"I Can't Have You Videotaping Here, Sir"

If ever there was an event made for Dallas it would be the Super Bowl. Dallas is a city that loves to whore itself out to the most glamorous god it can find and the Super Bowl is the most glamorous sporting event there is in the good ol' US of A. Salivating Dallasites were all in a lather at the prospect of hoisting their skirts and show off what fine panties we have to offer. Local big shots were giggling like a virgin on prom night.

The NFL takes over the host city's stadium, ruling it with an iron fist. Ticket distribution, seating, media participation is handed down according to how the league wants it. Going on 45 of them, they know exactly how they want things to be and they hit town like a 1965 Beatles tour with everyone rolling over to feed the excess. That naturally sort of irked me.

Preparations started weeks before the Big Game. I took some (unwelcome) video around the stadium at that time. Everyone was stopping and taking pictures. One woman just stopped her car in the street and whipped out her camera. We were all gawking at our Jerry Jones Christmas tree sure to impress the world ant the hundreds of millions of anticipated viewers. Forget Santa Claus! The Super Bowl is coming to town!



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Saturday's crowd

Getting the ESPN crew for downtown Forth Worth's Sundance square was considered quite a coup by the city's leaders. ESPN checked out both Dallas and Forth Worth for locations and found this one to be ideal. Downtown Fort Worth has been revitalized by the billionaire Bass brothers over the last two decades, transforming it into a welcoming mixture of both old and new.

The unexpected frigid weather put a huge damper on ESPN's plans, forcing the radio personnel to move inside, requiring crews to work through the night to get cumbersome equipment moved. The sports station was not discouraged however as they found the convenience for food and lodgings so inviting they sounded like a return engagement was fine by them.

When Saturday finally came with good weather, fans poured in - but I was long gone. I came on the two coldest days while the crowds were sparse to say the least. This allowed me to get as close as possible. A few brave fans also had a great chance to get on camera with the piddling amount on hand for the camera to pan. Everyone wanted their few minutes of fame.


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The NFL Experience is a traveling carnival started in the mid 90s as an attraction during Super Bowl week. Dallas had hoped to set an attendance record with 250,000 but the cold weather was setting records of its own. Set up in the Dallas Convention Center it covered over 850,000 square feet, the NFL shop consuming 30,000 square feet on its own. The Experience lasts through game day with the shop staying open an extra two days presumably to sell the champions' gear.

On Thursday night was NFL After Dark from 9 PM to midnight for adults only with the reduced admission price of $15. I definitely recommend it though I think the crowd was down due to the slick roads. I would have liked to have seen more Hall of Fame stuff and other rare artifacts instead of commercial displays. Not like I'll be making a trip to Canton any time soon so this was my one shot for viewing pieces of football history.

Overall the NFL experience was a good experience. It's not something for the jaded to attend but I think it's a great thing for kids who want a taste of the NFL but without the huge price tag that usually comes with it.



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With all the strange weather and grumbling by the visiting media the omens did not portend a favorable game day event. But the sky was clear before the game and the sun was a welcome sight. I think everyone was relieved for game day to come at last, to get out of the house and soak up the fun. I got no ill vibes at all as I transported myself through the crowd, even between opposing fans.

Unfortunately the rest of world found out what I already knew about Dallas: we love the glitz but hate the grunt work. Reality is so inconvenient (see Trinity River levees decay). 1,200 temporary seats were sold but not constructed by the time the game rolled around. There was mass confusion on how to handle this. The NFL holds back 800 tickets for emergency situations and they ended up using every single one of them. However, that left 400 fans missing out on the trip of a lifetime for some. There is no compensation for missing your lifelong team in the Super Bowl.

The Party Plaza fans who paid 200 a pop were left hung out to dry as well. Though thousands of tickets were sold, entry was delayed for hours - for some past the first quarter - due to an inadequate number of screeners. Reports of people literally pissing their pants waiting in line were common. Concession stands ran out of beer and since they had no stadium access the attendees were forced to endure the freezing rain coming down during the second half.

The game was great at least. I didn't want Pittsburgh to rack up anymore championships so I was rooting for the Pack. Steelers fans after the game were down right pissy as they had relished the chance to celebrate on the Cowboys' home field. Try throwing to guys with the same color jerseys if you want to win.

The event organizers were left with a lot of black eyes and hopefully if they get the chance to host another game they will be more mature and seasoned in their approach. There's more to logistics than just sucking up to people (the forte of Dallas glitterati). Despite the incredible snobbery built in to the whole thing, it was still kinda cool to see the Super Bowl up close. But if it never comes back again I won't be that disappointed.

My Heavy Medal

Dearest ones,

I'm not who you think I am.

It's my birthday today and every passing one gets lonelier and lonelier. When will I speak? When will I tell them? In my heart, I know I'm a fraud for their accolades, and oftentimes I try tell myself it's OK if I just never say anything. But it's not. Not in the middle of the night when you're screaming out like a drowning man.

They say war time reveals a man's true character, that ordinary souls can emerge as great heroes having been given the chance to prove their merit. I can tell you this is very true. I witnessed these men, so sure of themselves and free in their bravery. The part about a coward dies a thousand times is true as well. I'm living proof of that.

But now I'm dying like never before. Night and day have become one as I perpetually seek solace and rest. Why couldn't have I just died on that scorching day of the burning sun of eternity? Why did the good Lord save a coward like me? My continuing life must be a punishment, a penance for allowing myself to be included with the truly brave. No one understands why I don't want to go to the veterans' reunions. They actually think I'm being modest! But the pain of pretense stabs my heart in the presence of those men who recall the war without shame.

Some guys still won't speak about it, what the Japanese did, tearing off body parts, attacking in the night, fanatics who'd lost all reason. Those who weren't there don't understand: seeing those men ordered on death rushes with their bayonets into our machine guns shook our very souls. Sure they were easy to kill but the sight of it left you wounded. What if I had been born over there? Does human life mean nothing in this world? Where's the hope?

I have a thing about keeping my hair washed. I know that sounds like a small thing in the human scale of life but in my mind on that hellish Pacific island wrought from God's angry wrath it became my holy grail of salvation. But we couldn't wash anything in that fucking mud pit. I was one big grime ball and I felt entombed in a suffocating skin from which I could not escape. Secretly I'd clean my hair best I could out of my helmet even if the rest of me was filthy. That was my only connection to sanity. I never told this to anyone before, it sounds so absurd to the unititiated.

The rest of the time I was lost. All I could think about was my trapped skin and I never knew what the right decision was. I just looked to the guy next to me and did what he did - and prayed he was right. People talk of the fog of war but for me it was pitch black. I wanted out of there. That's not a world where I can survive. Them other guys knew what to do, not me. They all believed a man has to kill to be a man. I could never fully reason that.

Finally, I saw my opportunity to die. It was a beautiful lie! Two pill boxes on a mountainside were arranged to give covering fire to the other. We were getting ripped to shreds trying to approach them. This was before we had the flamethrower tanks to clear them out. Since we were pinned down, this allowed the Japs to know just exactly where we were for artillery strikes. That was my breaking point.

I couldn't take anymore but I didn't have the courage to run away. I know those other guys were scared too but something inside allowed them to hold on. I couldn't let them know that wasn't inside of me so I decided to make a fatal charge to the left side pill box with a grenade in my hand. Everyone would see it as a brave, heroic act and I'd be revered and honored and spoken well of in death, my true cowardice hidden forever. The perfect plan!

But whatever bastard God of cruelty exists in this world wasn't going to let me off that easy. I miraculously made it through unscathed, perhaps because the Japanese couldn't believe their own eyes - I'll never know (you've all heard my theories on this). I dropped in the grenade to disable the pill box which allowed the rest to surround the remaining pill box and break through out of the artillery fire. The zero was now a hero. For trying to commit suicide I got the Medal of Honor. It's hung around my neck like a cursed bowling ball ever since.

The real irony was in the mop up operations of the island I got shot in the leg by a sniper, taking me out of combat duty for the rest of the war. That allowed my reputation to be sealed as a "genuine hero" and with every pat on the back it beat the life out my soul. At first I tried to tentatively explain to people I hoped might have an understanding ear. But people want war heroes to be true too much to listen, it's like a shortcut to sainthood: one brave act and you're set. All the time I was on the front lines I dreamed how great it would be to be a war hero, the ultimate person. If only I had died...

"He's not scared of anything, are ya Grandpa?" I hear the grandkids bragging about me to their friends. I just let the whole thing go on until it took over my life. I married a woman I didn't like as retribution for dishonoring the true heroes who deserved good wives. I like it that she hates and loathes me. No one suspects how a great war hero can ever despise himself. You see, I'm surrounded and yet so utterly, utterly alone.

But I am scared, sentenced to a prison of fear. What storms of protest would occur if they saw my true face? I'd be forever ostracized, politely tolerated, a living death. Some have tried to seduce me into thinking my act was brave and at times I can almost buy it - until I start to breathe again. My living shame knows the truth of me and will not let me forget. The Fates suckered me again with that cute nurse at the hospital, talking me out of my decision to decline the medal. I'd have been a free man if I'd done that! But I wanted to impress her and for what? I was never going to mean anything to her. Idiot!

I've never been able to face who I am. Even before the war I drifted through odd jobs avoiding real relationships, making no commitment to my life. I guess that's what's done me in, that lack of commitment. Funny how decades can pass and seem like no time at all. I watched movies on con men looking to pick up tips, making the lie my life's work. Now I see like a furry rodent I've been swallowed whole by a snake as I slowly got sucked in over the years.

I clench my fists all the time now, waiting for another trick from my old enemy God to out me and bring my final ruin. The wife chides my clenched fists and worrying ways. She's terrified her image of me might be a false one, that I purchased her love with counterfeit currency. That I did, lady. But who's going to love me if I don't lie? But I can't imagine feeling more lonely than if I were at the bottom of a lost well, all connections severed forever.

Time has come once again to seek freedom through death. I'm so sorry. All those lies. Hands offered in warm friendship I ran away from in guilty terror. Those hands don't come anymore, it's over now. My true love, whoever she was, is lost to me. The sheer insanity of it all, where does it end? I can't go on living in these dark corners. Both truth and lies condemn me. I leave you this note as an explanation and that by my death you will see the truth of it. Sometimes that's the only way anyone will hear you.

The coward Casey Jones

CODA: God struck again. The pills failed to kill me. I woke to the sight of my daughter holding this note and staring directly into my eyes. I started screaming uncontrollably, "death screams" as someone called it later. It was as if I'd released the entire ghostly terror of the war. But my daughter had not come to kill me. She had tears in her eyes. You know what she said to me? That I was "very brave" to have written this note. Very brave. The tears of a lifetime came streaming out of me as uncontrollable as the screams had before. I never knew such love was possible. Thank the Lord God is smarter than I am.

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In Which I Piss EVERYONE Off!

All this shit in Egypt going on now reminds me of the time I had a conversation with a Middle Eastern terrorist. Them some touchy people! But that is what happens in countries where they don't allow Baywatch episodes to be aired.

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"I tell you earth is flat! Flat as pancake!"

"OK, whatever."

"You not hear me? Earth is flat! You must believe, infidel!"

"Call me whatever you want."

"Non-believer must die! Must prove you are believer!"

"Prove I'm not."

"You must say earth is flat!"

"Earth is flat..."

"I don't believe you!"

"Me neither."

"You must die! You disrespect great Allah!"

"Allah's fine with me. You - not so much!"

"I strap on bombs. Kill you and all your family."

"Gotta go sometime."

"You cannot deny my power!"

"Just did."

"Allah will get you!"

"I thought you just said it was you who was going to get me."

"Allah will get you through me!"

"How can I tell the difference?"

"Because I tell you!"

"Well, I don't believe you."

"You must believe me."

"OK, this is where I came in. Blow me up if you have to. Gotta go now."

"You must get angry first. Then I blow you up. You wait and see!"

I smiled and waved. He stewed and spat. That boy don't need explosives to die. He's headed for a heart attack anyway.

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Sometimes, you just piss everyone off. That's a bad thing? Heck, not even wars piss everybody off. So I decided to do the one thing I thought would easily unite all my fellow man: hating me. Wasn't that hard.

"Hey, you there, stop that!"

"You fucking freak! Go do that in your own backyard!"

"He's just doing that for attention, right here in the town square just to show off!"

"Doing that doesn't prove a damn thing. You really think that makes you a man? Anyone can do that!"

"This sort of fascist behavior has got to go! Don't be telling me how to live my life!"

"That's not helping you, doesn't mean anything, and is completely useless. So stop it!"

"I understand where you're coming from but your life should be spent sending letters to Congress to make the world a better place. All you're doing is making yourself feel better. That doesn't count for anything!"

"This proves all hippies are losers!"

"I hate you. Really, I just hate seeing you do that. Did I tell you I hate you?"

"That's just being silly. Everyone's going to make fun of you. Put your hands back in your pockets. I'd rather die than have you for a boyfriend!"

"Does your mother know you're doing this?"

"Aren't you frustrated doing that? You must be frustrated. I'm getting frustrated just looking at you!"

"What a complete waste of energy. You know if you put the same amount of energy into something constructive as you do this bullshit you just might accomplish something. This will get you nowhere. It's as if you expect everyone to behave just like you do and that's not going to happen. There's no bigger waste of time than telling other people how to behave in an unsolicited manner. So quit wasting my time, you fucker!"

What was truly funny was that the longer I did it, the angrier everyone got, a firestorm of debate sweeping across the country. All those red faces! So helpful in enlightening me! But finally real life intruded and I needed to pause in my endeavors. My, uh, supporters were ecstatic.

"At last, you're listening to reason! About damn time!"

"Actually, I'm just going to get a bite to eat then I'll be back!"

"If we ever catch you doing that again we will KILL you! I've never hated anyone so much in my life as I do you right now."

Gee, I never thought doing this would piss everyone off that bad. Man, people sure are uptight nowadays!

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Breaking News: Nazi Party Dissolving!

Berlin (AP) Nazi Party leader Adolph Hitler was found walking the streets of Berlin nude early yesterday morning while also carrying a woman's brassiere. Early reports from investigators quoted Mr. Hitler as claiming to have "locked myself outside naked and needed to get to my other house." No explanation is given for the bra at this time. The incident has caused disarray and widespread defections to the once all powerful political party.

Mr. Hitler and his ruling Nazi party have made a meteoric rise to power. Previous to this incident polled approval ratings were at 86% and the leader was widely hailed as a savior to a country decimated by war and the ensuing devastating economic consequences. A visionary speaker who'd gained the trust of millions, Mr. Hitler is now suffering an equally stunning backlash.

As one Nazi soldier explained: "I was rounding up Jews to be raped, tortured and murdered at the concentration camps when I heard about this. How disgusting! Does the man have no morals?"

Nazi armbands are reported to have been discarded by the tens of thousands. One former party member complained of constant harassment. "People were whistling at me in mockery, asking me if I was wearing a bra. As if I'd do anything so sick! And they do this after we invaded Poland for them!"

Investigators are still trying to determine the reason for the autocratic leader's nude foray through the city. Those who witnessed the sojourn were shocked and repulsed. "His butt was gross and covered in zits," was the reaction of one young woman. "It's enough to make me think starting his war was a bad idea after all."

Others were outraged and worried of the damage done to their children's psyche. "I put my boy in the Hitler youth to make him a fine, upstanding and powerfully corrupt person," lamented one mother. "But walking around publicly nude is the height of irresponsible behavior and I just don't know how I'm going to explain this to my son who was first in his Jew hatred class."

Formerly high party official Heinrich Himmler has been in a doctor's care since the incident, frantically claiming, "It's all a Jewish conspiracy just like every other problem! It's not like the Führer is evil!" Mr. Himmler has remained on heavy medication due to deep depression. "We had so many plans, so many dreams! We'd have ruled the world! Millions dead and gone, wiping out anyone who stood our way, taking all their resources and instituting our will! How glorious to have taken Iraq! One step outside naked and the world is lost."

New World Order Is Here - You're All In It

Sitting in a rich man's garden,
waiting for the sun;
Dreaming lovely lies
of life in the world to come.

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It was the biggest "Oh, shit!" moment in history. Two angels descended from the stars with what they called the Final Button and if pushed would end the world. They said the decision would be up to one person - and that person turned out to be homeless. That's when the "Oh, shit!" went out.

Job offers came flooding into the man but he refused them all because he said he'd never be free. Straight up cash was offered but he refused because he didn't want anything he didn't earn. Panic turned to outrage on this impossible-to-please man. There was talk of assassination but the angels assured that would cause the button to be pushed without recourse.

Suddenly, the world seemed a useless place. Finally it was decided to ask the man what he wanted (though that line of thinking went against their grain). The miserable soul replied, "I want my dreams." This, they knew, they could not give him - nor could they allow a world where the money-less were free to pursue life. But they pretended otherwise in their response:

"Fuck you and your selfish dreams expecting everyone to live and die according to how you think things should be. The money way is the only way. The money way is the only responsible way. We've all agreed to be slaves to money to get the things we want. Be a slave or die, bitch!"

But that was the speech he'd heard all his life. The Man With No Home was prepared with an answer. "You've got it backwards: it's be free or die - bitch!" And he smiled as he pressed down.

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In World War II, planes landed on isolated islands that had never seen such technological wonders before. Afterwards when the military had moved out the islanders created bamboo mock ups of the planes and worshiped them as idols. (Though children born after the planes landed scoffed that they ever existed and were but merely products of fantasy. Funny how "realists" are so often out of touch with reality.)

But the natives also heard stories of the rule of money: of how those with it ruled the world without question and those without it suffered in perpetuity. This too filled the villagers with great awe and they asked to see an example of such a powerful god. A dollar bill was left with them which they enshrined in the sturdiest hut they could build where the faithful would come to wonder how the magic ink made this paper so omniscient on life.

Again, a bamboo copy was made, but only one being allowed. (Those who made "illegitimate" copies were crucified.) A religion was developed claiming the side showing the head meant life and therefore the opposite side meant death. With great solemnity periodic purges were conducted - more frequently if times were bad - to purify the population according to the all knowing god. It gave great comfort to the people to know they had such access to the divine!

High priests who claimed to understand the dollar more than most would dress in green leaves stained with garbled, black letters. Their leader was given the title "Washeengtun" and it was he who blindly tossed the relic before the feet of each islander pressed to stand before him. "Heads" the islander lived, "tails" he died. If times were bad and many deemed to die in the purge, wise men nodded in agreement as to the cause of their ills.

Those granted the approval for life gloried in their fate. "God loves us above all! It is we who are divine and allowed to survive! The true god has spoken!" So much did they treasure this false accreditation that they never spoke (and in fact it was considered treasonous blasphemy) of the fatal drawback to worship of the money god: that sooner or later the odds would deem each man to die. But the madness only increased their fanaticism.

Ultimate reverence was given to those who died at the hands of the money god, their names spoken in hushed whispers and so perverse did the islanders become that when a man was decreed to die he was slapped on the back for the "honor" of sacrificing for the great god, of keeping their society alive and unquestioned. And though their misery grew they hoped that by staying the course their devotion would surely be rewarded. It was: they all died.

But as luck would have it, the last man standing - the high priest himself - was visited by a return of the flymen in an emergency landing on the island's leftover airstrip. His dying words as he held out the bamboo dollar were, "There is no God."

The airmen looked at him in disgust. "You idiot. Just because there's no God in money doesn't mean there's no God."

--------------------------------

Hitler never died. A double was killed in his place as he was whisked away by Allied forces and secreted into a windowless chamber deep in the American Rocky mountains. It was there he was grilled night and day on his methods for gaining power and co-opting followers into doing the most heinous of acts. The madman told them many factors played into his ascension but on this were all things built:

"Tell them they do good when they do evil and that they do evil when they do good. Be relentless! Shout them down with fury when they protest. Crush their will and prove solidarity is on your side. Harbor no doubt in your convictions and that strength alone will attract the most blindly fanatical of followers, craving to be released from responsibility. Promise them a New World Order where they will be kings."

Men of worldly wisdom heard these precepts and found great value in their disdain. Retaining power sanctioned all methods pure and it was asked of the failed leader what Big Lie could be derived from the war so that the self-proclaimed good guys remained masters. "Tell them the war proved murder can be moral." But he also warned against those who would realize that in fact the age of war had ended. These dreamers would ignite the populace into hope. "Kill them."

"You cannot oppress a people forever. They must oppress themselves. Betray their trust at all times - then use that as an excuse to take power. Fire them from their jobs then chastise them for not working. Tell them freedom is the true enslaver and must be stopped at all costs. In this way they will fear themselves and through that fear control will be maintained. Hardest part is trying not to laugh."

"Make the religion simple: That which makes money is good, anything that impedes it is bad. Like Sauron of old my spirit has no body but I can still rule! Behold the rise of the Nazi dollar! Every day it's higher as it squeezes out the life and fuels the rage. None dare stand before it. None dare question it! Embrace your doom while pretending paradise. I will have my revenge!"

Slowly the silent Hitlers injected their master's poison into the mainstream well, tilting the world to their favor, bending minds. The jobless feel guilty. The money-less feel treasonous. The powerless feel worthless. Everyone felt stupid but assumed "It's only just me" as communication broke down. Anyone caught being unhappy would be ostracized as it was trusted that only by one's own hand can woe come - smirked those who brought the woe.

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It is said we are in what is called the Great Recession. But that is our choice. Believing it is not a choice makes it no less a choice. There are plenty of houses for everyone. Enough food, clothing and medical care to let no person suffer needlessly. This suffering we endure is self-inflicted. Just what exactly is it we are serving?

Day Of The FUBAR

Lies have no consequences? We shall see!

everything smells putrid and used up...i had no idea mere smells could so devastate a person...the rotting end of a race come at last...i never thought the fubar'd man would be me - i guess that's why i let it happen

we're dying and we can't stop it...it's like our spirits are bleeding and we can't plug the hole...tears pouring out to the point of dehydration...what can be done?...where lies hope now?...nobody dares speak another untruth...suicides of limp rapists skyrocket...naked people walking into the streets with their arms held out looking for a hug...every night chilling screams both near and far spread like a virus...churches overflowing in pointless prayer, begging to be let off the hook...demonic children setting fires in retribution for the world into which they've been thrown...police disbanding orders forever...empty, open mouthed looks of vacuous pain from souls who can no longer speak, as if their heads have been caved in...shrews screeching in the day, searching for someone to blame but finding only themselves, slapping their faces in disgust...liars no longer heeded are aching for their tents to be attended once more...gone are the days when man decides what's profitable, he has abrogated his throne...it's bad, it can only get worse, and we wrought it all with our own bare, stubborn hands...it's the Dawning of Reality too late

A bleeding planet

a few turn to love...realizing we've only each other now - as has always been...no mighty military, no amount of money, no manipulation of the truth can bring us a future...we apologize for destroying the chance given to us by Nature...we were once spirit beings before these fleshy beings...why did we consume ourselves?...no one can see a reason for the madness now...what was the point of choosing death?...it was so much fun wasting our lives and never paying the rent due...give thanks for the ruling on our fate...those who poisoned the well must drink their own water...Nature preserves herself in the end and returns us to the correct order...that's all we truly ever wanted, that peace...we believed we were too evil to let love reign...but the truth is-

You don't have to believe it for it to be true!

Best Suicide Note Ever?

"Hell is for children"

"Don't say a word," demands the rapist.

"Don't say a word," demands Mommy.

"Don't say a word," demands Daddy.

"Don't say a word," demands the boss.

"Don't say a word," demands the bankster.

"Don't say a word," demands a dying world...

Silence - though often praised as something noble - is deadly. To "endure without complaint" is considered a virtue by some - but only by those looking to do you harm. Everyone has a right to a good life. You do not have the right to disavow this to yourself and keep quiet. Problem is, who can you tell in a rape happy world?

It would not surprise me to learn that this child's rapist was raped himself. We are not a good and caring people but we have to pretend we are and thus claim help is always out there. People who rape their environment, wage wars for fun and worship monetary rape aren't going to help anyone. I realize I'm in the minority in that opinion but time is on my side in this case.

This note was written by someone with a very deep-seated anger. He was never able to dislodge that anger from its throne. 27 is always a pivotal age and when he met That Special One and found he could not connect he realized his future was lost on the path he was on. Don't listen to those who would lead you astray, love really is not optional. Is there some sort of balancing act nature provides when horrible deeds like this are committed to a child? I would like to think so.

My only question here is: what if he had sent out this note and not killed himself?

Bill Zeller, a Princeton Ph.D candidate and renowned internet programmer, died Wednesday from injuries sustained in a suicide attempt. He was 27.

Zeller stunned the programming community with a 4,000-word suicide note detailing a childhood of physical and sexual abuse, which he had never before disclosed to anyone.

Zeller was a programming whiz kid, responsible for creating applications such as Graph Your Inbox, which visualizes Gmail use over time, and myTunes, which enables users to download others' iTunes music. Zeller made the latter program while an undergraduate at Trinity College.

The note:

I have the urge to declare my sanity and justify my actions, but I assume I'll never be able to convince anyone that this was the right decision. Maybe it's true that anyone who does this is insane by definition, but I can at least explain my reasoning. I considered not writing any of this because of how personal it is, but I like tying up loose ends and don't want people to wonder why I did this. Since I've never spoken to anyone about what happened to me, people would likely draw the wrong conclusions.

My first memories as a child are of being raped, repeatedly. This has affected every aspect of my life. This darkness, which is the only way I can describe it, has followed me like a fog, but at times intensified and overwhelmed me, usually triggered by a distinct situation. In kindergarten I couldn't use the bathroom and would stand petrified whenever I needed to, which started a trend of awkward and unexplained social behavior. The damage that was done to my body still prevents me from using the bathroom normally, but now it's less of a physical impediment than a daily reminder of what was done to me.

This darkness followed me as I grew up. I remember spending hours playing with legos, having my world consist of me and a box of cold, plastic blocks. Just waiting for everything to end. It's the same thing I do now, but instead of legos it's surfing the web or reading or listening to a baseball game. Most of my life has been spent feeling dead inside, waiting for my body to catch up.

At times growing up I would feel inconsolable rage, but I never connected this to what happened until puberty. I was able to keep the darkness at bay for a few hours at a time by doing things that required intense concentration, but it would always come back. Programming appealed to me for this reason. I was never particularly fond of computers or mathematically inclined, but the temporary peace it would provide was like a drug. But the darkness always returned and built up something like a tolerance, because programming has become less and less of a refuge.

The darkness is with me nearly every time I wake up. I feel like a grime is covering me. I feel like I'm trapped in a contimated body that no amount of washing will clean. Whenever I think about what happened I feel manic and itchy and can't concentrate on anything else. It manifests itself in hours of eating or staying up for days at a time or sleeping for sixteen hours straight or week long programming binges or constantly going to the gym. I'm exhausted from feeling like this every hour of every day.

Three to four nights a week I have nightmares about what happened. It makes me avoid sleep and constantly tired, because sleeping with what feels like hours of nightmares is not restful. I wake up sweaty and furious. I'm reminded every morning of what was done to me and the control it has over my life.

I've never been able to stop thinking about what happened to me and this hampered my social interactions. I would be angry and lost in thought and then be interrupted by someone saying "Hi" or making small talk, unable to understand why I seemed cold and distant. I walked around, viewing the outside world from a distant portal behind my eyes, unable to perform normal human niceties. I wondered what it would be like to take to other people without what happened constantly on my mind, and I wondered if other people had similar experiences that they were better able to mask.

Alcohol was also something that let me escape the darkness. It would always find me later, though, and it was always angry that I managed to escape and it made me pay. Many of the irresponsible things I did were the result of the darkness. Obviously I'm responsible for every decision and action, including this one, but there are reasons why things happen the way they do.

Alcohol and other drugs provided a way to ignore the realities of my situation. It was easy to spend the night drinking and forget that I had no future to look forward to. I never liked what alcohol did to me, but it was better than facing my existence honestly. I haven't touched alcohol or any other drug in over seven months (and no drugs or alcohol will be involved when I do this) and this has forced me to evaluate my life in an honest and clear way. There's no future here. The darkness will always be with me.

I used to think if I solved some problem or achieved some goal, maybe he would leave. It was comforting to identify tangible issues as the source of my problems instead of something that I'll never be able to change. I thought that if I got into to a good college, or a good grad school, or lost weight, or went to the gym nearly every day for a year, or created programs that millions of people used, or spent a summer or California or New York or published papers that I was proud of, then maybe I would feel some peace and not be constantly haunted and unhappy. But nothing I did made a dent in how depressed I was on a daily basis and nothing was in any way fulfilling. I'm not sure why I ever thought that would change anything.

I didn't realize how deep a hold he had on me and my life until my first relationship. I stupidly assumed that no matter how the darkness affected me personally, my romantic relationships would somehow be separated and protected. Growing up I viewed my future relationships as a possible escape from this thing that haunts me every day, but I began to realize how entangled it was with every aspect of my life and how it is never going to release me. Instead of being an escape, relationships and romantic contact with other people only intensified everything about him that I couldn't stand. I will never be able to have a relationship in which he is not the focus, affecting every aspect of my romantic interactions.

Relationships always started out fine and I'd be able to ignore him for a few weeks. But as we got closer emotionally the darkness would return and every night it'd be me, her and the darkness in a black and gruesome threesome. He would surround me and penetrate me and the more we did the more intense it became. It made me hate being touched, because as long as we were separated I could view her like an outsider viewing something good and kind and untainted. Once we touched, the darkness would envelope her too and take her over and the evil inside me would surround her. I always felt like I was infecting anyone I was with.

Relationships didn't work. No one I dated was the right match, and I thought that maybe if I found the right person it would overwhelm him. Part of me knew that finding the right person wouldn't help, so I became interested in girls who obviously had no interest in me. For a while I thought I was gay. I convinced myself that it wasn't the darkness at all, but rather my orientation, because this would give me control over why things didn't feel "right". The fact that the darkness affected sexual matters most intensely made this idea make some sense and I convinced myself of this for a number of years, starting in college after my first relationship ended. I told people I was gay (at Trinity, not at Princeton), even though I wasn't attracted to men and kept finding myself interested in girls. Because if being gay wasn't the answer, then what was? People thought I was avoiding my orientation, but I was actually avoiding the truth, which is that while I'm straight, I will never be content with anyone. I know now that the darkness will never leave.

Last spring I met someone who was unlike anyone else I'd ever met. Someone who showed me just how well two people could get along and how much I could care about another human being. Someone I know I could be with and love for the rest of my life, if I weren't so fucked up. Amazingly, she liked me. She liked the shell of the man the darkness had left behind. But it didn't matter because I couldn't be alone with her. It was never just the two of us, it was always the three of us: her, me and the darkness. The closer we got, the more intensely I'd feel the darkness, like some evil mirror of my emotions. All the closeness we had and I loved was complemented by agony that I couldn't stand, from him. I realized that I would never be able to give her, or anyone, all of me or only me. She could never have me without the darkness and evil inside me. I could never have just her, without the darkness being a part of all of our interactions. I will never be able to be at peace or content or in a healthy relationship. I realized the futility of the romantic part of my life. If I had never met her, I would have realized this as soon as I met someone else who I meshed similarly well with. It's likely that things wouldn't have worked out with her and we would have broken up (with our relationship ending, like the majority of relationships do) even if I didn't have this problem, since we only dated for a short time. But I will face exactly the same problems with the darkness with anyone else. Despite my hopes, love and compatability is not enough. Nothing is enough. There's no way I can fix this or even push the darkness down far enough to make a relationship or any type of intimacy feasible.

So I watched as things fell apart between us. I had put an explicit time limit on our relationship, since I knew it couldn't last because of the darkness and didn't want to hold her back, and this caused a variety of problems. She was put in an unnatural situation that she never should have been a part of. It must have been very hard for her, not knowing what was actually going on with me, but this is not something I've ever been able to talk about with anyone. Losing her was very hard for me as well. Not because of her (I got over our relationship relatively quickly), but because of the realization that I would never have another relationship and because it signified the last true, exclusive personal connection I could ever have. This wasn't apparent to other people, because I could never talk about the real reasons for my sadness. I was very sad in the summer and fall, but it was not because of her, it was because I will never escape the darkness with anyone. She was so loving and kind to me and gave me everything I could have asked for under the circumstances. I'll never forget how much happiness she brought me in those briefs moments when I could ignore the darkness. I had originally planned to kill myself last winter but never got around to it. (Parts of this letter were written over a year ago, other parts days before doing this.) It was wrong of me to involve myself in her life if this were a possibility and I should have just left her alone, even though we only dated for a few months and things ended a long time ago. She's just one more person in a long list of people I've hurt.

I could spend pages talking about the other relationships I've had that were ruined because of my problems and my confusion related to the darkness. I've hurt so many great people because of who I am and my inability to experience what needs to be experienced. All I can say is that I tried to be honest with people about what I thought was true.

I've spent my life hurting people. Today will be the last time.

I've told different people a lot of things, but I've never told anyone about what happened to me, ever, for obvious reasons. It took me a while to realize that no matter how close you are to someone or how much they claim to love you, people simply cannot keep secrets. I learned this a few years ago when I thought I was gay and told people. The more harmful the secret, the juicier the gossip and the more likely you are to be betrayed. People don't care about their word or what they've promised, they just do whatever the fuck they want and justify it later. It feels incredibly lonely to realize you can never share something with someone and have it be between just the two of you. I don't blame anyone in particular, I guess it's just how people are. Even if I felt like this is something I could have shared, I have no interest in being part of a friendship or relationship where the other person views me as the damaged and contaminated person that I am. So even if I were able to trust someone, I probably would not have told them about what happened to me. At this point I simply don't care who knows.

I feel an evil inside me. An evil that makes me want to end life. I need to stop this. I need to make sure I don't kill someone, which is not something that can be easily undone. I don't know if this is related to what happened to me or something different. I recognize the irony of killing myself to prevent myself from killing someone else, but this decision should indicate what I'm capable of.

So I've realized I will never escape the darkness or misery associated with it and I have a responsibility to stop myself from physically harming others.

I'm just a broken, miserable shell of a human being. Being molested has defined me as a person and shaped me as a human being and it has made me the monster I am and there's nothing I can do to escape it. I don't know any other existence. I don't know what life feels like where I'm apart from any of this. I actively despise the person I am. I just feel fundamentally broken, almost non-human. I feel like an animal that woke up one day in a human body, trying to make sense of a foreign world, living among creatures it doesn't understand and can't connect with.

I have accepted that the darkness will never allow me to be in a relationship. I will never go to sleep with someone in my arms, feeling the comfort of their hands around me. I will never know what uncontimated intimacy is like. I will never have an exclusive bond with someone, someone who can be the recipient of all the love I have to give. I will never have children, and I wanted to be a father so badly. I think I would have made a good dad. And even if I had fought through the darkness and married and had children all while being unable to feel intimacy, I could have never done that if suicide were a possibility. I did try to minimize pain, although I know that this decision will hurt many of you. If this hurts you, I hope that you can at least forget about me quickly.

There's no point in identifying who molested me, so I'm just going to leave it at that. I doubt the word of a dead guy with no evidence about something that happened over twenty years ago would have much sway.

You may wonder why I didn't just talk to a professional about this. I've seen a number of doctors since I was a teenager to talk about other issues and I'm positive that another doctor would not have helped. I was never given one piece of actionable advice, ever. More than a few spent a large part of the session reading their notes to remember who I was. And I have no interest in talking about being raped as a child, both because I know it wouldn't help and because I have no confidence it would remain secret. I know the legal and practical limits of doctor/patient confidentiality, growing up in a house where we'd hear stories about the various mental illnesses of famous people, stories that were passed down through generations. All it takes is one doctor who thinks my story is interesting enough to share or a doctor who thinks it's her right or responsibility to contact the authorities and have me identify the molestor (justifying her decision by telling herself that someone else might be in danger). All it takes is a single doctor who violates my trust, just like the "friends" who I told I was gay did, and everything would be made public and I'd be forced to live in a world where people would know how fucked up I am. And yes, I realize this indicates that I have severe trust issues, but they're based on a large number of experiences with people who have shown a profound disrepect for their word and the privacy of others.

People say suicide is selfish. I think it's selfish to ask people to continue living painful and miserable lives, just so you possibly won't feel sad for a week or two. Suicide may be a permanent solution to a temporary problem, but it's also a permanent solution to a ~23 year-old problem that grows more intense and overwhelming every day.

Some people are just dealt bad hands in this life. I know many people have it worse than I do, and maybe I'm just not a strong person, but I really did try to deal with this. I've tried to deal with this every day for the last 23 years and I just can't fucking take it anymore.

I often wonder what life must be like for other people. People who can feel the love from others and give it back unadulterated, people who can experience sex as an intimate and joyous experience, people who can experience the colors and happenings of this world without constant misery. I wonder who I'd be if things had been different or if I were a stronger person. It sounds pretty great.

I'm prepared for death. I'm prepared for the pain and I am ready to no longer exist. Thanks to the strictness of New Jersey gun laws this will probably be much more painful than it needs to be, but what can you do. My only fear at this point is messing something up and surviving.

---

I'd also like to address my family, if you can call them that. I despise everything they stand for and I truly hate them, in a non-emotional, dispassionate and what I believe is a healthy way. The world will be a better place when they're dead--one with less hatred and intolerance.

If you're unfamiliar with the situation, my parents are fundamentalist Christians who kicked me out of their house and cut me off financially when I was 19 because I refused to attend seven hours of church a week.

They live in a black and white reality they've constructed for themselves. They partition the world into good and evil and survive by hating everything they fear or misunderstand and calling it love. They don't understand that good and decent people exist all around us, "saved" or not, and that evil and cruel people occupy a large percentage of their church. They take advantage of people looking for hope by teaching them to practice the same hatred they practice.

A random example:

"I am personally convinced that if a Muslim truly believes and obeys the Koran, he will be a terrorist." - George Zeller, August 24, 2010.

If you choose to follow a religion where, for example, devout Catholics who are trying to be good people are all going to Hell but child molestors go to Heaven (as long as they were "saved" at some point), that's your choice, but it's fucked up. Maybe a God who operates by those rules does exist. If so, fuck Him.

Their church was always more important than the members of their family and they happily sacrificed whatever necessary in order to satisfy their contrived beliefs about who they should be.

I grew up in a house where love was proxied through a God I could never believe in. A house where the love of music with any sort of a beat was literally beaten out of me. A house full of hatred and intolerance, run by two people who were experts at appearing kind and warm when others were around. Parents who tell an eight year old that his grandmother is going to Hell because she's Catholic. Parents who claim not to be racist but then talk about the horrors of miscegenation. I could list hundreds of other examples, but it's tiring.

Since being kicked out, I've interacted with them in relatively normal ways. I talk to them on the phone like nothing happened. I'm not sure why. Maybe because I like pretending I have a family. Maybe I like having people I can talk to about what's been going on in my life. Whatever the reason, it's not real and it feels like a sham. I should have never allowed this reconnection to happen.

I wrote the above a while ago, and I do feel like that much of the time. At other times, though, I feel less hateful. I know my parents honestly believe the crap they believe in. I know that my mom, at least, loved me very much and tried her best. One reason I put this off for so long is because I know how much pain it will cause her. She has been sad since she found out I wasn't "saved", since she believes I'm going to Hell, which is not a sadness for which I am responsible. That was never going to change, and presumably she believes the state of my physical body is much less important than the state of my soul. Still, I cannot intellectually justify this decision, knowing how much it will hurt her. Maybe my ability to take my own life, knowing how much pain it will cause, shows that I am a monster who doesn't deserve to live. All I know is that I can't deal with this pain any longer and I'm am truly sorry I couldn't wait until my family and everyone I knew died so this could be done without hurting anyone. For years I've wished that I'd be hit by a bus or die while saving a baby from drowning so my death might be more acceptable, but I was never so lucky.

---

To those of you who have shown me love, thank you for putting up with all my shittiness and moodiness and arbitrariness. I was never the person I wanted to be. Maybe without the darkness I would have been a better person, maybe not. I did try to be a good person, but I realize I never got very far.

I'm sorry for the pain this causes. I really do wish I had another option. I hope this letter explains why I needed to do this. If you can't understand this decision, I hope you can at least forgive me.

Bill Zeller

---

Please save this letter and repost it if gets deleted. I don't want people to wonder why I did this. I disseminated it more widely than I might have otherwise because I'm worried that my family might try to restrict access to it. I don't mind if this letter is made public. In fact, I'd prefer it be made public to people being unable to read it and drawing their own conclusions.

Feel free to republish this letter, but only if it is reproduced in its entirety.

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HELL is for children!

Timebomb Tom Is Ticking

Call this a close second

"I want to be rich enough to buy my emotions."

The room was full when Tom said that amid the recurring discussion of imagined lottery winnings. And the remark struck plenty as a pretentious one. I remember this black guy saying, "What you mean buy your emotions.' What kinda shit is that?" Beyond that the conversation descended into an indiscernible ruckus to my ears, because I understood exactly what he said and I was smiling ear to ear inside. Tom wanted time. The only thing I didn't like about that wonderfully turned phrase was that I didn't say it. Truth be told, I think everyone else was pissed they didn't say it too.

Timebomb Tom was always the smartest guy in the room - any room at any time. And by smart I don't mean Jeopardy smart, full of trivia and knowledge, speaking six languages. And I don't mean smart as in someone who has insight into one part of a situation and then goes on to think that's all there is to it, continuously squawking, "Can't you see? Can't you see?" And I don't mean smart as in someone who finds cleverness in lies. I mean smart as in a relentlessly open mind.

Timebomb Tom's favorite quote was "Truth is life", from Frank Lloyd Wright. But he didn't say anything, just observed. Frankly, I avoided the fucker, not wanting to hear what he possibly might say about me. I like to think I can stand up to anybody anywhere, but I can't. Aggressive women scare me too - they too are borne of independent thought. Bottom line is: when he spoke, I listened.

Knowledge of mere facts won't build you this

Rare was the conversation he'd let himself get sucked into. It was funny watching him as I sensed he had the same feeling watching us discuss the world as Einstein would have listening to high school students discuss quantum mechanics. Not that he was condescending. He got really excited when someone would declare a truth, egging them on to run with it. It was like watching a starving man devouring found food. Ultimately, I think Tom wanted each of us to discover the truth in ourselves.

From the light in his eyes at those times, you could see he believed that would save the world.

But in the marketplace of opinions, his was just one of many tossed into the ring where value was determined more by sensationalism than reality. Much more fun to talk about a flat income tax than ending greed. And so Timebomb Tom...seethed. (Only I call him Timebomb Tom. I have a bit of intelligence myself but if the others didn't see his precarious position then I'd let time educate them). And I wondered: what was the real truth Tom could not get out?

The first red flag went up when I noticed he hated being called smart. That look on his face, it was like someone had stabbed him. He didn't want to look like an idiot and deny the obvious, and he couldn't respond honestly because he was unable to get his own truth out, so he was stuck - like a knife in the belly. Then he'd just walk away without answering. That's when I said to myself: "Someday that boy is going to explode."

Ask a homeless person what he or she wants most and the answer (outside of a home) is privacy. How does the idea of shitting on public toilets for the rest of your life suit you? If you can stand it, good for you. Don't ask me to. So we all do what we can to get away. Since we can't own any space, we try to at least own some time. But that's hard to do when you can't ever find a safe spot. And Tom was in what he thought was a safe place when I fatefully overheard him.

Some spots people pass by never giving a second thought. Little corners of hiding or enclaves that homeless eyes are always on the lookout for, a hideaway to pause from the perpetual running. At first glance the row of overlapping evergreens looked impassible. But then I spotted a slight opening. So I figured that would be a good getaway spot for me, thinking most folks wouldn't see that opening and they'd be forced the long way around.

Apparently, Tom had had that same thought process.

Tom was lucky. He had a cell phone and having a contact number to give out can be a huge advantage. Even people with actual homes give out their cell as a main contact number. Makes one almost think one is normal - normal enough for phone sex anyway, as was the case here. I heard Tom talking on his knees in an unusual voice, that of an immature young adult hopelessly naive to the world. Then he started making strange animal sounds at the behest of the operator on the other end of the line. When he stopped, I could hear her laughing even from where I was.

She called Tom the biggest moron who'd ever called her as he told her wild tales of forced humiliation and chronic stupidity. He was very convincing in his role and suddenly it struck me: he was getting his truth out. I knew that - but didn't quite understand that. His stories were pure fabrication, wild tales that reached into his inner soul, dazzling the listener with his talent as a character actor. And here all this time I thought phone sex lines were just a long dead joke no one really used.

Now I knew Tom diverted his energies to the wind, forever hopeless to find a home, chronic like I am.

Then something happened I truly hate: one of those out-of-body experiences where all control is lost. It was one of those rare moments where one gets a wholly honest glimpse of oneself, like it or not. And sure enough as he was closing up his phone, I knew the first thing Tom was going to do was turn around and look right at me. And yet even knowing that, I could not move or tear myself away. I was frozen, waiting to get caught.

I've analyzed it afterwards, curious as to my own motivation. Was the fact I heard him just something I could not hide? Did I so secretly want to see the look on his face I couldn't pull away? Was it because I'd latently hoped to be his friend I decided to suddenly jump in with both feet? All I can really judge it by is his own reaction: incredulous at first, then softening and unreservedly accepting. Jesus, I wish I could have seen the what had to be an understanding look on my face that gave him cause to react like that.

Website said she is a real phone sex operator

"It's all I've got," he nervously explained - as if he need justify himself to me in this hellhole world. Tom went on to say even though the stories weren't real, the feelings were, concluding with, "I'm a broken person, useless to the world." As a broken person myself I knew what he meant: he could care less about the world, he meant useless to women. Then he reached his final confession: "I'm know people think I'm smart. How do I tell them I'm actually the biggest idiot in the world when it comes to what counts?"

Another famous zinger from Tom I store away as my own accoutrement was his mocking of the job selection for the homeless: "You can have any job you want - as long as you don't want to live." He'd said it on the sly, knowing not everyone would appreciate it. With that background I sat down on the grass beside him as he told the story of his incapacitation. Guess he figured the cat was out of the bag or that maybe he suddenly realized his need for someone - anyone - to understand.

He told me last January he was working as a "lunch processor" - assembling school lunch items together encased in plastic wrap. I said, "Oh yeah, where you freeze your ass off and wear a stupid hair net." Like wounded war veterans, we need say no more on the war, Tom noddingly smiled. The supervisor there was a woman named Michelle. Tom had fallen for her like a ton of bricks. But he'd been trumped by his uselessness and he began to slowly sabotage the relationship until finally she got so fed up with him she cut off the lines of communication.

How to get her to reject you

"I just thought - if you call it thinking - that if I got her to reject me she'd never get the chance to see the real me." Tom is too smart for his own good. "What am I going to do? Share a phone sex session with her? What's really bad is she brought out the best in me. I was a different person with her. Which is the real me?" Tom wasn't really asking me, but himself - I think for maybe the thousandth continual time.

Tom's final doom came when a group of torn items slid down the conveyor belt to him. Who knows what happened, could have been done anywhere along the way. But like a conspiracy of the universe, Michelle arrives just after Tom gets the items. She looks at them, then looks at Tom and lights right into him as if he were the cause of their shitty state.

"Basically, she was saying I was shitty. I couldn't deny it and she took my silence as an admission of guilt, thinking I did it to make her look bad. Hurt like hell her chewing me out like that for something I didn't do - would never do. She still thinks I tore those items up just to piss her off. But I felt too guilty to contradict her even though I knew she should know the truth. Now here it is a year later and it's still eating on me. Can I die now, please?"

I stood up. I sensed he was nearing the end and if not, I couldn't take hearing him anymore anyway. This was waaaay too uncomfortable for me and my own sins of omission. In the comedy that is the human story, I felt the need to make Tom feel smart. I play these foolish manipulative games in helpless idiocy. Plus, I just wanted to get away.

Some things are just too awkward

"Well, have you tried talking to the counselor about this?" I instantly regretted saying it even though I knew my emotional motivation for it. Who knows, maybe I was channeling Tom. I saw the initial reaction in his face: Fuck no, I wouldn't talk to that idiot! But then I saw the wheels begin to turn, taking into account I'd been his friend here and whatnot until finally he processed his thought as, "No. Would you?"

I started laughing, probably more than I should have but it was such a relief from the tension I couldn't stop. Tom laughed a bit too, just happy to see I agreed with his opinion of so-called "professional help". Shit, it was only personal moments like these that ever helped anyone. (Most of us just play act we're better to please the authority figures.) All I had left was this painfully lame dismount: "You hang in there, OK?"

Again, I watched him process my words. What you really mean is you want to get the hell out of here. Yeah, me too. He tersely waved me off, me being unable to help him with his pain. But that walk back through the evergreens was etched upon my pounding heart, our meaningful words lost and unrecorded, my ears pulsing with the sound of a ticking time bomb as the heavens above gathered dark clouds of its own storm, and whether true or not I took that as a sign that at least God had listened.

That long cool woman had it all

Jesus Having A Bad Day

Will you listen this time?

Jesus was ascending the mount to give another parable to the masses when a man in a flaming tunic approached him. "Please, sir, will you sign this?"

A scroll of many words was held before Jesus but he said and did nothing. The man explained. "It's a release form to use your likeness on a new line of tunics I have coming. You can use the royalties to give to charity. That way you can serve Caesar and God both!"

Jesus muttered, "I do not seek to serve Ceasar," and continued his climb - still muttering.

The flaming tunic man was elated. "Awesome! That means you won't sue!"

But from that point forward Jesus knew it was going to be "one of those days".

Verily he spoke:

"A landowner divided his land among ten farmers, each to work and reap for his own reward. In return he asked for ten percent of the yield. At first the farmers were delighted by this deal as it gave them greater power and freedom than they'd ever known before. Other landowners took all the yield and only gave back to the farmers just enough to survive.

But soon the farmers started to slander the landowner, calling his yoke an unreasonable one and refused to pay the full share. Only one continued to pay in full and the landowner rewarded him by doubling his lands in an effort to show the benefits of fulfilling the contract between them. But the other nine farmers grew envious of the faithful farmer and killed him. Seeing this, the landowner expelled the remaining farmers back to their former landlords who then treated them extra brutally for leaving."

Jesus stopped and the crowd neither spoke nor moved lest one call attention to one's own guilt. Finally, a man pretended to be a moron to escape his responsibility. "Tell us, master, what does it mean!"

"Tell me what you think it means."

The man sat back down afraid to either lie or reveal his truth before Jesus. The Son of God looked out over the crowd. "Anyone? Someone? Bueller...Bueller..."

But the oppression of the silence crushed them, finally forcing out words.

"I know what it means! It means if you're neighbor don't get ya, God will! We're the fucked!"

"That's right! If you're alive it must mean you're a bad person cuz all the good ones gets killed!"

"You wanna make widows and orphans of our families! We can't let that happen! I ain't payin' no full share neither."

God these people are depressing!

Jesus slouched as he realized he lived at the mercy of such tormented souls.

"Jesus, dude, don't look so sad. Them farmers don't want to pay up I know these guys from Nazareth that got a way of talkin' folks into it - if ya know what I mean!"

"Surely, this could have been resolved by a contract dispute court before things had gotten out of hand. As a registered lawyer I can fix these sort of situations for a handsome fee. Have that landowner give me a call."

"Maybe the landowner went off and died! How did the farmers know he even still existed?"

And Jesus wept.

Then a man stood tall, taking on the burden of the unruly crowd. "And what if each farmer had kept his word then to find his lands doubled in time? Was it not their own lives the farmers betrayed when they betrayed the landowner? Ask yourselves: Where does my true reward lie? Only by fulfilling the contract and nowhere else. Better death than to give that up!"

Properly shamed, the crowd dispersed. Jesus stood up.

"Thank you. These congregations can really get me down sometimes, and we're two thousands years away from any decent meds."

"No problem. It's obvious they were disingenuous in their words, looking to justify their failings rather than face them."

"Very good. Would like to become a disciple of mine?"

"Would I? Very much so! It is you who spreads the true word of God!"

"Excellent! Tell me, what is your name?"

"Judas Iscariot."

"Do you think the crowds will come back, Judas? Do you believe they will truly accept the good news meant for them even if they do seem to follow me?"

"Hard to say. Not easy to admit when you've cheated yourself." Judas smiled at his new master but then thought to himself: Not that you would know anything about that, you perfect fuck!

But Jesus knew in the end, the bad days are numbered but the good ones are both timeless and countless.

Your time will come!

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Another song stuck in my head