Pair Of Bulls, Err, Parables

I was poking around through my library the other day, looking for something to read, and it occurred to me that an awful lot of the titles I saw before me could easily have other stories attached to them; in fact, the more I thought about it, the more your Pope realized that, in some cases, maybe I could change the stories just a tad, and use them as parables, or teaching stories. I wouldn't change them dramatically; let's just say "alter" them a little. (Hey, I'm the Pope Guy of the All John All The Time World Church; what other word but "alter" would you be appropriate for a Church?)

Hang on, the Popephone is ringing...JTT...Mike, how you doin'?...how do you spell it?...altAr...shit...yeah, I thought it was a pretty good pun...you sure about that spelling?...(big sigh of exasperation here)...yeah, okay, I'll fix it...hey, how many do you think the Dodgers will win this season?...yeah, I figure 70 MAYBE, if they're lucky...hey, it could be worse, it could be the Cubs...yeah, okay, gotta' run, thanks...shit.

My consigliore, the Right Reverend Monsignor Michael Jordan, (no, not the one that starred in "Space Jam") tells me I used the wrong word back there in the opening paragraph; well, actually, it was the right word, but the pun didn't make any...oh shit, never mind.

So anyway, back to the titles/stories thing: I decided to take a look at some of the books in my library and come up with alternate story lines that, I don't know, might be more suited to delivering a spiritual message to my followers. So with apologies to the authors, and in no particular order, here goes:

*Stranger In A Strange Land* (by Robert Heinlein)

            "Stranger" tells the story of a young man named Charlie Sheen, an actor (using the term loosely) who was born on the planet Mars and who begins to indulge himself in drugs/booze/hookers at an early age. His parents are astronaut/settlers; his father is the astrogator for the colonizing mission, and an actor as well, and confused about the difference between a horrible disease like cancer, and his son's self-inflicted addictions, to which his son, in his sheer mopery, will not admit. Charlie comes to Earth after the colony on Mars fails, and the remaining settlers that bring him home are subsequently taken out and shot as soon as the world learns what an asshole Charlie really is and what a great disservice they had done us all by bringing him back to Earth instead of drowning this douche-bag in one of the Martian canals like they should have done.

            There's a lot more to the story-line, but mostly its the same old stupid shit, over and over again, and really not worth telling.

            The moral lesson we can obtain from this story is that if you give some guys a johnson, they'll step on it every chance they can.

*Midnight In The Garden Of Good And Evil* (by John Berendt)

            The new story line to "Midnight" is the old basic good versus evil theme, but with a twist; the "good" guy turns out to be a schmuck and the "bad" guys win, for a change.

            The "hero" of the story is a man named John Ensign, who grows up to become a U.S. Senator from a sinful state, and throughout the book is portrayed as a God-fearing, conservative Christian man who lives and believes in the principles of the "Moral Right" and courageously defends those principles in the halls of our Congress. Ensign fights the good fight at every opportunity, railing against the sins of abortion, demanding that the evil President who was caught with his pants down in the White House and then lied to the entire country about his actions be impeached (and for my money, ignoring the hypocrisy of Ensign's position, which we'll see in a moment, he was right about that scumbag Bill Clinton; I can forgive the moral lapse, hell, we're all guilty of those periodically, although that still doesn't make what he did right, but to LIE to us all, right in our faces, there is no defense for that) and fighting against the horror of same-sex marriages. Senator Ensign, a married man dedicated to his family and his constituents, was clearly on the side of the angels, and was determined to not let the evils of "liberalness" overrun our great country.

            Until it was discovered that the "good" Senator was having an affair with a campaign worker, who just happened to be married to one of his top aides, and to further the insult, had also asked his wealthy parents to pay the aide $96,000 to ensure the aide's silence about the affair, which they did.

            Faced with potential charges of hypocrisy, and the rampant inability to keep his johnson in his pants where it belonged, the disgraced Ensign announces that he will retire at the end of his current term, and not run for reelection in 2012, a contest he probably wouldn't have won anyway.

            I will use the "good" Senator's own words to portray the moral we can all learn from this sad tale: "There are consequences to sin, and when you're in a leadership role, those consequences can affect a lot of other people," he said. Gee, dumbbell, do you really think so.

*The Witches Of Eastcomptonwick* (by John Updike)

            This classic tale tells the story of two African-American sisters, and their loud-mouth warlock father, who grow up in the poverty-stricken area of Eastcomptonwick to become, with much hard work and dedication, incredibly talented athletes and international tennis stars. Unfortunately, at a point in their careers, they become convinced of their own natural superiority to all the rest of us mere mortals, and begin to believe that they may say or do as they please, and utter any kind of vapid, and occasionally insulting, nonsense that enters their heads, and that the world will accept it as "Gospel" (which is, after all, only fitting, considering they're of the Jehovah's Witness faith, so their grasp of the Word is certainly far superior to that of the rest of us), to the point where one of the sisters tells a lowly tennis line judge, who she believes made an erroneous judgment call on one of her shots during a tennis match where she was playing abysmally, that she "would like to shove this fucking ball right down your throat". (That's a quote, by the way; I did not make that up.)

            After a time, their skills begin to fade and they begin losing consistently where they had previously won consistently, and the sister with the mouth begins to experience physical injuries that prohibit her from even playing, to the threat of potentially ending her brilliant career. And there is no joy in Eastcomptonwick.

            And the moral we might gain from this sad tale? Every now and again, justice prevails, and if you stand still in one place long enough, what goes around comes around.

*Patriot Games (by Tom Clancy)*

            The author gives us an deep insight into the mind of the main character of the story, Jack Fryem, who, after foiling a plot by the evil "Liberals" to take over the government of the United States, goes on to form his own "conservative" political "party", which he calls the "Teabags" and is actually just an offshoot of the another "conservative" political party, and then goes about the country exhorting the citizens to rise up and smite the evil "Liberals", who still cling to their nefarious ways despite having their plans for domination foiled by Jack, and to force our legislators to slash spending for necessary programs, to shrink the size of our bloated Federal government and to adhere blindly to their Code: God, Themselves, Motherhood And Apple Pie ala mode with ice cream, as my mother used to say.

            Fryem goes on to become a leader of the Moral Right, until the tragic end, when he is committed involuntarily to the Home For The Chronically Bewildered by his own children, because they can't stand listening to his bullshit any longer.

            The moral here is simple: most of the people in this country (including myself) don't particularly like EITHER extreme, Liberal or Conservative, and that if the dumbshits in Washington don't learn to start working together for OUR benefit, and not their own, this country could easily go right to hell in a hand-basket.

*'Salem's Westboro Lot (by Stephen King)*

            A story of evil incarnate, visited upon a congregation of God-fearing Baptists, whose church is located in a small town in Westboro Kansas. The evil begins when a stupidpire, cleverly disguised as a minister, comes to town to become the pastor of the little church, and begins to infect the congregation with the disease of "repulsive, stupid hatred of all others that are different from us", or stupidshitism.

            The entire congregation is slowly turned into "stupidshits", and they begin to attempt, along with their pastor, the evil stupidpire, to infect others across the country and turn all of us into stupidshits just like them. The horror is finally halted when the good citizens of this country, finally recognizing what the stupidpire is up to, round up all the stupidshits and ship them off to an island in the Sargasso Sea, where they are able spew their hate and disgusting ideas out against each other, to their heart's content.

            And the moral of this story? With the exception of the Nazis in WWII Germany, hatred as a "growth market" has a limited appeal. While the Supreme Court was correct in its ruling that these repulsive monsters have a right to voice their opinions, eventually they'll go away, and the decent people of this great country will prevail; in other words, if we ignore them, they'll self-destruct. But they are a real bunch of "stupidshits" nonetheless.

*Jurassic Park (by Michael Crichton)*

            The author tells the story of two men who have been in the public eye for so long that they eventually become "fossils" of another age when they still had relevance, and weren't the embarrassment they become to themselves and to us all.

            The main characters are Hef Hughner and the Mickster of Jagger, and the story is a short one; they have their years of fame and glory, rising to the top of their professions, and then, when they should have the good taste and sense to slide comfortably into their respective old ages, they hang on and on and on and on, much like the Energizer Bunny, who would give them both a run for their money in an IQ contest, and become laughable parodies of themselves.

            And what lesson can we learn from this sad tale of too much, too long? Quit when you reach the top, boys, because the only direction from there is down.

It is my sincere hope, as your Pope Dude and spiritual guiding light, that you can take away from the various re-workings of these classic tales a sense of good taste and decorum, and that these "parables" will in some small way make your journey on the road towards enlightenment an easier one.

You're buying into that, right?

Love and book reviews,

PJTT

copyright 2011 Krissongs, Inc.

From The Department Of Departments

I, your ever diligent Pope Guy, continually check in with my department heads here at the All John All The Time World Church, to keep abreast (or two) of news and "factoids" of information of which I, as your spiritual leader, feel you should be aware. With your kind permission, I will share a few of them with you (please prepare yourself to be edified):

From the I Refuse To Take Aim At A Target That Easy-taking a moment to be serious, a very rare occasion indeed: I have, over the past several weeks, taken a number of verbal potshots at the actor Charlie Sheen, for his a) obvious unwillingness to do anything realistic about his admitted substance-abuse problem, b) for some of his unbelievably inane remarks about the producer of his hit TV show "Two And A Half Men", c) his equally inane advise to both the UCLA Men's basketball team about staying clean as well as his offer to help fellow dumbshit actor Lindsay Lohan with her substance-abuse problems and mostly d) his seeming disregard for all the employees of "TAAHM" that he has put out of work with his nonsense, for which I called him a "douche-bag", which he is.

But after his latest rant directed at show producer Charles Lorre several days ago, which was not only mostly incoherent, as is a great deal of what Mr. Sheen says these days, but also vaguely anti-Semitic, I have decided to halt all criticism of Mr. Sheen for three reasons: 1) his situation has gotten beyond funny; it's become sad; 2) even if I thought for a nanosecond that Mr. Sheen is aware of my critical remarks, which I'm absolutely sure he isn't, I'm equally sure he couldn't give a rat's ass less anyway and 3) it's just too easy.

I quit, Charlie, screw up all you want; I promise I won't say anything else. But you're still a douche-bag.

From the FYI Department-the word "potshots", which was used in the second paragraph (above), does not describe plays in basketball involving marijuana.

From the How Tacky Can You Get Department-there was a report on MSN.com recently that, after taking a poll of movie-watchers throughout the country, a public-opinion group has determined that the most "paused" scene in movie history is the one in the movie "Basic Instinct", which you will recall stars Michael Douglas and Sharon Stone, where Ms. Stone, wearing an extremely short skirt and sitting across the room in a chair from a group of police detectives that are interrogating her at the time, crosses her legs in a way that makes it clear to the viewer that the only thing Ms. Stone doesn't have open is an account with Victoria's Secret.

From the What's Wrong With This Picture Department-in their Sunday, 2/27/11 edition, the Los Angeles Times ran a photograph of snow (SNOW) that had fallen the previous evening on the streets of Burbank CA, which is approximately 5 miles east as a crow flies, assuming he hasn't frozen his tail feathers off, from the headquarters of the AJATTWC; that further, it was THIRTY-SEVEN DEGREES this morning when the official canine of the Pope, the Harley Dog, and I went out at 6:35am so that HD could relief himself. I realize that, in terms of winter in, say, the Midwest, this doesn't qualify as an Arctic blizzard, but for Southern California, this is ridiculous. Shit.

From the Its Good To Know I'm Not The Only One That Sees These Things Department-also from the pages of the L.A. Times, I will now quote, in it's entirety, a letter that was run in the Opinion section of the paper's 2/26/11 edition, as a follow-up to my post of 2/28 (yeah, I write them a few days in advance, its not a time-warp). To wit:

                       

DANGER CALLING

Re “Phones trigger brain

activity in study,” Feb. 23

A new study says that

the use of cellphones affects

the brain. Well, let’s

see: People become oblivious

to all around them, and

rude and isolated, while

they turn into zombies.

They speak loudly without

any regard for the rest of us

who are subjected against

our will to their conversational

nonsense. They are

completely unaware of

everything.

For this they need a

study? I think not.

Frances Terrell

Lippman

Sherman Oaks

Thank you, Ms. Lippman.

From the I Knew There Was Something Suspicious About Those Kids Department- in another follow-up story to one of my posts (2/27/11) about the evils of Girl Scout cookies, it was reported that a police officer in Villa Rica GA approached a group of Girl Scouts who were selling the insidious treats at a stand in a mall and asked to see their "peddler's permit"; when they were unable to produce said permit, they were told to shut down, and the troop leader later commented that the younger girls seemed to believe that they were "going to jail" for their transgression. Both the mayor and police chief of Villa Rica spoke to the officer involved, according to the report, and while claiming that he had done nothing wrong (like the Nazis in WWII Germany, he was merely following orders apparently), the Scouts were allowed to reopen their stand and were given a pizza party, compliments of the city, as compensation. Fortunately for the officer, the Penal Code of the State of Georgia does not have "minimum level of IQ" statute, so he won't be fired from his job. (I would have made the asshole buy 100 boxes of Samoas, and then force him to eat them all in one sitting with no milk.)

From the If They Had Any Brains They Wouldn't Be Criminals Department-a burglar entered the home of a Washington D.C. family and stole clothing and cash from the family's teenage son, and before leaving the premises, posted a picture of himself wearing the son's new coat and holding several hundred dollars of the boy's savings on the young man's Facebook page. The father of the boy, a Washington lawyer, turned the photo over to local police, who identified the burglar from previous mug shots, and went to his home and arrested him on charges of burglary, breaking and entering, trespass and gross stupidity.

Further from the If They Had Any Brains They Wouldn't Be Criminals Department-a man was arrested by police in Chickasha OK recently for attempting to steal a chainsaw from a local lawn and garden store; the man was observed by store employees leaving the premises with said chainsaw shoved down the front of his pants. Police were called and the man was apprehended after a brief chase, subsequent to which one of the arresting officers remarked on how easy the capture had been due to the awkward way the thief ran with the merchandise in his pants. The officer further commented that the man spoke in a "very high-pitched voice" upon apprehension.

From the Cutting Down On The Carbs Diet Department-according to Time Newsfeed, a new era of a much slimmer Mr. Potato Head doll was recently introduced by the toy's manufacturer, Hasbro, and that the new doll is now wearing pants, something that, apparently due to what a fat ass the doll had been previously, had not be the case with earlier versions of the toy. Although the Mrs. Potato Head doll is also sporting a new trimmer figure as well, there was no report on any new clothing for her. Speculation in the report was that this was a response to First Lady Michelle Obama's ongoing program to fight obesity in America and her emphasis on a proper diet for children. Unfortunately, Mrs. PH was arrested shortly after leaving the International Toy Fair, where the new dolls were introduced, for public nudity.

From the Do You Need A PHD To Know This? Department-in a report describing a study that was conducted by several scientists on the mating habits of "pygmy chimpanzees", also known as "bonobos", the author of the report, a Charles Choi, explained that the study showed that bonobos had some unusual traits in their sexual behavior, which included promiscuity, homosexuality and loud cries during sex, which were referred to as "copulation calls" that the scientists felt were somehow tied to the chimps attempt at advertising how successful they were at mating; the report went on to state that the female bonobos "give out these calls even when having sex with other females, whom they cannot have offspring with." It is the Pope's fervent hope that, while being guilty, at minimum, of poor grammar (WITH WHOM, you putz), it was the author of the report, Mr. Choi, who arrived at this conclusion, which was startling in its obviousness, and not one of the PHDs that conducted the study.

And from the How Ironic Is That Department-President Obama announced the appointment of Mr. Jeremy Bernard to the post of White House Social Secretary last week, and commented that Mr. Bernard, a long-time resident of Los Angeles and an activist in many gay and lesbian causes, was the first "openly gay person" to be named to the post. Previously, the position of WH Social Secretary, which is responsible for, among other things, "event planning", was held by various women.

Now before I continue, let me make one thing perfectly clear (isn't it fitting I should sound like Richard Nixon when discussing the White House?): I am a supporter of same-sex marriage, and a believer in equal rights in all aspects of life for all GLBT (Gay, Lesbian, Bisexual and Transgender) folks; I am repulsed by discrimination of any type. And I intend no slight to Mr. Bernard; from reading about his background, he sounds like a fine and well-qualified individual.

But I don't care what your sexual orientation or point of view is, you can't help but be amused by the obvious irony, at least to me anyway, of naming a gay man to the post of "event-planning" White House Social Secretary.

And from our Great Quotes Department-

            "Remember, this is America, the land where nothing ever gets done but lots of people debate on how to do it."

            Pope John The Tall (2011)

Thank you, oh loyal followers, for allowing me to run on so long; your patience, and your stamina, will surely be rewarded in Heaven.

Or in Cleveland, depending on what you believe about the afterlife.

Love and useless information,

PJTT

copyright 2011 Krissongs, Inc.

Pirates Of The Scarydream

After the Harley Dog and I got back from the planet Xanthous a few days ago, where I attended a conference of galactic spiritual and religious folks (and believe me, those two things are mutually exclusive in many cases, at least here on Earth), I decided we needed a few days of taking it easy on the SS Dee Dee, the Popesedential yacht. Yeah, I know, we did a lot of relaxing when we were on Xanthous, but that was business-related relaxing; its not the same as sailing on the Dee Dee, hanging out, enjoying the sea and doing gross guy things.

For those of you who aren't familiar with me, I'm Pope John The Tall of the All John All The Time World Church, and my buddy and official canine of the Church is the Harley Dog; he's also the backup navigator when we take my atomic powered space ship, the Royal Unionship Kidding, or RU Kidding for short, out on voyages to places "where no man (or woman for that matter) have gone before". Like the planet Xanthous. We're off to the Caecilian Halcyon in the Rings of Anopheles next week, to visit the planet Hyperion, this time to check out some property the Church wants to purchase and build a cathedral upon, you know, something along the lines of the Crystal Palace down there in Orange County CA, only much less ostentatious, which shouldn't be difficult. (The Taj Mahal is less ostentatious than the Crystal Palace.)

Now the SS Dee Dee, as I said, is the official yacht of the Pope Guy, and she's a beauty: a 245 foot, twin-engined craft capable of 5982 knots (that's 38 mph to you non-nautical types, or piR squared plus postage and handling), sleeps 115 guests, (or about 75 NFL defensive lineman), has a swimming pool, beauty salon, casino, massage parlor, pizza parlor, several tennis courts, the Sears Tower (I will NOT call that building "the Willis Tower"; screw the jerks that bought it, they should never have changed the name), two pubs and its own zip-code. Yeah, the Dee Dee is totally cool.

We drove down to the dock where we keep the Dee Dee moored (SSDD, get it, come on you guys, turn the page with me), boarded and went about getting her ready to embark. (By the way, "embark" backwards is "krabme", just so you know. There's a street right down the road from my headquarters here in the sun-drenched, bucolic San Fernando Valley named Moorpark, which is "kraproom" backwards. Now don't you feel better knowing these things?)

We got underway and set sail for our place in the Sargasso Sea, on Snacilbuper Island (pronounced SNACK-ILL-BUPER; you can figure out what that one is backwards by yourselves); the autopilot had us on the right course, and the engines were humming as we cruised along at a nice, leisurely pace. I went below for an adult beverage (nothing for Harley; as far as I know, Harley doesn't drink, at least not in front of me) and we settled in for the afternoon. The sun was bright in the sky, a round ball of heat and light, and its light was a little blinding as it reflected off the water. There was an easy breeze from out of the south, warm and inviting, like a caress on your skin almost, and it made whitecaps on the waves as they broke. There was that fine, marine-salty aroma of the ocean wafting through the air, and as I sat with my feet propped up on the railing, sunning myself and enjoying the day, all was right with the world. It was warm, and exotic and warm, and pleasant, and warm, and we're drifting, and I'm drifting, lazily along with the current...

...riiing...riing...riing...RIING...okay, okay, I'm coming...geez, what time is it?...What...Mike, its 4:00am, this had better be good...they did, when?...you sure?...yeah, that's amazing news...yeah, okay, I'm glad you woke me up...yeah...hey, listen, while I'm thinking of it, are we still on for gerbil golf later?...cool...yeah, call me later...thanks.

My consigliore, the Right Reverend Monsignor Michael Jordan (not THAT Michael Jordan, he was the one in that movie "Space Jam" a few years go) just called to tell me the great news, and your Pope couldn't be more pleased. Boy, what a banner day for the planet this is; according to RRMMJ, Kim Kardashian and Paris Hilton Hotel California announced at a post-Grammy Awards party last week THAT THEY HAD ENDED THEIR FEUD AND WERE NOW "BFFs" AGAIN. (You were aware that they were feuding, right?) I am ecstatic, and I'm sure the stock market will rise later today on the strength of this report; optimism will again reign supreme.

Kardashian and Hilton, or as they're otherwise known, the Wit Sisters, Half and Dim.

Of course, this was the second bit of earthshaking news to emanate from "Hollywood" recently; earlier this week, in a surprise development, Charlie Sheen, the star of the hit TV series, "Two And A Half Men", (I always wanted to ask which one was the "half") offered to give advise to Lindsay Lohan on how to handle staying sober, in an effort to assist her in her struggles to regain whatever little common sense, if any, she previously possessed. Unfortunately for Charlie, however, there is a statute in the California Penal Code (CPC 5268 sec(5d) (para L) that states as follows: "In the event that one totally incompetent "Hollywood Celebrity", said "Celebrityness" to be determined by the amount of times said "Hollywood Celebrity" is mentioned in the various tabloids and entertainment media for any drunken and/or drug-induced stupid act, such amount to be no less than five (5) times in any six-month period, offers advise on maintaining sobriety to another "Hollywood Celebrity" of equal or greater doofusness, such attempt at giving advise shall be termed "the blind leading the blind", and said "Hollywood Celebrity" offering such advise shall and will be immediately taken out and shot by the Sheriff's Department of the county in which the "blind leading the blind" offense occurs, to ensure that the spread of gross stupidity be halted as quickly as possible." Hey, Charlie, there are probably 150 families who are dependent on their incomes from being employed on your show who are now not working because you can't stay clean and insist on spending a great deal of your time stoned off your ass in hotel rooms, having drunken, drug-fueled orgies with hookers, or in rehab, which apparently isn't having much effect. How about if you let LiLo screw up on her own and you figure out how to get back to work so all the "little people" on "TAAHM" can get back to earning a living. You douche-bag.

I do so love living in LA (pronounced LAH); its one of the few places in the universe where the possession of an IQ that's roughly equivalent to a good golf score makes you an Einstein. With Hollywood having a lineup like this (Sheen, Lohan, Kardashian and Hilton) there's no way that Washington will ever be able to corner the market on doofusness.

And I hate it when someone wakes me up out of a dead sleep, especially when I'm dreaming; the older I get, the longer it seems to take me to get reaclimated to reality, not that there's a lot of reality going on out here in LA, all the dopey shows to the contrary.

I think Harley and I need a few days of taking it easy on the SS Dee Dee, the Popesedential yacht, which, by the way, was named for my ex-girlfriend, Dee Dee Spanxalot. You know, hanging out, enjoying the sea and doing gross guy things. Wait, that's where this whole nightmare began, up at the top of the page, isn't it?

Never mind.

Love and anchors,

PJTT

copyright 2011 Krissongs, Inc.