There comes a time when the baby has been nursing continually for 17 hours straight followed by 4 straight hours of inconsolable screaming, not crying mind you, ear splitting banshee wailing, and it’s 4 in the morning and you have to go to work in a couple hours and you turn to your wife and she gets that look in her eyes, and new father’s if you don’t know what I’m talking about you will.  It’s that look that tears at the very fiber of your being.  The look that comes from behind a face of unparalleled exhaustion and insurmountable frustration, it has all the hallmarks of pleading but is still quite distinctly a demand for you to take this child, take it from her, for all that is good and holy, you must take this child, I don’t care what you do but I don’t want to see or hear or think about this thing this giant eyed devourer of souls for at least an hour.  You can sell it to the gypsies you can hire it out to a Chinese sweatshop, but I am done dealing with this child.  Do you hear me?   I am done.  If there’s one thing I’ve learned about being married is that a woman can say an awful lot with one look.  I call this particular look the “Black Market Look”. 

Of course you won’t sell it to gypsies or hire it out to a sweatshop.  Partly because you’d have to answer for it the next morning when your wife has partially regained her sanity thanks to a solid half hour of sleep but also because you are only slightly less exhausted then she is and so at that moment you really wouldn’t have the capacity to pee straight let alone sell your newborn on the black market.

It is in these precious moments that your child becomes less of something that you love and more of something you are dealing with because you have to, you have to make it stop, please, for the love of God, please stop the noise.  I think it would be hard to feel loving toward anyone or anything that was doing an impression of a Kenny G album played backwards at high-speed on full volume with the treble all the way up and the base all the way down 5 hours straight directly into your ear.  So now you’re on a mission.  And you’ll do whatever it takes.  Whatever it takes.

I fancy myself to be a fairly quiet person, someone who enjoys meditating, someone who cherishes the serene stillness the infinite calm energy that dwells within all of us and all things…with the exception of babies.  Babies do not have this.  As far as I can tell babies completely hate the idea.  In fact, I’m pretty certain that if babies could they would poop on the concept of stillness. Babies don’t want quiet, they want a Heavy Metal Bagpipe band covering Marilyn Manson during a Monster Truck rally inside their cradle.  It’s when its completely still, like that wonderful time of night that gently beckons you to sleep, that is the time when babies totally freak out.    And it’s because of this fact that you often find yourself doing things that would be impossible to explain to anyone who happened to walk in on you.  “Aaron, why are banging on the stove with spatulas while shouting guttural tribal chants at the top of your lungs?”  Or “Why do you have your finger in the babies mouth while driving in the middle of a traffic jam with a recording of a blow dryer blaring over your stereo?”  Or “Is there a reason why you’re dancing around the living room in nothing but your underwear, holding a baby, while pushing a vacuum cleaner around on high, at four in the morning?”

Sometimes you hear experienced parents tell you “Oh, its hard, it’s so hard.”  Trivial Pursuit is hard this is insanity.  Sometimes I stop and think, "Some people do this on purpose".  Some people do this on purpose multiple times.  It’s in these moments that I start questioning these people’s sanity, people like my parents who had three children.  And suddenly, all those moments when my mother would tell me how I would make such a good father and oh I’d have such cute babies begins to seem less and less sweet and more and more vindictive.

Of course it’s not all doom and gloom.  There is the standard overwhelmingly wonderful heart warming good parts, which I’ve listed below.  

1. “The birth of our child was the most beautiful and miraculous thing I’ve ever seen.”
2. “Occasionally our child will select a 5 minute span at random to stop screaming and be totally content, laying on her back kicking her legs and making little kitten sounds.  This is cute.”
 
End of List

There are days when I come home from work to find my wife, my dear darling wife, waiting for me right inside the door.  Her cheeks are flushed and its apparent that she’s been crying.  She presents to me in her outstretched arms a screaming infant and she says, “Your baby has been very difficult today”.  Notice she said “Your baby” not “Our baby.” This is an important distinction.  This means that she is no longer willing to accept and is officially denying that she had anything to do with the genetic make up of this child.  This child’s behavior has driven her to the very brink and she has made the executive decision that this is all of your fault. The “Black Market Look” normally accompanies this. This is brought on by the really, really hard days.  The days when the baby cries while they are sleeping. Its times like these, when I see first hand the emotional toll that these precious bundles of joy can take, that I think about the fact that anyone is allowed to have children. This never seemed nearly as insane before I had my own child.  But now, when I think about it, when I think that anyone, I mean anyone, can have children.  It just blows me away.  There is no oversight for this.  You don’t have to sign anything.  I didn’t sign anything.  We just had a baby.  They handed it to us; we took it home, and proceeded to go out of our minds.  I mean it just seems bizarre to me.  There’s no application, there’s no test, there’s nothing that you have to do…well there’s one thing.  I mean for the amount of responsibility, dedication, and emotional fortitude that it takes wouldn’t you think there’d be something, a form, a license, a sub-committee, but there’s nothing.  It’s harder to get a Sears card.

And then there is the other odd thing that people keep telling us.  They say that eventually we’ll block out all the hard times, that we’ll have selective memory, that we’ll just remember the “joys of parenting”. I suppose that is the only conceivable way people would have more than one child.  Still it seems hard for me to swallow that I will forget all of this madness.  Then again my wife was just talking about having another one not 24 hours after giving me the “Black Market Look”.  

Tags: crying, fatherhood, funny, fussing, inconsolable, infants, newborns, noise, parenting, screaming
Current Location: Home
Current Mood: Parent

Most expecting parents like to keep a close tab on their baby as it grows in the womb. They like to stay informed as to what stage of development the baby is in. How big is it now? Does it have fingerprints yet? How long will it have a tail? When does it's skin cease being translucent? Is it normal for it's skull to be severely oblong? Why does it look like an alien that is going to burst out of my wife's chest and kill us all?

The great thing is that thanks to the Internet there is a lot of information out there to keep us nervous and excited parents-to-be informed. There is A LOT of information, too much information, and quite often inaccurate and wholly misleading information. This of course never stopped us from reading every bit of it and quite often completely terrifying ourselves to the point hysteria. "What if it's too small? What if it's too big? What if it has a malfunctioning liver? What if it has no liver? What if it has two heads? What if it's nose is on its elbow? What if it has a drinking problem? What if the baby's eyes fall out and it starts kicking its own eyes then they catch on fire and then it eat it's mothers kidneys!" Yes there are always plenty of things completely out of your control that you can find to give yourself an aneurysm over.

The great thing about all this stuff to worry about is that the "symptoms" "warning signs" or "red flags" that may indicate these catastrophic conditions are so incredibly ambiguous that there were a few times I thought that I was going into preterm labor. Dizziness, fatigue, headache, puffiness around the eyes, rapid weight gain, lower back pain, cramps. The list goes on and on. And it seems to me nearly impossible that my wife or anyone else would be able to easily differentiate between all the incredibly uncomfortable and sometimes downright painful things you're supposed to be experiencing versus the ones you should be running to the emergency room over. This often leads to fruitless calls to the doctor and visits to the hospital.

You- " Doctor my ankles have swollen up the diameter of truck tires and it feels like the spirit of John Henry is hammering a railroad spike into my head, sideways, also my knees have fallen off."

Doctor- "Mmhm, That's completely normal. Nothing to worry about."

The inverse of this is when you have a seemingly innocent symptom and the doctors and nurses hit the panic button.

You- "I’ve noticed that my left shoulder blade itches on alternate Wednesdays."

Doctor- "My God in heaven! Get this woman into pre-op! Emergency C-Section stat!"

The clinics and the hospitals are pretty darn cautious, and for good reason. If they get it wrong, people sue them. So they always try to cover their tails as much as possible by taking the extra super cautious path. In fact they often play it so safe that the safe way of doing things sounds more terrifying than the hypothetical issue.

Doctor- If for some reason your child does happen to have it's legs behind it's neck like a pretzel...

You- But it doesn't...

Doctor- No it doesn't. But if it did...

You- It doesn't though.

Doctor- It doesn't , it doesn't.

You- But if it did...

Doctor- If it did we may have to deliver the baby orally.

This can all lead to a bit of overkill thanks to the overly cautious medical staff. For instance we had roughly 2,000 ultra-sound appointments, the average expecting couple gets 2 or less. At first we were having them because of one thing, but then that thing went away, but right then they found something else that gave them a completely new reason to schedule another ultra-sound. By the end we’d seen our baby so many times it had started feeling like a mini-series. This week on “The Uterus” the placenta moves away from the cervix and the fetus swallows some amniotic fluid.” When I saw our little one for the first time in person it felt like she was some kind of celebrity off the cover of US weekly. “OMG! It’s really her! The one from the ultra-sounds! You know I have to tell you, my favorite episode was the one where you had your feet up by your head while you were sucking on your hand! You are so amazing! Would you spit up on my shirt?”

Of course most of the time the Doctors and nurses aren't so alarmist about things. In fact there were many instances where we thought that the Doctor neglected to provide us enough information. And so we would run to the Internet to find as many things to worry about as humanly possible. Fetal fibronectin, gestational diabetes, exploding baby syndrome etc...

One of my favorite bits of Internet info about the pregnancy incited in me a different type of worry, maybe not even worry, maybe just a very unsettled feeling. Each week www.babycenter.com would provide us with an update as to how our baby was coming a long which in some ways was very nice. It’s nice to know that the heart is beating, the lungs are developing, and the brain is growing. The interesting thing is that they always use food to describe roughly how big your fetus is. So for instance at 9 weeks they say your baby is the size of a grape at 11 weeks the size of a fig at 13 weeks a medium shrimp, a lime, a lemon, an apple, an avocado. At first I didn't think anything of it but as the weeks progressed the food comparisons continue, and become more specific and detailed. 19 weeks a large heirloom tomato, 22 weeks a spaghetti squash. Then 24 weeks their wording starts to get a little weird "Your baby is almost a foot long (picture an ear of corn)..." Picture an ear of corn? It's subtle but they just made the jump of no longer comparing your fetus to food, they're now asking you to think of your fetus as food. A few weeks later your baby is an English hothouse cucumber and a few weeks after that it turns into a butternut squash, getting hungry yet? It all seems a little too obvious to me. How can you not think that they want you to eat your baby? I can only imagine what their description would have sounded like if we’d surpassed 40 weeks, your baby is now the size of whole spring chicken lovingly basted in olive oil with an apple and cheddar cream garnish, serve with a dry red wine and a vegetable of your choice. I guess the moral of this story is simple, no matter how tasty they make a baby sound, I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to eat your baby.

Tags: baby, canibalism, expecting, food, funny, panic, pregnancy, ultra-sounds
Current Mood: jubilant

Dear Miranda,

 Hello.  I am writing to you in order to persuade you to leave your husband and marry me.  I recently read that your husband was unable to be present for the birth of your first child and that he watched the whole thing via webcam.  This upset me greatly.  In the amount of time that it took to orchestrate such a thing I am certain that he could have arranged to fly back and be present for the birth.  Therefore I can only insist that you accept that you deserve better and that I would be a far superior husband for you.  (Tina, I freely admit that I have no idea whether your husband was present for your child's birth, however I am certain that not only would I have been significantly more supportive during this time, you would have also experienced fewer labor pains had I been present.)  I realize that I have never met your husband and don't know what kind of a man he is.  In fact, I don't even know his name.  Nor do I know the circumstances that led to him being unavailable to be present for the birth of your child.  I have no frame of reference. I have no additional details on the matter.   And absolutely no real ground to stand on.  It is completely unfair of me to even have brought it up.  I love you.

For those of you who don't know who Miranda Otto is here's a link just for you.

http://www.imdb.com/gallery/granitz/1350/MirandaOtto_Vespa_322095_400.jpg.html?path=pgallery&path_key=Otto%2C%20Miranda&seq=9

www.urbansamurai.org

Tags: www.urbansamurai.org
Current Mood: predatory
Current Music: Lord or the Rings Soundtrack

Sexy Jesus 

Caution: If you couldn't tell from the title this blog is about sex and Christianity.  If you find discussing sex and religion or even simply seeing those words used in the same sentence upsetting or offensive this blog may not be for you.

There was a publication that recently came out from a Christian organization that I think is ripe for exploration. Not the content of the book itself necessarily but rather the title and cover. First and foremost let me say that this book is about sexuality. Yes you heard me a National Christian organization decided it would be a great idea to publish a book about sex. Now before I even get to the book let me just say that the concept let alone the final product is funny enough in itself.
Throughout my entire Christian experience I have never encountered a more hyper-sensitive, uncomfortable, and completely awkward topic to address within the confines of a church. It simply isn’t discussed. The word sex is so seldom spoken in this setting that one would almost regard it as a sin. I would say the number one and typically the only topic addressed in a church that relates to sex is why you shouldn’t have it. No sex until marriage and even then you should only do it when there is no other possible alternative. And always make sure you lock the door, draw the shades, turn off the lights, hide under your blankets, try not to enjoy it, and for gods sake get it over with as quickly as possible.
Sex was such a taboo topic that it could only become an incomprehensible mystery to me that could only be whispered of between peers in the shadows. The Church has mystified and demonized sex for ages. Their miraculous double standard: Sex is a sinful, dirty, guilty act that we should be ashamed of, oh, and also it’s a gift from god. They create fear, insecurities, and confusion. Pushing abstinence pledges into the faces of teenage children to save them from their own hormones. And a vast majority of these teenagers do hold true to their vow to not have sex…if you go by the strict definition of penis in vagina. It’s an interesting equation that the Church tends to ignore Abstinence + Teenagers = Sodomy(cunnilingus+fellatio). Churches are so inhibited and inhibiting in their approach on sex that they stifle the potential for an informative dialogue about sex. Which is pivotal for youth and adults alike to be able to have healthy sex lives.

One of the most taboo topics involving sex is of course the idea that Jesus may have had sex. This concept is so infuriating to Christians that they can’t see straight. Of course you must understand they come from a long legacy of denial. As you may or may not know at one point in history there was a faction of the Catholic Church that found themselves wrapped in a fierce debate as to whether Jesus actually had to urinate or defecate. There was years of study and prayer put into this and in the end they concluded that Jesus did indeed eat and drink but he did not have to use the facilities…ever. I suppose God had his limits. Ok I’ll come down to earth and be human but I am NOT going to do that!

Now with that in mind try to imagine if you can a group of Arc Bishops of a national protestant organization sitting around a table and coming up with the idea that they should create a publication about sex from a Christian perspective. First of all how long would this book be? Wouldn't it be better just to make a pamphlet that says we acknowledge that it happens we sincerely wish it didn't and we're working to find ways around it.  Seriouilsy, what would that conversation be like?
“Bill, I think we need to come out with a book about what dancing and drinking in excess leads to.”
“Hmm? What is this?”
“The thing they make no mention of in the New Testament but it’s just riddled with it in the Old Testament.”
“I’m not following.”
“A book about where babies come from.”
“Ah, gotcha. What do you want to call it?”
“Hmmm, how about: How to Survive the End of Your Abstinence”
“Hmm I don’t like that, it sounds like you have to end your abstinence.”
“What about: What Goes Bump in the Night.”
“Isn’t that already a children’s book?”
“Don’t Ask Don’t Tell?”
“Hmmm no.”
“Oh how about: God Made Your Baby Not You.”
“Not bad. I like having God’s name in the title.”
“Free in Christ to Serve the Neighbor?”
“Perfect. Now whose going to write it?”
"Well who here has uh...you know...that?" (Silence.)
"I don't think that's very important."
"Well who would best capture our stance and message about it then?"
"We'll just have to get some eunuch to write it."

Seriously though that’s the title. A book about human sexuality called “Free in Christ to Serve the Neighbor.” What does that mean? I’m sure it wasn’t meant to mean that you should sleep with your neighbor in Christ’s name but that’s what’s coming across. They’re trying so hard to make the title as neutral and un-offensive as possible that it’s just downright bizarre. I’m convinced though that if the word sex had been involved in the main title it would have caused an upheaval in the church and possibly full-scale riots.

The great thing is this is a sequel; yes a sequel to a book entitled Journey Together, which I admit, isn’t as bad but still if you walked by the book you wouldn’t know what it was about. It does have a description about it that I found and I quote “The six sessions into which this study is divided can be dealt with in whatever time frame is required by local needs and opportunities. Be inventive and design situations that permit those interested in participating to have an opportunity.” Does this or does this not sound like the book is encouraging the orchestration of multiple kinky orgies?

I’d like to see some Christian sex publications that actually get the idea across as to what they are.

“Be Fruitful and Multiply”
“How to Really Know Your Wife Well”
“What God Did To Mary”
“Screaming His Name On High”
“Oh Come All Ye Faithful”
“Oh When This Saint Goes Marching In”
“Eve’s Other Snake”
And of course my personal favorite “Fucking for Jesus.”

www.urbansamurai.org

Tags: abstinence, funny, jesus, religion, sex
Current Location: Work
Current Mood: cheerful
Current Music: Neutral Milk Hotel

I have a dream. I found my calling in life. About a month ago I was in Surdyks (I don't care if that isn't how you spell it) the liquor store across the river and I made an amazing find.

I was there with my friend Seth to get drunk on samples of wine booze and beer but that side show was put on hold when I looked up above the high class hard liquor section. There I saw in a pad-locked bulletproof glass case the object of my desires. Yes the thing that I am now entirely focused on. My reason for living. In a bottle that may hold slightly more than a liter is a royal encrested bottle of brandy. The bottle and the brandy inside would have been mesmerizing enough but this bottle of suddenly sacred booze held upon its label a detail that will mystify the learned the wise and countless alcoholics for generations. This brandy retailed at $1750.00

I'm gonna let that settle in for a moment.

Ok, you got it? Something you can buy and drink costs one thousand seven hundred and fifty dollars. How can this be? How could any booze be honored with such a price tag? I stood there in awe as I let those hallowed numbers soak in completely. This special liquor invites countless hours of analysis, speculation, and inspiration.

My initial impulse of course was to say "Holy Mother Mary of God! Christ jogging with crutches! What in the hell is happening? Who made this? Who priced this? Who took the time and the energy to decide that this was a good idea? Don't get me wrong this is a fantastic idea but who in their right mind would think that this would be a big seller. There are countless bottles of Jim Beam, Captain Morgan, Jack Daniels, and Single Malt Scotches to my left and right. And yet there it is sitting there unmoving and defiant to all the poor bastard bottles amongst it that carries the embarrassing prices of 25 to 57 dollars.

One thing is for certain if I do proceed to dedicate my life to the acquisition of this item certain questions must be answered. The obvious question on most peoples minds (accept for you Todd shut up! Shut the hell up! You don't know! You have no fucking clue!) is why exactly this brandy is worth seventeen hundred and fifty dollars? While I honestly don't know I will tell you this I have certain expectations.

I can only assume that with each drink several things would absolutely have to happen. First and foremost you would have to become instantaneously drunk. But not a normal drunk, a drunk where you are the happiest you've ever been and are also capable of operating heavy machinery while discussing Socratic Thinking. Second you would have to assume that one would have once again on every drink an orgasm, followed by one of those really amazing sneezes, you would have a glorious hallucination, and you would most likely crap your pants just a little bit as well as levitate. When you woke up the next morning you would remember everything which included sleeping with 30 amazingly beautiful women and you would have no hang over and arrive at work 45 minutes early and get a promotion. And if you didn't, IF YOU DIDN'T, Oh lord in heaven would there be hell to pay. I mean seriously how could you sip 1700-dollar brandy and say "Mmmm that's really good." I've had hotdogs that were really good. This is something that sure as shit better deliver for the sticker price.

So this is my vision. Admittedly a much more realistic vision in comparison to what SHOULD happen. I see myself buying this bottle of 1700 dollar brandy and then placing it in a paper bag and walking the streets of Minneapolis at 4 in the morning and as I get half way through the bottle I stop and just vomit all over someone's lawn. And when I do I also vomit the best grand finale fireworks display ever seen by humanity. Then when the owner of the lawn comes out to say the classic "Hey man, what the hell are you doing?" I would say, "Oh sorry man, I just threw up $875 on your lawn."

The only thing, the absolutely only fault I can find in this bottle of booze is that it doesn't have a handle. Who is the inconsiderate bastard and what is his address? I'm going for his lawn first.

www.urbansamuraipro.com

So I no longer own a car. I’ll give you all a moment to soak that in. Maybe for some of you from the coasts or any other country that has electricity that doesn’t seem like that big of a deal. In the Midwest though if you don’t own a car, well you might as well just announce that you eat babies, yes it’s that alien. I grew up on a farm in Kansas and except for the occasional suicidal 10-mile BMX bike ride on gravel roads, over steep hills, in 104 degree heat when I was ten or 11 and evidently completely retarded you got to anywhere you wanted to go by car. In fact I’ve have had a vehicle since I was a sophomore in high school. I actually love to drive. I always have. I love long road trips 12 to 32 hours on the road is where I shine. But my love affair with the car has been tarnished by the last four years of city life.

Sitting in traffic for an hour or more to commute to a job that I hate makes my childhood BMX adventures look like genius. I’d look around at all these cars just stacked on top of each other, moving inches at time, and just ponder to myself “What have we become?”.
We looked like a herd of cattle, shoulder to shoulder, pushing against one another, fighting to the front of the line that’s headed for the slaughterhouse. We’re trapped. We’re lost in our own construct. We created this. This is progress. It was around one of these times that I looked to my right in time to see an eight car wreck happen right before my eyes. 7 cars just sitting there waiting for the apocalypse and then some guy driving a damn Subaru who evidently didn’t comprehend the massive bottle neck of two thousand cars before him caused a glorious domino effect of mangled plastic molding and shattered head and ass lights. The stupidity of the whole situation was overwhelming.

But everyone hates traffic, that’s nothing new. There had to be something more to kill my love for the car. How about being towed? Ever been towed? Do you know how insanely expensive that is and how impossible it is to get your car back? It’s bad enough that you have to pay 135 some odd dollars for the towing plus $20.00 a day for “storage” plus whatever the parking ticket fine is that got your car there in the first place, then you have to deal with the impound lot employees who are not only unpleasant but also the slowest human beings, neigh the slowest mammals on the damn planet. I’ve seen invalids move faster than these people. So there we are lined up like cattle again for hours waiting to get our cars so we can sit in traffic for hours tomorrow.

Still not enough…Some of my friends would blame my choice in vehicles but I believe it’s just bad luck that I’ve gone through two cars in the last year. Regardless what’s to blame spending $400 a pop to repair your car so you can discover another $400 problem a couple months later and so and so forth on into infinity can try anyone’s patience. Especially when you live below the poverty line. When your top two expenses beyond rent are car repairs and booze; drinking and driving suddenly makes sense. It’s bound to happen, especially when you start drinking over the fact that your car is a complete piece of shit. I’m gonna go out and teach that car a thing or two, that’s right car I’m driving drunk! Look at you! You’re pissing oil you’re so scared! That’ll teach you to make me replace your alternator, twice, in a month.

Not quite there yet. But when some ass decides it’s a brilliant idea to smash out my passenger side window and steal not a digital satellite radio, not a 20 disc changing stereo system with a sub-woofer and tweeters, not even a goddamn CD player, a tape deck a 10-year-old tape deck. If they took it to a pawnshop and the guy at the counter was drunk, stoned, on mushrooms, and had an I.Q. of 27 they might have gotten $5.00 for it to contribute to their crack fund. This, this was the last straw.

And so I’ve come full circle, I ride my bike to work now. Everyday. And I plan to continue doing so on into the winter. And sure it’s dangerous, mainly because of motor vehicle operator’s complete disdain or utter disregard for bicyclists. But I love the fact that I got a snow emergency parking notice in the mail and it went straight into the recycling cause it didn’t apply to me. Or the little grin I get on my face when I see signs posted just off the curb that say ‘No Parking on Tuesday the 3rd between 8 am to 7 pm’ because it might as well be in Latin for me. Or how I can laugh hysterically at the traffic report every morning on the radio. Parking tickets are a thing of the past. There’s just so much less to worry about. It’s a liberating feeling. I got a last ditch effort call from my insurance company begging me to reconsider taking out a non-owner policy on myself so that I can keep my rates down for WHEN not IF I get another car and I thanked them for looking out for me, but frankly the idea of maintaining an insurance policy for a vehicle I might one day own is like buying diapers for a kid I might have someday.

www.urbansamuraipro.com

Tags: www.urbansamuraipro.com
Current Location: Not in a car
Current Mood: No

Gluten free Jesus

So I took a call from a church secretary the other day that was calling to field a young couples concern about their son. You see this kid is allergic to everything; we’re talking one step away from being the boy in the bubble. And evidently they are planning on giving their son his first communion and the parents wanted my assurance that there would be no cross contamination on the communion wafer because if there was it could very easily kill him. Of course the first thing that crossed my mind which I would have said if I wouldn’t have been fired for it was “Well if their child dies from eating the body of Christ, wouldn’t that just be gods will? Where’s your faith?” I know I’m evil. Even my artistic director told me so. But seriously am I the only one who sees the absurdity in this? And this isn’t even where the story ends evidently Christians have long feared the ill effects of eating the body of Christ. I take countless calls asking if we have communion wafers in a smaller size because they’re afraid the elderly might choke to death on a 1 and 3/8 inch disc. Then there are the gluten free folks, you know who you are. Growing up on a wheat farm I’ve had a hard time wrapping my mind around the idea that there are people out there allergic to bread. To me that makes about as much sense as having a severe allergic reaction to water (I’m sure there’s some of you out there, I mean some people are allergic to the sun for gods sake). Of course they make gluten free wafers now.

http://www.ener-g.com/store/detail.aspx?sn=BreadProducts&id=21&cat=15

They didn’t used to. And it makes you wonder how many people the body of Christ has previously killed. One of Urban Samurai’s own troop members who happens to be allergic to gluten almost died in the hospital not because of gross negligence or mal-practice but because some deviant assassin nun snuck in and gave her a white flour wafer of doom. Doesn’t it seem wrong that something that’s supposed to represent your eternal salvation can potentially kill you? I mean granted you can be killed by an apple pie if you put enough effort into it but honestly don’t you think if you managed to choke to death on a communion wafer that God would just send you to hell. I mean they have to keep some kind of quality standards up there. Then again I think Jesus would have been a whole hell of a lot more sensitive if he was aware of the serious hazards to eating bread. I’m sure he would have tweaked his speech a bit.

And Jesus took the bread and broke it saying, “This is my body broken for you, take and eat of it, all of you, unless you are medically incapable of doing so, then we’ll give you a free pass. You can eat an olive or something.”

Communion seemed so innocent to me as a child now I know that it’s a very serious situation that can mean life or death for some people. At least its nice to know that drinking one and half glasses of Jesus’ blood a day reduces your risk of heart disease.

www.urbansamuraipro.com

Tags: www.urbansamuraipro.com
Current Location: Work
Current Mood: Tangerine
Current Music: Moby

Bad bad bad news....well its pretty bad news....maybe not that bad....ok so its not really that big of a deal...I mean it is unfortunate but....I guess you could say its more like mediocre news.... I mean depending on your perspective it could almost be considered good news...or even really good news....honestly from where I'm sitting this is the best news I had in a long long time....probably worth organizing a party over....with fire works and female dancers....well maybe not fireworks.... I guess its not that great of news...maybe a small gathering of friends could go out...or a couple of us could hang out at home....or maybe we should just have a conference call about it...I mean it really isn't something to make a fuss over...there's alot of other much more important things going on...really its almost not worth bringing up...maybe I shouldn't have brought it up...I mean I don't really feel like its something I really want to publicize...maybe I should just keep it between you and me....yeah, I guess this will suffice..


www.urbansamuraipro.com

Current Location: Work
Current Mood: Vengeful
Current Music: No

God bless this man.

It’s called the American dream because you have to be asleep to believe it.
– George Carlin

http://vids.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=vids.individual&videoid=935607276

Current Mood: American

I went to Body Worlds the other day. For those of you who have no idea what that is, check this link.

http://www.bodyworlds.com/en/exhibitions/current_exhibitions.html

To put it simply it’s a bunch of dead human bodies that are skinned, partially dissected, laminated, and artistically posed. I think my favorite was this guy who had been chopped in half and he’s holding his own liver in one hand and his intestines in the other. Of course my caption for this piece was “Oh christ, where the hell does this go?” That and the guy who looks like he’s jumping until you look behind him and realize his brain and spine have fallen out and he’s balancing on them like a damn Russian acrobat.
My friend Jenny and I found it all to be relatively hilarious; we were laughing hysterically through pretty much the whole gallery. Of course this was out of place since we are in Minnesota and if there’s one thing Midwesterners are good at is being awkward and uncomfortable. The place was packed with people carrying sober, grim, and even slightly ill expressions on their faces like they were at a Holocaust memorial. I’m sure some or most people thought we were being “disrespectful” but anyone who signs up to be permanently displayed butt naked, skin peeled off, and juggling their entrails has got to know that they’re setting themselves up for eternal parody. In fact I’m tempted to say that morbidity and comedy have never been more blatant bedfellows. At this point the bodies are displayed in a fairly tasteful way and have an almost educational air to them with titles like “The Teacher” or “The Runner” or “The Chess Player” but the law of averages and the state of the human condition not only brings us to the conclusion that there is a high probability that we could see something gruesome real soon, it nearly dictates that eventually someone is going to create something so offensive it will be absurd. Right off the top of my head I would like to see a body reaching up their own ass and scratching the back of their eye ball we’ll name it the “The Proctologist”.

www.urbansamuraipro.com

Current Mood: Tuesday