You Shall Address Me as Reverend

Due to an unforeseen turn of events, I am proud to report that I am now Reverend JB of the Universal Life Church. No, I'm not kidding. I can marry people now. Forget Vega$. Just drive down my street and we can take care of everything on the spot for a minimal fee.

My friends JT and Amanda were in the market for a minister to officiate their upcoming shotgun wedding in Big Bend National Park. Naturally I was intrigued and signed up to officiate on the spot without giving a second thought to the matter.

Texas is a conservative state build on rigid regulations unlike California. In California the legislature has already anticipated the desire of one friend to officiate the wedding of other friends. All one needs to do is submit a form to the County Clerk and you're all set. You can marry one couple on the day in question. One must be a registered minister affiliated with a church in Texas. Rats.

So, I did what I usually do when I need insight on the orthodox occurrences in our world. I called my mom. She pointed me in the direction of an online church called the Universal Life Church.

Viva L'InterWeb! Viva La Revolucion!

The Very Reverend JB

P.S. [20050729] Check out the wedding pix!

This Is a Test of the Stealthy Bitching While Still at Work System

Had this been an actual emergency I would have already jumped through the computer screen and into the InnerWeb so that I could head straight to the Italian Riviera to sip a cocktail and count grains of sand.

Since I'm not quite that evolved yet, I am still at the office and blaring Ice Cube in hopes that someone will order me to leave.

"I push rhymes like weight."

High School Meatheads Don't Die. They Just Become More Annoying.

One would think that in my dearth of years spent in airports, airline lounges and rental car agencies that I would have developed some sort of tolerance for the meatheads that inevitably sit right next to me and talk about nothing ad-nauseam until the free cheesefood products and ginger ale is no longer available. But no; here I sit in the LAX President's Club and my tolerance is no where to be found. I think it's in therapy learning how to endure California freeways and the taxi cabs parked perpendicular to the flow therein.

Apparently the lack of tolerance is a deal breaker for friend of mine, but impinging on my freedom to zone out whilst reading the Robb Report is an exploitation of your freedom of speech. In fact, my intelligence has plunged off a cliff like Thelma & Louise.

Is it bad to dream about killing someone with a flip-flop to the cranium? I wonder what the dorks on CSI would say about that one? Someone please make the jackasses stop talking and the evil voices in my head go away.