You couldn't see foreshadowing, because there has never been any. So here, this one is for you.

Tonight was a really, really good night. I'm still left thinking maybe I'm misunderstanding something. Maybe it's just trained in there. Or maybe I'm still seeing what I want or don't want to see. Or maybe a pile of other stuff. In the end, I'd like to think that I'm not the only one going to bed with a pretty blown mind.

And in the end, it's a little sad. I'd like to show you some passion, because maybe you deserve it and it's been a fucking long time and I'm really a little tired of being so fucking jaded, and see where that all goes and so on, even if it turns out that nah, all a bad idea, etc.. Don't get me wrong, I think we're pretty clear on where things sit right now and agree it is good, for a whole whack of reasons that I quite honestly don't think need to be as clearly laid out as everything else, and I do think we're both pretty capable of maintaining that as it sits. Doesn't mean it can't be just a little unfortunate, or maybe even a little ironic.

But right now, in this minute, it feels like the snow's softly falling under a streetlamp somewhere a lifetime ago, and in this minute, life is good.

Anonyme sucks as bad as google

So, I've had a massively shit day today. I figured hey, I don't want to deal with any of my shit today, so maybe I'll go see what problems other people are having.

So, I pop on one of my favorite blogs (that isn't written by me), read up an interesting post on the nature of friendship, and then proceeded to type a very long, take-my-mind-off-it comment that I think actually had some relevant, decent insight, or was at least a little interesting.

When I went to post it, I was brought to a registration page asking I sign in to the "anonymous" blog site to leave my comment. I hit back, to find that my comment was now gone, and couldn't even be posted here.

*sigh*

So now, I'm really fucking frustrated with the day.

Sometimes, I wonder if I will always feel like this about life. I think there's pills I could get to make things happier, but I've finally got a group of friends who actually seem to kind of like the full range of "Steve" that they get, and I don't really feel like screwing that up.

Plus, I've found I can't smoke pot when I'm on pills, and while I may feel this sort of sedated peace in my chest, I just can't slow my brain down or make it lighter.

So I don't know. Maybe I just need to be happier with life, or toughen up, or simply make better life choices. Or maybe I am always right and the world's just really shitty and pointless to anyone with half a brain. Tough to say.

Wow. That matches the word count of my comment. Maybe I should have retyped that instead of bitching, who knows?



Anyway. ANYWAY.

Sometimes having cats is really, really fucking frustrating.

I think I have loving, awesome cats most of the time, but sometimes, I think they are vile, odorous little bastards.

For example, sometimes, my cool, loving kitties come cheer me up when I feel sick by doing cute things, coming for belly rubs, and just being awesome and mellow and cuddly.

Other times, like today, they only come within five feet of me to puke, shit, or wake me up after finally falling asleep after two days of to-the-wall insomnia. It's been a rough day, guys! I know it's hard being a cat - picking which couch to scratch up, puke on, then nap for 18 hours straight on is probably really HARD SERIOUS SHIT, but cut me a break.

I can't wait till the summer. I think I'll build a kitty plow and use them to till my massive backyard into a garden. Then they can contribute, and also have plants to eat that didn't cost me $100 and are supposed to be for my girlfriend to look at, not eat.

a little more guilt

Ok, one more addendum.

While I think I do live my life the best I can, sometimes you do need to say sorry when you meant to hurt someone. I've been maybe a little late in doing that, but have spent a lot of time recently trying to make amends - both Sam and Kristi have gotten sorry letters, though I would not have seen that coming when they were still in my lives. Sometimes, when you really mean to hurt someone badly, then you really do deserve to feel like shit, and should try to fix it. While those moments are pretty few and far between for me, I've found the best way to deal with it is to just lay it out openly and honestly. Do not expect a reply or forgiveness - in the end, you'll feel better, and that's why you're doing this.

I do not really know how reliable the sources for some of the things I've been reading lately are. They are talking about building a giant dome over Houston, Texas. Apparently no one in Houston, Texas has read The Dome. I wonder how much your property taxes go up when you now have to pay for a several-billion dollar dome. Must be fun to pay to live inside what amounts to a massive experiment. There is much talk about how it will be oh so excellent for the environment, because hey, hasn't the environment always wanted a giant dome in the center of it?

Of course, there probably is some truth to the statement that a controlled environment will save on electricity, as millions of Texans will shut off their A/C. Of course, there is that implication that comes with the words "controlled environment" that kinda makes one think that there is probably going to need to be a massive, cartoon-sized air conditioner around somewhere in order to keep the giant, three-mile wide dome from becoming a giant, three-mile wide magnifying glass in the middle of summer. Maybe it will run on happy, left-wing thoughts, and will infact save power. Or maybe one of the dome's many features is a self-contained nuclear reactor, which will not only be clean, but without sarcasm, also likely safer than a coal powered plant. Who knows?

And of course, at least according to the people presenting this idea, this will help Houston from maintaining the dubious honor of having the U.S.' second highest greenhouse gas emissions. They don't explain exactly how reduction this will happen, but this is likely because it seems pretty obvious: All the dangerous pollution will just stay in the dome, which I guess will be good for the outside environment. Imagine no wind, wouldn't it be nice?

One of the little docudrama things I watch actually did go into addressing what happens if the air in the dome heats up too much and acts as a hot air balloon, floating away and knocking over nice, tall buildings. Turns out, they have REALLY, REALLY big ropes to tie the thing into foundations, which seems somewhat more mickey mouse than placing a band around the base of the dome to me.

It should be noted that a band is indeed also placed around the base of the dome, but it doesn't appear to really be of a design to stop floating problems, at least in the concept art I've been able to find. In fact, at least as far as I can tell from various design descriptions, the base band is there to keep the dome from springing out and flattening the city.

In all honesty, I actually fucking love the concept behind this. These sort of things were originally thought up by the exceedingly brilliant Buckminster Fuller, who not only sounds like a totally fictional cartoon character, but developed some of the coolest concepts in modern architecture, design, and many other things. In fact, he is so awesome that he actually invented a word to brand all of his wicked inventions, habits, and concepts with: "Dymaxion". Of course, some ideas, like this dome, are maybe not quite solidly thought out, or perhaps were, but are not well presented. As some more examples, what happens to the birds? If the dome is easily visible, what happens to the sunlight? What about those who have to live in the shadow? And, back to birds, how exactly are you going to keep the inside and outside of the thing clean? Despite how inherently strong a geodesic dome is, it's not like you can use water bombers to clean off the birdshit.

I think what really bugs me are all the motivations presented for doing this. IT IS NOT GOOD FOR THE ENVIROMENT! It's really actually a terrible fucking idea on many many levels, at least as far as this implementation seems to be going. But it's certainly really, really cool, and a neat "what if". I think the world would be a much better place if we could admit that sometimes, we do things like building a giant, awesome, death dome big enough to have it's own atmosphere just be cause fuck you we can.


In other news, Salon magazine and several other similar rags are givin' props to that chick who played that rags-to-riches girl in that one movie that was adapted from a book based on a true story that someone made up. The tradepaper had a teal cover, originally, with the ipod sillouette of the aforementioned heroine. I want to say "Sapphire", but that may have been the author. I cannot for the life of me remember what it was called, but if you're the kind of person who reads Salon or Us, then you've probably seen the movie or read the book (I haven't), and know what I'm talking about.

Anyway, the whole story frustrated me to the point where I'm not going to look up the book for the sake of my potential readership despite having plenty of internets right in front of me. Essentially, she is morbidly obese, and, in the eyes of many, has a ridiculously terrible fashion sense. While at some awards show, she decided to stop for a photo op in some horrendously awful outfit. This of course, caused many "negative comments". From the very little I've looked deeper into this, it seems that many comments at least mention her being morbidly obese, but that far, far more of the "official" ones were bashing her shitty fashion choice.

In reply to the hatez, yo, she said something along the lines of "To the haters, I want you to know I spent the whole night crying about what you said while on my private jet on my way to my dream job".

So of course, all the peeps had to be like "OH NO SHE DI'NT!" and give her the mad props for being such a witty, offbeat girl who is rightly proud of her body.

Ok, so yeah, I think that's fair enough. As a fellow large mammal, there's nothing really socially wrong with being fat, and in this day and age, it doesn't really seem to limit your ability to experience many aspects of life in the day to day. I was a little horrified, however, at how many people in the comments section of the article seemed to think that being fat, really, truly fat, is somehow actually healthy, and that obesity-caused illness is a total myth. The general tone was consistently "she should be ok with weighing 350 pounds because it's good for you as long as you are happy with it". Maybe phys ed. has really just sunk in deep with me, but I find it really inconceivably stupid that anyone could actually think eating nothing but recycled cows and being large to the point that moving your arms makes you tired is somehow good for you just because you've accepted it. It's like saying smoking is good for you because it makes you cool, or that it's completely safe to light yourself on fire, as long as the heat doesn't bug you and you feel good about it.

I do also have a little problem with the comment itself, or rather, the incredibly overblow gleeful response the media has given it. Think about it this way: How would the media have reacted if it wasn't a fat black chick who said it?

Reporter: President Bush! Some of the people who voted for you twice now think you are infact a mentally retarded infant who is controlled by some larger conspiracy. How do you respond?

GW: Heh. I'mma cry on my private 747 all the way back to my airfield in the quarter of Texas I own. Heh.

I mean, yeah, she is obviously a little more defendable than ol' G.W., but it's really not the fantufuckotabluously amazing witty smart comeback that it's being portrayed as. It's a somewhat exaggerated "Who cares what you think?" (she is no way rich enough to actually own and operate a jet, and charter jets aren't that impressive when you see how cheap they can be), which is something her mom or friends should be congratulating her on, not the global media.


Bah, the world is a stupid and silly place.

It's taken me three days to write this - I started it, then Lisa got home (I don't like people reading over my shoulder), and then I forgot about it. But I think I was going to end this with a "People are goofy" thought.

Instead.


Hi Lindsay,

I don't know if you read this any more, but hey. I appears you are going through some fun stuff, and while I do actually have what I'd consider to be some valid input, I think I will refrain from giving it.

I really, really feel the need to say something here, as you've been trying to contact me recently, I just feel like perhaps some new parameters need to be established in our relationship.

Kinda hurts my feelings when you say "Oh gee I miss you how are you", when you haven't bothered to come see me in the numerous times you've been up to Dawson. I don't know if you realize this, but you never said thank you for driving you to Edmonton. You never really even tried to clean up the new years mess - I get Edward is weird, but he is a person too and that really destroyed his life for a while. Honestly, what I am getting at here is that I've really felt like maybe we have not been friends for a long time.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not bitter or angry or anything. I would not count anyone from the old days, even Sophie, to be anything resembling a friend. And I'm aware I've made some mistakes too. Half-assed hitting on you all the time was probably annoying. Leaving my going away party for a while to go get stoned was kind of a dick move. And bringing Bri on the aforementioned Edmonton trip was likely not cool, though I would have loved to have been able to get rid of her at that point if I could redo it.

And I do appreciate the late night, cheer me up talks we had sometimes back then. I appreciate you bringing me Tim Horton's while I was too sick to find clothes and not minding my laying on the floor in a blanket. I remember thinking it was a pretty damned perfect day that time we snowmobiled to the rimrocks when we were dating, way back when. I really did and do fondly remember a lot of the more human, open moments we had.

So, I guess that's my thoughts. I don't know where I am trying to go with it, or what I am looking for by saying that. I guess in the end, I have some resentment I'd rather not have, and thusly feel the need to lay it out. I don't think resentment is quite the right word, but I am incapable of thinking of a better one. Don't take as a dismissal or a "hey, fuck you, we aren't friends" - it's not. I think that if I still knew you well, I'd likely find you as charming and interesting as I always have. But I don't think I really know anything about you that wasn't part of you half a decade ago, and I've just found as I've grown older that people aren't really worth it if you can't say these types of things to them and have it be a cause for dialog. So now that I have said them, I feel better about things, and perhaps we can be new old friends, or something.

Perhaps later I will put out my thoughts on your problem, though I don't think you'd find they help you come to any real conclusions beyond me being far slimier than you. But for now, I think that's really what I'd like to say, so we'll leave it at that.

Hope all is well elsewhere!

Steve



Aw, hey, one more thing, just cause. Guilt is tough. I think a lot of people who've known me for a long time think that I'm incapable of feeling it. Sometimes I've thought this too, and it's scared me - who wants to be a sociopath.

But I've come to a conclusion in the last few years. It's actually something a therapist told me many years ago, that I did not give much cred to until recently.

I am, as she described, an empath. I get these hugely overwhelming feelings from people, to the point where I have trouble telling the emotions behind statements apart from the statements themselves. For example, if someone is really mad at me, I do not hear them saying "Well, hey, that's not right", I hear them feeling "WELL FUCK YOU YOU LITTLE SHIT".

Thusly, when I cause someone pain, I am more than capable of realizing it.

Besides that, I am somewhat convinced that as long as you do not need dates or lengths of time, I have a frighteningly good memory. I can remember being in the womb, and hearing conversations my mother had before I was born. Hell, I can even tell you what she ate. I know this seems unlikely, but I have had the luck to actually collaborate this with her, having met her in the last few years.

I remember being born. I remember my new parents getting me. I remember pretty much everything from that point on, really. In fact, when I was a kid, I spent so much time talking about possesions I've never owned, and travelling to places I was too young to have even heard of with excellent clarity. And when I was really young, I would scare myself so badly that I'd get taken to emergency, because I remember suffocating to death with an umbilical cord around my throat, being killed during what I now believe could have been the firebombing of Dresden, and falling from a roof and impaling myself on a fence. I remember the last words I may or may not have been able to say to my family before I died as an old person with some illness. So I'd go on a limb and say I can even remember past lives, if such a thing exists and is or was not simply misfiring neurons or dreams confused with reality in my childhood brain.

And with that, I remember all the bad shit I've done. I can quite clearly recall kicking Kevin Derfler's baby sister (like, 4 or 5, not baby baby) in the head just cause when I was really little. I remember the first thing I actually did really really regret, which oddly enough was breaking a little laser-pen toy I had because I didn't work - you can always get the legomen who wouldn't stand up right back out of the vacuum cleaner, but it turns out you can't fix a laser reader after you throw it down the stairs. I remember making up a vicious rumor in order to try and get a teacher fired in elementary school. I remember going a little too far in an argument with someone I'd still like to be my best friend in grade 7 and losing that friendship. There are really, really very few things I think I've forgotten, at least in terms of the narration of the story of Steve.

So, I guess to me, not feeling too bad about things is just how it is and has to be. There are some things, like ditching someone on their prom night, that I will probably always feel bad for, but by and large, I simply cannot afford to let myself feel too bad about much of anything, or I will become even more depressed and unstable.

I know this is something that likely would not come easy to a more normal person, so here's three tips:

1. Remember: They would do it to you, given the chance. This applies to everything. What friends I have are good ones, but are more than happy to let me pick up the tab, or use my stuff without asking, or generally do stuff I'd consider to insensitive. No one is perfect, and forced into the choice, everyone is indeed looking out for number one in the end. Does this mean everyone out there is mean-spirited, hates you, and is spiteful? Not at all, see tip three.

2. Realize that in the end, it really doesn't matter. So something's fucked up. Or broken. Or whatever. Who cares? In 20 years, it would likely have fucked itself up, or broken, or whatever. In the end, there is really no point to anything in life. You live, you make some mistakes, and you die. Within 10 years of that, it's really likely that no one will have even remembered who you were or give a shit about your little life.

3. Realize that morality is not black, white, or grey. Right and wrong as infalliable concepts is kinda bullshit. Hitchiker's guide to the galaxy makes a good example - aliens want to destroy earth and all life on it to build a highway. Does this make them evil? Well, maybe, as they are killing billions of people. But at the same time, not really. They aren't doing it out of spite, they are doing it because they want a commuter lane. So when you really back up and look it, the concept of "bad" and "good" does not really apply to general life. I can do bad things with good intentions, and vise-versa. In the end, I feel this: Did you do it because you wanted to hurt someone, or because you thought it would make you feel better? If you aren't trying to hurt someone, then it's pretty hard to feel bad about it. I will let myself feel bad if my actions cause pain, but in the end, I can safely place that in the hands of the hurtee - I'm sorry I hurt you, but I didn't mean to, and frankly it's your problem, not mine, that you feel like this.

I think the other reason I find three to be very easy for me. Admittedly, it's not the way to win friends and influence people, but in reality, most people are unintentionally pretty rude and cruel, even without meaning to be. I will not take the time to delve into this right now, but it's somewhat proven that subconsciously, even the way humans have of talking to and interacting with eachother on a day-to-day basis is pretty harmful. While I think I'm pretty good at being much more aware of the feelings of others than a lot of people, I really don't see any need to CARE about those feelings - really, do other people care about mine, even if they aren't as obvious? No, not really.

I am tired. My hands hurt. I think that's really, really it, though I'd like to sort of explore this a little more sometime.

New Years Eve. It feels like it's been a long time since I've had one.

I only distinctly remember five new years celebrations.

The first was when I was very young. I went with my parents to the Happalas. We ate lots of crab. I drank a little wine and passed out on Anne-Marie and Pete's waterbed, to the original series of Star Trek on VHS.

There is a fuzzy memory in there of eating a horrible Finnish dish called lutefisk. I suspect many of these memories, horseshoes, and sand, and old polka music have all blended into one.

The second is of my grandfather, and a new-years spent in a comfortable chair built for the elderly. My grandmother was somewhere else. I ate lots of popcorn. I had a little bit of whiskey, and fell asleep to John Wayne. All I can think of when I remember this is how much more alive he seemed then. My grandmother is not well, and for every thing she forgets, he must remember, good or bad.

The third is Happala's again. I remember going there again when I was older, with a girl named Tylar. She was beautiful then, and things were happy. We ate a great feast, lit candles on the traditional fire-hazard tree, and drank some wine and passed out to Audrey Hepburn movies, on DVD.

Of course, I got bored. She told me once afterwards that her parents had thought we would get married. I wonder sometimes where things would be if that had happened. There is no lingering sentiment in this, just a curiosity that is driven by a current boredom.

Sometimes, I wonder this about many past relationships. I do not think I'd be happier. I wonder about many things, most of the time.


The fourth memory I have is of the first new years at my house. We were hammered, and naked, and in the hot tub and on the beds, and on the trampoline. It was the best kind of freedom. I think that when I am old and die, this is the place I want to revisit before I pass. Nothing was right or perfect, but for a few months, while my parents were gone, and the bank account was full, life was really, really just ok and happy.

The fifth is of a new years at my house again. I don't remember the night - I remember what happened after. I suppose that likely should have been a bit of a heads up. but hey, for some reason, I still write these. And I'd like to think it's not solely for my own perusal. So what do I know, anyway?

And that brings us to now. Where I am drunk, and very stoned, and smell and feel like shit. I have spent the night cleaning puke, and looking after the friends of the girl I like, and generally doing a bunch of absolute bullshit I had hoped to avoid having to do tonight.

I feel as though I have done my penance in life. Yes, I was a shitty person when I was younger. And now, my life is pretty darn shitty by the standards of today's living. There is certainly good, but I cannot help but look around and feel like this is just a cheap, terrible way to live. I do not like that I will never accomplish anything significant in my life. I do not like that I am now a pretty nice person for the most part, but still repel people. I do not like that the few people I find worth my time do not find me worth theirs. And I do not like going to stupid fucking new years parties, where I am not welcome until my previous alchoholism has rendered me the only one capable of standing, and a bunch of immature fucking pedants need my aide. And regardless of all that, I get it - fair enough, I guess.

So that's my thought for this new years - I hope all the best in the world to the people that want it. I don't, and haven't for a long time. Just let me die, already.

A short interlude.

http://veryhilarious.com/church-sign-debates/

I haven't forgotten about you, blog. I'm just too tired to work up the rant energy needed to finish you at the moment.

Back on the reef.

Boring.

Boring, boring, boring.

That is my big problem with life. It is immensely boring. I get so bored, so crushed by lack of meaning, that I just don't want to do anything anymore, which leads to me being more bored.

I have no friends, and don't feel it is worth the effort to make more. My hobbies are those as required by my job, and even that is tenuous at best, as I really hate my job. My only real interest is in drugs, as they invariably make things less boring, but unfortunately, they also happen to no longer work.

I look ahead and try to imagine myself as an old man. I'd love to be an old man, because then things would make sense. Old people are boring, bored, and happy with it. But I can't ever really picture it. Another 40 years of being bored, and then

what? There is no reward for living a good life. A safe life, and a boring one. There is no punishment for leading a bad one either, I am sure.

I don't mean there is no Heaven, or Hell. I just can't imagine heaven being overly exciting, or that there's a whole lot worse in hell than 60 to 80 years of feeling all morbid and depressed.

I'd probably end up in Limbo anyway. This is where ol' Virgil tells us that the "good pagans" go.

"Good pagans". Now there's a trip. Most Christian dogma says that to get into heaven, all you need to do is renounce your sins, and accept Jesus Christ as your personal lord and savior. Anything else you do is meaningless. And if you don't do these things, you will unfortunately have to go burn in hell for eternity. Or go to Limbo, if you really want to be politically correct.

So how does that work, huh? You can rape and rob and murder for your whole life, but so long as you say you're sorry and that you love Jesus with your dying breath, it's all good and groovy? Similarly, if you're an honest, hardworking person all your life, never doing a wrong, but just so happen to have never heard of Jesus because you were born a thousand years before him, or on the other side of the world, you get eternal firey damnation?

Shitty deal, bra! The Lord works in mysterious ways! MYSSSTERIOUS!

My ass. Look at it this way:

There is a God. He is all knowing and all powerful. He creates or is created alongside angels, subordinate to him with no free will. This is the state of things for the next 'X' amount of eons, until one day, he decides to create the universe as we know it, and in it, life, and... us!

But not only does he create us. He gives us something that nothing else has. We get free will. In return, God asks that we love him, and we obey him.

This creates a schism in Heaven, causing whatever passes for a civil war as the angels rebel, jealous, scared, angry, driven by whatever emotions or motivations a celestial being has to go against God hissownself. Hell is created as Lucifer is cast down, and suddenly evil exists.

Meanwhile, back on earth, we have used our free will to love and obey in the sense that we just love to fuck eachother up the ass, and obey the cardinal rule of "better him than me". Some people choose to love God and be kind to eachother, and generally not make a shit time of absolutely everything, but the rest of us tend to be content dropping weapons that can be seen from space on eachother and groping little girls, or at least do very little about it.

Now, this makes God sad, because he really just loves us and wants the best for us, right?

Wrongo, kiddo! Read that all to yourself out loud. Here we have an all-knowing, all- doing being. He KNOWS if he does something like give out free will, it will cause a ton of shit. He KNOWS that by giving us free will, we'll all freely and willingly beat the shit out of eachother until someone finally just says "ENOUGH!" and gives us some maddeningly stereotypical dystopian society, or simply decides to pull the plug on surface life and euthanizes us all.

HE KNOWS THIS, AND YET HE DOES IT.

Because he also knows that some of us will maybe turn out ok and keep things going as best as we can. And far, far more importantly, he knows that some of us will use this gift, our ability to choose for ourselves, and choose to do the one thing he's asked for: Love him. We'll choose to love him, which is something all the servants in heaven could never do.

And that, that is not the action of a "loving, caring God". That's the action of a fucking megalomaniac. That's the action of an abusive spouse, or a psychotic axe murderer out of any shitty 1980s movie. He knows we will cause all this horror and pain and destruction, but it's still worth it for him, because some of us will love him of our own free will. Sure, some of us might get tortured, or murdered, or just spend life feeling sad. Hell, some may even find the whole concept of existence just doesn't suit them much. But as the abortionists say, can't make an omlet without breaking a few eggs, right?

The Christian god is pathetic. His religion is a tower of lies fed to a bunch of half interested sheep who couldn't be bothered to read the Old Testament and call a crock when they saw it. His "son" is one hell of a good adapter of eastern ideals, and an even better conman, though to be fair, people were less into reading back in those days and can be excused for ignoring that he doesn't really do anything that hasn't been done before. It's also easier to find converts when the largest empire in the world adopts your happy-dappy alternative to a more realistic religion and spends the next thousand years killing anyone who disagrees.

It also helps when you have a central character with which to base your book on, an easier plot to follow, and a less human, more divine and singular God than the prequel. And when you can take a few hundred years to finish the book, editing out some of the squickier parts as the years go on.

Here's a little known fact: There are three Gods in the Old Testament, or at least two being described by three different writers. Or rather, three that you are allowed to worship. There's quite a few that the heathens worship too, and there's nothing said about them being any less real. Just taboo for the Jew, as it were. At least one is presented as being better than human, but not omnipotent - David wrestles with YHWH - known to Christians and certain witnesses as "Jehova", and to readers of older translations as Yahweh - on the side of the road, and he wins. The other Old Testament gods spend most of their time torturing the hell out of various Egyptians, Jews, and heathens, and are still presented as much more human and falliable than the current concepts of God.

In fact, they are pretty illogical and pretty fucking horrendous to humans in general. You've heard the story of how God flooded the earth, but have you heard the one where he gets Abraham to sacrifice his son, just to see if he'll do it? Most newer translations try to lighten this up as a test of commitment by saying that God brought the boy back, but this is poor scholarship. Older translations get it right - God gives Abraham another son. The old one is still dead as a doornail. Tough luck!

I see that conversation going like this:

((the scene fades in, and the camera pans across the beautiful landscape of a place the Romans would know as Syria four thousand years hence. Our view tilts down, following a thin column of smoke that drifts lazily up to the heavens. We find ourselves looking at a small stone altar on the top of a hill, where a man in tears ((ABRAHAM)) cleans an ornate ceremonial knife while the remains of a sacrificial holocaust gradually dwindle to embers. The remains of his favorite son finally extinguish themselves, and a sharp breeze slowly pushes them across the altar, to eventually disperse across the earth. Wiping his tears, ABRAHAM looks at the sky and cries out.))

Abraham: O, my dear lord, who arth so wise and all powerful, I have done as thee asked. My son has been offered opon thy most holiest of altars to appease thee, and with the rites of flame, has gone on to thyne realms. Please bestow thy blessing and mercy opon me, thyne humble servant.

((god appears as a massive godlike thing, whatever that looks like. He is accompanied by a crack of thunder and a display of lightning that causes ABRAHAM to cower in fear. Seeing the terror on ABRAHAM's face, he descends to earth in a flash of light and takes a human form.))

God: DO NOT BE AFRAID, O MORTAL! FOR IT IS WRITTEN THAT ANY WHO ASK FOR THE LORD'S MERCY SHALL HAVE IT!

((abraham peeks out from behind the altar, and, seeing that God has come to his level, quickly prostrates himself before the Deity.))

Abraham: It is? O, thank thee mine lord, all wise and powerful! I...

((interrupting)) God: WELL, MAYBE IT ISN'T. I COMMAND THEE MORTAL, WRITE THAT DOWN SOMEWHERE BEFORE I FORGET IT!

Abraham: Of course, my God, Glory in the highest! ((wiping the tears from his eyes, and writing in the dirt)) Any.. Who.. Ask.. For.. The... Lord's... Mercy.. Shall...

((interrupting)) God: ANY? DID I REALLY SAY ANY?

Abraham: Yes, mine Lord, those were the most holy words bespake by thee, and thusly shall it be written.

God: ANY, REALLY? BAH, THAT'S TOO MUCH MERCY. SOME OF THE OTHER GODS ARE ALREADY COMPLAINING ABOUT HOW MUCH MERCY I GIVE OUT, NOT JUST KILLING YOU ALL WHEN YOU GUYS ATE MY APPLES AND ALL. CHANGE THAT TO "HE WHO ASKS FOR THE LORD'S MERCY SHALL RECIVE IT". LEAVE IT A LITTLE AMBIGIUOS AND I CAN FIGURE IT OUT LATER.

Abraham: Of course mine God, Master of all. ((scribbling)) So... tis not mine place to question the will of God, but does this mean mine sister Sarah is to be damned because she is a woman?

God: HMMM?

Abraham: Well, my lord, O wonder of wonders, it is written that He Who Asks For The Lord's Mercy Shall Recive It. Sarah is a she, and thusly, it is written that she shall not have bask in thy merciful light. I, your humble servant, am saddened that in thine wisdom thou hast seen fit to damn all womankind, but I remain strong and faithfull.

GOD: WELL, WAIT A MINUTE HERE... ((god gets a ponderous expression on his face, and sits on the altar, crushing the charred bones of Abraham's son)) I DON'T WANT TO MAKE ANY BOLD STATEMENTS LIKE THAT. IN A COUPLE THOUSAND YEARS THERE WILL BE THINGS CALLED 'FEMENISTS'. THEY SCARE THE CRAP OUT OF ME ENOUGH WITHOUT HANDING THEM SOMETHING LIKE THAT.

((he sits and thinks for a long while. Abraham looks increasingly uncomfortable, then tired, and the sun slowly starts to set))

God: AHA! THE LORD YOUR GOD HAS FIGURED IT OUT! WRITE "HE WHO IS FAITHFUL AND ASKS FOR THE LORD'S MERCY SHALL RECIVE IT"!

Abraham: ((starting from the edge of sleep)) Even the worshippers of Baal and Loki?

GOD: ((very EXASPERATED.)) NO! OBVIOUSLY NOT THEM!

Abraham: And those of Ceres and Zeus and Eris? And...

God: ((interrupting)) NO! NO! JESUS H. CHRIST, YOU ARE FRUSTRATING. FINE, "ANY WHO ASK FOR THE LORD'S MERCY SHALL HAVE IT! EXCEPT THE HEATHENS. AND THE GENTILES. AND PRETTY MUCH ANYONE WHO ISN'T ONE OF YOUR DIRECT DESCENDANTS!". MAKE IT SOUND PRETTY AND WRITE IT DOWN, OR NO ONE GETS ANY MERCY AT ALL! I GROW WEARY OF THIS!

Abraham: ((writing furiously)) SO IT IS WRITTEN, O GOD MY CAPTAIN!

God: AND IT WAS GOOD. NOW, WHY DID YOU CALL ME DOWN HERE IN THE FIRST PLACE, PUNY MORTAL?

Abraham: It is I, O Lord! Dost thou not recognize your servant Abraham!

God: ABRAHAM... HM... ABRA - OH, I REMEMBER YOU. YOU'RE THAT GUY WHO THINKS HIS WIFE IS HIS SISTER AND CAN'T TELL HIS DAUGHTERS FROM HARLOTS WHEN DRUNK, AREN'T YOU? WHAT DO YOU WANT? I'M NOT INTO FREAKY STUFF.

Abraham: Yes it is I, my lord, O mightiest of the ducks, I have sacrificed my son to thee, as thou hast instructed several nights past. I beg of thee to bestow thy blessing opon me, thy humblest of servants.

God: You what? Oh shit bro, you actually did it? I totally owe Eris five... I MEAN, GOOD! VERY GOOD LITTLE MORTAL! YOUR BIZARRE AND DISTURBING ACT OF FAITH PLEASES ME IN STRANGE WAYS! GOOD BOY! NOW, DID YOU CALL ME ALL THE WAY OVER HERE JUST TO TELL ME THAT, OR IS THERE SOME OTHER TRIPPY RELIGIOUS SHIT YOU'VE BEEN DOING THAT YOU WANT TO TELL ME ABOUT TOO?

Abraham: My Lord.. I am confused... In thy wisdom, thou hast asked me to make this sacrifice as a show of devotion in exchange for your blessing. Mine mouth boils at the thought of asking a reward of thee, but...

God: OH, RIGHT, A BLESSING. UM. ((God's face screws up as he ponders this, then brightens)) I KNOW! YOU HAVE DONE WELL MY SERVANT! FOR YOUR DEDICATION I SHALL REWARD YOU WITH WHAT YOUR HEART DESIRES MOST!

((god stands up, stretches his back, and continues))

God: AS MY MOST LOYAL OF SERVANTS, I SHALL GIVE YOU YOUR INNERMOST WISH. I SHALL GIVE YOU A SON!

((at this, Abraham falls to his knees again, and tears of joy stream from his face.))

Abraham: O THANK YOU MY GREAT AND MIGHTY GOD! You truly are merciful, to bring my son back to me!

God: BRING YOUR SON BACK? NO, HE'S DEAD. WITH THE WHOLE KNIFE AND FIRE AND STUFF. YOU WERE THERE, YOU SHOULD KNOW.

((god finishes stretching and beings to glow as he turns back into godliness, which, due to the limted SFX budget will be a big, glowing light.))

God: NO, I AM GIVING YOU ANOTHER SON. AS IN, I'M ALLOWING YOU TO GO HOME AND HAVE SEX WITH YOUR WIFE-SISTER RATHER THAN SMITING YOU BLIND OR FARTING ON YOU FOR ETERNITY, OR THE MILLION OTHER PUNISHMENTS I'VE BEEN THINKING OF DURING THIS RIDICULOUSLY FRUSTRATION CONVERSATION. NOW GO, BEFORE I DECIDE ELSEWISE. SO IT IS WRITTEN!

Abraham: Is it, my lord, o God of Gods? I shall write it if..

God: OH, FUCK OFF.

((god disappears, and the camera fades out on Abraham standing next to the altar, looking content))


For once, I'm tired of writing and hungry, but still remember the point here. So a part two soon



Well, I shall continue the rant later. I am still bored, but less so than previous, and hunger is more important.