A Different Sort of X-Mas II (updated)

Tired of the same old Christmas rut? Me too--and then some! As a non-believer, I've gone through various stages since first walking out on an X-mas Mass, and the Church altogether, a little over 30 years ago, when a fat pig priest (didn't even have the requisite "sanctimonious smile") started talking A-bombs and calling down…

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Post 100: Everybody’s Got a Tattoo Except for Me and My Monkey

In the days I’m urged to call the punk rock shambles of my misspent youth, I would sometimes descend into a paralyzing--if undisciplined and fuzzy--philosophical inquiry concerning a matter of commitment and authenticity many in my tribe considered of grave importance: to get a tattoo or to remain un-illustrated. This was a big deal. It…

Thoughts…

Lock up the night-soil men who prowl our secret alleys and cart away our ripest fruit. Kleptomaniacs all, they do their dirty work on our dime. They eavesdrop on confidences exchanged with our BFFs. They sell us offal, call it Ovaltine, then assure us it's a small world after all. Bored with larceny, they muster…