WELCOME TO THE BLOG OF POPE JOHN THE TALL, LEADER OF THE ALL JOHN ALL THE TIME WORLD CHURCH


******PLEASE NOTE******

(Notice I said please.)

To those of you who are new to "the Pope" and the "AJATTWC", the following various posts are the official communications of yours truly, Pope John The Tall, or as I'm known in many circles, PJTT.

I aspired to the position of Pope of the AJATTWC several years ago, after the Roman Catholics elected Joseph Ratzinger, a German Cardinal, as their Pope; I figured if he could do it, so could I.

Despite what would seem to be a "religious" theme, I try not to play favorites: I'm satirical/irreverent about everything, in an attempt to give my readers a few yucks; that is the goal. If I haven't made you laugh, well, I tried, and I hope I'm given an "A" for the effort. (Or at least a really solid "C".)

I further hope that my faithful readers (all several of them) and any of you who wander in from the cold of the Internet, will derive much solace and spiritual awakening from my timeless prose, and, as I so often refer to it, the "soothing balm of Johnism"; if you don't, how sad for you, because I'm a pretty funny guy. (My daughter tells me, regularly, that I'm "silly"; I suspect that she's right.)

Please note that everything on my blog is meant to be fun, and in no way insulting to anyone, unless of course you're a politician, then you can assume I intended to insult you. (Hey, it goes with the job, guys; if you can't take the heat, then the harder they fall.)

Never mind.

Anyway, welcome and thanks for stopping by; please feel free to peruse to your heart's content (there is a large archive of my past posts, going back several hundred years, in the right-hand column), and please be sure to make a large donation at the door as you leave. (It's tax-deductible.)

Speaking of leaving, as I make my exit, and probably none too soon, here's something from the Book of Excretions, Apollo 13: Dodgers 6...

"Blessed are the lazy, for although they don't accomplish much, they're well rested."

Enjoy. (Or don't, it's still a free country. It is still a free country, isn't it? They haven't changed that as far as I know, have they?)





Tuesday, February 1, 2011

The Right Stuff, Just The Wrong Baby

I got to thinking about being born after I wrote that last post about Rachel Urchitel, the, well, I'm not sure what exactly she is; I started to write "reality star" but I'm not sure she's even that, she's just another one of those Hollywood anomalies that exist because of unusual circumstances, like those puffed-up, weird-looking fish that live 78 gazillion feet beneath the sea, that never see sunlight or TMZ and will implode if you ever brought them close to the surface. I'm not sure if Ms. Urchitel would implode by coming too close to the surface or not, but it does make an interesting mental image.

Like Rachel, and I'm assuming here on both our parts, I was born naked, and unlike Rachel, who was told by Janice Dickinson, another household name in the world of celebrity rehab, that "you were born with a silver spoon up your ass", to the best of my knowledge I wasn't born with any cutlery of any kind up my wazoo. I'm sure my mother would have mentioned it at some point. Personally, I don't remember much about my birth, being quite young at the time. (Great story about the day my parents brought me home from the hospital; the way my Dad, who passed on in 2003, used to tell the tale, when he and my Mom arrived home with me in tow, the phone was ringing and my Dad answered it, and the lady at the other end identified herself as the head of the hospital where I was born (remember, this was a LOT of years ago and under no circumstances is this likely to happen today), and said that she was sorry, but that he and Mom had brought home the wrong baby. My mother gets on the phone and says, oh no, I have my baby. And the nice lady at the hospital says, wrongo, Mrs. Popemother, your squalling brat is still here with us. So my parents, being quick-thinkers, said, shit, maybe there was something to this wrong baby stuff (the other kid was MUCH better looking, and that was a dead giveaway) and headed back to the hospital, with what was, apparently, someone else's kid. They arrived back at the scene of the crime and quickly ascertained that, yep, wrong kid went home with the Popefolks. Some nurse's aide had apparently read the chart wrong and brought them the wrong baby when they were leaving. Absolutely true story. And although they never said it, they always gave me the impression that there were times they wished they had kept the other kid. He didn't have a third eye in the middle of his forehead.)

I began my training to become the Pope of the All John All The Time World Church by being born into a Roman Catholic (you know, that church with the OTHER Pope) family in the 1950's, and the brain-washi...excuse me, the teaching began immediately. I attended a Catholic grade school (Our Lady Of Perpetual Motion), became an altar boy in the 5th grade (fell down three steps off the altar "serving Mass" at my older brother's wedding), and then advanced to the position of "lector" (which has nothing to do with the deranged, cannibalistic killer in the movie "The Silence Of The Lambs"; it's a lay-person, or at least it was back in those days, who gets up at the pulpit on the altar during Mass and reads the various texts from Scripture for that day's ceremony, you know, like passages from Elysians 7, Verse 10, or something from the II Evasions, Chapter 5, Paragraph 15(b)(401k) or whatever), when I was 13 or so, and then continued my indoctrination by attending an all-boys Catholic high school, run by the Vegemite Brothers Of The Holy Sandwich, who, in an effort to instill SOMEthing in my adolescent brain, proceeded to pound the crap out of me, along with most of my fellow brain-dead Catholic teenagers, at every opportunity. Ooh, those were fun times.

Coming from a background this rich in the fundamentals of moralistic thinking and intellectual enquiry has given me the diverse yet well-grounded foundation that I required to be the Pope of a world-class spiritual community. I'm pretty sure it didn't leave me suited to do much else; with that beginning, I could maybe have been a Mattress Tag Policeman (you know, the guys that go around checking to see if the "Do Not Remove This Tag" tag has been removed from your mattress and/or box spring), or a United States Congressman. So when the opening for Pope of the AJATTWC became available, I leapt at the chance. (Well, to be honest, at my age, I just hopped vigorously.)

And the competition for the position was stiff; Rachel Urchitel applied just before I did. But there was that thing with the silver spoon in her background (pardon the pun), so they passed on her.

And the rest, as they say, is geography.

Love and diapers,

PJTT

copyright 2011 Krissongs, Inc.

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