Tuesday, October 25, 2011

Hopscotch Jesus

The other night I was wandering Sunset Boulevard and came across a square of sidewalk that said, “Jesus Loves You.”

Jesus loves me? Was this a prank or was Jesus amongst us with chalk in hand scrawling his love message for all the world to see?

I looked ahead and saw another “Jesus Loves You” square... and then another... and another... it was Hopscotch Jesus!

I suddenly had the urge to follow the Jesus squares to find out, to get a glimpse of this Jesus graffiti person. Would he still be bearded or did he finally shave? Would he be sporting a goatee, a mustache, a jazz patch, or no facial hair at all? Would he wearing the traditional Jesus robe of yore or sporting some Abercrombie & Fitch clothing with a backwards baseball cap?

I started to hop from one Jesus square to another. It seemed endless.

While I was hopping a wee little voice in my head kept whispering if I stepped on a crack I’d fall through and go straight to hell, to the flames of eternal heat and damnation. I had visions of horns and pitchforks and Tea Partiers.

I continued hopping.

The wee little voice continued whispering, telling me if I didn’t get to the end of the Jesus squares I’d be destined to purgatory. I had visions of a never ending mall in the middle of nowhere with generic stores and generic people carrying generic shopping bags full of generic merchandise with no exit. I felt a generic shiver.

So I hopped with all my might from one Jesus square to the next. It was exhausting and after what seemed like forever I came to end of the Jesus square.

There was no Jesus. There was no reward. It was a red light.

I said “fuck it” and went to the movies.

(true story)

Wednesday, October 12, 2011

The Not So Friendly Skies

A rock star with his pants hanging low. Was his pee-pee hanging out? Was the crack of his hairy ass on full display?

A Lesbian couple sharing a tender kiss. Were their hands fondling each other’s breasts? Were they grunting that unmistakable “I’m gonna be coming any second” sound?

I asked myself those questions when I read that these people were recently asked to leave their flights. I was under the distinct impression that airline staff were on the lookout for terrorists, but I must be mistaken. Airline personnel now seem to be crowning themselves the moral and fashion police.

How does one equate low riding pants with being a terrorist? Maybe the airline personnel heard his stomach growling as he tried boarding the plane and assumed he’s be shooting killer farts upon takeoff.

How does one equate a tender kiss between consenting adults a threat? Maybe the airline personnel were afraid the kiss was really a killer kiss.

You know what makes me fearful of flying?

The plastic smiles of airline stewards and stewardesses when you ask for extra peanuts or more soda when you know damn well they don’t want to help you. Behind those smiles lurks evil.

The non-natural fabric of airline personnel uniforms. At high altitudes I fear it might self-ignite.

The germs that are nesting in the never washed airline pillows and blankets.

The outrageous prices we have to pay for seats that are abnormally narrow and truly uncomfortable.

The possibility that when I’m peeing in the plane’s bathroom the plane will hit turbulence and I’ll fall, bang my head unconscious, and be found in a puddle of piss with my johnson hanging out of my pants.

But most of all I fear that airline staff is getting away with judging and mistreating passengers all in the name of security.

The friendly skies have sadly become the not so friendly skies.