Crossroads Christian Worship Centre
Sonday January 3, 2010

Happy Twenty Ten everybody! It’s so great to ring in another new year here at the Centre. We’ve got a lot of great things going this year to keep you fellowshipping here with us, from the men’s wood chopping Bible study to the new “twitter” service (for all you webbies that prefer your Jesus in 140 characters!), there is something for every preference!

Great news for all you coffee buffs: CCWC’s in-house coffee shop Java Jesus finally has an organic, free-trade blend! We fly it in directly from Costa Rica once a month. This stuff comes highly recommended from our missionaries there, so grab a Zacchaeus (S), a David (M) or a Whopping 24oz. Goliath (L) before the service. It will definitely keep you from dozing off when Pastor Elliot goes off on one of his epic 40 minute messages! LOL! Read the full story

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This article was originally written for www.gapersblock.com. You can see the article there also.

So I was at the post office the other day, mailing something to my special lady friend. It’s long distance so you really have to send letters and what not to keep points on the scoreboard, so to speak. I had tried FedEx and UPS, but their prices were astronomical – $60 bucks when USPS was $10 – $20.

There I was, putting some stuff in a box and filling out all the appropriate forms, when some girl came in to ship something. It was only the two of us there at the Post Office, so I could easily hear her conversation with the USPS employee. The girl was trying to pay for her purchase with a credit card that said “See I.D.” where the signature bar is on the back. The USPS employee was not down with that. You see, their policy is that you have to sign your cards. “You can sign your card right now, but we won’t take it if it’s not signed,” the employee told the young lady – the damsel in distress, you might say.

Logic isn't in their policy.

“I work at a bank,” the girl protested. “We tell all of our customers to write ‘See I.D’ on the back of their cards because it’s more secure. Your I.D. has your signature and your picture on it. It helps protect against theft.”

“Hard to argue against that logic,” I affirmed her silently in my mind. This was, after all, the same policy that I myself practiced.

“Our policy says that you have to sign the card,” the employee persisted.

“But you can just see my I.D.” the girl continued in futility.

“Ma’am you can either sign the card now or pay with cash,” repeated the error message, reminiscent of the infuriating experiences we’ve all had with some type of electronics that malfunction despite all forms of reason. The customer yielded, her white flag waving as she handed over the cash for her purchase. Her head hung low as she marched out of the building, defeated. Read the full story

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A year ago when Kent and I decided that we needed to take the internet, grab it by the hair, and scream hilarity relentlessly into its face, we anticipated a fanfare-filled welcome and untold wealth and fame within six months. That all happened, but shortly after we did our guest spot on SNL completely strung out on black tar heroine mixed with some meth I made using our hotel’s mini-fridge, we began our downward spiral into shame and poverty.

Kent decided that he should make a foray into a different “art,” as he called it – the XTreme Roller Derby. Much like Michael Jordan’s short time with the Chicago White Sox, Kent broke both his legs and was incontinent for a month after his first race. He took a swipe at Donny “The DamageEater” Dean during the first 30 seconds, and quickly tasted the bitter soup of retribution. He walks with a limp, and I heard he still has trouble “standing up straight,” if you get my drift. Read the full story

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Hail to our chief.

America,

I’m disappointed with you. You got plastered-drunk on the Obama administration’s hip-flask of hope, and now you have a reality hangover.

It’s been a month… WHERE ARE YOUR FLYING HYBRID CARS?!? What have they been up to in Washington? A month long Scrabble tournament? What’s the hold up here?

This is not the bright new future you were promised when you chugged Obama’s champagne of change. You were foretold of a world free from genocide, poverty, and large words. A world where bipartisanship and children’s laughter would be the modus operandi. A world no longer bound by tyrannical right-wing policies like Monday mornings, awkward conversations, and confusing song lyrics. Together, we were to usher in a new day where butterflies would serenade us as rainbows sneezed Skittles. This was the vision you had when you snorted the opium of Obama optimism. This was what you signed up for. Read the full story

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To Whom it May Concern:

Recently I attended a birthday celebration at an establishment aimed at people over the age of 21. You may call it a “bar,” a “club,” or even a “house of ill repute.” Admittedly the third moniker isn’t completely accurate as the “transactions” that take place there aren’t exactly the same (”you give me money, and I will have sex with you” is exchanged for “you purchase alcoholic beverages for me and pretend to be interested in me for who I am, and I will have sex with you”) but it’s honestly close enough. I happened to ingest a respectful amount of alcohol prior to attending this gathering – one might refer to that action using a common colloquialism: “pre-gaming.” We could say that, on the scale of inebriation, I was in the “moderate to severe” range. It should be noted that I remember everything, did not black out, and did not retch. It should also be duly noted that drunkenness is not something that I condone. It just so happens that I am human and often am unaware of something that mature people call “limits.” I am typically what is generally referred to as a “jolly drunk,” and that trait was in full force that evening. I would venture to say that if someone decided to make an action figure out of me and, finding that the supply of the normal edition of a Dallas Conor McCarthy action figure was absolutely insufficient to meet the demand of thousands of foamy-mouthed, rabid women all over the world, then decided to release a special action figure based entirely on the version of me that was represented that night, it would be called the “Let’s Party” edition. Read the full story

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Bonjour, Konnichiwa, and Hakuna Matata.  I trust you all are feeling sufficiently miserable during this preposterous holiday season.  I mean, for the love of David Koresh, what is all this day of thanks nonsense about anyway?  Seriously, do you people really have that much to be thankful for?  I can think of only three things: high definition television, Megan Fox, and gChat.  There you go. Say thank you and get back to suffering through your laughably-short lives filled with disappointment, heartbreak, sun burns, and hang nails.

But, what am I saying?  That’s not what you came here for.  Our time is brief (and by “our” I mean “your”) so lets get down to brass tacks.  As the Prince of Darkness and Commander-in-Chief of All Evil Forces Above and Below the Earth (CCAEFABE) people are constantly pestering me with all manner of trivial and uninteresting questions.  Did you invent the Dentist?  No, but he is a close friend.  Can one actually swim in the Lake of Fire?  Yes, from 12pm-8pm daily and from 8am-10pm on the weekends.  How do you feel about the way you are portrayed in popular literature and film?  Mostly ambivalent.  R.L. Stine probably came the closest to getting me right.

Yet more than anything, people are constantly inquiring about my political leanings.  People assume that, as the CCAEFABE, I have the ability to shape coup d’etats, military juntas, and prom queen elections to my liking.  This is true only in part.  Yes, I have been a registered voter for the past two and a half centuries, and yes, I often use movies like The Golden Compass and The Da Vinci Code to speak my message to the masses, but when it comes right down to it, I’m only one principality of the underworld, and my vote counts the same as yours.  (It counts slightly more than she-devil votes as she-devils are still regarded as only 3/5 of a demon.) Read the full story

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