Partying Down With Religious Fun Addicts

                                                                    

       Anyone who knows me knows what a party animal I am. I probably spend about 50% of my life up in the club, while another 25% is spent at house parties, tea parties, fun parties and the like, while another 25% is spent riding go-carts and playing mini-golf at Celebration Station here in lovely Baton Rouge, while a whopping 85% of my life is spent getting my fuck on. When you add that all up you can see that I really like to party. I'm not one of these people who needs an excuse to throw down, like when we finally managed to sink al-Qaeda's battleship a few weeks ago.

       And by "we" I mean my family and close friends and everyone who works at the local Ruby Tuesday's, and several of the people I grew up with and all of my elementary school teachers, and of course myself. No, after we achieved that, I didn't need to use it as an excuse to go party, but you had better believe that I partied my freedom-loving balls off. I wound up at a donkey show in a basement in Tijuana, and I regret to inform you that I was not one of the spectators. You may not have thought I would be the type of guy to party that hard, but it just goes to show that things aren't always what they seem.

       Hindsight being 20/20 and all, I probably would not have partied quite as hard as I did, but I was with trusted friends who I thought had my best interests in mind. I trusted they would step in if I was getting out of control. But apparently when it came to the matter of my savage equine rape these so-called friends were more amused than concerned.

       Apparently they just sat back in that darkened Tijuana basement with their shit-eating grins and enjoyed the show. But they had the presence of mind to take a number of pictures, which I will not be posting here or anywhere else. And before you even say it, yes, I mad.

       Well, like I just said, you didn't have to say it. But my anger really isn't the point. The point is these asshole supposed friends of mine. I don't even know why I was with them in the first place. I should have known they wouldn't give a shit about me, since all they really care about is their rigid dogma, which they cling to like they would cling to a dead Mexican prostitute. But I guess that's just the price I pay for Partying Down With Religious Fun Addicts.

       When out rippin and tearin with doomsday preacher Harold Camping, make sure not to ask about how his prophecies are going. It's kind of a touchy subject right now and if you piss him off he is likely to curse you. He told me that God was going to dig up the bones of my dead pets and turn them to manure, including the ones that were cremated. I think he was just a little upset because my prediction that I would give him an atomic wedgie turned out to be devastatingly accurate.

       If you happen to be out acting a fool with Westboro Baptist Church leader and lover of old school Oakleys, and just generally a fan of the retro cowboy look Fred Phelps, make sure not to take him to a production of The Laramie Project. He is likely to start a protest over them depicting him protesting, which is likely to create a rupture in the fabric of the universe, in much the same way as if you were ever to divide by zero, which you absolutely NEVER SHOULD. I have learned through confabulating with Phelps over Mai Tais that he truly does not care if everything in existence implodes into nothingness, as long as everyone is well aware that he doesn't care for the gays. I have also learned that the way he got disbarred is fucking hilarious.

       While tearing the roof off the sucka with former pastor of New Life Church and lover of the sweet sweet scandalous homosex Ted Haggard, a.k.a "Pastor Ted," make sure you are not also gettin ratchet with Fred Phelps. They would probably be at each other's throats all night.

       You probably shouldn't invite Richard Dawkins either. He may be a lot more intelligent and rational, but he is just as much of an egocentric ideologue. They would probably be at each other's throats all night.

On second thought, they seem to get along just fine.

       But honestly I wouldn't recommend parlaying, nor would I recommend raging or blowing it out of the water with any of these clowns. And don't bother trying to have a real discourse with any of them because they won't actually listen to a word you have to say, because they'll be busy formulating all the deep shit that they have to say. Plus all Richard Dawkins really cares about is pussy. That's really why he wrote the book about why you shouldn't believe in the other book, so people would believe in his book and those people would include some fine ass hoes. He actually couldn't give a shit what you believe. But he has every right to his gratuitous self-indulgence, and the same even has to be said for someone like Fred Phelps. If not this would have to be Communist China, and if I'm not mistaken it isn't.

No, I am quite certain we don't have this here.

      

       Sometimes I hope that the Buddhists are right and when you die you are reincarnated, so that this could happen and also so that Fred Phelps could be adopted by Ellen Degeneres.

       But actually I really don't care about that crap. I'm just trying to make the most of the time I have now. That's why I'm going to see Fast Five while it's still in theaters.



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