Laryngitis is my Kryptonite

I talk a lot. Apparently I talk more than your average bear, Booboo, because mother fuckers love to tell me I talk too much. Especially those mo-fos that get a taste of my wrath in a spoken word spar & refuse to admit defeat. Instead of engaging in discussion, these jack-offs discount whatever point I was making by calling attention to the fact that I’m speaking at all. I hate those pricks. But, they aren’t the only ones that call me out for being a Chatty Cathy. My father is convinced that I never shut the fuck up. When the orthodontist told him that I needed molars removed because my mouth was too small, he exclaimed “BULLSHIT! We’re talking about the same girl here?”, then Pops & the Ortho enjoyed a series of Big Mouth = Talk Too Much jokes at my expense. Ha ha, dickheads, didn’t see that one coming. My quieter pals pass their thoughts on to me for pubic announcement, sort of like a living & breathing P.A. system for the painfully shy. They make requests like “Ask him to play this song” or “Go see if that girl is his girlfriend” or “You outta’ tell that bitch to shut the fuck up!”. I am always the one that buddies introduce as “my political friend”, as if warning others that I maybe compelled to jump on a soap box & start spouting my liberal ideology like a left-wing novelty act should the subject of politics come up. Caution: This Woman Speaks On It! Don’t Get Her Started! More often than not, I’m chastised for talking too much, even though I’m much more entertained by debate than I am by giving speeches.I am rarely applauded for my ability to carry on a conversation, but I am often called out for dominating a discussion. Like it’s a bad thing that I know shit, that I bother to form opinions on topics, or that I’m comfortable expressing my viewpoint! I’m not a know-it-all or a bad listener, nor am I a shrinking violet-wallflower type. But, for better or for worse, I talk a lot.   

Sometimes I have an agenda when I speak; other times I just spout off on a stream of consciousness hoping it will lead to a conclusion that justifies my rant. Often, I speak for speaking’s sake, just to give the vocal chords a workout, y’know? I talk a lot in some social settings so as to avoid blending in with the scenery & disappearing all together. I talk to fill the space of an awkward silence or to kick-start conversation when folks have fallen into a stoned stupor. I talk to unload the psychological burden I accumulate in this life and to assure others that they are not that crazy or alone. Sometimes I talk in small child-like tones, sometimes my “inner sista” surfaces and exposes my ghetto roots. Always, my speech is peppered with sarcasm, regional slang, sound effects, and curse words. I especially love compound cuss words and the versatility of the word “bitch”! I avoid using racial slurs because they make me uncomfortable, but I have no qualms instigating class warfare with my commentary. At one time or another, I’ve sounded like a fucking idiot, a ditz, a nerd, a blowhard, and a cold-hearted bitch. I suspect I’ll have opportunities in the future to do so again. I’ve totally gotten busted talking to myself, but I don’t understand people that honestly talk to their pets or plants… or infants. I’m very vocal in bed, at sporting events, when drunk or nervous. I’m not a Jabber Jaw at the movie theatre, in the library, or when I first meet a Scottie-Too-Hottie. I talk mad shit, I pick fights to amuse myself, and I am not likely to excuse blatant misogyny by remaining silent. I speak on what I know, I appreciate the word play found in hip-hop and punk rock, and I abuse the shit out of my First Amendment right to freedom of speech. So, yeah, I suppose I talk a lot.

And what of it?   

                                                                          

Holy Fuck. Jesus was a Zombie!

I cannot believe it never occurred to me that Jesus H. Christ was a freaking zombie. The most famous one I can think of, in fact! No wonder I am so afraid of Christianity & it’s followers! Zombies scare the piss out of me & it never dawned on me that the celebration of Easter, of Christ’s resurrection, was actually a day of praise for the un-dead. I smell an excellent parody of Passion of the Christ here… 

Between a mouth and a hard place

I never trust men that don’t like oral sex. If they aren’t down with going down, they really shouldn’t bring that to my attention because they’ll end up looking like a misogynist or a closet homosexual in my eyes and that means No Nookie. I can take it or leave it, but I’m not about to screw somebody that admits they won’t venture south because they find the practice of mouth-to-beaver love unappealing. Basically, I take that as meaning the dude thinks pussies are nasty & that being the case, he probably shouldn’t be sticking his dick in one either! Certainly not mine, anyhow. I understand if a person is weary about oral between strangers and I even have some respect for those that place a higher value on the act of cunnillingus; waiting until a romantic relationship has advanced to whenever Pussy Eating Time is before going there. But if a straight male is adamantly opposed to giving face & has the audacity to vocalize such bullshit, I can almost guarantee that the dick ain’t worth the trouble, Baby. If the douche bag expects to receive a blowjob despite his pussy-phobia & is stupid enough to say that shit out loud around a perspective lover, not only should he be rejected, he should be promptly kicked in the balls. That will sideline his ass for the evening & save all the other ladies in the place from the grim fate of going home with a lousy lay. Might even prevent the wanker from procreating & spreading his malicious sexual mores to future generations.

More annoying than those dipshits are those fucking man-freaks that don’t like receiving oral sex. What the fuck is wrong with these men? Was it traumatic teeth-on-cock action? Ripped foreskin? Some kind of dick related injury? The only acceptable excuses I can think of involve some painful experience while in the mouth of a sadist or a retard. Even then, I’d expect a guy to get the fuck over it eventually. In my worldview, men should always act like getting head is a gift from the Gods themselves and most of the time, this is the case. Normally, the prospect of getting a BJ makes a guy super-excited – like they want to high-five themselves – and THAT is one of the primary goals of giving head! We, the Cocksuckers of America, take pride in our ability to inspire giddy, goofy, retard-happiness in our penis…er…partner. So, what to make of a man that doesn’t want head? Throws off this bitch’s game & I don’t like it one bit. A revelation like that makes me question the basic principals that I base my existence upon, like the shallow nature of male sexuality and the belief that blowjobs can tame the savage beast. Even more aggravating than the mental tailspin Anti-BJ types instigate are the physical repercussions of fucking these guys. A marathon sex session can become an endurance challenge when a gal can’t fall back on oral sex to give her vagina a break every once in awhile & that might cost the dude a call-back session. Anti-BJ-ers are usually under the impression that giving head is a selfless act women perform strictly for the benefit of the recipient & that idea is usually accompanied with other misguided sexual mythology they picked up from porn, like all women enjoy hostile breast fondling or ejaculation in their faces. This is why I distrust men that don’t jump at the chance to get head. I assume they must have ridiculous ideas about other bedroom activities as well and, like I always say, I never want to teach.

Stockton, California: A Survival Guide (Continued)

As promised, the adventure continues…

CHAPTER TWO: WHO THE FUCK IS IN CHARGE HERE? (or The Puppet Masters)

One of the best Letters to the Editor ever published in the local paper was from a transplant resident that claimed our great city was the “most politically corrupt” he had ever lived in & he was shocked by how little uproar this causes. What the aggravated letter writer did not understand is that Stocktonians are well aware of how fucked up shit is, but the shame of poverty keeps us quiet for the most part. We have our very own, home-grown, rags-to-riches tale (The Legend of A.G. Spanos) to reinforce the idea that our lives suck because we don’t try hard enough. So many Stocktonians are barely staying afloat and, as popular mythology would have you believe, this has NOTHING to do with the misappropriation of city funds away from programs of social uplift and toward the pet projects of real estate developers or corporate interests. All sarcasm aside, think about it for a second. How many chain restaurants and big box retail stores do we need to subsidize with tax dollars before we kick down some feta for improvement of our shitty public transit system? Or how ‘bout local entrepreneur assistance on par with the millions we spent moving Paraguay’s into the Hotel Stockton? How is it cool to strip the library’s budget by 10% (no shit. See it HERE.) when we have the lowest literacy rate of any city in the NATION (pop. over 250,000), but in the same fiscal year we have enough money to earmark $22.4 million for a waterfront marina? Does that shit sound right to you? Me neither. I think the letter writing transplant was on to something.

It is true that this last election cycle replaced the mayor & several city council members, so it’s best not to jump the gun & assume the worse of them before they’re given a chance to fuck up. After all, these aren’t the dudes that gave Neil Diamond a million big ones to play at our arena & they aren’t the ones that stripped the Charter Way Renovation Project to fund the Downtown Revitalization effort & they aren’t the dingbats that sold waterfront land (site of the new Lexington Hotel) for a $1… you get the point.

My advice when it comes to the Powers That Be is to avoid buying into the bullshit they’re trying to sell you. Remember that Stockton has one of the highest sales tax rates in the state, that the city rapes local businesses on licensing fees & taxes, and that all the monies they collect are intended to fund the common good. If Stockton can fund a marina that most of us will never be able to use & we can kick down for yet another real estate development when most of the homes already built stand empty, don’t you think it’s about time our elected officials applied some financial aid to our wounded economy? Shouldn’t they at least pretend to fix our 13% unemployment rate? Or at least spruce up the shelter a little (since us broke fucks are headed in that direction soon enough)? You can ask the Budget Committee questions like these or get updates on the next meeting HERE. Power to the People, Bitches.

 

CHAPTER THREE: WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH THE SPD? (or Stop! Or Our Cops Will Shoot!)

Anyone that lives here will tell you that our Boys In Blue don’t fuck around. They will shoot you. If the Stockton Police Department offers any explanation for gunning down a citizen, it will be a short victim-blaming statement (issued by Officer Pete Smith), repeated without question in the local paper, and then the issue will be dropped. End of story. For whatever reason, the SPD is granted the authority to play Judge, Jury, and Executioner as they see fit. Don’t get me wrong, I understand how dangerous this town is (I live here, after all) & I know that extreme situations may lead to justifiable homicide committed by a police officer (like the recent situation where that dude stabbed a judge & was promptly gunned down. What the hell was he thinking?) BUT Stockton’s cops are out of fucking control! Latest examples:

March 10, 2009: Police gun down a 60 year old man in a pick-up at 12th Street & Tiffany. According to SPD, the truck displayed lost or stolen license plates & when they attempted to pull it over, a three-minute high speed chase ensued. All four officers that were pursuing the vehicle got out of their cars, anticipating the perp’s escape, but the truck flipped a bitch & headed toward the officers. Two cops started unloading on the truck & it crashed into a police cruiser. The cops attempted first aid, but Dude was pronounced dead at the hospital.

December 10, 2008: Police shoot & kill 30-year old Melecio Arquines at his South Stockton home on Sutter Street. According to the deceased’s family lawyer, Arquines & his wife were woke up by noises outside their home at 2 am. Arquines grabbed his gun & went to investigate, only to be gunned down at his screen door by officers attempting to arrest a 16 year old that had ran onto his lawn. The cops then questioned his grieving widow at the station for hours, prompting the woman to initiate legal action against the department. Look how the local news media handles this one…

Find more videos like this on www.truveo.com.

As a general rule, y’all, the police are not your friends ‘round here. Especially if you are African-American. Even my skinny white ass got knocked around by a law enforcement duo. I wasn’t charged with anything, but was detained for the evening & I think I got off light! Don’t play with these trigger-happy police. Seriously.

Most aggravating about SPD’s brutal attitude towards Stocktonians is that this kind of shit doesn’t ease the violent crime problem plaguing our community. When the citizenry doesn’t trust law enforcement, how can the city expect to effectively tackle the crime problem? Most of us see the SPD as just another source of Stockton’s violence; no better than the North Side Gangster Crips or the thugs out by Louis Park. That can’t be helping the situation.

 

(To be continued…)

Stockton, California: Someplace Special (Indeed!)

It’s been awhile since I last spoke on the ridiculousness of my hometown, but don’t assume this means the topic is no longer among my favorites. In fact, it seems that Stock-town’s odd inner workings grow in their importance to me as the days go by. Like increasing concern about a festering boil, the state of my city demands more and more of my attention the longer I am exposed to it. What a weird, fucked up, and undeniably twisted place this is! The blatantly corrupt politics, the trigger-happy & inept police force, the myriad of seemingly unstoppable violent street gangs, our disgustingly polluted air & water, our local news media that can only be described as ‘fucking retarded’ (maybe ‘asleep at the wheel’, if I want to be nice about it), embarrassingly low literacy & high school graduation rates, shockingly high foreclosure figures and unemployment levels, fiercely segregated neighborhoods & an economically divided populace… Yes, there is something to bitch about for everyone, no matter what your interests may be! I don’t give a shit what the public relations team at City Hall says about our pessimistic attitudes being the source of Stockton’s woes. As I see it, our collective cynicism is the only sign that the whole damned city isn’t fucking crazy. At least we know shit is bad.

For all those Readers out there in Internet Land that have not had the misfortune of living ‘round here, let me give you a brief run down on my hometown. For those of you already aware of the hell hole I speak of, can I get an “Amen”? We’ll call my civic training manual…

STOCKTON: A SURVIVAL GUIDE 

 

CHAPTER ONE: WHO THE FUCK ARE ALL THESE PEOPLE? (or Diversity for Dipshits)

What a waste of a melting pot. Stockton has always been home to various flavors of folk with different ethnicities, religions, cultures, and backgrounds but, for whatever reason, it has never accepted this fact. Everyone here acts like invading hordes of outsiders are constantly threatening our Way of Life forgetting, of course, that our Way has always been more of a multi-lane highway than a one way street. Those folks that feel the need to defend Stockton by constantly pointing out it’s positive attributes always cite our diversity as our biggest asset, but dollars-to-donuts these folks socialize in groups of like minded people with similar skin tones and they car pool with their neighbors to church on Sunday. Sure we have the Japanese Obon Bazaar, the Greek Food Festival, a Chinese New Year parade, the Jewish Food Fair, and a slew of other ethnic or religious celebrations open to the public throughout the year, but all that proves is Stocktonians like to eat all kinds of food. We do not judge a chef by the color of his skin, only by the content of his cuisine.

As far as us residents are concerned, there are two kinds of people in Stockton; those from Here and those from Somewhere Else. It’s not like us Lifelong Residents dislike the newcomers or anything; it’s just easy to identify who is who. Newbies don’t understand the very real crime threat; they’re either too scared or oblivious to the fact that they should be scared. My advice? Find yourself a buddy that knows the lay of the land before you go traipsing about town, smiling & waving at folks. That kind of friendly behavior freaks us natives out. Or it can get you jacked. No joke. Stocktonians aren’t friendly folk. We further divide ourselves along economic lines: The Haves vs. The Never Had Shit. The homeowners vs. the terminal renters. Thanks to the real estate crash, we lower class individuals without property now make up an overwhelming majority but Spanos & Co. still wear the pants in these parts, since the President, the Governor, Congressmen, & other people with power have yet to swing by mi casa for lunch & lively political debate. Until then, I doubt any type of populist revolution will spring from our community’s financial dire straits. It’s still Us vs. Them (p.s. we’re losing, dudes).

Stockton was the first California city with a moniker that isn’t of Spanish or Native American origin, having been named after Commodore Robert F. Stockton, a guy noted for participating in the “capture” of California during the Mexican-American War. “Capture” can also be read as “underhanded jack-move”, depending on where you get your history. I think this inappropriate christening of the city after an Anglo uninvolved with it’s founding or settling, proves how at odds this place has always been with the reality of its racial make up. As if there were ever a white majority in Stockton! The first settlers were gold miners from all corners of the globe, so ever since Day One (Uno?) this place has been home to all kinds of humans; from Mexicans to Russians, Chinese to Filipinos, black, white, Christian to Sikh, and almost any other motherfuckers you can think of. Never the less, black people tend to live on the North & South ends of town, gangs out West are primarily white & Mexican, and nobody really bothers to interact with the Southeast Asian communities among us (unless you are getting your nails done, that is).

To summarize: We are a diverse community, but nobody here gives a fuck… unless you’ve got food.

 

(TO BE CONTINUED…)

Men Doing Manly Things on Film: A Countdown

I am not a chick flick type of gal. Watching The Notebook nearly fucking killed me and when I am exposed to most films labeled “Romantic Comedy” the result can be uncontrollable nausea or violent outbursts. Some films I enjoy are not exactly masculine (think: Me Without You or any of John Hughes’ classics) & I would seriously kill for a decent female stoner-buddy movie, but my film preferences are far from the ridiculous fairytale tripe that Hollywood markets to the ladies. There are even certain actresses & actors that I avoid like the plague because they tend to star in shitty chick flicks more often than not; i.e. Sandra Bullock, Kate Hudson, Colin Firth. One cinematic genre I do adore is Dick Flicks (term is copyrighted by maryjanefoxie, inc.). These movies have casts mostly composed of men, their plots involve manly activities like warfare or high-stakes gambling, and the best ones can be viewed by a mixed gender audience without complaints. They usually avoid gender stereotypes & hyper-sexualized female characters because their focus is masculinity rather than misogyny. Some of them are action flicks, some are comedies, some are crime dramas, but all of them are Dude Oriented without being Aggressively Anti-Female. Basically, the movies I am speaking of allow me to enjoy men at their best without offending my feminist ideals or my male companions. Think of Dick Flicks as being the type of movie that is Boyfriend Friendly, but watching it doesn’t actually require any compromise on your part. Next time your Dude du Jour is trying to force you into yet another screening of Total Recall or The Rock, may I suggest one of these alternatives?

 

1. 300: Men love it for entirely different reasons than us females & they don’t even know it. Honestly, I couldn’t tell you what happens in the movie, despite having seen it many times. Usually, I pay a lot more attention to movies with historical plots because I love to dissect their inaccuracies, but this one can do no wrong as far as I am concerned. All I remember is a bunch of sweaty half-naked men running around doing masculine things for two hours & I can find no fault with that. Just peep the screen shots…[If you wanted to like Troy, but thought it took itself way too seriously for being a movie about shit that might not have even happened... this movie is for you.]

 

2. Lock, Stock, and Two Smoking Barrels: This Guy Richie masterpiece combines a kick ass soundtrack, a cast of accented hotties, and an interesting plot full of twists and turns that entertains gals & guys alike. If you’ve seen Snatch but have yet to view Lock, Stock… trust me, this one deserves to be high up on your Netflix queue. As was the case with Snatch, repeated viewings maybe necessary in order to fully enjoy this film. Those British accents take a minute to get used to & their slang is unfamiliar, but key to several excellent one-liners. Can I mention, once again, how much I love Jason Statham? He will always be my Turkish. [This is a film for fans of Guy Richie, of British working class blokes, or of fast paced plots that don’t allow for much blinking]

 

3. The Boondock Saints: This tale of Irish-born twin brother vigilantes cleaning up Boston’s mean streets is full of gun fights, organized crime villainy, and questionable morals… Just like action films should be! The Luck of the Irish, or maybe the hand of God, aids the twosome in their quest to take down local gangsters & they are joined by their dip-shit pal Rocco a long-term lackey for the Mob, their absentee gun-slinging father, and a homosexual sympathetic federal agent, played by William Defoe. Lots of topless moments (males, of course), fisticuffs, and witty dialogue. Watch the deleted scenes on the DVD version for some completely appropriate full frontal male nudity! Damn, I love me an Irish boy. I love two of ‘um even more. [You’ll like this one if you like action movies. It’s a pretty basic formula of guys, guns, and gangsters.]

 

4. Young Guns: Emilio Estevez, Kiefer Sutherland, Lou Diamond Phillips, Charley Sheen, Dermot Mulroney… all in their hay-day? Need I say more? [For you if you like Tombstone or similar modern-made Wild West-set films about justice, revenge, & a man’s duty.]

 

5. Casino: My favorite gangster movie ever. Joe Pesci, Robert Di Nero, Sharon Stone, shallow graves, gangland politics… it don’t get much better. This one is less about the hottie-factor of it’s actors & more about the way machismo can fuck everything up. Feminist or not, I want to bitch-slap Sharon Stone’s character every time I watch her piss away that magnificent closet full of clothes, all those gems & gold jewelry, not to mention the life insurance policy that is a mobster husband! Once she ties her kid to the bed so that she can go out in that god-awful gold pantsuit, I can only shake my head & mutter “dumb ass fucking broad”. No sympathy for the dipshits, y’know? [If you enjoy any of the other movies starring Joe Pesci & Robert Di Nero as Italian mobsters, you’ll like this one]

 

6. Reservoir Dogs: A botched bank job leads to tense times in this Quentin Tarantino classic. Mr. Pink (Steve Bushemi), Mr. Blonde (Michael Madsen), Mr. White (Harvey Keitel), Mr. Blue (Some Old Dude), Mr. Brown (Tarantino), and Mr. Orange (Tim Roth) are probably my favorite of Hollywood’s bank robbers, successful or not. I cannot hear Stuck in the Middle With You without recalling that infamous ear slicing scene! This movie showcases Tarantino’s genius beyond a shadow of a doubt, in my opinion. The scene following the first one in the diner, when all the men walk in slow-mo while Little Green Bag plays & the opening credits roll, is damned smooth. Watching it makes me feel all gangsta’ & shit. [This is your kind of movie if Quentin Tarantino’s other gems entertained you, if your a fan of classic black-and-white heist movies, or if you just like a little grime with your undercover cop drama]

 

7. Fight Club: In real life, a fight club would seem infantile & ridiculous. In this movie it’s sublime in it’s hyper-masculinity, isn’t it? I am not a Brad Pitt fan, but even I can no longer deny his beauty after viewing this movie. Edward Norton is no ugly duckling either. Plus, you have an anti-authoritarian plot (fuck the capitalist system that enslaves us all!), power ballad enthusiast Meat Loaf sporting man tits, & the wonderful Helena Bonham Carter co-staring in this David Fincher film. I am Michelle’s stimulated frontal lobe…  [If you enjoy giving The Man a double helping of The Bird or if you just want to watch a dude go bat-shit crazy & lose control of his own head, this is the film for you]

 

8. Pineapple Express: A stoner-buddy action film birthed by Seth Rogan, Evan Goldberg, and Judd Apatow? Pure fucking cinematic gold! It’s a great comedy, a great action flick, and a great look at the one aspect of male-hood that I am truly envious of… dude friendships. Of course any real “I love you, Man” moments are followed by a series of gay jokes to temper the emotional depth of the scene, but isn’t that how most hetero- guys are when it comes to showing the bros love? Besides, Seth Rogan & James Franco are the most believable pothead characters since Half Baked gave us Thurgood Jenkins, Scarface, Kenny, & Brian. [If you loved Superbad & Forgetting Sarah Marshall but can do without the romantic sub-plots, this movie is for you]

 

9. The Departed: Combine several of my most favorite flavors of Man – the American-born working class Irish, the gangster linked to some ethnically specific mob, the vigilante cop with questionable morals – and add them to a complex Cop & Thug story chock full o’ double-crosses and backstabbing, get the ever-brilliant Martin Scorsese to direct it, bake at 350 for 15 – 20 minutes, then TA-DAH! You have The Departed. Leonardo DiCapiro, Matt Damon, Jack Nicholson, Martin Sheen, & Marky Mark (HE WILL ALWAYS BE MARKY MARK TO ME) star in this prime example of what a Dick Flick is all about. [This is for you if you like any of those movies or TV shows about Boston’s Irish neighborhoods & it’s hyper-masculine street gangs]

 

10. The Usual Suspects: I can’t believe I almost forgot to include this excellent film! Kevin Spacey, Benicio Del Toro, & the fat Baldwin star in this crime thriller about a pack of career crooks & a criminal mastermind with the best villain moniker EVER (It was Keyser Soze!). I’m not about to spoil the beauty of the film’s ending by giving away too many details here, but fuck the rest of the movies I’ve mentioned until you see this one. [If you like movies, you’ll like this one]

 

 

You might notice that I didn’t mention a single Kevin Smith flick. This is because I do not consider his work to be Dick Flick-ish. He writes about women better than most men can (see Chasing Amy) & he doesn’t exclude them from the View Askew universe or regulate them to unimportant supporting characters. The above mentioned movies lack this feminist aspect. Even if they aren’t intentionally misogynist, they are noticeably female-deficient. Hence the label “Dick Flick”.  So, I wasn’t dissing K. Smith by leaving his films off of my list. On the contrary, I was holding him in higher esteem by applying a broader definition to his catalogue of cinematic works.

Buddha is my homeboy!

Aside from a brief crisis of identity suffered during my childhood, I have always identified as an atheist because I just don’t get the God thing. Frankly, I don’t think anyone else does either, because the extreme variation in theological perspectives across the globe leads me to believe that all of y’all ain’t talking about the same creator! It’s like some huge trans-generational game of Telephone, where the message comes out different depending on who you ask. A Catholic, a Southern Baptist, a Protestant Christian, an Orthodox Jew, a Quaker, and a Shia Muslim supposedly worship the same omnipresent deity, but their versions of him couldn’t be more conflicting, no? That is where several Eastern religious traditions are superior to their Western counterparts – they acknowledge the fact that differing interpretations happen & that isn’t necessarily a bad thing. During the Colonial Period when Brits, Frenchmen, the Spanish, Portuguese, Dutch, & other European nations where snatching up Eastern countries & shoving Christian ideology down the throats of native inhabitants, plenty of folks accepted what Western missionaries where preaching. Much to the horror of the Europeans, these folks were just accepting this Christ-dude as another incantation of Brahman or another example of Buddha’s teachings or another deity to add to their already existent pantheon of gods. Unlike most followers of Abrahamic religions, they were able to take something of value away from Christ’s teachings without forfeiting their initial religion. Jesus ain’t the only savior on the block, y’know?

Anyhow, my own spiritual journey halted abruptly around my tenth year on Earth, when I decided that the purpose of religion was control of the population &, like all other forms of authority, I was going to avoid it at all costs. I DO WHAT I WANT! That’s my life philosophy, after all. Imagine my surprise when my Eastern Religion instructor had us take this HERE belief assessment test & it defined me as a 98% Theravada Buddhist. My best guess as to why I’m considered a Buddhist by the Belief-O-Matic would be my belief that human suffering is caused by egotism, that most of our suffering is all in our heads or it’s payback pain for fucked up shit we’ve done in the past, and that a person ought to be compassionate, generous, and kind to others if they want to eventually find inner peace. If that’s all it takes to join the Buddha Team, then count me in! These mo’fos got a pretty good grip on shit. All this time, I thought I had that six-inch Buddha statue for ironic purposes. Lo’ & behold, it’s actually a testament to my religious beliefs!

Question: Universal Unitarian is just a catch all label for anyone not affiliated with any other main church, huh?