites go. 
    Fuck you christian god, right in the neck. 
    5 v 5
    THE NINTH PLAGUE: DARKNESS
    EXODUS 10:21-29
    21 Then the LORD said to Moses, Stretch out your hand toward the sky so that darkness spreads over Egypt–darkness that can be fel
    22 So Moses stretched out his hand toward the sky and total darkness covered all Egypt for three day
    23 No one could see anyone else or move about for three days. Yet all the Israelites had light in the places where they lived
    24 The Pharaoh summoned Moses and said, Go, worship the LORD, even your women and children may go with you, only leave your flocks and herds behind
    27 But the LORD hardened Pharaoh’s heart, and he was not willing to let them go
    6 v 5 for those who are counting. 
    Let’s not even get into the physics of how darkness could happen in one place but not in another for three days. Pharaoh relented, he said take your kin, your livestock, go worship your god. But god took away the man’s free will because he needed to kill just a few more hundred thousand. He wasn’t done proving his specialness quite yet to his chosen people. 
    For some reason Yahweh has always come off as a very insecure god. It’s like he constantly needs people praising him, telling him how awesome he is and when you don’t praise him every moment of every day, he sulks like a child and smites you off the face of the earth. 
    He might not have wanted to wipe Egypt off the face of the planet, but if you logically follow the results of all these plagues, Egypt should be doomed never to recover. But we all know that Egypt survived, and in a few hundred years, took over Israel again so god murdered all those people and animals for nothing. 
    I can only imagine living in a world, in ancient times, when Rabbis would tell these tales and all the good Hebrews get little god-boners at the thought of all that death and destruction. I guess your god takes on the attributes of it’s worshipers, so the Ancient Hebrews must have been some blood thirsty killers. They were forever killing everyone and everything throughout their entire culture. Whether or not they gave credit to this Yahweh or not, they are the ones that did the killing. 
    I am really tired of writing about all this pointless death. But we have one more left and it’s a doozy. 
    THE FINAL PLAGUE: KILLING OF ALL FIRST BORN MALE CHILDREN
    EXODUS 11:1-10
    This is the shortest chapter in Exodus, and the entire chapter deals with what god wants Moses to say to Pharaoh. The important part comes in verse 5: Every firstborn son in Egypt will die, from the firstborn son of Pharaoh, who sits on the throne, to the firstborn son of the female slave, who is at her hand mill, and all the firstborn of the cattle as well. 
    What is truly horrifying about this verse, I get it, kill the firstborn of Egyptians, they are the one keeping you slaves, but to kill the firstborn of the female slaves as well, and the animals, though how in the fuck could there be any animals left in all of Egypt. 
    Yes, the Ancient Hebrews who wrote this story, they knew the audience. The audience was this blood thirsty, they believed in this story about the big bad Egyptians getting their just desserts from this god protector. I’m sure when the common person heard this story their hearts swelled with pride and they felt some kind of national pride. It’s barbaric to kill the slaves, who had nothing at all to do with keeping the Israelites inside Egyptian borders. But god just bought a new sword and he really wanted to try it out to see just how many people he could kill in a single night. 
    10: Moses and Aaron performed all these wonders before Pharaoh, but the LORD hardened Pharaoh’s heart, and he would not let the Israelites go out of his country. 
    This chapter closed with yet another tampering with free will. I know this must be repetitive reading this but I want you to really understand the depths of this bastard. As he is orchestrating a mass murder, he goes out of his way to harden Pharaoh’s heart. To ensure that he would have to go through with his dastardly scheme of murdering innocent children.
    I think we have moved on from is the christian god, a moral god, and into the realm of fantasy. You must understand the Hebrew writers who probably combined five or six different Moses stories into one narrative for the Torah, they knew their audience. They knew the Hebrews would settle for nothing less than a persecution complex that lasts until this very day. 
    All throughout the bible, it states over and over again, that everyone is against them and only god can save them from the entire world. The famous sermon on the mount, Jesus says that over and over, if life is hard, Satan is coming after you for believing, pushing this narrative of persecution that we hear today. Christians constantly say they are under attack when they can’t spew their hatred and bigotry to the masses. And it all started with the Exodus story and the expectation that if you just follow Yahweh, he will deliver you. 
    The next two chapters deal with the Passover feast, a celebration once a year that commemorates the mass murder of Egyptians. They still do the passover feast, they eat their bread, tell of the time when they dripped blood over their door and the angel of death passed them to kill Egyptians, slaves, animals. Just the imagery alone is disturbing, Yahweh is as blood thirsty as they come, Egypt will be swimming in blood and yet he demands more blood over the door. So in place of killing Hebrews, to be spared they still had to offer blood in the form of animals. This is just more killing in a story that has an insane amount of killing. who had to slaughter animals to get the blood to put over the door, more killing in a story that is nothing but killing. 
    Exodus 12:21 Moses summoned all the elders of Israel and said to them, Go at once and select the animals for your families and slaughter the Passover lamb
    I guess baby sheeps taste better than adults sheeps.
    Exodus 12:29 At midnight the LORD struck down all the firstborn in Egypt, from the firstborn of Pharaoh, who sat on the throne, to the firstborn of the prisoner, who was in the dungeon, and the firstborn of all the livestock as well. 
    Now it’s not just the slaves, but the prisoners as well. One of the things I had not mentioned, but during the passover instructions, god commanded them to also offer up to him the firstborn of animals every passover, so the slaughter can continue year after year. 
    And is it every firstborn? So an old man, who was the firstborn, did he die, as well as his firstborn? If that is the case, a boatload of people died that night because god hardened Pharaoh’s heart. 
    Exodus 12:37 & 41 
    38 The Israelites journeyed from Rameses to Sukkoth. There were about six hundred thousand men on foot, besides women and children. (so about 1,200,000 million Hebrews left Egypt
    40 Now the length of time the Israelite people lived in Egypt was 430 years
    So after god’s blood lust was fulfilled, and he sat lazily with a belly full of blood, the Hebrews gathered their flocks, livestocks, and the silver, gold, clothing, they “borrowed” from their Egyptian neighbors, they took off into the desert, six hundred thousand men, so easily over a million people took off into the sunset. 
    I do find it an interesting fact, that in this forty year Exodus, it is estimated that over a million Hebrews die in the desert wanderings. Of course the bible says they wandered until the entire generation that fled Egypt was dead, punishment for their lack of faith and for worshiping a golden calf. I will touch on this later in the series. 
    Exodus 13 is more instructions on how to kill animals in remembrance of killing Egyptians. And when the narrative finally picks up after they left Egypt, there is an interesting verse. 
    17 When Pharaoh let the people go, God did not lead them on the road through the Philistine country, though that was shorter. (remember they are on their way to Canaan, only 480 miles away) For God said, If they face war, they might change their minds and return to Egypt
    These chosen people, who had just been freed after 300 years of slavery, seen 10 miraculous plagues, saw animals wiped out numerous times, finally on their way to a land that was promised to them over 400 years earlier, might stick with this divine being for longer than a day before they rebelled. 
    Passages like this makes one realize this story never happened and was written as an origin story for their religion. And we actually don’t know what the contemporary people thought of the Torah, though some scholars and in particular Judaism scholars did not believe they took the Torah literally. Instead they looked to it for moral guidance, (I think I am kicking that door down rather easily), behavior traditions rather than historic document. 
    That would make sense to me, as the evidence supporting this event is thin at best and non-existant for most. Yet even if they did think of this as a guidebook on how to be good Hebrews, it doesn’t forgive that the moral systems they were learning could never come from a divine god as it is corrupt at its core. Thus written by men, brainwashing an entire people to think and behave in a certain manner they thought was righteous, just, moral, and divinely entitled. 
    Oh fuck, I’m not even finished with the story yet, there are a few more hardened hearts and about 1.5 million more people to murder before we reach the end. I soldier on so you don’t have too. 
    Exodus 14
    1 Then the LORD said to Moses
    2 Tell the Israelites to turn back and encamp near Pi Hahiroth, between Migdol and the sea. They are to encamp by the sea, directly opposite Baal Zephon
    3 Pharaoh will think, The Israelites are wandering around the land in confusion, hemmed in by the desert
    4 And I will harden Pharaoh’s heart, and he will pursue them. But I will gain glory for myself through Pharaoh and all his army, and the Egyptians will know that I am the LORD. So the Israelites did this
    The christian god of the bible, after already killing hundreds of thousands of people, ruining Egypt for years after 10 horrific plagues, still needed fucking attention from a group of people that he never chose, never wanted to choose, and wouldn’t allow into his embrace anyway, couldn’t let them be. 
    Pharaoh already relented, god had won. But he’s like, I don’t think this group of people who have already acknowledged my superiority learned that lesson quite good enough. I need to ensure that they never forget who their fucking with and from now until eternity they will let my people alone. 
    They learned, for about 150 years, then they forgot and kicked the shit out of Yahweh and his people and ruled over them. 
    9 The Egyptians–all Pharaoh’s horses and chariots, (bible says 600), horsemen and troops–-pursued the Israelites and overtook them as they camped by the sea near Pi Hahiroth, opposite of Baal Zephon
    The bible is a bit vague as to how many Egyptians pursued the Israelites. But I know if I was chasing 1.2 million Hebrews into the desert, I’d have a force big enough to recapture them and escort them back. Our best guess of the total Egyptian population during this timeframe is between 3 million and 5 million, so 350,000 soldiers seems like a reasonable number of an army that could have been fielded. Though it would be rather hard to supply that large a force seems like a reasonable number So who knows, let’s say for argument's sake, Pharaoh’s army was 350,000, that would be hard enough to keep supplied. 
    All we do know is when Mose dropped his hand, the waters came rushing down and drowned man and animal alike. This would have been the death nail into their proverbial coffin if the events of the Exodus really happened like the bible describes. 
    When scholars say there is not any evidence of these events in the historical record, a good portion of that assumption is because Egypt grew in political power and amassed a great deal of wealth during this period. Egypt was also known to not be keen on slaves, the modern thought being skilled workers constructed their cities, monuments, and pyramids as opposed to forced labor.
    As this is an in depth look at morality, I will not get into the evidence either for or against this story from being accurate or true. Though I think the case was made rather easily by just reading the texts. This was probably based on several real events that had been passed down orally for hundreds of years before someone sat down and decided to make sense out of all of them which is why you get the weird chapters of just repeating narrative. 
    You have to remember that for a time, even Israel worshiped several different gods alongside Yahweh. There are passages in the bible where prophets would get angry and Hebrews worshiping other gods, seemingly turning their back on I AM THE I AM. 
    It’s no wonder that Rabbi’s needed to keep the Hebrews on the right track, and that is where the Torah came into play, which is also why Yahweh is portrayed as such a monster. Fear is a strong tool to keep the populace in line. 
    As a propaganda tool, the bible is the most successful book ever written. Israel and Palestine are still fighting to this very day because Palastians are descendants of the Amalekites that god promised to fight against from generation to generation in Exodus 17. And if you don’t think that’s the basis for hatred between the two peoples you are fooling yourself. For continuing murder thousands of years later, the bible is the book that keeps on giving. 
    We end our great Exodus story with an amazing 1.2 million more deaths by the hand of Yahweh. And this time, it was the very people he chose to protect. Because of their wondering how they were to be fed and watered in the desert, because they chose to make a golden calf to honor god, he cursed them to wander around the desert for 40 years so that every Hebrew that came out of Egypt would be dead before they made it to the promised land. 
    To bring it back to would you kill 210,000 to save a million, Yahweh killed a million to save a million and then decided to kill the million he saved. I have made myself sick realizing that anyone who claims the christian god of the bible is a moral god, is just doing mental gymnastics because it makes them feel good about what happens after they die. 
    I just spent the last two months researching this story and had many conversations with theists, atheists, and agnostics about the morality of the Exodus. If we based our modern morality and ethics on the christian god of the bible, our world would be a lot more violent, more suffering, and all out war as we take whatever we wish from our neighbors. 
    I’ll leave you all with just a few more questions to ponder. Should we believe the bible to be the divine inspired word of god? If so, with all the immorality inside its pages, if it is divine, is it a good blueprint for us to follow when it comes to deciding our own morality? Should we even give a shit about the christian god of the bible, especially if it's true?
    The final count where god took away free will—8 v 5 
  19. Jason Rimbaud
    Is The Christian God Of The Bible Moral? 
    Part Two: The Origin of The Ancient Hebrew God
    An InDepth Look At Morality From An Atheist Perspective
    Written By: Jason Rimbaud
    In part one we narrowed down which god and denomination we would use as our control subject to discover if god is moral. We will be using the christian god of the bible to try and answer this question. 
    Modern christianity finds its roots in the ancient texts of the Hebrews, who not only wrote the book, believed in the book, and committed horrible acts of rape, genocide, conquest, and murder of anyone who stood in the way in their single minded quest to obtain the promised land in the name of Yahweh. 
    But to understand the god, you have to understand the origins of that god. 
    WHERE DID THE GOD OF THE BIBLE COME FROM?
    The ancient Middle East was located in the region that includes modern day Egypt, Iran, Syria, Jordan, Israel, Lebanon, the Gulf states, and Turkey. This is also commonly referred to as the Near East. 
    We know the earliest civilization was established sometime around 3500 BC by the Sumerians, in southern Mesopotamia (modern-day Iraq) and is widely regarded as the cradle of civilization. Between 10,000 BC to 3,000 BC it is thought the people of Mesopotamia not only invented cities, agraculture, and math, but they invented the first forms of writing. 
    Just so we are clear, it was not around this time when god created the world in seven days, that is just a myth in the ancient Hebrew bible that was stolen from much earlier oral traditions. This was just when humans stopped being hunters and gatherers. Because agriculture was established this gave the people populating these areas the ability to focus on other things, like cities, math, and pursuing a more civilized life.  
    Just because this time period is when all these things began, the people had been around far longer than the first written language. Archeological evidence has established that the Hebrews definitely started settling in Canaan around 1200 BC. The Egyptian record from 1207 BCE noted above consists of the pharaoh boasting about his conquests in Canaan, including Israel. But it isn’t until 840 BCE that the Hebrew god Yahweh is first mentioned in written form on the Mesha Stele. 
    So for all those hundreds of years, the god of the Hebrews was passed down in the finest way possible, orally. 
    Many, if not most biblical scholars today, both religious and secular, agree that the ancient Hebrews cobbled together many different pagan beliefs from both Mesopotamian and ancient Near Eastern Cosmology. They borrowed heavily from different established belief systems and adapted them to their, at the time, unique view of worshiping a single deity instead of multiple deities. 
    While many tribes had a single deity they worshiped as a protector god, they had many other deities they consulted for other mundane things. For example, the Egyptians had dozens of gods they worshiped depending on what they needed at any given time. If you can’t get pregnant, sacrifice some animal to Min and she can help you conceive. 
    During this same timeframe, instead of Min if you were Greek, you’d pray to Demeter to help with fertility issues. To get knocked up, you wouldn’t pray to Ra or Zeus for something so trivial. But the ancient Hebrews prayed to their own god for everything. Poor god, he didn’t have the staff to answer all those prayers, maybe that’s why even if you pray to it today, the odds of your prayer being answered is no better than the flip of a coin, 50%. 
    I did find it interesting in my research, the goddess Demeter, of classical Greece, was a woman while her counterpart, Min, a god depicted with an erect cock and a flail in one hand. The Greek god of fertility is associated with the changing of the seasons while the Egyptian god had an erection. This is the perfect metaphor for current thinking about women's reproductive rights. 
    For comparison, it is believed that Yahweh, was around during the same time period as Zeus, supposed descendant of the great Titans who were responsible for creating the world as well as Ra, descendant of the great Egyptian creator of life. 
    So around the time the ancient Hebrews were just beginning to proclaim Yahweh, the one true god and creator of all life, other cultures already had their own established creation myths firmly locked in place. And in some cases, for far longer. 
    THEN WHO IS THE CHRISTIAN GOD BASED ON?
    Yahweh is based on several older deities who had been around far longer. Seir, Edom, Paran, and Teman are all likely model candidates for the Hebrew god. And to a much lesser degree, Canaan. You remember him, the god of the land the Hebrews forcibly took and murdered everyone living there. Interesting that some of their god’s characteristics were taken from a vanquished god. 
    If you remember your bible stories, Canaan was the promised land that had been gifted to Abraham and all his descendents because of idolatry. Yep, those pesky Canaanites believed in multiple gods so Yahweh had them all murdered. Apparently, Yahweh is just an insecure god, that a different people living in a different land worshiping other gods, sent him around the twist. Those fuckers. 
    Granted, it did take him some four hundred years to make good on his promise and Abraham was long dead by the time Joshua marched into Canaan and kicked those multiple god worshiping assholes right off the fucking planet. That served those idolaters right, believing in another god. 
    Is the Hebrew god of the bible a real living god, a metaphor, or just a delusion for tent dwelling sheep herders who were a bunch of animal fucking, woman raping, mass murderers who coveted their neighbor’s oxen? Or was he just an excuse to justify their horrific blood lust? 
    I can hear a few of you ask about why have I mentioned animal fucking twice now in referring to the ancient Hebrews? 
    Leviticus 18:23 says, “Do not have sexual relations with an animal and defile yourself with it. A woman must not present herself to an animal to have sexual relations with it, that is a perversion.”
    If you have to write down in your holy book that one shouldn’t fuck animals, then people must have been fucking animals like it was christmas. I can only imagine it was an orgy of animal fucking. Though to be fair, Leviticus 18 is pretty much nothing but laws about who or what you can stick your penis into. 
    And the first time they wrote it must not have taken because two chapters later they had to add an addendum in Leviticus 20:15, “If a man has sexual relations with an animal, he is to be put to death, and you must kill the animal.”
    I can kind of see if a man is going out raping animals, then he’s probably a deviant, but to murder him, that’s a bit overkill. And then to say the poor animal that did not consent to be fucked should also be killed, that’s just some cavemen type shit right there. 
    And before you think it was just those horny men sticking their dicks into any ole warm hole, verse 16 continues, “If a woman approaches an animal to have sexual relations with it, kill both the woman and the animal. They are to be put to death; their blood will be on their own heads.” I guess even in ancient times donkey shows were quite the attraction.
    Okay, you’ll concede the animal fucking, but raping women, not in my bible you might say. You’re wrong, in Deuteronomy 22:28-29 states, “If a man happens to meet a virgin who is not pledged to be married and rapes her and they are discovered, he shall pay her father fifty shekels of silver. He must marry the young woman, for he has violated her. He can never divorce her as long as he lives.
    Not only is this a very immoral act, forcing the woman to marry her rapist, but since she is viewed as property of the father, she has to be bought by the man, so the father gets his payment for property rendered. That goes to show you how the ancient Hebrews thought about women and they’re place in society, nothing more than objects to be traded and bought. 
    This ancient belief that obsessed about virgins is so foreign to me. I don’t know about you, but I’ve fucked a few virgins in my life and the sex never was that good. I’d rather a Castro slut any day over a virgin who doesn’t know which end of the dick to suck. 
    WHEN DID THE HEBREWS INVENT THEIR GOD
    It is thought that the Hebrew religion was first established sometime in the late Bronze Age, 1550 to 1200 BCE or the Early Iron Age, 1200 to 800 BCE. To put that into context, the earliest known god available through historical records is Inanna, a Sumerian goddess of love, fertility, and war. She was also known as Ishtar in later Mesopotamian culture and her name appears in some of the first cuneiform texts from the Uruk period, dating all the way back to the late 4th millennium BCE, sometime before 4000 to 3001 BCE. The Sumerians inhabited what we know as modern day Iraq.
    So Yahweh is nowhere near old enough to have been the first god of the world. Though Yahweh is old enough that most modern christians do not know or have forgotten, there were many older religions that bear a striking resemblance to the god of the bible and many of its earliest practices.
    We’ve already established that Yahweh was clearly modeled on earlier gods and this is telling evidence that if a god/gods/divine exists, Yahweh could not be one of those gods. The Hebrew religion is a pieced together belief system they stole from their neighbors, literally picking and choosing which myths to adapt to their own god concept. 
    In choosing which established myths to bastardize into their new religion, like the earlier Babyalonian creation myth the Enumah Elish. The major difference in these two creation stories, the Hebrews gave credit for the creation of everything to a single deity while the Enumah Elish cites multiple deities. They also declared themselves Yahweh’s chosen people. 
    I guess if they were chosen and all other peoples were Gentile, that gave them divine right to slaughter anyone they deemed their enemies. Though they didn’t always kill everyone, they often kept all the females so they could rape them later. All of this behavior could be justified if they were doing as Yahweh commanded. 
    WHEN WAS THE BIBLE WRITTEN
    The oral tradition of Yahweh had been around longer than when they started writing their holy book, the Torah, which means the law of god given to Moses. The Torah consists of the first five books of the modern christian bible. They are also the most difficult to read due to the horrendous acts it depicts, all condoned and commanded by a supposed loving moral god that modern christians pattern their lives after even to the present day. 
    The final version of the Torah was completed, sometime during the Persian period 539-332 BCE. Though some scholars believe it might have been even earlier during the Hellenistic period. Some claim Moses wrote it, while others believe god inspired Moses to write it. But no matter who wrote it, or what oral traditions it was eventually copied from, the Hebrews believed it was the law of their god, Yahweh. 
    So now that we have a very rudimentary understanding of where and how the origin of the Torah and the christian god came out, let’s look at how it survived when so many other religions and belief systems fell away to history. 
    HOW DID THE ANCIENT HEBREW RELIGION SURVIVE
    Remember the ancient Hebrews inhabited a region of the world that warred amongst themselves constantly, murdering and overthrowing established tribes and religions seeming at will only to then be conquered by someone else and the whole thing would just start all over again. So the entire region slipped between probably hundreds of gods as different tribes would conquer different regions.
    The bible claims the great Exodus occurred sometime around 1225 BCE, during Ramsey’s the Second reign. Which would mean some forty years later, the Hebrews would march into Canaan and finally fulfill the promise of Yahweh that was made to Abraham and all his descendents. 
    Apparently that promise wasn’t forever because in 740 BCE, Mesopotamian’s, called the Assyrian’s conquered the Israelites and then some thirty years later scattered them to the four corners of their empire or just absorbed them into their empire when they rebelled against their rule. This left the Hebrews without a cultural identity for a few hundred years. The Babylonian’s conquered Jerusalem in 587 BCE, once again thrusting the Hebrews under the rule of a false god. 
    Just on a side note, it seemed that even the ancient Hebrews seemed to have shitty memories of their one true god. They were constantly forsaking Yahweh which in turn would mean Yahweh would turn away from the Hebrews essentially taking away the protection, and they would get conquered. Then after loud cries and many sacrifices, Yahweh would forget how shitty of worshipers they were and take them back like some kind of battered housewife. 
    This syndrome somehow kept the Hebrew faith alive as the Hebrews continued to be scared shitless of pissing off their all knowing, all powerful, extremely vengeful god who had already destroyed every human on the planet in his anger. Yet they continued to worship that god, who battered whom in this relationship?
    So when the Babylonians conquered Jerusalem and destroyed the temple in 587 BCE, the Hebrews were once again a subjugated people. This time to Nebuchnezzar II who not only burned the temple to the ground, he took with him back to Babylon most of the population of the city. The bible chronicles these events in 2 Kings Chapter 25. Once again, the Hebrew god was defeated by Marduk and delivered into slavery. So much for their all powerful god.
    When Cyrus the Great defeated the Assyrians, with the help of the Babylonians, their territory was divided amongst the Persians, Babylonians, and Egyptians. Judah was overseen by Babylon who were finally defeated in 538 BCE by the Persian army. 
    If you recall, in Daniel 5, it has Belshazzar, King of Babylon, having a feast. He gathers all the nobles of the court, and they drink out of the sacred cups and vessels they had stolen from the Temple when they conquered Jerusalem. And as they are drinking, a hand appears and writes on the wall. And no one in the kingdom could interpret what the words mean. So Belshazzar calls forth Daniel and promises him all sorts of riches if he could tell him what the words mean. 
    The bible, in Daniel 5:25 states, MENE, MENE, TEKEL, PARSIN. And basically, Daniel translates that to mean, because you have defiled our precious artifacts, god has numbered the days of your reign, you have been found wanting, and he will give your kingdom to the Medes and Persians. 
    And the bible says that very night, Belshazzar was killed. Though that’s not entirely the way it happened, but this very real all powerful god, the I AM THE I AM, couldn’t destroy the Babylonians, he had to allow the Persians, in the guise of Darius II, to free the Hebrews. 
    We know that Judah, the Hebrews, the Israelites, whatever you want to call them, never had a time during the Assyrian reign or the Persian reign which lasted over two hundred years, where the Hebrews ruled over themselves. This christian god of the bible didn’t seem to be so powerful in the wake of all those other gods that kept conquering them. 
    Around this time, Cyrus the Great decreed the Hebrews could return to Zion and rebuild the Temple. This was the catalyst in saving the religion of the Hebrews from disappearing all together. 
    Cyrus is one of the most influential people that had ever lived, because if he did not allow the Hebrews to return and rebuild their temple, the basis for their faith, we would not have Christianity, nor Islam. So Cyrus could be credited for single handedly saving the Christian faith. 
    The Persians believed in a monotheistic religion called Zoroastrianism, which recognized only a single deity named Ahura Mazda. This religion was based on the teachings of the Persian prophet Zoroaster and this was the official religion of the Persian Empire. Where the Persian’s were extremely smart in appeasing their conquered nations, tribes, city states, they allowed everyone to practice their own religion. As long as you paid your taxes, sent your armies when called upon, you pretty much had free reign to govern your own lands as you saw fit. 
    So the Persian’s allowed the Hebrews to return to Jerusalem and rebuild the temple the Babylonian’s had destroyed. They were ruled over by a Persian governor but the Hebrews finally had their religious identity back. 
    So the Hebrew’s slowly gained their city back, they were right where god promised them to be, and over time they grew in influence due to Persia’s rule. This time period called the Iron Age, sometimes called Achaemenid Empire, was a global hub of culture, religion, science, art and technology for more than two hundred years. 
    For over two hundred years, the Hebrews kept their religion alive, propagating the belief system of their god that was based on an earlier version they had already forgotten about. 
    Hebrews were allowed to work in the civil service and even formed military units that were deployed all over Persia. They were even allowed to re-establish the sacrificial ritual at the Temple. 
    Sacrificial rituals, blood sacrifice, was the key in Ancient Hebrew worship. They had adopted a far older pagan tradition of pushing their sins forward through the rite of blood sacrifice of certain animals. This was a practice that believed Yahwah demanded blood offerings in return for forgiveness of sins. 
    This was not uncommon in this era, almost every culture practiced this ritual blood rites, and the Hebrews were no different. Just as in every culture, when you must offer blood to a god, providing these animals became a huge factor in the economy of Jerusalem as merchants from all over the Near East shipped these animals to be slaughtered at the Temple. 
    And while the Bible explicitly states the Priests were not to accept money for the rite of sacrifice, that didn’t stop the priests from getting involved in the buying and transporting of these beasts that the Hebrews then bought to be sacrificed. Thus whoever controlled the sacrificial beasts, controlled Jerusalem. Tell me again how religion hasn’t always been about control, money, and power.
    Under Persian rule, the Hebrews prospered as they had not been allowed for years. And though the Persians thought of them as unclean because they were not Muslim, they were allowed some positions of esteem in the Empire. Though they never regained their political power, they did use this time to introduce new theological ideas into their Holy Books. 
    So if one of the reasons Hebrew’s survived was the tolerance of the Persians, the reason it spread across the known world was in 331 BCE, a figure invaded Persia with a mission of revenge he inherited from his father. His name was Alexander the Great, and was the very last King of Kings, the last Persian King and maybe second only to Darius II, the greatest Persian King. 
    When Alexander conquered Persia, anyone that resisted was met with swift and total punishment. While anyone who surrendered without a fight, was forced to bow to Alexander’s will. And while he took away all political power from everyone and put his own people in charge, he did allow them to keep their cultural and religious notions unimpeded. 
    Once again, the Hebrews got lucky as Alexander marched across the Persian Empire. Alexander professed to have a dream and when he approached Jerusalem, and when the High Priest came out to bow the knee to his army, the High Priest matched the description of the man from his dream, so Alexander allowed the Hebrews to incorporate into his Empire without the spilling of a single drop of Hebrew blood. 
    The Hebrews made a deal with Alexander, a deal that allowed them to gain a religious foothold in regions otherwise not available to them due to the Muslim influence of the Persian’s. So entwined were Alexander and the Hebrews, the Hebrews incorporated the name Alexander into Hebrew culture as a sign of honor. 
    Once again the all powerful Yahweh was defeated by a false, fake god, Zeus. A god that Alexander believed he was the living son of. It’s crazy that the Greek gods, the Persian gods, the Babylonians god, the Egyptian gods, have all fallen away to myths where the one god they each defeated over and over again, somehow has continued on as the one true living god. 
    By the age of 29, Alexander was dead and his empire, one of the largest the world had ever seen up to that point, was thrown into chaos. Alexander’s generals divided the Empire and once again the Hebrews were caught in the middle between two warring Greek generals on the precipice of defeat. 
    The Hebrews of the time were split down the middle. One side being Hellenistic Jews, who had softened their old traditions and thought the Greek’s were superior to the more primitive beliefs of the traditionalists. They tried to get their fellow Hebrews to denounce the strict old beliefs but the Hebrews dug their heels in and once again revolted. And after several years of fighting, the miracle of Chanukah was born. 
    This went on for a while until the Roman’s stepped in and decided to conquer even more than Alexander ever dreamed. And once again, the Hebrews were relegated to second class citizens with no real political power. But they were pretty much left alone. So as they always did, they’re pesky habit of trying to convert everyone to Judaism once again created issues. And the moment a peaceful prophet proclaimed himself as the prophesied Messiah, the Hebrews promptly had him murdered. 
    The Messiah was not a love thy neighbor kind of guy, at least not to those traditionalists who wanted a warrior Messiah to come so he would literally kill all the Romans that dared destroy the temple for the final time in 70 CE. 
    And the new followers of this hippy Messiah, declared him risen after three days, giving birth to christianity which has been a blight on the world ever since. And these early Christians, all who were Hebrews, the chosen people that their god sent his only son to be murdered in a blood sacrifice for everyone’s sins, past, present, and future, believed that Christ was going to come back in their lifetime to liberate them from bondage. 
    The three day thing always made me scratch my head. He supposedly died on Friday evening, and then rose early Sunday morning. That is more like a day and a half then three days, but christians have never been strong at critical thinking. And how much of a sacrifice was it really? He is killed, and then 60 hours later is risen up from the dead. That’s not a sacrifice, that’s like giving up a weekend. 
    Even amongst the Hebrews, from the very beginning there was infighting regarding this fledgling religion. The early christians thought they would get revenge for the Romans destroying the temple. A temple that was no longer warranted because Christ died on the cross for all the sins so they didn’t have to do their blood magic ritual anymore. None of it makes any sense, but it’s not my religion is it. 
    And you even had other traditionalists, Hebrews, that wanted to destroy those christians because they thought it was a false religion because christ was not the Messiah. So it wasn’t until a man named Saul, a Jew, who had a mission to destroy all christians, saw a bright light on the road to Damascus and promptly converted to christianity. He also ushered in this new reasoning that non-Hebrews could convert to christianity. 
    A bunch of Christian’s were martyred during this timeframe. The traditionalists, Hebrews, hated the christians. Because the christians dared to give up on their arcane beliefs in a murderous, vengeful god who would rather kill everyone than a hippy dude that said can’t we all get along. Thus began numerous belief systems, discussions on should christians still believe in magic, was christ the Messiah? And scholars of different sects started writing their holy books, trying to solidify whichever doctrine they held at the time. 
    This sect over there had different holy books than that sect over there. This one kept all the magic, the giants, the demon fucking, while that one over there threw out most of the supernatural accounts as they tried to gather their holy books. 
    And how it has been since time began, these zealots looked to grow their particular religion by going after the wealthy, the powerful, the influencers of their day. And since the christian belief is extremely rigid in comparison to most, they were smart about their recruiting process. 
    They’d tell a wealthy person, you can still have multiple wives, you can still fuck the boys, but your kids can’t. And with each generation they’d take back a few more of the pagan rites until some two hundred years after christ, a good portion of the Roman Empire believed in some form of Christianity.  
    They were strong enough politically that in 312 AD, Emperor Constantine suddenly converted to christianity publically when he gave christ credit for a decisive victory over his enemies. He was famously a pagan in a country filled with some six million christians, many of whom were part of the ruling class, so his conversion was more than likely purely political. It didn’t really matter if he was a true believer or not, because he was responsible for organizing christianity, the canonization of the modern christian bible, and spreading it through the known world when he made it the national religion.
    The council who decided the bible, threw out all the fringe holy books that many zealots wanted to include. So as crazy as the modern bible already is, once upon a time it was even crazier with magicians, giants, sorcerers, and all manner of demon fucking. 
    One of the arguments I hear from many christians, is the claim that if it wasn’t true, it would not have survived all these thousands of years. What they fail to realize, or maybe they don’t even know, when it is made the state religion and flung throughout the world, of course it would survive in some form or another. And they also don’t realize that the christianity of the Ancient Hebrews, is a far cry of the modern christianity. 
    But by that logic, the same argument could be made for Islam. That’s an even newer religion and it rivals christianity in popularity. Matter of fact, Islam is closer to their holy books and they know who actually wrote them. A lot more than the christian bible holy books, where a good portion of the authors is not known and written some fifty to eighty years after the events they describe. 
    And lastly, just because so many people believe in something, doesn’t make that something true. For a long period of time, the entire world believed the earth was flat, or that the sun revolved around the earth. Didn’t make that any more true. 
    WAS THE CHRISTIAN BIBLE REALLY INSPIRED BY GOD?
    To riddle that answer out, let's look to see how the bible stacks up what we know about the universe against the claims of a book written by sheep herders who really didn’t want you to stick your dick into anything but a virgin and sold females at the fathers whim. We need to be able to look at the bible with reasonable, testable, methods and leave out feelings, faith, and fear. If over 2 billion people believe in this book and based their entire lives on it, I for one would like to know how it holds up to a bit of reason. 
    The Torah, a book claimed to be dictated by god himself, claims that the entire world and everything in it was created in seven days. And for all you apologists out there saying that seven days was used because at the time the ancient Hebrews had no concept of millions much less billions of years. Okay, but then what about the order of creation, god’s inspired book got the order wrong. Not once, but twice. Did you know there are two completely different versions of the creation myth in Genesis. And yet both of them got the order of creation wrong. In the first version, plants were made before the sun. In the second, man was made before the sun. Fine, I’ll give you the seven day argument, but how did this amazing god get the order of creation wrong, fucking twice?
    The claim that all of humanity came from two people. Well science and genetics have proven that claim to be false. The bible claims there was a world-wide flood, no evidence can be found to support this claim. The bible claims that all of humankind lived together and spoke the same languages in a place called Babel. I’ll get more into that particular craziness later on, but god was so worried that humans were getting along so well and it knew that together they could do anything and would no longer have a need for him, so he confused their languages and cast them over the face of the earth. We know that never happened. The bible claimed that god stopped the sun in the sky so Israel could defeat its enemies. We know that is impossible, as the sun doesn’t rotate around the earth like those primitives believed. To make this happen, god would have to stop the earth from rotating, disrupting all sorts of natural laws that would have caused chaos not to mention losing gravity. The bible also claimed a man lived in a belly of a fish for three days and did not die. I could go on for pages of just the craziness the bible claims to be true in the first five books alone. 
    Then there is the whole claim regarding the Exodus. That in itself is problematic for archaeologists as they have never found evidence of Israelites in large numbers populating in Egypt. Most believe the Israelites were indigenous to Canaan. Then the claim that Jericho was a large fortified city during this time period is also laughable at best. 
    According to archaeological evidence, Jericho during the time of the Exodus was likely a relatively small settlement, with most experts agreeing that the city was not a large metropolis as depicted in the bible but rather a smaller settlement with a defensive wall which contained about 5-6 acres in size. Yes Jericho is one of the oldest cities in the world, and yes they found two different walls that had been ruined by some means, but not at the time the bible claims. 
    I think most rational people can see at best the bible is a bunch of metaphors and allegories written to control the Israelites like many other religions of the day and at worst, utter bullshit written by people who thought the world was created in seven days by a god that never defeated anyone. 
    Sadly, the world we live in is not filled with rational people so we will continue on with our quest to see if we can reason out if their god was a moral god and if he deserves our worship. 
    In part three we take a look at the Exodus story in greater detail.
  20. Jason Rimbaud
    CAUTION: This will be an ongoing series looking to ascertain if the christian god of the bible is in fact, a moral god. And if that christian god of the bible is one that should be followed/worshiped/believed in. I am posting this in my Blog because it gives me the freedom to write uncensored without worrying about colorful metaphors or taboo subjects that might get me warned in the forums. 
    That just means I’m going to be swearing and professing perhaps controversial opinions on the subject of the christian god and various religions attached to it in some form or another. I know this topic is near and dear to many people, and they might take offense to some of the things I will be talking about in this series. Should you proceed, it should be with caution and an open mind.
    That being said, I do welcome other opinions and invite you to be real and honest if you do decide to participate by commenting. 
    Is The Christian God Of The Bible Moral?
    Part One: How Do We Choose Which God
    An InDepth Look At Morality From An Atheist Perspective
    Written By: Jason Rimbaud
    This idea started when I joined the Pit a few weeks ago (now a few months ago) and read a post started some years back titled does god/gods/divine exist. I started to reply and offer up my three and half cents when in my usual fashion, my comment grew to be rather long as I tried to organize my thoughts on the subject. 
    Because as I thought about the question, if gods do exist, which god was the poster talking about? And if that particular god exists, would that make it something we should automatically follow and worship as the humans of old? And that led me to the idea that if a god did exist, and if I found that god to be immoral, I would still reject that god on moral grounds alone. 
    So I think the question isn’t if god/gods/divine exist, the question should be is god moral?
    WHICH GOD ARE WE TALKING ABOUT
    I happen to live in America, a country where one of our founding tenets is freedom of religion. Many people believe this gives protection to worship how one chooses. I like to think the founding fathers put this in our documents to ensure we have the freedom from religion. 
    As Steven Weinberg famously said, “With or without religion, good people can behave well and bad people can do evil…but for good people to do evil, that takes religion.”
    In America alone, we have numerous different religions and inside those religions different denominations, we need to define which god’s morality we will be analyzing for this discussion. So before we can begin discussing if god is moral or not, we need to define which god one personally believes in. Because there are a lot of them to choose from. How do we know which is the right god? 
    It is believed over the course of human history some 18,000 gods have been worshiped by well meaning humans. Though I would expect that number to be low as many gods have been left to the dustbin of history, gods that had been worshiped before the invention of writing, oral traditions where the people responsible for passing down that tradition were murdered so that particular god would be lost to history. 
    As it stands today, most of the world’s population believes in one of the big three religions, Islam, Christianity, and probably the oldest religion known to man, Hinduism. There might be small regions of the world where pockets of people cling to the old gods but they do not really make waves in our current time. 
    To put it in perspective, Islam is roughly about 1,400 years old while Hinduism is at least 4,000 years old. With Christianity being roughly 2,000 years old. Because Scientology isn’t really a religion as much as it’s a tax shelter, the newest overall world-wide religion is the Mormon religion, almost 200 years old. 
    Out of the big three, Christianity has the most worldwide followers with over 2 billion believers, Catholics alone claim just over one billion of those, Islam almost at 1.9 billion, and poor little Hinduism coming along in the rear at 1.2 billion. To put that in perspective, Mormons are just over 17 million, so they really don’t make much of a wave on the grander scale. 
    It is estimated that planet earth has over 8.2 billion humans alive today. Just with the four I mentioned, well over half of the population believes in some kind of god/gods/divine worldwide. Atheists account for about 500 million worldwide, more than the Mormons but not enough based on the evidence we have available. The good news, atheists have tied with the buddhists, so yea for us. 
    I do think it’s safe enough for us to only look at the big three when choosing which god we want to believe in. I also think it’s fair to say that each of the big three, emphatically say they and they alone have the one true god and its accompanying religion and the other’s are actually false. 
    I will pause here and pose a question to everyone reading this. Just because a majority of the population on this planet believe in some kind of god/deity, does that make the belief true? Especially since there is zero evidence of its existence. 
    I submit for your approval, if one of the big three gods is the one true god, then that god is a dick. Because god is supposed to be all powerful, all knowing, with access to the past, present, and future. That god would have to have seen the destruction that has been done in those three gods' names alone over the course of human history. 
    If it was a good, just, moral god, then the one true god would know the other gods are false and do something to end the bloodshed over the course of that history. If that god refuses to declare itself to the world, thus forcing all of humanity to play this big guessing game on which is the right god to serve, then that god is an asshole. Either way, how many millions of people have died in these three gods’ names over the last four thousand years? 
    But if you actually take the time to read the christian bible, you realize the christian god relishes in the killing, murdering, genocide of people, animals, and everything he created. Read the bible and you will find out the christian god is a bloodthirsty, petty dick who has never deserved to be worshiped. 
    What of the gods that are older than the big three? Were they not the real god? And if the Hindu gods only came into existence some 4,000 years ago, how can the christian god be real if he’s only 2,000 years old? Do you see how convoluted your belief systems are? 
    Did the christian god just sit around quietly after he made everything until he decided to pick the Hebrews as his chosen people? Did the god of Islam hit the snooze button for a few hundred years after the christian god grew in prominence before he poked his head out from under the tent flap? And why did the christian god choose the Hebrews? Every other chapter they were losing faith in him and running off to worship other gods? If the christian god is real then he’s a poor judge of character. Because even today, most of the Jewish people don’t believe in him anyway. And why not all the other humans the christian god supposedly created? What was wrong with them to make the creator turn their back on them?
    Sorry about that sidetrack, let’s get back to the task at hand, choosing which one of the big three religions is the correct god to worship. They all have different belief systems, different worldviews, different tenets, different rewards and different steps on how to achieve those rewards, different punishments and varying degrees of nonsense one would have to do to achieve those punishments. How do we discover the one true religion along with the one true god to follow?
    After many years of study and research, I know the path to how one would decide which religion is the correct one. Are you ready? 
    The way you know which is the correct one, it’s simple, just be born. Because whatever region of the world you are born into and whatever particular religion that region prescribes too, that is the religion you are most likely to be indoctrinated to believe since your birth. Along with whichever god is attached to that particular region. And yes, it’s really that simple for most of the world. 
    Born in America, probably Christian, born in India, more than likely Hindu or Islam, you get the picture. Belief in a particular religion is nothing more than an accident of birth. 
    WHEW, NOW WE ARE FINALLY AT THE CHRISTIAN GOD OF THE BIBLE
    Since I was unlucky enough to be born in America, let’s focus on the god I was indoctrinated into accepting from pretty much the day I was born and fervently believed in until I was fourteen years old. That was when I discovered the god I believed in didn’t like the fact that I wanted to suck my friend's dick more than I was afraid of going to hell. Or as I like to say, when my critical thinking skills came into focus and I started to reason out my own beliefs instead of accepting what had been thrusted upon me by my parents.
    And for those of you that hadn’t guessed along with the rest of the class, I will be delving into whether or not the christian god of the bible is in fact moral and worthy of worship. 
    Oh shit, wait. Fuck me I forgot. Which denomination of christianity is the correct one out of the 200 denominations that are practiced in America alone. And for now we are just going to ignore the other 44,000 denominations of christianity worldwide that are being practiced in 2024. 
    So much for this being easy to figure out which religion thus by proxy which god is the correct god to judge morality against. Fuck my life. 
    There are five different baptists denominations alone, then you have presbyterians, protestants, orthodox, independents, evangelical, catholics, mormons, westboro baptist church, and that’s just to name a few, excluding some of the weirder ones. 
    I know, you might say as a christian, the god the westboro baptist church follows isn’t my god. I know they got a really bad rap by protesting military funerals, protesting pretty much anything related to gay people. But I hate to break it to you. Westboro followed more closely to the teachings of the bible than any modern denomination. All their hatred, bigotry, misogyny, that was taken directly from the christian bible and was law according to the ancient Hebrews. 
    They only thing they did not do was the killing, raping, genocide, taking of slaves, animal fucking, well you get the picture. Hate them all you want and deny their god but they aren’t biblically wrong. 
    What about the Catholic’s? They are after one of the biggest religions on the planet today. Of course you’d have to find a way to justify the long standing practice of moving kid fuckers around to different churches all to hide the decades long abuse that had and was known by the leaders of the movement. What’s his name, the Pope. The one man the Catholics believe speak for god, knew about the kid fucking and instead of doing the right thing he helped hide it under his ridiculous hat.
    That’s kind of what happens though when you take away the freedom of sex from its priests. I know if I go a week without sex my brain starts to believe that if you confess your sins to me and say a magical prayer while touching anal beads then you too can have your sins forgiven by a man that isn’t allowed to touch his own dick. 
    I pose another question, why do there seem to be such a high number of abuse in the Catholic church? I think the answer is two fold. Number one, in 1139, they outlawed sex for all their priests. Sex is a natural function of the human body, telling thousands of men they can’t do what is only natural will have repercussions. 
    The second reason is the Catholic church's stance on homosexuality. There are probably hundreds if not thousands of gay priests in the Catholic church. I know for a long time true believers were encouraged to join the priesthood if they had homosexual tendencies. 
    You can be gay all you want, you just can’t ever experience dirty gay butt sex. So homosexual’s were told to join the priesthood. That way they can still get into heaven as priests were forbidden to have sex. Because the Catholic god really hates it when two guys touch wieners for some reason. Methinks your god protests too much, he’s probably a bottom. 
    I’m not saying all Catholic kid fuckers are gay. Matter of fact, most people believe pedophilia is not as much as being gay as being a predator. Because I am very much gay and I have fucked every single kid I ever wanted too. Granted, that number is zero because I didn't want to have sex with kids when I was a kid, much less now as an adult. 
    Let’s say you can somehow justify all that kid fucking, what about the millions of deaths in Africa due to the Catholic churches stance on condoms. Allowing people to wrap their peens in latex would have saved so many lives that have been lost to AIDs over the years. Or we could talk about the entire history of stealing treasures that didn’t belong to them. Or the Crusades, where they stole lots of treasure, or the Inquisition where they stole lots of treasure under the guise of fighting evil. Of course all those evil people the Catholic’s were fighting against were so conveniently rich. Their criminal activity is well documented for thousands of years. 
    What about the Evangelical’s you might ask? Well, in that movement they have many prominent pastors and politicians that have been caught with some strange dude’s dick in their mouth even as they condemn homosexuality, implementing laws to abolish gay rights, human rights, and trans rights all in the name of their god. They believe the same bullshit you do, but unlike you, they don’t exactly walk the walk. 
    Yet you keep electing these fake christians because even in their hypocrisy, they further your own hate filled agenda against sexual minorities and abortion. You disagree with me? Look what the entire Evangelical movement did to elect Trump just to get abortion overturned in the courts. They sold their spiritual soul in their single minded focus on abortion. 
    They are against divorce, Trump three times divorced, they are against adultery, Trump is a convicted felon because he cheated on his wife with a porn star, they are against assault on women, well, maybe not against as much as they just like to tell women what they can do with their bodies even in an event of assault. Trump grabs women by the pussy. They are against lying, Trump is well, a stretcher of truths. I could go on and on but I think you get the picture. Maybe their god really does work in mysterious ways. 
    But I think if we are going to stick to our model of which region of the world you are born into, so I am going to choose the christian god of those crazy pentecostal’s to see if it is moral or not. 
    The pentecostal is a relatively small portion in the christian movement. However, it was one of the fastest growing christian movements in modern history, from 1970 having about 58 million to 2021 with about six hundred million. 
    They are also a bit unique because much like the early Hebrew christians, they do not believe in the Trinity at all. There is only one god, they speak in tongues just like the apostles did in Acts 2:38. They baptize only in the name of Jesus Christ as well, completely submerging their victims in water tanks. They believe in the holy ghost that comes inside you and washes away all your sins no matter their severity. 
    By the way, off topic, Jeffery Dahmar, one of the most notorious serial killers of gay men, became a christian before he was then brutally murdered in jail. So they say he’s in heaven. The only gay men I’ve ever slain was in the bedroom but yet I’m going to burn in that other place for the rest of eternity. That should be the end of this discussion on whether or not their god is in fact moral. 
    They also have outrageous “holiness” standards that they enforce with an iron thumb. Some of the things I was not allowed to do, play sports because that took away focus from god, listen to any music or attend concerts unless they were approved by the church, which meant only pentecostal artists, having long hair, (only woman could have long hair, matter of fact they aren’t allowed to cut their hair at all), wearing any form of jewelry, wearing shorts no matter how hot it was outside, going outside without a shirt on, wearing red as it was the color of harlots, having any association with girls outside of sponsored church youth events, women could not wear make-up, wear pants, or show any skin, their skirts had to come to their ankles or they had to wear dark stockings. 
    But the one thing that is my personal favorite. They were so scared boys and girls would get together and do the nasty, they wouldn’t even let us swim in a pool with girls. Which was completely fine by me and about ten other kids in my church. We got to see our classmates nearly naked every week as we changed into our swimsuits. Maybe I wasn’t born gay at all, it was just all that conditioning of being forced to only associate with other boys until I was eighteen that made me love boy’s bits.
    So for the rest of this series, I will be looking at the ancient Hebrew version of god and we will try to reason if that god is in fact a moral god and one that should be followed and worshiped. 
    In Part Two, I will offer up a brief history of the ancient Hebrew god and outline the origin of their religion and how it spread to be one of the top three in the entire world.
  21. Jason Rimbaud
    I've been on vacation for the last five days and I must say, I haven't done anything of importance. Okay, that's not really true, I have done things. Yet none of these things were things I had been needing to do.
     
    On Sunday, while on the train going home to start my five day vacation, I wrote this in my notes section of my handy dandy I-Phone...'Starting tomorrow, I'll be having five days off work, not really sure what I'll be doing or where I'll be going but it's time to find a warm hole and stick my dick inside it.'
     
    Lofty ideals huh...don't judge me, it's not my fault. I blame television.
     
    On Monday, I had a plan to go to San Jose to get Hot Wings from my favorite place, Smoke Eaters.
     
    I would like to take this time to admit to a problem...nay an addiction that I have been struggling with for ten years. The taste of a really spicy Hot Wing sauce is like nectar of the gods to me. This is a straight up addiction no fly by night flirtation. So much so am I addicted to this sauce, I could probably mainline the sauce on a daily basis. I even go as far as to dip my finger in the sauce and lick it off while I drink beer. I guess I love the way it burns my mouth and lips. Though I must admit, the next day, while doing certain daily activities it burns like I'm stuck inside the seventh level of hell.
     
    So I had this idea to go to San Jose and get Hot Wings from Smoke Eaters and then go back home with a case of beer and maybe a new video game and veg out in front of my big screen high definition TV. So on the way, I stop off at the local GameStop to see if there is a new game that might stir my interest. And boy, did I find more than I bargained for...
     
    Splinter Cell, the latest one, I was very interested in purchasing so I sauntered up to the counter to this delicious geek that was standing there in all his nerdy glory and asked if this game was satisfying. Apparently, he loved the game because he started talking a mile and minute, his hands wavering in weird motions and he was practically bouncing off the walls.
     
    He was a typical looking geek, long hair, scruffy beard that couldn't grow in all the way, dressed like a fashion reject from a bad eighties movie with a Spiderman T-Shirt that was two sizes too small for his lanky frame. I'll say it, sex on wheels.
     
    It's four o-clock in the afternoon, I'm on vacation, and I'm randy as goat. While he's going on and on about this game, I couldn't help but to laugh. I say, "You seem pretty excited about this game."
     
    "I am."
     
    "I usually don't get this excited outside of sex, how about you?" I say/asked, flashing him my most seductive smile.
     
    For a moment, he looks at me, then he smiles shyly and looks around before saying, "I get even more excited about sex."
     
    "What time do you get off?"
     
    "Five o-clock."
     
    "Fancy an after work blow job?" I ask bluntly. After all, I only have five days and I don't have time to beat around the bush. Plus I really wanted to eat my Hot Wings from my favorite place in San Jose and drink some beer.
     
    It was so cute, he looked down at his feet and turned his head, not bothering to look me in the eye. He mumbles, "I'm not gay."
     
    "It's okay, my mouth is gay enough for the both of us."
     
    Geek always taste better when it's straight geek.
     
    On Tuesday, I had to do laundry and wanted to give the apartment a good cleaning over. Wolfie had been on my ass lately about the streaks and dust on the TV so for a few hours, I lost myself in the mundane chores of keeping house. About seven o-clock, I worked up a mighty thirst so I showered quickly and headed off to the bar to find myself a dumpster.
     
    Figuring I would make this vacation's theme, Straight Week, I decided to only try and seduce straight boys.
     
    For the last few weeks, there is this little hottie straightie that hangs out at my local neighborhood straight bar, and we have been giving each other the eye. Or to be truthful, I have been giving him the eye and he's been giving me the eye when he thinks I'm not looking. That night I decide that I'm not just going to look from afar, I decide that he's going to be my dumpster for the night.
     
    Turns out his name is Brad and he wasn't completely straight. He goes to some college, he's getting his undergrad in some subject. I know, when he was talking I really was paying attention.
     
    As he sat on the stool beside me, I couldn't help but notice his bulge, it was so enticing and mysterious. He's okay looking, probably about a "5" with no visible spots. I buy him a drink, make some dirty chit and some flirtatious chat before I say let's go back to my place.
     
    "I don't need anything else to drink."
     
    "Me neither." I say, rubbing my hand across his prominent bulge.
     
    Undergrad students who try to be straight tastes better than your average gay undergrad. Must be something about their pheromones.
     
    Sometime last week, I was riding on the train on my way to work when I noticed this young couple sitting a few seats away from me. I would guess they were around sixteen or seventeen and they were making out pretty heavily like only kids can do in public. The girl was cute, curvy and had red hair. The boy was your typical EMO, dressed in black and wearing skinny jeans that couldn't be any tighter unless he just painted them on. But what stood out about this couple, after fifteen minutes of heavy petting, the boy was in a very aroused state. You have to love skinny jeans.
     
    The boy looked to be embarrassed about his predicament, trying to place his arm in his lap, his hands, anything so as his erection wouldn't be seen by either the passengers or even his make out partner. I believe the girl was oblivious as to his state and as I watched this for a few minutes, I couldn't help but to laugh. Here was this boy trying hard to hide his cock and yet he still wanted to make out with his girlfriend who's hands had started to roam about his body.
     
    As my stop was approaching, I folded up the paper I had been reading and as I walked past them to exit the train, I dropped the paper in his lap and smiled at him. He quickly placed it in the proper place and gave me a look that said he was more than grateful for my act of generosity. I walked off the train feeling like I had done my good deed for the month.
     
    On the way home, the very same day, I watched two people f**king on the train. It was surreal, I was on one end of the train car and they were on the other end. They saw me but they didn't care that I was watching. She was sitting on his lap and from the moans they were making, they were having a ball. So I did what any person would do in my situation, I took a picture. So much for my belief in Karma. Whatever good I did with the boy by giving him a paper, it didn't come back to me in the least.
     
    The topper to this little tale, she suddenly jumped off his lap and then her head disappeared and the guy almost screamed out in ecstasy. So I started clapping. They didn't even have the shame to look embarrassed. I guess I lost my Bay Area Rapid Transit cherry.
  22. Jason Rimbaud
    I was in a bar earlier tonight and this black guy I have never met before comes over and says, I quote, "For a white boy, you have mad flavor."
     
    I'm not really sure what "mad flavor" is, but I gots it.
     
    So why would this stranger come over and say things I don't really understand? I guess I should start at the beginning. Well, not that far back, I don't think even my loyal reader would stick around to read this Blog Entry if I started at the beginning. So lets start from a beginning.
     
    I got pulled over the other night on the , way home from work. Apparently my left brake light was shorted out and where its not really illegal it does give the police a good reason to pull someone over at one AM in the morning so they can check and see if that someone has been drinking before getting behind the wheel of their little car. Doesn't that make you all warm and fuzzy bunny slippers?
     
    And unfortunately for me, I reeked of booze.
     
    And before you go all high moral road on me...I was not drinking. Matter of fact I hadn't had a drink in over a week at the time of this incident. Though if I were to be in this situation as I type this, I would be hammered. But the good news, I'm not driving a car right now. And even better news, I probably couldn't find my car right now.
     
    The pig...err...I mean police officer says, "Do you know why I stopped you?"
     
    "Not really."
     
    "Your left brake light is out." Then he leans in closer to my open window and says, "Have you been drinking?"
     
    "No."
     
    The bully in blue uniform goes, "License and registration please."
     
    This is the part of the story where I tell both of my readers (I know...I'm gaining readership) that as of this moment, I currently have an expired drivers license.
     
    Don't look at me like that, it's not that I did it on purpose. I'm no criminal.
     
    It's not like I get carded anymore, so I haven't looked at my license since I got the damn thing five years ago. So I have been driving illegally since my birthday back in January. I'm such a rebel. *insert devil horn hands*
     
    After taking a look at my expired driver's license, and the kick-ass picture, the donut eating machine says, "Can you step out of the car please?"
     
    We had a really busy day at work, so busy that I had to jump behind the bar, in a suit I might add, and help the bartender sling drinks for two hours. And do you know how hard it is to sling drinks wearing a suit and tie? Pretty f**king hard, matter of fact, so hard that I ended up spilling a few drinks all over myself.
     
    Cut back to the car at one AM, not only does this pig think I'm drinking and driving, he thinks I'm a dick with no respect for the law. There goes that warm and fuzzy bunny slippers feeling.
     
    I step out of the car, quite gingerly I might add. Work has been crazy busy and I'm not as young as I once was, my feet hurt, I think I tore a back muscle hefting around a keg of beer, so stepping out of the car isn't really true. I hauled myself out of the car, a bit unsteady on my feet. Sadly this didn't help me look stone cold sober either. "I swear, I haven't been drinking."
     
    Again the officer looked into my eyes and said, "I don't believe you. You smell like you've been drinking and you don't look that steady on your feet."
     
    I am a smart ass, but even I know when to keep my big fat mouth shut. So instead of saying, 'well you're eyes look glazed does that mean you've been eating donuts' I simply let the thought die inside my head.
     
    While I'm on the subject, why does every single police officer in the world have the same haircut? It's always shaved close on the side of the head and then on top they have this really bad crew cut. Seriously, next time you seen a cop, look at the haircut, they all match.
     
    So the patrolman sends me on a series of stupid tests designed to do nothing or tell nothing either than make your heart pump harder so any alcohol that's in your stomach reaches your bloodstream faster to give the cops a higher blood alcohol content reading. I had to walk a straight line, which is very difficult when your feet have swelled up the size of melons. I had stand on one leg and count to twenty with my head tilted back, touch my nose without looking, and my personal favorite, saying the alphabet back wards.
     
    Which ironically, I have absolutely no problem doing right now drunk as hell.
     
    After about twenty minutes of this useless shit, the dick head says he has reasonable doubt that I am indeed under the influence and demands that I take a Breathalyzer test.
     
    In the meantime, while the first cop was frowning at me for my blatant disregard of the law, two more police officers show up. I'm on the side of the road, about two blocks from my house, and three cops are gathered around, all who frown when cop number one says I am driving without a license and my brake light is broken. From the look on their collective faces, I am scum. Matter of fact I am wondering when one of those crazy S.O.B.'s is going to pop a cap in my ass.
     
    You have seen the footage about that BART cop last New Year's Eve who had that black guy on the ground, three of them holding him down, and the BART cop pulls his gun and shoots him in the back. That happened not that far away from where I live in the Bay Area. Check the footage on Tube if you haven't seen it yet.
     
    I can almost feel the pleasure oozing out of the cops, they think without a doubt that I am drunk, and I'm only a Breathalyzer test away from them making a shit ton of money and probably a bonus for busting a DUI.
     
    Did you know that? Police departments have a running contest each month, where the police officer with the most DUI's get a cash bonus. And you wonder why real crime is rampant in the world? The cops are all staking out bars trying to bust little Suzy who had one shot of Yagermister and two warm draft Coors Light instead of stopping violent crime like rapists and murders. You go Barney Fife.
     
    So they give me this little tube and I blow into it. And much like I knew it would, the results show I have zero blood alcohol content. The cop looks at the machine, and then back at me, and says, "There must be a malfunction."
     
    He takes me to another police cruiser and a different machine where I repeat my blowing. I wonder if I had been drinking, and failed the machine blowing thing, I wonder if they would allow me to go to another cruiser and blow again.
     
    Anyway, the results said again, ZERO. And now they aren't happy at all. It's now after two thirty AM, catching another drunk driver is all but impossible since all the bars are now closed and everyone is safely home. All the police gather around the machine and finally admit that not only have I not been drinking but I am completely sober.
     
    And do you know what, they don't apologize for wasting my time. The cop looks at me and says, "I could make it that you lose your license for a year, enough time has passed. How would you like that? Driving is not a right, it is a privilege for those Americans that follow the rules."
     
    I really didn't know what to say to that. This cop is so mad at me that I'm not drunk, something he should be happy that I don't drink and drive, but he's in my face, his face is red and his veins are sticking out. For a moment I think I'm in the twilight zone or something. Why is he so mad at me?
     
    I wanted to scream back at him, but I didn't, because I'm intelligent. So instead, I stand there, not saying anything unless he asks me a direct question, while he writes me up a ticket for an expired drivers license and another warning fix-it ticket for my brake light, and a warning that the next time he seems me on the road, I better have a current driver's license.
     
    So what did we learn...
     
    That cops get really mad if you smell like alcohol but haven't really been drinking and that I can't pass a sobriety test while completely sober. And apparently, I'm so gay that I can't change a brake light on my car without cutting my hand and ripping out the carpet lining in my truck.
     
    Thank god for my neighbor who had pity on me and changed the light for me. So I bought him a beer at the local bar and proceeded to get so drunk, and tell my story to anyone who wanted to listen.
     
    And while at the bar, after another telling of this story which started to get more and more blown out of context, this black guy comes over and give me a hug, and says, "For a white boy, you have mad flavor."
  23. Jason Rimbaud
    I guess I'm in love with my I-Phone. With all the applications you can get for it, I'm surprised it's not listed as one of the worlds greatest something or other. Though now that I think about it, the I-Phone should come with an ugly people spotting application for those of us that take a drink from time to time. It sure would've come in handy last night. I'm not saying he was a two but he was definitely a two. *shudders*
     
    I was accused of not making sense the other day...but when I'm this dead sexy I don't have to make sense.
     
    There is a server, let's call him Daniel, who is not that good of a server but the guests really like him. And after screwing up again the other night, I look over at the bartender and say, "He's lucky he's hot because his intelligence isn't going to take him anywhere."
     
    Why isn't Florida called God's Waiting Room?
     
    Ever since I got off the drugs, I'm finding it harder and harder to remain slim. I know, the drugs were killing me and my behavior was erratic at best. But at least I was thin. So what if I was bald, at least I was thin. Now, I'm still bald and at what my friends call a healthy weight...which is code for fat ass. And to make matters worse, the hair that I'm losing on top of my head is now showing up in the craziest places.
     
    Why would your ears need hair? For that matter why would your back, blissfully hair free for thirty-three years suddenly sprout what I can only call a bush? And before you all freak out, I do a bit of manscaping to keep the Sasquatch on my back under control. But it's all a bother really.
     
    And yet instead of going to the gym, I'm sitting here typing this drivel while drinking a beer after I just ate half a pizza. Maybe I deserve this person staring back at me in the mirror.
     
    I guess I really don't want to be perfect anymore. But damn-it all, I am quite happy. Maybe that's all I really need.
     
    Jason
  24. Jason Rimbaud
    I've been a member here for years. I'm pretty sure I could go and find out just how long it was but then I'm way to lazy for that. And just like my horrible grammer skills, I'd rather you'd do all the hard work and I'll stay floundering in ignorance.
     
    So what should I talk about in this first Blog Entry.
     
    It's not like I'm a stranger to Bloging. I have a Blog over at Awesome Dude that has been going on for days and some say it's entertaining. But then I don't trust people who say that...I've read that Blog and it sucked. If I wouldn't have written that shite, I never would have continued to read that drivel.
     
    And on a completely side note, what the hell is going on with LOST this season?
     
    Six days ago, I paid out almost forty dollars to watch Shutter Island. $10.75 for one ticket? Really? Six dollars for a large soda (I'm in the business, restaurant business that is, and I know just how much a cup of soda actaully costs, and let me tell you, it's about twenty-five cents per twenty ounce cup, on the outside chance that the cup they put it inside costs one dollar, I'm thinking that's way too much mark up.) not including the other tasty treats "he" had to have. Bing bam bong I'm out $39.75...and I didn't get any afterwards. But I'm not bitter.
     
    This old crack head came into my restaurant the other day and asked for matches. Now I live in California, a place that is unbearabley smoke free ( I love to smoke and I'm smoking right now) and no where can you find matches anymore...they aren't illegal but it wouldn't take much more than a squint to make them so.
     
    Crack-head says, "Yo man, give me some of that there matches."
     
    Server replies, "I'm sorry, we don't have any matches."
     
    Crack-head exclaims, "Then how do you light all these freaking candles?"
     
    Server says, "We light a stick on fire from the stove."
     
    And then the server walks away and goes about her business.
     
    Now I saw the server go over and talk to said Crack-head. I have no idea what the server said but once she walks away, I figure Crack-head would go back to whatever rock it lives under.
     
    But no, that is not what happens at all. I notice after a few minutes that Crack-head is still over in the corner, waiting for something to happen. So finally I walk over and say, "What's going on?"
     
    Crack-head says, "I'm waiting on my stick."
     
    I say, "No one is bringing you a stick. I think it's time for you to leave."
     
    There was this cute, younger guy making eyes at me on the B.A.R.T. train the other day. I was having one of those good days, I was comfortable with what I was wearing that day. My hair (should I say lack of hair)was okay. I felt good. And this cute guy was hot.
     
    So after a few stops, I finally go over and say, "Hi, my name is Jason."
     
    This cute guy takes a look at me, one of those looks that start at the head and goes down to the toes and then back up to the head, and says, "Creepy."
     
    When did I go from hot and sexy to creepy?
     
    Not that long ago, if this would've happened, I would've gotten into his pants. But not so much anymore.
     
    When the hell did I get old?
     
    Have I really turned into that old creepy guy that tries to pick up young hot men on the subway? Was there a vote? A mass email that went out and everyone got except me? Old age is no respecter of persons I guess.
     
    Lucky for me, when I was young and hot, I threw out enough pity f**ks to old creepy guys I should have a few coming my way.
     
    Oh well, maybe I need to retire the club days and accept the fact that in gay terms, I am so over the hill I might as well start paying for sex.
     
    So that's it, Blog number one at Gay Author's...it seems to be starting out much like the one over at Awesome Dude. At least I'm batting a thousand.
     
    Jason
  25. Jason Rimbaud
    Is The Christian God Of The Bible Moral?
    Part Three: The Danger of Morality From A Book
    An InDepth Look At Morality From An Atheist Perspective
    Written By: Jason Rimbaud
    Would you kill 70,000 soldiers with one push of a button to save 1,000,000 soldiers?
    With a single push of a button, 70,000 soldiers die, burned out of existence as if they were never there. And you were personally responsible for every single one of them perishing. But the caveat is, you would also be responsible for over 1,000,000 soldiers saved. What would you do if you were faced with this seemingly impossible choice? 
    Maybe the pendulum of your moral compass swings closer to “not sure I want to kill anyone but to save more lives”. 
    Would you kill 70,000 civilians with one push of a button to save 1,000,000 soldiers? 
    Maybe your moral compass swings back to the center and then towards “I don’t think that is a fair choice at all”. 
    Would you kill 70,000 civilians with one push of a button to save 1,000,000 lives, lives on both sides, soldiers and civilians? 
    Are the choices getting easier or harder? 
    This isn’t a hypothetical question either. With a single push of a button, men, women, children, grandparents, animals, birds, fish, insects, gone in a blink of an eye. And many in the world saw it as completely justified because it saved so many lives.
    To the loved ones that survived, who witnessed first hand the devastation that was the result of a single push of a button, it was an act of cowardice, of hubris, of war crimes. And then when those same loved ones started dying slowly, painfully over the next year from radiation poisoning and other health related issues that accompanied the dropping of an atomic bomb on Hiroshima, Japan, that initial 70,000 turned into 210,000, dead. Would you press a button to be the author of all that death? Could you live with yourself knowing that you killed more people in an instant then had ever died before? 
    I was talking to a friend of mine about this series and we somehow ended up at this point in time during World War II. It really doesn’t surprise me, it is one of our favorite topics to discuss/debate/argue. And at one point of the conversation, he mentioned that World War II was a war as much about racism as it was about land expansion. And it got me thinking along those lines and I started to see some parallels between World War II and the question is god moral. 
    Hitler was a christian and had a deep seated hatred for the Jews. Hitler idolized Carl Lueger and once said he was the greatest German mayor of all time. Lueger was overtly anti semitic and Hitler learned about the Jews and how they were an aberration of christianity and needed to be removed from the earth.  
    In context, Jews had been persecuted throughout Europe long before Hitler came into power. Largely due to the fact that Europe was predominantly christian and the Jews killed christ. This was a deep seated hatred going all the way back to biblical days. Many christians thought that ideology even if they did not go to the extremes Hitler did. 
    Because as early as 1941, the Allies were getting reports of the treatment of the Jews. They either did not believe just how bad it really was or couldn’t envision the scope that was inflicted on this particular race. It wasn’t until late 1944 when some of these camps were liberated and then in 1945 when all of them were liberated did we learn the awful truth about the horrors the Germans did on the Jews. And this was all based on religious principles and when those principles go unchecked, one could do a lot of damage in god’s name. 
    For those holocaust deniers, claiming the number is way too high, missed the point completely. The fact that any amount of Jew’s were killed simply because they were Jews, German Jews, or any other type, is gross enough. Simply put, human beings were killed because they did not fit the mold of the christian ideology of the day. Religion can make good people, the Germans, do some pretty bad things. 
    In a good portion of the propaganda that came out about the war in Europe, a lot was said how we must defeat Hitler. We weren’t saying we had to defeat Germany, we put Hitler on the pedestal and said if we can knock him off, the rest of Germany would go back to normal. America really never hated the German people. 
    In December of 1937, the Japanese were ready to launch probably the worst single attack on a city in either World War II. I’m not saying what we are about to discuss overshadows what the Germans did to the Jews. But in a single city, in six weeks time, the Japanese were definitely going to throw their proverbial hat in the ring to give the German’s a run for the title of douchiest act in modern history. 
    Japan harbored deep resentment of Western influence in Asia. With UK, American, and Russian colonies in Asia, Japan felt that Asia should be run by Asians. Of course, the Japanese believed they should be the ones in charge. The slogan Asia for Asians should have been a rallying cry for all Asians, but the Japanese would prove to be worse than any western occupier, a lot worse. 
    The Japanese could have accomplished what they truly wanted was Asia free from Western influence if they would have treated other Asians as equals. Fortunately for the world, they did not treat them as good as dogs. 
    The Samurai lived by a code called Bushido, the way of the warrior. But in the early 1900’s that code of honor and morals was perverted by a new Bushido code, honor above surrender, it is better to be a corpse than a prisoner. There are reports of Japanese soldiers being captured and begging to be allowed to commit suicide rather than to live with the shame of being captured. This was the mentality of the entire population. Well it was after the Emperor watched all his advisors who argued for coexistence with the West be murdered by the warmongers of the Imperial Army. 
    The Japanese people used this perverted Bushido code, their belief that the Emperor was one step removed from divinity, and their steadfast belief they were the rightful rulers of all Asia to move into China and teach those Communist loving “brothers” what it meant to be a true Asian.
    In 1937, after what could only be described as a terror campaign, the Japanese marched across China murdering entire villages and killing any Chinese prisoners they captured. By the time they reached the city of Nanking, the army was tired, a bit hungry, and pissed off about their brothers in arms that had died thus far into the campaign and then fought for several days in intense fighting as the defenders tried to fight them off. 
    Once the Chinese soldiers withdrew, but not before they ordered the citizens to resist until the last man, Japanese flooded into the town where they went on a six week rampage, burning down almost the entire town, killing anyone they deemed to be Chinese soldiers enmasse, and a lot of civilian males thought to be soldiers who had taken off their uniforms to escape the carnage, and raping over 20,000 women, little girls, elderly women, and even infants in some cases. Once the soldiers were done raping the woman, they usually killed them. Sevearl reports say that many women after being gangraped so violently actually died. Those soldiers fucked someone literally to death. 
    And the leaders of the Army, who failed to prevent and refused to do anything to try to stop it,  would later be charged with war crimes and put to death, but the head guy, Prince Asaka, was pardoned due to his connections to the royal family. Other military leaders responsible were never tried as they committed ritualized suicide.
    Some reports that once the carnage was over, over 200,000 Chinese citizens were dead, and anywhere from 20,000 to 80,000 women were raped. This is disputed today by Japanese historians who claim it wasn’t near as bad as the propaganda claimed while still acknowledging the mistakes Japan made during the war. 
    But Tillman Durdin, a long time foreign correspondent for the New York Times witnessed first hand the atrocities committed by the Japanese in Nanking. Even as he fled the capital, Durdin witnessed some 200 Chinese soldiers being executed en masse by Japanese troops. 
    The culture, fueled by the fascists Generals and Admirals, created a religion around the Emperor and the perverted Bushido code. The Emperor was not considered to be a supernatural being but rather a descendent of the gods, giving him quasi divinity. The populace of Japan had been so brainwashed into this new religion, they would happily die for the Emperor and for the honor of Japan. The danger of giving up oneself to an idea, the acceptance to deviate from the acceptable moral code of the day, results in an entire people losing their mind. 
    The Germans fueled their hatred and racism through the prism of christianity while the Japanese used their hatred and racism through the prism of ancestors, honor, and the Emperor. Two different approaches to religion yet both groups did almost the exact same thing. 
    By the time Japan attacked the United States at Pearl Harbor on December 7th, 1941, their Armed Forces had been fighting the Chinese for almost ten years, ran into the Russians a few times, and had vastly superior tactics, weapons of war, and some of the best pilots in the war. 
    In China, they would train new recruits how to bayonet enemy soldiers by using Chinese prisoners as dummies. They would take pictures of themselves beheading prisoners with their Samurai swords, they would literally murdered thousands of Chinese soldiers rather than take them prisoner. They were fierce fighters who refused to surrender, and believed it was better to die than to be captured. 
    I know I am over-simplifying the Japanese culture but that was what the Allied forces were facing in the Pacific. 
    So when Colonel Paul Tibbets Jr took off in a B-29 bomber he named Enola Gay, after his mother, and headed towards mainland Japan in the early morning hours of August 6th, 1945, he was faced with the dilemma that started this whole third part. 
    And in that point of history, no one had ever dropped an atomic bomb on any living target, much less a civilian target. So Tibbets received that distinction at 8:16am when he reported back that Little Boy was away. At 8:16, kids would be going off to school, fathers would be heading into work, mothers would be doing the breakfast dishes, dog would be doing what they do, shitting in the yard, it was almost as if they wanted to do maximum damage. In the first moment, in the initial blast, 70,000 lives were eradicated. In the first four days, another 50,000 would die either from radiation sickness, or injuries they received during the blast or the panic that ensued right after, or the fires that consumed the city. 
    Three days later, Major Thomas Sweeney would drop another bomb, this time on Nagasaki. Another 100,000 dead. But unlike Tibbets, Sweeney had read the reports of the devastation at Hiroshima, he read the reports about the radiation poisoning, he knew full well the destruction he was about to inflict on another civilian target. He understood the direct ramifications for the innocent lives that were on the wrong side of the bomb before he pushed the button. That takes a different kind of person to have that responsibility and still complete his mission.
    Tibbets and Sweeney had heard about the rape of Nanking. They heard from Marines that the Japanese would rather die than surrender. They heard from the Navy Captains that Japanese pilots would load their planes up with explosives then dive bomb onto the deck of ships. The medics told them about wounded Japanese soldiers, rigged with explosives, who would cry out for help and when the Allied medic approached, the soldier would blow both of them up. They saw the photos Japanese soldiers had taken of themselves beheading Allied soldiers. Death before dishonor right, how do you fight against that type of soldier?
    In one of the bloodiest battles in the Pacific, on a small little island with no real strategic value for either the Japanese or the Allies, Peleliu, over 10,000 Japanese troops died because they employed a tactic called delay and bleed. Inflict so much damage on the enemy they just give up the will to fight. On Peleliu, only 202 prisoners were captured, out of that, only 19 were soldiers. The entire garrison died defending an island that wasn’t worth the blood they poured into it. 
    Tibbets and Sweeney understood the type of war the Japanese were waging. Make the cost of conquering them so high the Allies would just call a truce and they would be able to keep all the land they took in the initial phase of the war. 
    Tibbets and Sweeney, armed with all this knowledge, also knew the staggering amount of Allied life it would cost if they were to invade mainland Japan. Over 100,000 Allied troops dead in the Pacific, 240,000 wounded, 20,000 prisoners captured, and they knew what the Japanese did to prisoners so you could add that to the total of dead. Maybe 210,000 dead wasn’t that high a price when you look at the alternative. 
    Then you have those like Admiral Nimitz, who believed the Japanese were already on their knees due to the naval blockade and conventional bombing they were already doing. By no means a supporter of the atomic, admitted the bomb hastened the end of the war but it was no means the “reason” they surrendered. 
    It is believed by many historians that Russia entering the Pacific theater, now that Germany had surrendered in May 1945, was the real catalyst for ending the war. The Russia the Japanese faced and defeated a few times in 1940 and 1941, was not the Russia they faced in 1945. The Russians basically ran over the Japanese army with not much difficulty. Before the bomb was dropped, Japan had already sued for peace but walked away from the negotiating table because they did not get what they wanted yet. 
    The dropping of Fat Man and Little Boy left a scar on the nations of the world. Many called it immoral, some wanted to prosecute us for war crimes because we didn't drop it on military targets, others thought it was just too horrible a weapon to ever use again. Many involved with either the inventing, construction, planning, or dropping the bomb, regretted their part in developing the atomic bomb. 
    For Tibbets, he would go to his grave calling the very idea he did something immoral as “hogwash” and claimed to never have regretted it for a single moment as he believed it saved countless lives. 
    In 1995, Sweeney, when asked in an interview if he regretted dropping the bomb, “If you saw what they did to our people, you would never ask that question. He would also say that Truman was right in dropping the bomb. 
    In his memoir, Wars End: An Eyewitness Account of America’s Last Atomic Mission, Sweeney would recalled visiting the town of Nagasaki a few days after the surrender with Tibbets, he wrote, “I took no pride or pleasure then, nor do I take any now, in the brutality of war, whether suffered by my people or those of another nation. Every life is precious. But I felt no remorse or guilt that I had bombed the city where I stood. The true vessel of remorse and guilt belonged to the Japanese nation, which could and should call to account the warlords who so willingly offered up their own people to achieve their visions of greatness.”
    What can you say to that? 
    Remember the propaganda was all about how we had to stop Hitler? The propaganda regarding the Japanese was a bit different. We didn’t attack their Emperor Hirohido, or the Admiralty, we attacked their entire race. We called them monkeys, or sub-human, vicious, murderers who had to be stopped at all cost. We portrayed them as sneaky, with slanted eyes and big teeth. We called them “japs”, “nips”, “yellow man”, “monkeys”, “slants”, “gooks, we hated the entire Japanese culture and wanted to destroy them for what they had done during the war. We didn’t single out one instead we hated as a group. 
    Remember that bombing raid we did with Tibbets? One of the worst propaganda films I have ever seen stars Cary Grant called Destination Tokyo. It’s a fictionalized version of a submarine Captain (Grant), who sneaks an observer on mainland Japan to gather intelligence for military targets for the first American air raid on Japan after Pearl Harbor. It is so hard to watch due to the language on how they portray the Japanese. And to see Cary Grant called them “nips” and the way he describes them as basically being subhuman with no decency. 
    The hatred for the Japanese was so strong, we rounded up about 120,000 Japanese immigrants from the West Coast, 70,000 of whom were American citizens and put them in what we called relocation camps. They were overcrowded, surrounded by barbed wire, and were not allowed to leave under force of armed guards. All of those people lost all their rights, their businesses, money, property, houses, and they had no legal right to appeal. It wasn’t until 1945 when the Supreme Court ruled the camps to be disbanded. It wasn’t until 1988 that any attempt at apology or reparations were offered to those we punished for being Japanese.
    This was the cultural environment Tibbets and Sweeney were thrust into when they had to drop the bomb. Neither man would know just how right they were in dropping the bomb. Over 2,000,000 Japanese citizens had already died by August 1945 largely because they believed they would lose honor by surrendering. Not having to invade Japan did save millions of lives, because they would not have surrendered and would have made the Allies pay for every inch they took. Just like they did on that worthless Island in the Pacific. 
    Where is your pendulum leaning towards now? 
    And for anyone that questions how do we know they wouldn’t have surrendered, because the second to last Japanese soldier still fighting World War II, Lieutenant Hiroo Onoda, didn’t surrender until 1974. A full twenty-nine years after the cease fire was ordered by the Emperor. He had been waging his own personal war in the Philippine Island where he had racked up a kill count of 50 dead and over a 100 wounded. 
    When he was told the war had been over, shown Japanese papers, he believed it to be a lie by the Allied. Because if Japan had lost, there shouldn’t have been a Japanese paper because he grew up in the culture that they would fight until the very last Japanese died. It wasn’t until they had to fly Onoda’s commanding officer, the one that sent him there and instructed him to never surrender, over to convince the man the war was really over before the man surrendered to authorities. And he wasn’t the last, just the most famous because he wrote a book. 
    In 1944, on the Island of Saipan, Allied troops witnessed a banzai charge where nearly 4,000 Japanese soldiers charged their lines and fought to the death. They were following the last orders of their commander, Lieutenant General Yoshisugu Saito, who have called for this all out surprise attack in the honor of the Emperor before commiting ritual suicide. Allied troops also witnessed a different atrocity when they saw women grabbing children and jumping from cliffs rather than submitting to capture. 
    Okinawa was particularly hellish because nearly one-third of the population died. Ota Masahide, a survivor and Okinawa historian, wrote in an article for the Asia-Pacific Journal in 2014, “that the military distributed hand-grenades to the civilian population as a means to commit suicide with loved ones. Those that survived the grenades worried about being alive and found other ways to kill themselves with other weapons such as scythes, razor blades, ropes, rocks, and sticks. Military propaganda had warned the civilian population that if they were captured the Americans would torture, rape, and murder them.”
    “As the mayhem unfolded, they found all sorts of ways to kill…Men bashed their wives and parents bashed their children, young people killed the elderly and the strong killed the weak. What they felt in common was the belief that they were doing this out of love and compassion.”
    Another survivor Kinjo Shigeaki, who took 20 years before he spoke about his experience, identified three factors that created this mentality, “The ideology of obedience to the Emperor, the presence of the Imperial Japanese Army, and being on an island with no way to escape.” 
    “Back in those days, 100 million Japanese citizens were supposedly being prepared to fight to the very last man, everyone was prepared for death. The doctrine of total obedience to the Emperor emphasized death and made light of life. The willingness to die for the Emperor on a faraway island resulted in a whole new sense of identity.”
    This is a perfect example of what happens when anyone blindly follows along with a moral code that might actually go against your better judgement. When 100 million people is willing to die for “their god”, and will happily do anything that “god” tells them to do, even if its against their own self interest, you have things like the raping of Nanking, the murder of millions of Jews, the bombing of a civilian city with an atomic bomb. 
    Right after the call for surrender went out to the Japanese, as many as 5,000 Japanese soldiers refused the order. Many of them died of starvation due to lack of supplies. But they would rather die than ever face dishonor. This was the world Tibbets and Sweeney inhabited when they dropped the bomb. 
    How does any of this pertain to the topic I proposed? It’s an example how blind faith and strict adherence to anything can result in dire consequences for all involved. Because the question I posed might be answered in many different ways depending on who you ask. For many, that answer can only be a resounding yes. 
    After all, god sent his only son, jesus, down to live among us, teach us, show us how to live a proper moral life. Then that son was put to death on a cross, to abolish all the sins of everyone who had lived up to that point, and for everyone who would ever live after that. On the surface, that does sound like a moral god. 
    But when you actually take the time to read the bible, that sentiment falls apart rather quickly. Because in Genesis 1:31 God saw all that he had made, and it was very good. And there was evening, and there was morning, the sixth day.
    Let’s not worry about the creation myth. Let’s focus on the part where god made everything in the universe and saw that it was very good. Considering what happens next, I believe god’s definition of very good differs greatly from mine. Because his very good creation, the one he made in his very own image, has some chit and some chat with a serpent and eats from the one tree god had forbidden them to eat from, the tree of knowledge of good and evil. 
    So Eve eats from the tree, gives some to Adam, then suddenly, in Genesis 3:22 And the LORD God said, The man has now become like one of us, knowing good and evil. He must not be allowed to reach out his hand and take also from the tree of life and eat, and live forever.
    I’ve read that passage maybe a hundred times in my life. And it wasn’t until right now, at this seventh re-write, that I realized god said, man has become like one of us. If there is only one god, who is the us he is referring to? Maybe the trinity and he was speaking to his other parts? Or maybe it was Yahweh’s wife, Asherah? Or maybe this part was written before the Hebrews fully switched to monotheism. 
    Anyway, god finds out they ate from the tree because when he’s walking amongst the garden one day, Adam and Eve are embarrassed to come out of the bushes because they were naked. So they covered their dirty bits with leaves. Apparently having knowledge of good and evil means that you have the understanding that being naked is wrong…somehow.
    Did that mean that god walked around naked? I wonder if he was cut or uncut? Probably uncut, he reminds me of a person that would just demand that his people lose 80% sensitivity in their cocks while he continued to enjoy the full sexual experience. He seems to be so obsessed with sex I can totally see this happening. Or maybe he was preparing for the future when his chosen people fucked so many animals he had to write two different laws about animal fucking. Maybe if they could enjoy the full experience, they’d never stop fucking those sheep. The bible doesn’t say but you know those sheepherders were some sheep fuckers too. 
    So his creation, the people he made in his own image, knew good from evil. What knowledge did they have before? Were they just blind idiots, mindless and did whatever god told them to do? Because he saw they were good until they knew right from wrong, then they were…bad? To put it another way, maybe they started thinking for themselves and we all know from reading the bible, god hates it when people start thinking for themselves. As Hulk once said, puny god.
    Genesis 3:16 To the woman he said, I will make your pains in childbearing very severe; with painful labor you will give birth to children. Your desire will be for your husband, and he will rule over you. 
    Every time men get involved with anything relating to women’s rights or bodily autonomy, they fuck it up. This is mansplaining away why women have pain when a ten pound human shoots out a girl’s hoo haa, ripping her from “V” to A”, not because some idiot creation from a rib of a boy seven thousand years ago ate a damn piece of fruit. 
    And if this was true, god’s a dick, punishing every woman who ever lived because one person made a mistake. That’s not a puny god, that’s a petty god, spiteful and childish. You broke my toy, so I’m going to break your toys and all your children’s toys for the rest of time. 
    This single verse is the beginning of the misogynistic trend women are relegated to by men throughout the entire bible. It starts right here with the christian god of the bible. And it gets worse. Don’t believe me, I’ll show you.
    The early christians, had an interesting view of the role women could occupy in the church. In 1 Corinthians 11:7 A man ought not to cover his head, since he is the image and glory of God; but woman is the glory of man
    8 For man did not come from woman, but woman from man;
    9 neither was man created for woman, but woman for man.
    So all you men, next time your wife starts giving you shit, point out this verse, she was created for you and you have every right to tell her to shut the fuck up! Don’t believe me, I’ll prove it.
    In 1 Timothy 2:11 A woman should learn in quietness and full submission
    12 I do not permit a woman to teach or to assume authority over a man; she must be quiet
    13 For Adam was formed first, then Eve
    14 And Adam was not the one deceived; it was the woman who was deceived and became the sinner
    15 But woman will be saved through childbearing—if they continue in faith, love and holiness with proprietary
    So even a thousand or so years later, god’s curse is still plaguing all those descendants of Eve. But luckily, all those deceived women can still be saved if they get knocked up and pop out another kid to brainwash into serving god. 
    I really could go on but then I’d run out of jokes. But just as your mom used to say, women should be seen and not heard. 
    On a side note, in my church when I was growing up, women still weren’t allowed to be over men in any capacity. And this was the reasoning all women should be subservient to men. The only “job” women could have, was teaching Sunday School, and leading the choir, playing instruments, but a man was always the worship leader. Facts.
    Genesis 3:17 To Adam he said, Because you listened to your wife and ate fruit from the tree about which I commanded you, you must not eat from it, cursed is the ground because of you; through painful toil you will eat food from it all the day of your life
    So Eve does something, god curses her and every woman that ever lived. Adam does the same exact thing, god curses the ground. I guess the big takeaway from the concept of original sin, men, never listen to your wives. 
    So god cursed everyone, the serpent, who forevermore had to crawl on its belly, Eve enjoyed bleeding once a month and ruining her “V” to “A”, and Adam became a farmer. 
    Think about it in the strictest of terms, that an all powerful god, all knowing god, who just created the entire universe in six fucking days, failed to see that Adam & Eve would end up eating from that damned tree. If he’s all knowing, he had to have known they would do that, and he still put the fucking tree in the garden to tempt them. He still made the serpent that led them to “sinning”. 
    And why does one need a tree that contains all knowledge of good and evil anyway? If god created everything, why the fuck did he create evil? Why didn’t he just forgive Adam and Eve? Or why didn’t he kill them and start from scratch? None of this is logical and only desert dwelling primitives, intellectually speaking, would ever think this was a good story with good outcomes. 
    And why is it wrong to understand the difference between right and wrong? My parents began teaching me right from wrong from the moment I could understand. So if christians today are always preaching about this right and that wrong, why is it okay now to know the difference between the two but not back then? 
    This is just like the story of The Tower Of Babel, when humans are given the knowledge to reason things for themselves, there is no longer a need for a god. And instinctively, the ancient authors of the bible understood that concept. It was the same during the dark ages, where only the priests could read the bible and the common man had to just accept whatever the men in the funny robes said every Sunday. And no one, not god, not the religions of the world, want anyone to think for themselves. That is why they start brainwashing you from birth, that kind of indoctrination is hard to break.  
    So there you have it, the origin story of humanity as laid out by the bible. God creates human, thought he done good, realized he fucked up, refused to admit his mistake, spends the next seven thousand years punishing his creation for rules he made up, rapes a virgin, sends his son to die in a blood magic ritual, offers a solution of forgiveness for everyone, but then offers up zero evidence for anyone to really believe he ever existed, promises he’ll torture anyone that doesn’t believe in him for all eternity, and then becomes the all time champion for hide-n-go-seek. 
    THE TEN COMMANDMENTS
    Most of us understand that morality is a very complex system of beliefs and there are numerous factors that go into what it means to be moral. But according to a lot of people in Congress, Senate, on local, state, and federal levels, we don’t have to look any further than the bible for the most important moral code the world has ever seen. Of course I’m talking about the Ten Commandments. 
    Not only do they claim that this list is the basis for all laws in America and possibly the entire world, this list is so important to our daily life that they are writing laws to force everyone to post this list in schools. So let’s break down the list shall we and see how it stands up. 
    Thou Shalt Have No Other God’s Before Me
    So assuming that about 600 million atheists exist around the world, this is less than important. But I have to admit, I don’t put any gods ahead of humans, period, full stop. But this commandment makes me laugh, because christians believe in only one god, so this is kind of pointless to be included. If there’s only one, you can’t really put one before the other. 
    And in keeping with the theme that all laws in America are based on this list, I can’t find a single law that says you can’t worship other gods. I did find something problematic that I’m sure those in Congress and the Senate are going to be trying desperately hard to correct over the next few years, but here in America, we have the right to worship any god we choose. 
    Thou shall not make unto thee any graven image
    So I really did a deep dive into this one, and the only place I could find that anyone had made a graven image of gold lately, was at the Republican National Committee when they made a gold statue of Trump. But since the Republicans are god’s party, and since the Evangelicals follow Trump like he is the Messiah, I’m sure that graven image was one god overlooked. Right?
    Also couldn’t find a law anywhere in America where it is unlawful to make a statue, graven or otherwise. Though we are tearing down statues left right and center in certain parts of the country and that has made a lot of Evangelicals pretty upset, so I’m all sorts of confused.
    Thou shalt not take the name of the LORD thy god in vain
    Had to do some research for this one. The very light, almost non-existent research, do not take god’s name uselessly, for example, oh for god’s sake. That’s bad, except it’s not, because god isn’t really a name it’s more of a title. Now if you said, oh for I AM THE I AM sakes, bad. Or you could utter, oh for Yahweh’s sake when you break a nail, that would be in vain. Otherwise, not a single law on the books says you can’t say oh for god’s sake for fucks sake. 
    Remember the Sabbath day to keep it holy
    Unless you are Orthodox Jew, working on Sabbat is just another fucking day one can watch football, drink too much, and eat hot wings. (I know Sabbat is on Saturday but the jokes work better for Sunday) Not really a good basis for a commandment. Nor would anyone in America, christian or otherwise, ever stop sports from being on Sunday much less make it illegal.  
    Because everyone in power understands what Roman Emperor’s knew all those thousands of years ago, keep the masses entertained, invested in imaginary contests, so they won’t pay attention to what those in power are actually doing. And yes, every one of you fuckers that support any sports team while our schools are underfunded, people are dying without health care, and drug addicts wander the streets like zombies are all fucking culpable in the decline of our country. Go Mets!
    Honor thy father and mother
    Clearly the writers of the bible never met my parents. Because neither of them deserved an ounce of honor. When I went to my fathers tombstone to let it know that I was happy and getting married to the most wonderful boy in the world, I never wished so hard that tombstones talked back. I guess I did show him honor, I didn’t dig his rotting carcass up and light it afire in the middle of the street just so I could piss on it to put out the flames. 
    As for my mother, she’s no picnic either, but that’s another story for another when. And no law says I have to honor my parents. 
    Thou shalt not kill
    Finally a commandment that we can all get behind. I guess the bible isn’t a complete waste of ink, paper, and ideas. Though if we were honest, we have moved past the simple don’t kill in the last four thousand years. We changed that little, tiny nugget into something that fits our current understanding of how the world works. We know there are different circumstances for unaliving someone. 
    We have at least six different types of murder, each one carrying its own burden of proof. There is a difference in one person setting out to cause harm to another person then say accidentally killing someone. We understand that so we alter the punishment to fit the seriousness of the crime. So even thou shalt not kill isn’t a law we use. 
    The Hebrews killed all the time. And when they did it, it was usually a fucking genocide and ordered by Yahweh. 
    Thou shalt not commit adultery 
    This is another one of those “laws” that Republicans break all the time. And while a few states still have anti-adultery laws on the books, those are rarely enforced as most modern thinkers believe that an adult has the right to do as they please. 
    Though more than likely, the reason adultery laws aren’t really enforced, because more men than women commit it. And while men love telling women what they can or can not do with their own bodies, they’ll never actively hinder themselves from getting a piece of ass. And abortion isn’t even in the bible, that’s just for Evangelicals to keep women as second class citizens. How dare those women have sex for the sheer pleasure and not how god intended for procreation only? Horny women are the worst, right? 
    Thou Shalt Not Steal
    Oh, so two out of eight thus far as actual laws and dare I say, a good one. Don’t steal other people’s shit. We all share the same space and should be doing everything to help one another out. 
    Unless you are a democrat, then you’ll be helping everyone out whether they want your help or not or even agree with your type of help. Or a Republican who wants you to live exactly like they want you too, otherwise you are persecuting them by being different.
    Thou Shalt Not Bear False Witness Against Your Neighbor
    Basically means you shouldn’t tell a lie. Probably a good way to live your life but not a law anywhere in the world as far as I know. Our entire justice system is built on whoever is the best liar probably wins. Both of our nominees this time around lied all the time, one more than the other, but both were fucking liars. Trump was just better at it than whatever her name was…see what I did there? 
    Plus, I lie to my neighbor all the time. Especially when they stop me in the hall and ask how I’m doing. I’m great but I have to go do a thing, see you later. All three of those statements are usually a lie but she never catches on and no one is hurt, except maybe god, but I don’t believe in him so we all live in harmony. 
    Thou Shalt Not Covet
    Definitely not a law. Matter of fact, I would say the success of America is based solely on the idea that we covet what others have. I do know that every influencer owes their success to people coveting them, so that’s another one that has no basis in laws. 
    So that’s it, our list of perfect morals that god felt everyone should live by, matter of fact, when you don’t live by them he kills you. Commit adultery, both the man and the woman should be put to death, make a graven image, death, kill, death, steal, death, god seems to be extremely serious about this list except for the one thou shalt not kill. 
    Out of the ten, the first five have no bearing on the modern human, 7, 9, 10 are probably a good way to live your life but not really moral or immoral. So we have “don’t kill”, and “don’t steal”, most of us really care about those two and the rest is just a bunch of gobbly gook.
    The Hebrews broke several of these commandments all the time, they made graven images, they worshiped other gods, they killed without remorse, they stole from those they killed, they committed adultery and got rewarded for it. 
    At the beginning of this part, I asked the question how two men who were responsible for more deaths in a morning than any other human in history lived their entire life without a single regret. Both men were devoutly religious and believed the Japanese were sub–human, less in god’s eyes, so whatever they did to them could not be wrong. They didn’t kill Germans like they killed the Japanese. They didn’t put Germans in camps, they wrongfully imprisoned Japanese Americans. Why? Because the Germans were white, christian based, and the Japanese basically worshiped a man. It’s easy to have no remorse in the murder of hundreds of thousands of people if you get your moral code from the bible where it was done all the time
    That is the single biggest problem I have with the bible, the christian religion, and what it has to say about morality. 
    It is all about us vs them, we are the chosen people and since you aren’t, you are a gentile and deserve whatever we do to you. The bible was the justification for slavery, matter of fact, they gave their slaves a special bible to keep them uneducated, the bible was the justification for the genocide of the indigenous people that lived in America before the whites. The “red man” didn’t even have a soul so the christians felt they didn’t have to keep their word, they could murder them, and none of it mattered because they believed in a different god. 
    We created most of the problems currently facing us in the Middle East because after World War II, we created the Nation of Israel because Jesus Christ could never come back to save us if there was no Israel. We remain a friend to Israel because they have to be a country if Christ is ever going to come back and punish all those fucking Islamists who believe in the wrong god. So we fight wars that don’t have anything to do with us, support Israel in almost anything they do, all in the name of the christian god of the bible. 
    So when I get messages from people claiming it's not fair for me to be so dismissive of the bible and how I should burn in hell for being blasphemes against god, it is that very line of thinking that has caused so much damage to the world. When your religion is too fragile to allow questioning or when its believers claim they are being persecuted for their beliefs in the freest country in the world, there is a fundamental flaw in your religion. 
    And since this nonsensical book gives you your worldview, and you frame your thinking in what would jesus do, and vote with your christian goggles on, based on what a bunch of tent dwelling shepherds who believed the world was created in seven days thought, then I have a big problem with the christian god of the bible. When your reasonless belief in this book affects me, minorities, immigrants, and whether or not there is a war on christmas, then I am going to push back and push back as hard as I can. 
    When does believing in a lie become immoral? 
    It’s an important question. Moral is defined: a person’s standards of behavior or beliefs concerning what is and is not acceptable for them to do
    If you are getting your morals, the way you affect others because you deem it unacceptable, then the place you got those morals is suspect. 
    I fail to see how any reasonable person could even believe in the christian god based on the history of their religion alone. But then most christians never read the book for themselves, or if they do, they read it from a place of acceptance that everything inside it is good, and true. So I will soldier on in this quest to discover if the god of the christian bible is at least moral. 
    I know I said Part Three was going to be on the Exodus, but as I researched it ballooned to over 14,000 words so I decided to break it up. So consider this as a bonus entry in the series as we continue our quest to find morality in the bible.
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