First Internet Home & Why It Wasn't Gay Authors

By Jason Rimbaud, April 5, 2025

Life In Glasses

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.
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Is The Christian God Of The Bible Moral? Part Four: The Exodus Hoax

By Jason Rimbaud, December 2, 2024

Article

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
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Is The Christian God Of The Bible Moral? Part Three: The Danger of Morality From A Book

By Jason Rimbaud, November 30, 2024

Article

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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Is The Christian God Of The Bible Moral: Part Two-The Origin of The Ancient Hebrew God

By Jason Rimbaud, November 11, 2024

Article

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.
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Is The Christian God Of The Bible Moral? Part One: How Do We Choose Which God

By Jason Rimbaud, November 4, 2024

Article

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.
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New Years Eve & Shots

By Jason Rimbaud, June 23, 2023

Life In Glasses

The first time I had sex I was fifteen. He was an older boy and that bending over the couch resulted in me getting kicked out of my house. And since my parents took the extra step in declaring me a fag to the entire church, I was basically outed to my entire community.
So for a few years, fifteen to eighteen, I did all the drugs, fucked all the boys/men as an out and somewhat proud gay boy. I couch hopped when I could, lied to use the shelters, or struggled living on the streets when necessary. Basically I tried to navigate my world as best as I could.
Shortly after my eighteenth birthday, I met an older gentleman who convinced me to move to Harrisburg Pennsylvania by offering to co-sign for my very first studio apartment. He also helped me get a job at Giant Grocery Store by dragging me to the DMV to get my ID. So I slowly started to build a life for myself.
Though Harrisburg is the Capital of Pennsylvania, I saw first hand the homophobia that surrounded me so I took moving there as an opportunity to start over so to speak. To avoid being the gay boy that was bent over the couch I went back in the closet and nailed the door shut behind me.
Giant was where I began making friends that would carry me for the next ten years. The first person I met was another eighteen year old named Nelson but everyone called him Five as he was the fifth Nelson in his family. Five’s best friend, John, a dirty blond nerd that is probably the biggest geek I’ve ever met in my entire life.
On my second day, I met Jason, who would quickly become my best friend and the bane of my existence as we both struggled through our sexuality for years before culminating where I was his best man when he married a girl named Christine. But that’s another story for a different when.
The four of us quickly became inseparable. We all worked at Giant, and spent almost every waking moment together for the next ten years. That entailed watching many movies, going to Denny’s at two am, and playing pool for hours at a time. We also hung out in the Giant parking lot after hours, throwing footballs, talking, and just enjoying each other's company. Then we discovered alcohol.
One of my earliest memories of Harrisburg was watching a KKK rally spew their hateful message to a large crowd of onlookers. This convinced me to make a nice comfortable home in my closet. From the ages of eighteen to twenty-one, I was a typical straight boy. I dated girls, had sex with them, and tried my hardest to fit into a world as something I wasn’t.
I could do all the things girls expected boys to do. I could go down on them, stick it inside them, make out with them, but I never really figured out what to do about the tits. Even to this day, tits are an enigma I believe should be better left alone.
For a while, I existed happily in my straight fantasy. For the first time in my life, I had a close group of friends that actually liked me. I was very popular with the girls, not really dating anyone longer than six months to ensure none of them discovered my secret. But deep down, I knew I was living a lie and over time, that began to take its toll on my already fragile mental state.
Then New Year’s Eve, 1996, twenty-six days before my twenty-first birthday, something happened that would change the direction of my life. It would be another three years before I came out to my entire circle of friends, but that was the day I stopped lying to myself.
Five had a friend from High School, her name was Anja and she was a first generation immigrant from Croatia. She was brunette with shoulder length hair, brown eyes, petite with little perky breasts. She was also very athletic in a feminine way.
While Five wasn’t interested in her in a romantic sense, he was borderline obsessed with destroying her relationship with her High School boyfriend so I could date her. Her boyfriend, Eric, was one of the hottest guys I had ever seen. He was six-foot tall, shaggy brown hair, lean but very fit with the most amazing brown eyes. He was also funny, and always quick to laugh and enjoy life.
Though Anja and Eric had been dating since tenth grade, there were always rumors swirling around that Eric would cheat on her during vacations and out of state trips. This drove Five crazy as he considered her a friend so he made it his mission to break them up so in his words, “She could date you and have a good boyfriend for a change”.
Little did he know, I wasn’t a good match for her either. But all that would come to a head anyway and there’s no reason to get ahead of myself.
So for months, Five invited Anja to every party, every trip to Six Flags, every pool party, any event where the opportunity would present itself for me to make my move. Remember, she was still dating who she thought was the love of her life. I never said Five was smart.
Of course, Anja would always arrive with Eric in tow and over time, I got to be quite friendly with Eric. Not like my core group of friends, we never hung out alone, but when we did show up at the same place, more often than not, we would spend the rest of the time laughing and joking together.
This frustrated Five to no end. I was supposed to be “helping” him destroy this poor girl's relationship so I could swoop in and save her, and all I did was flirt with Eric. Though no one really saw what I was doing was flirting, but I know the truth.
Before we progress, a little backstory on my little group of friends. John was an only child to a well off middle class family. Jason was the youngest, at eighteen, his older sister was twenty-five and already married. His family was middle class wealthy as well.
I was definitely the poorest in my circle of friends. But they never made me feel like I was. They would subtly buy movie tickets for me, offer me gas money when I drove them anywhere, little things to let me contribute so I could feel like an equal. They paid for a lot of things and I am really grateful they did it with such class.
Five was by far the richest in our group. He was an only child and born when his mother was forty-nine years old and his father was fifty-five. Neither of his parents had wanted kids but when he was a surprise, they loved him anyway. They were amazing parents. They were also loaded, worth millions of dollars and lived in Hershey Pennsylvania on top of a hill that looked down on the small city.
And yes, Five worked at a grocery store. Later he would build his career at Costco, ultimately becoming District Manager. For all the money he inherited at an early age, it never seemed to affect him. He made his own way in life and never relied on his family’s money. By thirty, he was a multi-millionaire and worked eighty hours a week at Costco. He’s a very interesting person.
His parents were also functioning alcoholics. By the time he was eighteen, they were long since retired and enjoying the fruits of their labor. And since they were notorious drinkers, Five had been drinking beer at dinner since he was sixteen. They also allowed him to throw house parties in High School as long as all the kids' parents knew there was drinking and no one drove home.
This made Five’s parties legendary.
On this particular New Year’s Eve, Five’s parents had gone away somewhere for the Holidays so we had the entire house to ourselves. Five had invited about thirty or so friends/peers but as all parties tend to do, it ballooned to fifty by the time the ball dropped.
The music was pumping, the alcohol was flowing, people were making out, jock/bro’s were playing drinking games, it was turning out to be a great party. Until the incident. The incident happened shortly after midnight because Anja caught Eric kissing another girl.
Full disclosure, Eric wasn’t making out with this girl, but they definitely kissed. This turned into a full blown fight because during the argument, Eric let slip he was transferring to Pittsburgh for the next semester to finish his studies.
Things turned ugly quickly, Eric told her she was being overly dramatic and she accused him of using the transfer as an excuse to end things. Turned out she was right. Eric wasn’t satisfied with the prospect of turning twenty-one only having dated one girl. And then it came out that he had in fact cheated on her over the summer when he was touring Pittsburgh campus. That’s when Anja slapped him and stormed out of the kitchen with Five closely behind.
As this argument was going on, I was outside on the balcony smoking and chatting up with a girl I had invited to the party. Sometime later, a very drunk Eric came stumbling out on the balcony for a cigarette. I clearly remember he was not that upset about the whole incident. Matter of fact, he almost looked relieved.
As we did every time we hung out, we started talking and joking around. Then Eric suggested we should do shots and things get really blurry for the next few hours. Because I woke up the next afternoon in my bed, naked, with a massive hangover and very little memory of what had transpired the night before.
I had several missed calls from Five. Apparently I had left the party, the girl I brought that no one else knew, my shirt, and just disappeared without a trace. I didn’t return his call as I laid in bed trying to reason out the night's events.
Then a lump in my bed that I had mistakenly attributed as my throw pillows started to move. That was an interesting turn of events. Apparently I had ditched the girl I brought to the party but still found a replacement. Go me.
I reached out and moved the covers down and saw a mop of shaggy brown hair. Oh fuck.
Eric rolled over and peered up at me. It took him a moment to register who I was and then he stretched and said, “Morning.”
I managed to say, “Morning” as I reached on the nightstand for my cigarettes. Then my heart sank as I saw a used condom on the floor next to my bed. Oh fuck.
“What time is it?”
I looked at the alarm clock as I lit my cigarette. “One-thirty.”
“That’s not good.”
“Really, it depends.”
“On what?”
“What time you had to be home today?”
“Not until tomorrow.”
I propped myself up against the headboard and put the ashtray on my stomach. “Then what’s not good about 1:30?”
“I was supposed to meet a friend for lunch at noon.” Eric mimicked my leaning position against the headboard and asked, “Can I have one of those?”
Like me, Eric was bare chested and from how the blanket fell against his hip, I could tell he was as naked as I. I gave him a cigarette and said, “I drank a lot last night, do you remember what happened?”
He looked at me with a questioning look. “I never thought you’d be one of those guys.”
“What do you mean?”
“A guy that conveniently forgets what happened last night.”
I leaned over the bed and picked up the used condom. I held it up and said, “I can only assume we had sex.”
“Twice.”
I dropped the condom on the floor and asked, “Is there at least another condom on your side of the floor?”
Eric took a long drag and replied, “Yep.”
“That’s good. At least we were safe.”
“We both insisted on that.”
“Please don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m assuming I fucked you.”
“You did. Right after I fucked you.”
I hadn’t bottomed in over four years. I had been “straight” and too many questions were swirling around in my poor aching head. He seemed to be extremely comfortable waking up next to a boy. And I couldn’t help but wonder if this was some kind of weird joke.
I threw my legs over the edge of the bed and slowly stood up. Then I could tell that at least part of his story was true, my asshole ached. “I’m thirsty, want anything?”
“Some water would be nice.”
I made my way into the kitchen and poured two glasses of water. When I walked back into the bedroom, Eric was just hanging up his phone. He was still in my bed and looked like he had no plans on moving anytime soon. I held out one of the glasses and saw another part of his story was proving true. Right by my foot was a used condom.
I sat down and took a long drink. I said, “Eric, not that I’m upset or anything. But how did this happen?”
“You mean us fucking last night.”
“That. I really don’t remember much of anything after the ball dropped.”
“We were doing shots in the kitchen, and someone dared you to do a blowjob shot.”
“Fucking Jason.” I muttered. He was always bringing up blowjob shots and trying to force everyone to partake. “Was you the lucky constant?
“Pretty much, in a manner of speaking.”
It was a really stupid shot but he had roped me into doing it more times than I could ever admit. You put equal parts Amaretto and Bailey’s Irish Cream in a shot glass and then top it with whipped cream. A person sits in a chair and puts the shot between their legs. Then you get on your knees in front of them and then using only your mouth, grab the shot glass with your lips and tilt your head back to drink the shot.
“What does that mean?”
“You were pretty drunk and you kept shoving your nose into my balls. It took quite a while for you to get the shot glass in your mouth.”
“Great, so my head was between your legs in front of fifty kids.” I groaned out.
Pretty much.” Eric said as he leaned over my bed and put his cigarette out in the ashtray that was sitting on my nightstand.
As he stretched out, I got a good look at his ass. At least I had good drunken taste.
He caught me staring at his ass and smiled. “Later on, I teased you about the way you kept sniffing my balls while you were “pretending” to drink the shot.”
“That’s mean.”
“Then you whispered in my ear that if I ever wanted to experience the real thing, all I had to do was ask.”
“So you decided to take advantage of my drunken ass.” I muttered as I ran my hands through my hair.
“All I did was ask a question.”
I pulled back the covers and climbed in next to him. “So then it’s your fault we had sex last night.”
“I wasn’t the one that was begging to be fucked last night.” Eric said with a grin. “Not at first. But after you seemed to enjoy it so much, I figured I should see what you were moaning about.”
I moved down until my head was on the pillow, I put my hands over my head and said, “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t remember anything about last night.”
Eric snuggled his head on my chest and said, “Don’t worry, you had fun.”
“Apparently twice.”
Eric, like me, had always known he was gay. At first he stayed with Anja so long because she was extremely religious and he figured it was a safe way to ensure no one suspected the truth. But they had dated so long, they eventually had sex. And he had been feeling exceedingly guilty for leading her on and the last few months, he had stopped the sex all together.
And it was true he had cheated on her over the summer. The part he left out was it was with a boy. After that experience, he figured the only way he could get out of his situation was to transfer and start over in a new city far away from the prying eyes of his friends and family.
I dropped Eric off at home a few hours later and then went to Five’s house to do some much needed damage control. All my friends were worried that I had disappeared and once they realized I was fine, they really laid into me. I was a selfish bastard, I didn’t respect them, they said the most awful things. Their anger lasted until I decided it was time to play a drinking game around seven o-clock. It was just the four of us and their anger disappeared sometime after I made Jason do a blowjob shot.
No one ever found out the reason I left Five’s house that night. Eric went on to graduate from Pittsburgh and we never got together again. I saw him a few more times but by the time he came back, I was fully involved in the mess that was my relationship with Jason.
But that experience started me on the path to visiting my first gay bar twenty-six days later when I turned twenty-one. But that’s a story for another time.
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TGI Friday's & A Broken Nose

By Jason Rimbaud, June 15, 2023

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.
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Untitled Stories

By Jason Rimbaud, June 6, 2023

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.
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New Goals For A Pretend Writer

By Jason Rimbaud, January 9, 2023

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.
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True Ramblings

By Jason Rimbaud, September 24, 2022

Life In Glasses

So we have been open for a month. And I know the pandemic has been heartless for countless small businesses around the world. Thousands of restaurants have closed forever, who knows how many people are out of work due to these closures. So it might have been foolish on the surface to open a new restaurant at this particular time. But we did.
I am also saddened by the damage that has been done to the San Francisco restaurant/hospitality scene. A lot of my friends lost everything and it is heartbreaking. The only good thing, after two years, those friends that moved away are slowly moving back.
“N” and I were standing outside our restaurant a few days before we opened kicking around ideas on how to get the word out that we have the best damn wings in San Francisco, when we saw a group of middle schoolers, about ten to twelve boys, walking down the sidewalk. He pointed out the group and said, “there goes our lunch crowd in a few weeks.”
We watched as the group of middle schoolers suddenly took off running as a group across the lawn towards a single middle schooler. As a group, they jumped the single kid and started kicking him and punching him. Then they stole his shoes and his bag and took off running down the street causing several cars to come to a sudden stop.
I turned to him and said, “maybe we should make them order to-go only.”
So I have gone the entire pandemic without catching Covid. I have been working steadily and have been around people the entire time. Covid has run rampant through both of our restaurant groups. Between all our locations, when i was working for someone else, had about 40 cases in the three locations. “N’s” restaurant group has had more cases than I could count. He also had three deaths related to Covid. It’s been a hard two years on that front.
“N” and I were talking yesterday about how lucky we were to escape Covid as we have been working with the public since day one. Our entire circle of friends have had it at some point. So I brought up that we might have had Covid but never had symptoms. He shrugged and finished his Mojito.
Why doesn’t underwear come with a warning label, “might cause pregnancy.”
Does anyone have a favorite color for their undies? Mine is red. I have upwards of twenty pairs of red undies alone. For some reason, and my husband agrees, my thingy looks great in red. Briefs, boxers, jocks, Mr. S Leathers, any type really.
By the way, Mr. S Leathers, a San Francisco original has some of the best fetish accessories I’ve ever seen. Prices are a bit on the high side but the upside, you get really good quality.
Which brings me to the subject of toys. Does anyone like to use toys in your relationship? I do. I have about a hundred little metal cars that I force my husband to play with me. He doesn’t like to but I guess it’s better than seeing me cry.
I’ve been creating my own personal Christmas Village for the last few years. Building houses out of balsa wood, popsicle sticks, and plywood. I find it very relaxing to build, paint, and construct my perfect little Pennsylvania town. I have chocolate shops, Santa’s workshop, reindeer barns, ice skating ponds, colored sand to mimic ice and snow. And a Mr. S Leather store, complete with tiny dildo’s in the windows.
“I’m getting rid of Britta, getting rid of the “B”, she is a “GDB”.
For the last few months I’ve realized that without a real direction in my life, I tend to ramble on about underwear. I really don’t think we spend enough time focusing on underwear as a culture. Underwear has so many uses. Support, keep your junk nice and tight while running. The right type of material can help keep you dry and itch free for your twigs and berries.
Boxers for that loosie goosie feeling for your peen. Boxer Briefs to keep your bulge, well, bulging. Jockstrap to show off your ass in the gym. Thongs to get your partner boned up in a hurry.
In my sluttier days, I wore different types of underwear based on the mission I had for that particular evening. Jockstraps were for dancing in the club and showing off my goods. If you saw me in the club wearing a jockstrap, then I was ready for some fun in the downstairs bathroom. Boxers are only used for sleeping. A practice I learned from Jason all those years ago. Boxer Briefs are always my go to style to make my bulge look good in jeans. Briefs are the perfect accompaniment for sweat pants and T-Shirts.
And no, I don’t work at Mr. S Leathers. I’m just a fan of their products.
Mr-S-Leather Warning Explicit Content
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After Twenty Years...I Just Did This

By Jason Rimbaud, August 28, 2022

Life In Glasses

So I’ve been in the restaurant/hospitality business for over twenty years. And I can’t believe that after twenty years, I just did this. And before I go into what life changing craziness I just decided to embark on, let me tell you about my writing.
Some years back, I lost the memory stick that contained all my writings for the last thirty years. And yes, not only did it hold all my stories, notes, outlines, it also contained all my work notes that I had gathered over the years. I’m not sure which hit me harder, the writings or all the content I had created that I used on the daily for work.
So I decided to gather all my writings into google sheets to ensure I never again lose my tattered attempts at writing. I have already lost way too much due to losing memory sticks, crashing computers, and random acts of god.
And in this attempt to make sure I got literally everything I ever wrote/posted online, I went back to 2002 and took everything I wrote for Nifty. And as I was copying those stories, I made the mistake of actually reading them.
Have you all seen this trend of people reacting to things on YouTube? If I wasn’t so bald and fat I would so do a reaction video of myself reading those “stories”. Talk about bac, I can’t believe I once thought those stories were gold.
In my defense, at the height of my online posting, I was getting up to fifty emails a day with these little stories. So more than a few people fed into this delusion. I even won a few readers choice awards.
Trust me, in no way am I defending these “stories”. Trust me, I won’t even tell you the name I once wrote under. That’s how embarrassed I am about the words I wrote and posted all those years ago. And it wasn’t Jason Rimbaud so don’t bother checking.
I’ve been in the restaurant/hospitality pretty much my whole life. I started as a bartender at twenty-one in a redneck bar in the backwoods of Pennsylvania and somehow moved up over the years to where I’ve worked for several celebrity chefs and amazing start-ups that are still flourishing even through the pandemic. I’ve opened seven restaurants for other people and have been on the ground floor of one of the fastest growing brands in the San Francisco Bay Area.
As a writer, something I love doing, I’ve only really attempted to write full time back in the early 2000’s. I took four years and all I did was try and get published. And yes, I managed to get my stories in a few anthologies, a few poetry books over the years but I was never really good enough to break into the big time. I think my biggest issue, at least back then, my stories had such a small targeted audience.
I write gay fiction. Well, I once wrote slash gay fiction but that’s another story all together. Gay fiction isn’t really burning up the charts and unless you manage to find work at a streaming service. But I never really wanted to write for a show, my love has always been books/novels.
I will admit for the last fifteen years or so, I haven’t really focused that much on writing. A few years ago, I had almost finished a book about an alien invasion in Washington State, real end of the world stuff. And then my memory stick fell out of my shoulder bag and I ran over it a few times.
I have since tried to recreate the story but I could never get it right. It was over five years work lost in a single moment. And that bummed me out. I thought I was destined to work in a restaurant for the rest of my life. But then something happened a few weeks ago that would change my life forever.
Some of you know that I’m married. And “N” is also in the restaurant/hospitality industry. But he hates it. So two years ago he started going back to school to get a degree in accounting. And he did, a month ago he graduated with honors with his bachelor degree all the while he worked a full time job.
And once he graduated, “N” and I were talking about the next steps. We spend a boatload of money on his degree and he really wants a job where he can use it. The biggest problem we both face, we have been successful in restaurants. And for those of you that don’t really understand what that means, let me explain.
When you reach a certain point in your career, no matter what your field is, you have a track record of success. And people pay extremely well for that track record. I know people are complaining about the restaurant/hospitality industry not paying well. But if you have the right resume, you can make really good money. Especially when you’re offered profit sharing.
Both of us have been wanting to leave the restaurant industry for some time. But we had been so successful that if we were to make a move on a fresh career, we’d have to take a dramatic pay cut. As much as fifty thousand a year. And we have worked way too hard to make a life for ourselves, that going back isn’t a viable option.
We aren’t rich by any standard. We live in the most expensive city in the country, so if you don’t make at least one hundred and fifty thousand dollars a year, you’re living paycheck to paycheck. But we are comfortable.
In my spare time, I have been collecting all my old writing. An hour here, an hour there, while maintaining a very stressful opening for my restaurant group. One of my old stories caught my attention. It’s a love story set on St. Martin, with a small little hook that I thought wasn’t that bad. Not the writing, it was horrible. But the overall plot was kind of cool.
And in my reading, instead of copying and pasting, for some reason I decided to transcribe it instead. This led me to actually rewrite the entire thing from top to bottom. It was around 120 pages originally and now it’s a bit more. I am working on another draft as we speak so I don’t know where the final word count will end. But I’m having the time of my life.
After one stressful day, I was complaining to “N” about how much energy I’m putting into this latest opening. And how I’m getting frustrated in making other people money. And yes they pay me for all my energy, but at the end of the day, the owner benefits way more than I do when I successfully open a new location.
“If you don’t like it, why don’t you quit.” That was “N’s” sage advice. So I replied, “And do what? Go work for someone else?”
“You’ve opened a billion restaurants for other people, why don’t we open our own?”
For anyone who has read my musing, you know that I love super spicy hot wings. I have been known to drive 45 minutes to San Jose so I can get my 4 Alarm Hot Wings from SmokeEaters. I have literally been to every wing place in the San Francisco Bay Area trying their “hot” wings. And besides SmokeEaters, I have always been disappointed.
So over the last ten years or so, I have been creating my own spicy wing sauces. I have perfected that art of cooking chicken wings and have some amazing sauces that I think are better than anyone’s currently in San Francisco.
“Why don’t we open our own?” Fuck yeah, so that’s what I did. As of June 1st, we are now business owners. We have been opened for the last three weeks and I’m having the time of my life. “N” and I have decided to take our future in our own hands. So now when I’m working eighty hours a week, it’s at least for myself and our future. Life is good.
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Chit & Also Chat Equals An Upset "N"

By Jason Rimbaud, May 12, 2022

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.
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The Wheel of Time: A Rambling, Digression Filled Review

By Jason Rimbaud, March 9, 2022

Life In Glasses

The Wheel of Time: A Rambling, Digression Filled Review
By: A Fan of the Books
So somewhere & somewhen, I started replying in a Wheel of Time: The Series thread and realized after a few pages that it was way too long to post in a thread. Plus it was filled with colorful metaphors, talks of naughty bits, and generally senseless ramblings that I decided about that time for a new Blog Entry by the amazing Jason Rimbaud. Or is that the absent Rimbaud? Doesn’t matter.
But before I start to bore you with my thoughts about a show that has been finished for almost three months, let’s go back in time. It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. But definitely in the realm of times.
The year was 1993, this little freckled-faced boy, who was filled with hopes and aspirations of one day becoming a writer of fiction, wandered into a magical place called Borders in Harrisburg Pennsylvania.
For those of you too young to remember just what the hell is a Borders, I’ll tell you. And again, I’m not saying this is true in all places and also times, I’m just saying what I knew to be true back in 93’.
Borders was a place that if you entered the store at a particular time, and you went up the long escalator to the second floor, and turned left and went straight to the back corner of the store. You would find one of the biggest restrooms you have ever seen in your life. And if you went into that restroom, you would first see a row of sinks, eight of them, then a wall of hand dryers, then if you continued walking around the pony wall, you would find a row of a thousand stalls, seriously there were a billion stalls in that restroom.
And like I said, if you were to walk into that bathroom at a particular time, and walked around that pony wall, and enter the very last stall on the right, then you might be able to get a blowjob from a random stranger. Who I might add, would refuse to look at you much less talk to you after the deed was completed and you accidentally ran into him perusing the rows and also rows of books.
No my friend, we didn’t have hook-up apps like Jack’d & Grindr where we could see the photos of the person before we hooked up. Or read a profile detailing what they were into and what they wanted to do.
Nope, we had to do it the old fashion way. Sit patiently in a stall, sometimes hours before we finally got that wonderful signal, shove our penis into a hole in the wall, and pray beyond hope that it was at least a halfway decent looking guy. The times that ended up happening were few and very, very, very, very far between.
So that is Borders kids, you don’t know what you were missing out on. Complete anonymous sex with older men, whether you liked that or not. That was the option back in those days.
So there I was, a young man filled with testosterone and a full head of hair, perusing the rows of books waiting to see if anyone entered that magical place. As it happened, while I was waiting for something exciting to happen, I noticed a display of books. This display of books was in the perfect eye line of the entrance to the restroom.
I’m sure you’ve seen those displays, normally a huge cardboard placard of the cover of the book, with maybe a few reviews of the book, and the title.
And there it was, this large placard, saying coming this fall, The Fires of Heaven by Robert Jordan. And the cover is rather plain, just a man standing in the middle of what looks like a courtyard wearing a red coat, with orange hair. But in the background was a man standing there with a staff slung over one shoulder and a wide brim hat. This was the image I was intrigued by. Who was that man in the wide brim hat?
Keeping one eye on the entrance to the restroom, I quickly realized that The Fires of Heaven was the fifth book in this epic fantasy series. I knew that because they had the first four books on the table unde the placard, and being somewhat intelligent, I surmised that these were the first four books of the series.
And the rumor was back then, that this was going to be the final book of the series. Who would attempt to write a ten plus book series of fantasy.
I usually never want to start a series until it is complete, as I hate waiting for the new book to come out. And kids, if you thought waiting a week for a new episode of your favorite TV show, then try waiting two years or more for the next installment. That is patience.
And if you really want to talk about patience, it took me another ten years before I got the ending I so wanted from that long ago day of sloppy blowjobs and cover art. Chew on that patience I displayed.
Though I went to Borders that day for a quick, sloppy blowjob from a random stranger in the restroom, I picked up the first book of the series and decided to read a few pages while I waited for someone to go into the bathroom.
Now I'm going to be honest here, I’d like to say that all thoughts of strange men sucking me off left my future bald head upon reading that first prologue of Eye of the World. But that’s not true, I ended up with a somewhat younger man than normal on the receiving end of my…bellend. But that’s another story.
I think I finished all eight hundred or so pages in a few days of the Eye of the World and immediately went back to that Borders, not for a blowjob but to buy the next book in the series. Over the next few weeks I devoured all four books and couldn’t wait for the fifth and final book to come out.
Being a massive fan of the books that I am, and not that fan that thinks the books are perfect, I am fully aware that the first three books are somewhat a slogfest and let's not talk about eight, nine, and ten. But I loved the storyline and had the biggest crush on Mat, the one who turned out to be the figure in the wide brim hat.
I was stoked that the Wheel of Time would finally be getting the live action treatment from Amazon Studios. And once I saw the trailer, I knew it was going to be different then the books for a multitude of reasons.
The average book length, not dick length, is eight hundred pages. That’s crazy long. And there is no way in hell they could do one book per season.
Who would expect a show to last 14 seasons anyway.
We know that Robert Jordan loved describing the most mundane things in finite detail and that's not even discussing his fascination with ladies dresses and hairstyles. The books have a lot of filler that could be cut and never missed.
By the way, how does one actually go about sniffing in disgust or anger? The female characters are always sniffing, pulling their hair (though I have noticed a lot lately that women constantly stroke their hair in public like a boy scratches around his crotch) and looking disapprovingly at every male they see.
The story itself takes place over a period of three years. ( I had to look that up as I thought the story took place over a much longer period of years. That means Rand was only 19 when…) No spoilers. So 14 seasons would age the characters out.
The amount of time spent traveling from one place to another is so time consuming that I know they would have to keep the story moving at a faster pace. So avoiding certain places and events only makes sense.
There are thousands of characters in these books and many of them have speaking parts, so combining several characters into one or omitting them completely is understandable.
My husband, “N”, who does not offer blowjobs in the restrooms…anymore, has no experience with the book series. Except that he constantly tells me to throw out my WOT books because they are cluttering up the bookcase and he can’t put up more photos of us sans restrooms.
“N” is a huge fan of fantasy & Sci-Fi, so he was all in after watching the trailer. And after watching the first three episodes, he was hooked. But then became rather pissed off because Amazon decided to drop a new episode weekly instead of all at once. He made me…physically threatened my life if I were to watch them without him.
I’m sure none of you know this, but I am a huge fan of Survivor. Yes, that reality show that has been on the air for twenty years. Don’t judge me, I had to get blowjobs in restrooms by random strangers when I was young, I don’t know any better.
“N” also likes Survivor, but can’t stand waiting for the new weekly episode to drop, so I watch it first, and then once it's all released, then he will binge it in like three days.
That is what he made me promise to do, wait until it's all released and then watch it with him all in one night. And I don’t like watching TV like that. I like to digest what I just watched and think about it for a week before dipping my bald head back into the experience.
So on Christmas Eve we snuggled in bed, I hate watching TV in bed, and binged the remaining five episodes.
“N” loved it. He liked the characters, the cinematography, the special effects, the magic system, and of course, the Trollocs. And I will agree, the first six episodes look fantastic. I love that they are filming in a location that is unknown to most American audiences. So it looked like a fantasy world. And yes there are CGI touches to things, but they built a lot of actual set pieces in the amazing landscape that is Czech Republic, in Prague.
He loved the mystery that is, which one of them is the Dragon Reborn. I actually enjoyed watching it with him in bed as he went back and forth. It is Matt, oh wait, it has to be Perrin, no I think it is Egwene. I’m sure it's Perrin, Holy Shit! It's Rand, I knew.
And he asked me questions about the books, which I refused to answer. He begged me to tell him what happened next, and all I can say, I don’t know, they changed so much I have no clue. Then he offered me blowjobs, not in a restroom much to my chagrin, and when I still didn’t acquiesce to his demands he cut me off from sex completely. So back to Borders…Wait, Borders are no more. Balls.
“N” didn’t know what they had changed, made up, omitted, or combined into single characters. All he knew is he loved the drama, the mystery, the scariness of the Whitecloaks. Who I must admit, are even more terrifying than in the books.
So “N” didn’t understand when Tam first drew the Heron sword, I took a sharp intake of breath. And grinned from ear to ear when Morgaine and Lan were kicking Trolloc ass in the Two Rivers. The encounter Perrin had with the wolves in the forest only fueled his theory that Perrin was the Dragon Reborn, I only smiled. When the camera focuses in on the dagger, I yelled something out, but he didn’t understand why.
I got so excited when I first saw Thom in the Inn telling us the tale of the Dragon Reborn. And when he was killed by the Fade, I inwardly smiled as I am rather certain that isn’t the last time we see Thom. Or when I first saw a red haired Aiel in the cage, I giggled at the implication and wanted to know how they would portray the best fighters in the world. Nor did I say aloud, what the hell is that? When the Ogier first arrives talking to Rand in the Inn.
Or why I starting yelling, thats what I’m fucking talk about, when the Maiden of the Spear was on that snowy mountain top and I saw she was pregnant. Though I did remain rather silent as I watched in awe as she proceeded to take out all those soldiers. But I did get to see his reaction when he realized that the soldier was Tam and that badass fighter was Rand’s mother.
And much like him, in a way it was a new story for me as well. I knew and understood the changes they had to make. And actually liked that they changed the age of all the lead characters. Or making the show way darker than the novels. Bloodier than Jordan would ever dare dream. And lets not forget boobies, there are boobies and butts everywhere. And maybe even a hint of ball bag, Lan’s ball bag.
Nudity is looked up as taboo in the Two Rivers, but throughout the rest of the books, there are boobies flooping around everywhere. And lest we forget, Rand and Egwene have been doing the nasty for a while. And Perrin knocked up some chick before slicing her open like a ripe Cantaloupe. Lan and Nynaeve knocking boots, that didn’t happen until book 10 or something. Moiraine being all lipstick to Siuan butch amazingness. Everyone is fucking,
From the very beginning, which I do think was a bad cold open for Wheel of Times, I knew this wasn’t Robert Jordan’s Wheel of TIme anymore. And I was completely okay with that. If the concept is that everything has happened before, and these people are constantly being re-born into different ages, then this is just a different version of events that happened a long time ago in our future. The Wheel weaves as the Wheel wills.
So in the books, the Whitecloaks were dangerous and very militaristic, but damn, what a way to introduce them. That scene was deliciously twisted and just the way I imagined those zealots to behave. I think his fascination on Perrin and Egwene wasn’t really explained well, there were several leaps of logic in why he suspected them to be from the White Tower. But, plot, I understand.
I still would like to ask the showrunner why he spent almost an entire episode of only an eight episode season on an Aes Sedi and her Warder. That actually made me angry and wish I was back in that cold restroom with strangers sucking on my weiner. Lan didn’t need to thump his chest, in the books he was more reserved and rarely showed emotion. I thought it was so out of character and still don’t understand why they felt this deserved an entire episode. It didn’t further the main story, nor did it really tell much about the White Tower and the Sisters.
Let's talk about the magic system and its live action depiction. I absolutely loved how they showed the one power. And yes I’ve read the naysayers talk about how they don’t go into detail about wielding the One Power on the show and casual viewers don’t appreciate the toll it takes on the user. Fuck you, visually, it works. Not everyone bones up about magic systems and how they work. And the wisps of smoke, gray for the Sisters and inky black for the men, I thought really captured the yen and yang of it all.
And did the Whitecloaks put a beat down on the Tinkers, probably my least favorite groups in the entire series. The Way of the Leaf reminds me of vegetarians and I like my meat! (that's a long way to go for a dick joke, but I’ll allow it).
We got to see a truly badass false dragon kill everyone and Nynaeve dropping the One Power bomb that healed everyone. That was epic in all the right places. I am finding this Nynaeve more tolerable than in the books. In this weaving of the Wheel, I dislike Egwene more, which I find distasteful. In the books, Nynaeve is the worst depiction of a female character I have ever read, watched, dreamed about in all the weavings of the Wheel. EVER.
The actress who plays Egwene is simply amazing. And with the exception of Mat, who I didn’t think captured the essence of what Mat was, the rest of them are really good in their roles across the board. But Moiraine steals the show, she is perfect in every way and her scene where she fucks her “pillowfriend”, is amazing. Great acting. I didn’t find a weak actor in the bunch, just a stellar job of casting.
We get to see a scene from book 3, when the Two Rivers folk are riding together and start singing and then Moiraine tells the story of Mantheran, I got chills. It made me want to go join in the fight against fades, trollocs, the dark one, and Borders restroom trolls.
The last two episodes were my least favorite. And not just because they had changed so much of the story that I was literally lost a few times on who these people were. But mostly because you could tell that Covid restrictions really hit them hard. Set pieces were smaller, probably to disguise they had less extras than before. Unfinished special effects, and one of their main characters refusing to come back to finish the show in the poorly cast Mat.
How much rewriting do you think they had to do to cover the absence of Mat in the final two episodes? Did I mention the horrible special effects in the last battle with the Trollocs? And why did they only send eight people to defend the gap against hordes of Trollocs anyway? Covid.
I can forgive the limitations of the last two episodes. I also forgive the rushed ending as Amazon refused to move the premiere date to give them more time, so yes, it wasn’t perfect.
But I can’t forgive the way they ended the season. Three untrained Aes Sedi being led by a too weak to serve accepted, doesn’t matter she was tower trained, took out thousands of trollocs. And yes the idea was to say that Nynaeve and Egwene were that strong in the One Power, that even an accepted could destroy everything and everyone being linked in a circle.
Rand was the one in the books that appeared in the sky above the gap and saved everyone, thus proclaiming himself the Dragon Reborn. But they had to have a scene where Egwene saves Nynaeve’s life. Doesn’t matter that throughout the entire book series, Egwene was known to be weak in healing. Nor does anywhere in the books show that much destruction can be had without the aid of enhancement items. It really left a sour taste in my mouth.
And before you say, “They made it all girl power because of the times and the me too movement. All males are stupid and useless without a woman telling them what to do”. I only have to ask one question, did you read the fucking book? Robert Jordan clearly wrote that into the story thirty years ago. Every single female character is written from a view of power, except for Min. They always know what to do and think men are stupid. Robert Jordan had either a very high opinion of women or thought they were all horrible, as every female character is written the same way.
So should you watch this show…like I said in that restroom stall all those years ago…yes, yes, yes!
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If You Don't Stop...I'm Never Coming Back Here Again

By Jason Rimbaud, June 23, 2021

Life In Glasses

It was summer, June 2000, when Greg and Mark first met on Lake Walton. Each summer after that, they would join their families for a summer vacation before parting ways for another year. It was summer, June 2000, Greg and Mark were five years old.
June 2000
"What are you doing Greg?"
"Nothing, just go back to sleep, sorry."
"If you keep snuggling me, I'm not going to sleep over here anymore."
June 2005
"Greg...what are you doing?"
"Nothing."
"It sure doesn't feel like nothing."
"Just go back to sleep, Mark."
"If you keep rubbing up against me, I'm not going to come back here next year."
June 2010
"Damn it, Greg."
"What now?"
"If you keep dry humping me when I'm asleep, I'm not coming back here again."
June 2012
"Jesus Christ, Greg."
"Yes."
"If you don't stop doing that with your mouth under the covers, I'm not coming back here again."
June 2015
Oh jesus, Greg!"
"You like that?"
"If you ever stop attacking me in my sleep, I'll never come back here ever again."
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Lost Season One: Pilot Episode

By Jason Rimbaud, May 11, 2020

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.
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The Maltese Falcon

By Jason Rimbaud, November 6, 2019

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
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My Gay Community

By Jason Rimbaud, April 27, 2019

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
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Aquaman Movie Review

By Jason Rimbaud, March 13, 2019

Starring Jason Momoa as Arthur/Aquaman, Amber Heard as Mera, Willem Dafoe as Vulko, Patrick Wilson as King Orm/Ocean Master, Nicole Kidman as Atlanna, and Yahya Abdul-Mateen II as Manta. It was directed by the wonderfully talented James Wan, the creator of the Saw Franchise.

Aquaman takes place shortly after the events of Justice League. This bit of information seemed to be slipped in right away to make sure we all know this is part of the DCEU. But just as Wonder Woman carved her own path away from the sadness that was Man Of Steel, Batman V Superman, and Justice League with a story that focused on plot supported by CGI, Aquaman at its core, is a character driven film that made me care about the characters and their journey.

Aquaman lives somewhere between the dark vision of Zack Snyder and the playfulness of Patty Jenkins, taking elements from both while carving a visually stunning film. I would venture a guess that the script was heavily rewritten multiple times attempting to course correct after the tepid reception of the Znyderverse and the sheer fun factor of Wonder Woman. The downside to what I am assuming is heavy rewrites, leaves us with a film that doesn’t seem to know what its suppose to be sometimes from moment to moment.
Is it a light-hearted underwater tale with horrible dad jokes or a morality tale of sons paying for the sins of their fathers? As I type this, I still can’t tell you what this movie is about.
In one of the darker moments of the film, Arthur takes out a bunch of pirates as they try to steal a submarine. While this sequence is visually stunning and really showcases the raw power Arthur can command, Arthur allows the father of one of the pirates to drown, thus creating one of the major villains in Aquaman’s cannon.

This act really shocked me, as it was hard for me to believe that considering Arthur’s own mother was killed when he was young, that he could dismiss the pleas of a son to save his drowning father so flippantly.

This sequence reminded me how I felt while watching Black Panther last year. Like Killmonger, Manta has a great back-story and a reason for revenge that makes his story arc believable and compelling.

And in almost the next scene, Arthur and his father are in a bar drinking beer for breakfast when several scary biker looking guys approach them. This scene is played for suspense at first, when one of the guys barks out, ‘are you him’. Arthur turns around and for a moment, you think it’s about to go down. Then the scary biker looking guy exclaims out like an excited child that he wants a picture of Aquaman. This is like five minutes after Arthur kills numerous pirates on the submarine. And to make it a bit worse, there is a collage of Arthur drinking beer and taking photos with the scary bikers.
The transitions between the dark and light moments happens so fast it was rather jarring at times. Yet Amber Heard was delightful as Mera, and has one of the coolest powers in the movie. Mera is far from being a damsel in distress. Not only does she stand toe to toe with Aquaman, but manages to save him numerous times and is a complete badass in her own right. Amber’s performance is well-rounded as I’ve seen in a long time. Plus, she’s a great strong female character for young teens.

Orm makes a great villain and is almost underplayed by the talented Patrick Wilson. Though his motivation flips between his hatred towards Arthur whom he blames for the death of his mother and his hatred for the surface dwellers that has polluted the worlds oceans. I did find it a bit odd that his hatred for Arthur seemed misplaced as it would make more sense to hate his father who ordered the death of his mother.

Take away the over the head message of the dangers of pollution, the jumps between light-hearted dad jokes, and brooding craziness, the core of the film is entertaining and I would recommend you watch it as the CGI is breathtaking.
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News Programs and Do you Still Watch?

By Jason Rimbaud, January 30, 2019

Fox News, CNN, MSNBC, AP, BBC America, CBS, ABC, we could go on for paragraphs just listing the different news programs in this country alone.

About ten years ago, I stopped watching news programs on TV and its probably not the reason many of you might suspect.

Once upon a time, reporters would actually inform you of the current events in your local area as well as over the world. If you missed the nightly news, you would have no way of getting the information until the next day.

There was no spin, no slant towards a certain agenda, no talking heads telling the viewers what to think or feel about any certain topic. Reporters were hired to give an unbiased view of the news. They were also for the most part a money losing program for the network. It was understood by the executives that the news didn't make money and never made a profit. Instead the news would bring acclaim and prestige to the network which would bring advertisers for the other shows. And for a time, the big three had the most respected anchors in the country.

The big three, Dan Rather CBS, Peter Jennings ABC, and Tom Brokaw NBC, ruled the airwaves for over twenty years. They brought a gravitas and respect to their respective networks.

Out of those three, Dan Rather, who from 1980 until the mid 2000's, was arguably the most respected and most watched news anchor in the country. This was before his fall for presenting questionable documents regarding President George Bush's Vietnam service papers.

Then Ted Turner came along with his visionary idea called CNN, the very first 24 hour news channel in the early 80's. But it wasn't until the Gulf War when the world first stood up and took notice. For the first time, CNN overtook the big three with an unprecedented scoop. They were the only news outlet to report from inside Iraq during the initial hours of the bombing campaign with live reports from a hotel inside Baghdad.

Almost ten years later, CNN would also go down in history as the first cable news channel to report the attack on September 11th showing the first live footage of the plane crashing into the World Trade Center.

And with the success of CNN, an Australian publisher, Rupert Murdoch, joined forces with philanthropist, Marvin Davis, to purchase a media company under the banner of 20th Century Fox, to compete with the big three in early 1985. By the third quarter of 1986, Murdoch led the company to earn 5.6 million dollars. In contrast, the year before of the same quarter, there was a 55 million dollar loss. For one of the first times in america, there was profit in the news and people started to notice.

Some would say this was the start of the decline of traditional news programming as networks implemented new standard operating procedures to garnish quarterly profits. And those shows that didn't turn a profit, those anchors that couldn't compete with the more sensationalized reporters were slowly replaced.

Now reporters were replaced with personalities pushing narratives the network demands as they started to divide into Republican and Democratic propaganda machines.

Traditional reporting was now regulated to newspaper only as networks focused on agendas and pandering to the advertisers. Thus paved the way for internet news shows who dove deeper into partisan politics with overt slants in one direction or the other. As of right now, no matter what side of the political spectrum you follow, you can find bias reporting that only reinforces your worldview and/or opinions.

But none of the above reasons are why I stopped watching TV news programs ten years ago.

The I-Phone brought a powerful computer in your pocket that gives you real time sources to find any information your heart desires. Why watch the nightly news that teases a story before a commercial break and then makes you wait now sometimes longer than 3 minutes. I just pull out my phone, and get the information from Twitter, Facebook, Google and I get the information without the talking heads spinning some story that happened ten hours earlier.

Who still watches news programs and if you do, which ones do you watch in 2019?
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On Writing Blocks and How to Avoid Them

By Jason Rimbaud, January 26, 2019

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
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Writing Stages of Life

By Jason Rimbaud, October 24, 2018

Four months ago, at least from the outside, most would say that I was on top of the world. I have a good job, a great apartment, and an amazing boyfriend. I had a good start on a saving account, a brand new car with all the bells and whistles. If I was a normal person, I would have been content at the success I enjoyed. Yet for all those possessions, something was lacking in my life.
I first started working in hospitality the year I turned 21. I really didn't have the opportunity to go to college, and didn't really have any other avenues to traverse. What else could a cute gay boy do for work besides shake his ass as a bartender.
And though I moved from working in gay bars, then stopped bar-tending completely, only to move into serving before landing a job as a manager a few years later. Truthfully, at least professionally, it was the only thing I was ever good at. And I can say with complete modesty, I am very good at my job.
From the time I was a young boy, my only dream was to be a writer. And until I turned thirty, I followed that dream. But then I got sidetracked, I started listening to others telling me that I had to secure a future. So I guess you could say, I fell into the hospitality business. I built a career out of the one thing I was good at and for a time, I was content to do so.
But content is not happy. The future was starting to cement, I started growing my savings account. And I had built up quite an impressive resume with some of the most successful people in San Francisco.
I calculated each move, every time I left and took a new position, it was for a better future for me. I sacrificed a five year relationship and more friends then I would care to admit in my single minded ambition to secure a future.
For a time, I told myself that when I reached success, when I finally made it, then I would focus on my personal life. But truth be told, the more successful you become, the more time and energy it takes to maintain that success. I started to wonder when enough would be enough.
Then I met "N" two years ago. Three hours after meeting him, I told my friend that I was going to spend the rest of my life with him. I just knew it. Two months later, I had gave up my condo in Daly City and moved into San Francisco with him. Again, from the outside, most people would say that I had it all.
But I wasn't happy. And yes, I could mask it at work, I am a professional after all. But the years of 14 hour days, six to seven days a week, working every single weekend. Sometimes not getting home until 1am only to get up at 4am and then head back to work for another 14 hour day.
"N" understood the long hours, after all, he is in the same business as me. The difference, the owner he works for truly believes in work life balance, and he rarely works more than 40 hours a week and always gets two days off a week in a row. I am not so fortunate.
In the dark parts of the night, snuggled in bed with "N", I told him about my long forgotten dream of becoming a writer. Of course he was interested in reading my work as any good "N" would be, I showed him my past writings. And he started to encourage me to take up the words again. And over the last two years, I have slowly dipped my toes in the water of creativity again. Though it had only been occasionally and in brief spurts only. And much like the discovery of an old friend, I started to realize how much I enjoyed sitting down at my laptop and spewing forth nonsense onto the screen.
The dedication it takes to operate at the level I had managed to achieve is total commitment. It's working 14 hours in the restaurant, then spending another three hours at home answering emails from the department managers and various vendors that need my attention it seems daily.
I will admit, I probably worked more than I needed too but the restaurant brought in 12 million a year and I was responsible for every dollar of it. So yes, my focus was on the bottom line for more than just my quarterly bonus.
It had been brewing for a while, my unhappiness at work. And I can't blame the owner for wanting to make the most money he possibly could. But I started to wonder how much money was enough. I knew the numbers, I knew the magic number. Once the restaurant makes this magic number, anything over that amount is profit for the owner. And he was a single owner, he had no partners. So when he set the budget for this year 25% more than last year, I had to wonder what he was thinking.
He's the owner, he can set whatever budget he wants, its his right. And as a professional, it was my job to try and hit that budget. I"m not so naive that I don't understand business. He is only in it for the money. And its his money and his right.
Any of you that understand budgets and how the restaurant business works, it is highly unlikely that any restaurant, unless something out of the ordinary happens, to grow a business by 25% over the previous year. Especially when 35% of your business is tied up with the Moscone Center and their convention business.
I'll give him the unreachable budget. When it was written the year before, he did not know Moscone Center was going to be in construction and all the conventions we enjoyed in 2017 would not be there in 2018.
Nor did he realize that international tourism is down due to our current political climate. Add that to our out of control homeless problem and several large conventions citing homeless issues as the reason they are no longer booking in San Francisco, and its no wonder all restaurants in the city are down fifteen percent city wide.
After talking with friends in the accounting world, he should be happy he's only down 10%. He is actually doing better than most currently in San Francisco. I have lost count of the high end restaurant closures and the celebrity chefs that are struggling to keep the doors open.
I know the main reason he raised my budget so high, was to help cover the cost of his new restaurant that was opened in 2017 and was struggling, to put it mildly, in the current climate.
For full disclosure, I started losing my happiness at work the moment I met "N" and realized he was something outside of work that was more important than anything. It had been brewing for months. So when the culture of the restaurant started to change and the owner started to show his stress more and more.
So during the monthly meeting when he demanded what I was going to do to attain this budget, I brought out the numbers, a bit more in detail than what I describe above, and he looked at me and responded that it was only excuses and he didn't pay me to give him excuses. And he is right. He didn't pay me to give him excuses.
So I said the first thing that came to me. And trust me, I had given better speeches over my career. And it might have been a mistake, but every fiber in my being said it was the right thing to do. I can't say what I told him, I don't really remember. But I resigned that day. For the first time in my life, I walked away with no notice and no prospects.
San Francisco is a small town, every owner knows all the rest. And leaving like I did was not the smartest thing I could have done, but that was the day my happiness returned.
And I will be honest, it wasn't just because my owner is an asshole, he is. But I don't think my life has room for something that is so demanding that takes me away from being happy in my life.
So for two months I've sat in my great apartment with my amazing boyfriend and made time for myself. For the first time in ten years, I have nothing to do. Everyday I spend time with "N" before he goes to work. Then I clean the house, I do laundry, sometimes I play video games, sometimes I get hammered in the middle of the day for no reason, but most of the time, after I do my house chores, I sit down at my laptop and write.
I write like I did in my twenties when the desire was strong and I didn't know what the future held but I was excited to face it.
My vacation payout alone was two months salary and I figured I was going to enjoy every moment. We aren't rich and my little diversion from work won't last much longer. After all, this is the most expensive city in the country to live and he won't let me be a bum much longer.
I think my time in hospitality has come to a close. I think my next job will be something that will allow me to pay my bills yet leave me time to focus on what really matters in this life.
The night I left my job, I went out and bought my amazing boyfriend a ring, we are planning on getting married next June and life could not be happier for me.
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Jurassic World Fallen Kingdom

By Jason Rimbaud, June 27, 2018

Just returned from watching Jurassic World: Fallen Kingdom. Or should I say dragged to see the flick.
I should start by saying that I am a huge fan of Jurassic Park, a satisfied fan of Jurassic Park 2, a meh for Jurassic Park 3, and a very disappointed viewer for Jurassic World.

For all the amazing CGI of the first one, they did not skimp on the story and characters. All I have to say is Alan Grant. Jurassic Park 2, the sequence when T-Rex squared pushes the camper off the cliff is stunning, again they did not skimp on the story and characters. I know they have plot holes and characters that were only half developed. But the entertainment factor of Dr. Ian alone carries that film that is re-watchable each time I see it on cable. Jurassic Park 3, sees the return of Alan Grant, one of my favorite actors from the 90's and eerily attracted to in a carnal way, returns to an okay horror film. I love the moments with Eric Kirby, he has some of the best lines in the entire film. Plus, you have the human eating birds attacking our steadfast heroes. Lets not talk about the spinosaurus as a villain.

Then you have Jurassic World some 17 years later with the amazing B.D. Wong and the over-hyped Chris Pratt and his abs. Great CGI and a pulse pounding action scenes but with under developed characters, kids in danger for no reason, and a deeply unsatisfying ending that is a bit too nostalgic for my taste. I felt that Star Wars Force Awakens suffered from the same malady. A fan that grew up and made a homage movie to their childhood fantasies. In both films, each writer and director focused more on feelings that actual story, spectacle over substance, and nostalgia dripping from the screen that makes me wish instead of essentially re-making a classic, they would have been better served in just re-watching the originals.

So when "N" insisted on us going to the movie tonight on my one day off this week, I was prepared for another Jurassic World. After all, Chris Pratt has already given me a sequel that was boring on the surface, sub-par in the meat of the story, and just plain awful by the discovery of the villain. Of course i am speaking about Guardians of the Galaxy Chapter 2.

I offered other opportunities, even went as far as begging us to go to Las Vegas last minute just to avoid this movie. And much to my chagrin, he wasn't having any part of that strategy. And once the credits rolled, damn was I impressed. For the first time in a long time, Chris Pratt was more grounded as an actor since I first saw him on Everwood. The writers/directors kept him from his Prattness and he acted the shit out of a smart, believable script that didn't seem like over two hours that it ended being. Bryce Dallas Howard stopped being the damsel in distress/high heels from the previous one and held her own against the new villain of the piece. I will give zero spoilers but finally a sequel to Jurassic Park that was promised. I didn't stay past the credits so I don't know if there is a post credit scene., but they set up the next installment perfectly that made sense in the framework of the story. Completely understand why its making all the money.

I would say watch this movie, you won't be disappointed.

J
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Buffalo Wild WIng Encounter

By Jason Rimbaud, September 22, 2017

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.
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Day off...Cleaning...24

By Jason Rimbaud, August 24, 2017

I have the day off, first one in a pretty long time that the Boyfriend is working. Not saying he isn't the cleanest person on the planet, but he's messy as fuck. So I really needed to clean the house while he's not around so he won't distract me by dancing around the house in his undies. Though that does make me feel like fuzzy bunny slippers when he does.

So I needed some motivation to clean this filthy house. I searched through my almost one thousand movies and decided on re-watching Season 5 of 24.

I made myself some tuna salad, toasted my artisan sweet batard bread, thinly sliced some sharp cheddar cheese, salt and vinagear chips on the side, sat down in my kitchen and switched on Hour number one. Five hours later, the house is not only still dirty, I haven't cleared the dishes from breakfast, so in fact, it is actually dirtier than it was when i started. And to make it even more upsetting, I think I fell in love with Keifer Sutherland's ass.

So much for cleaning motivation. Though to be honest, I do have the urge to...err..polish something else entirely, thus making the house dirtier still.

Having a great day off.

J
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Untitled & Unfinished Story

By Jason Rimbaud, May 18, 2017

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.
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