The Annual [Christ] Mass Blog

So here we are again, Christmas time (actually it’s been “Christmas time” since about 10 seconds after the Jack O’Lanterns hit the porch) and it’s time to celebrate the birth of Jesus by rampaging through Wal-Mart looking for the perfect gift. Let me get one thing straight right now: I am not what most people would refer to as a “Good Little Christian.”

My Bibles (I own four) share shelf space with The Koran, The Autobiography of Malcolm X, The “Queer Eye for the Straight Guy” Companion Book, and “How To Catch Trout” (plus another 800 or so titles I won’t bother to list here).

I don’t say this to be glib. I have never prayed to anyone (except the first time I laid eyes on a Lamborghini Diablo VT Roadster), I haven’t been to church in decades, and I don’t believe in a God, but I still manage to view Jesus as being a pretty amazing person.

Jesus doesn’t need to be the son of a phantom landlord for us to appreciate Him (I keep the capital “H” out of convention, not conviction). He was a visionary, mortal, fictional, or otherwise. But no one made Martin Luther King Jr. a god, and neither Lech Walesa nor Vaclav Havel have ascended as far as I know.

Yet these men could also be credited with leading their people to the Promised Land. Lech Walesa never walked on water, but prying Poland and her people from the grip of Soviet Communism is a modern miracle indeed.

Martin Luther King Jr.’s “I Have a Dream” speech, delivered on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial in 1963, is derivative of The Sermon on the Mount, and more potent. Nobody really believes that the first shall be last anymore but most of us agree that stringing Black people up in trees isn’t a terribly good idea.

The point here is if we spent less time preaching the Bible and a bit more time actually reading it, we might be able to revert this whole ridiculous thing into a birthday bash again. One problem though, the more you read the more you learn. However, though the times have changed, people haven't. Imagine this conversation taking place between a man and a woman, anywhere, anywhen...


Mary: Hi there.
Jospeh: Hello.
Mary: I'm a virgin.
Joseph: Really? You're um... pregnant.
Mary: Yeah, I know. It's God's. I've been calling him but...
Joseph: So, you want to get married?
And scene...

Also, while we’re on the subject of fact- Jesus could not have been born on December 25^th.  Flip over to Luke 2:8, and you’ll see that the shepherds were “keeping watch over their flocks at night.” Anyone who is an expert on Middle Eastern farming and agriculture (which I am not, just so you know) could tell you that this little blurb means that Jesus was born sometime between April and September. 

The 25^th was co-opted by Popes to steal the thunder of Saturnalia festivities that dated back to Ancient Rome. Other possible explanations for December include the belief that because He was the son of God, He had to have been conceived on the Spring Equinox. What, if any, logic is behind this, I don't know. Let's not forget people also thoughts their gods were serial rapists. It is also because of Saturnalia and other “pagan” fertility rites that we have Christmas dinner, Christmas trees, Christmas presents, Yule logs, and mistletoe... and "mummers". WTF?

And (and this is a BIG and), ever see a picture on TV of all those terrorists the Americans keep not finding? You want to know what part of the world they come from? Yup, that’s right… Jesus was not white. Some might point to centuries of artistic depiction as evidence, but a million Elvis fans could be wrong. Besides, Botticelli and the boys never met Jesus! An artist’s depiction is what you get on the TV news when nobody took a picture. So what if he wasn’t white? I’m sure we’re all grown up enough to get past that one together. If you can’t, go back and read the book.

So what are we to do with an Arabic Jesus who wasn’t born on December 25^th?

For starters we could all lay off the Revelation of St. John for a while and try to think about being nice to people or not punching thy brother in the neck for taking the last Sponge Bob Square Pants interactive action figure.

I’m not saying we should stop buying toys or anything crazy like that. I just think that “Peace on Earth and Goodwill to ALL Men” is a pretty neat idea (not Jesus’ gospel of course, but it’ll do in a pinch) and might serve us well all year round. He would have wanted it that way. We all know how Jesus lost his cool at the Temple; can you imagine Him at the Mall?

Picture Jesus surrounded by a bunch of hectic shoppers, all of whom look as though if they had to spend one more hour shopping they’d wish it had been Santa Claus that was beaten, dragged through the streets, and crucified by Longinus and his Legion. I don’t imagine He’d enjoy it very much.

I imagine He’d want to know why we needed holidays to be thankful or think of our fellow Earth-ridden Mortal Compatriots. So this Christmas, be nice to people. And then on Boxing Day, keep doing it. 

Just remember: Messing with his birthday is one thing but God help us all if He ever comes across an Easter Egg hunt…BSC. 

This pic has nothing to do with Christmas but I saw it on INSURGENCY INC. the other day and just had to repost it.

Did you have a stroke? No, but she was damn cute.

Sometime between 10:30 and 11pm last night, as I was watching The Stumbler's Inn perform at The Biltmore, my left arm went numb and I dropped my beer. A second later, I went down with it. I never lost consciousness and was fine mere moments later. I was prepared to chalk it up to booze and keep going. That wasn't going to happen...

PART I: Tox

4pm -  Vancouver vs. Toronto, The Squarerigger Pub, West Vancouver.
Five pints, two glasses of Sleemans Original Draught and I march off to catch the 6:40 bus downtown.

The bus was crowded but not unpleasantly so and I got off at Burrard and Georgia. This was odd. I usually get off and Granville but just decided not to last night. It has no bearing on what happened later in the night but still weird.
When I'm going to The Biltmore, I usually take the Skytrain to Main and Terminal, then a bus or cab up to the club. If it's a nice night, sometimes I'll walk.
The Skytrain took on passengers at the Stadium/Chinatown stop. I looked at my watch. I had time. I bolted out the doors and they closed behind me.
The Keefer Bar is about four or five blocks from the station. I snuck over for a cocktail before sucking back the PBR at The Biltmore.

7:30pm - The Keefer Bar
One very strong (but freakin' awesome) cocktail
They were hosting a private party but the manager, Danielle, had a little fireside pow-wow going on the patio outside for non-private party people. My cocktail was great. I had a quick but nice chat with Danielle and a handful of customers before heading off. I catch a bus up Main to 7th and walk the last five blocks to The Biltmore.

8(ish)pm - The Biltmore Cabaret
Three cans of Pabst Blue Ribbon (and a secret double vodka and tonic, consumed upstairs while singing karaoke)

I like The Biltmore. I like it even more when friends are playing there. The "early show" last night were The Stumbler's Inn with Shiloh Lindsey and James Wood. I caught Graham Myrfield outside the club and he put me on the guest list. I said my hello to the collected "gang" inside and headed to the back to dispose of seven beers and one cocktail. I noticed the poster for last night's "Glory Days" party and Fan Death were playing. Score.
At this point in the evening, I actually started to pace myself, slow down, so that I could make it to see Fan Death play.
James was awesome. Shiloh was Shiloh (read awesome) and The Stumbler's Inn were kicking ass...
And then this...

Became this...

Continued tomorrow...
PART II: Detox - Cute Aussie nurses and bumming smokes from crazy people.

The words of the one of the best writers you never heard of...

Some people hear their own inner voices with great clearness and they live by what they hear. Such people become crazy... or they become legend.


~ Jim Harrison

The Jagermeister Warning Label

OH DEAR GOD!

The Twizzard of Oz

Read this entry only if you don't mind a few laughs (and a couple cringes) at the expense of your precious childhood memories. The following is a transcript of the drunk "Tweets" I sent while watching The Wizard of Oz about 2 o'clock this morning.

Bedtime movie: I was thinking "Third Man", "Touch of Evil". Went with "Wizard of Oz" but it's taped over "Hells Angels on Wheels", still manly.

Dorothy gets picked out of a pig sty without a spot of mud on her dress. I'm starting to think this movie might be fiction.

"Over the Rainbow" even straight guys can appreciate this as one of the best songs ever. Okay, 'some' straight guys. #garlandsadish

Just looking at that hat Miss Gulch is wearing... She might be a witch but with a hat like that you know she's an evil cunt.

Yeah, pissed drunk and doing colour commentary for Wizard of Oz on Twitter.

How do we know Wizard of Oz wasn't made recently? A hustler like "Professor Marvel" would have whored her out instead of sending her home.

Never underestimate my ability to ruin every childhood memory you might have.

Wow colour! Munchin suicide watch starts now.

Dorothy Gale v. The Ghostbusters: Dorothy, the next time someone asks you if you're a witch, you say YES!

Ding Dong... Certainly the cheeriest song about homicide ever written.

I'm glad I'm drunk and not high, otherwise the stunted ballerinas of the Lullaby League would be fucking with my head.

Glinda's high as a Kansas tornado... Smiling away... The trailer park prom dress. Pure valium. That's probably where Judy got her habit.

The Scarecrow explains BC politics: taking directions from a guy with no brain and a stick up his ass.

Another clue that the Wizard of Oz is fiction? No good looking young woman who left Kansas would be in that big of a hurry to get back.

Yes Dorothy! Lube me up! A man without a heart wants to be oiled up by a teenage runaway. Go figure.

Don't go with her Tin Man! She's just going to sell you for scrap to buy valium!

You wonder why Judy Garland got in so much trouble later in life when she considers two utter fuck ups she just met as the best friends she's ever had.

Okay, not a hanging munchin but a bird. More's the pity.

Ah the good old days, when cowards attacked little dogs and girls in gingham dresses instead of shooting up their high schools.

Poppy field makes them fall asleep and "snow" wakes them up? I don't have to ruin this one. It kind of speaks for itself.

The witch puppet on a string is more believable than all three Star Wars prequels.

Scarecrow's day at the spa looks like a TSA pat down.

Afghan peasants can shoot down a Soviet gunship but the people of Emerald City can't take out a bitch and her broom? Surrender Dorot...BOOM!

Wikileaks reports the Wizard thinks Dorothy is a whiny little cunt.

The Wizard looks like a Star Trek alien on stage at a KISS concert.

I suspect the flying monkeys are just a flash back to the poppy field.

Okay, I'll admit it; it's been over 30 years since the first time I saw this movie and the flying monkeys still scare the shit out of me.

*Note to palace guard: the guy at the FRONT does a head count to make sure the guys at the BACK should actually be there.

"Hurry! Please hurry! The hourglass is almost empty!" We'll be right there! Have to change out of our disguises first!

Looks like the wicked witch was actually Wiccan. Give her a bath and she dies.

It's amazing how quickly her loyal storm troopers turned on her. Looks like Nuremburg. Bastards, hang 'em all!

Wizard of Oz remake: Toto pulls back the curtain and Karl Rove is back there jerking off Rupert Murdoch.

If you pause the movie and look closely at the piece of paper the Wizard hands the Scarecrow, it's actually George W. Bush's Yale diploma.

If Dorothy had got in that balloon, the FBI would have found her head in a freezer in Oklahoma 10 years later.

That scene would have been better if they had munchins hanging off the balloon like the GI's and the Playboy helicopter in Apocalypse Now.

Valium-whacked bitch, if you told me 3 days ago I could've clicked my heels and gone home, I would've believed you. Thanks for the heads up.

Okay, movie's over. Just in case you missed the sarcasm fest, I'm posting it all on my blog when I wake up. Twizzard of Oz.#culturethug