I am so tired of not being dwelled on and obsessed over by certain un-named members of this board. The last I heard there were about 75,000 members, and 74,999 have been wasting their time thinking about other things and other people. The seventy-fifth thousandth person is me, the ONLY one paying proper attention to me.
Was the memo unclear? Was the justification faulty? I think NOT! I think you are a bunch of lazy self-indulgent slobs who aren’t worthy to worship the ground I walk on – but who is?
Here is my question to you. Do you feel you are unworthy to worship me because of your inferior nature, or does your inferior nature make you unwilling or unable to worship me?
I understand Jesus had this problem. But I can GOD DAMN GUARANTEE YOU I’m not gonna get myself crucified for the likes of you. Shit, I’m not even gonna stub my little toe.
Crap, Boyo Jim, I sent you pictures of the shrine I built in honor of your greatness. I have sent you numerous requests through PM and e-mail requesting a lock of your hair and some fingernail clippings. I even drove by your house so I could collect them from you without having to disturb you by waking you. What do I get for my efforts? Not fingernail clippings, that’s for sure. I get a restraining order slapped on me instead.
That is why you are no longer my Spiritual Advisor. That is why you can no longer have control over my thoughts.
Thanks, but I will no longer attend your services.
I know why you want my clippings and bits… NO ONE, dammit, makes clones of me but ME! I know you want to do a Boyo Jim version of The Boys from Brazil. It just ain’t gonna happen, and you will not usurp me with anther me.
How can you say that? I climb in your window every night, and I inhale your delicious scent, which burns my throat terribly and makes me so, so hungry, and I watch you sleep until morning.
I’ve forgotten. Are you the messiah you requires that I not burn leaves on the Sabbath, or the one that smells faintly of cheese. I cannot tell the difference tonight.
I think about you every single night. It usually ends up with me collapsing in a sweaty heap on the bed or maybe even beside it. That’s how I get myself to sleep. I’m not even remotely gay either.