God, are you listening?

John likes to look up stupid rumors at work, God, I just thought I'd let you know, since I'm sure you read this blog, and every other blog in the world.

Rapture Denied.

John was at work the other day, just sitting at his desk minding his business when something extraordinary happened. A voice from high, but low in pitch, came ringing down at John, "John, if you don't quit making trivial jokes about me, I will do more than smite you, I will personally kick your rump into a tree stump." Now, John looked around, but none of his coworkers seemed to notice this voice. John whispered, "I'm sorry, who is this?" The voice said, "You damn well know who I am." John looked around again, people were working, sleeping, picking their noses, but no one seemed to hear or mind the rich, sonorous voice coming from high.

Now, as one can imagine, John was becoming a little frightened. He thought to himself, "I'll take an early lunch, maybe I need fresh air." Looking around sheepishly, John picked himself slowly out of the chair. He brushed his hands off on his pants and let out a little sigh, "this is it. I just need a break." Suddenly! From above an enormous porcelain white hand came down, thrusting John back into his chair; the voice boomed, "John!" The hand curled into a fist before John, and John cowered back into his chair covering his eyes. When he gained the courage to peek, the hand was before him, extending one enormous middle finger in his direction. The hand then relaxed, patted John softly on the head, and went back heavenward, as the voice spoke softly, "You didn't need a rest, John, you needed to stop pissing me off. Now, get back to work."

John got back to work, never again to blaspheme any entity or being... for now....

Put Your Finger In My Sandwich

It has recently come to my attention that John is anatomically different from most people. With what he calls "chicky fingers," he lives among the rest of us with natural fingers of flesh, bone, muscle, sinew, and tendons. Now, I can only assume that these "chicky fingers" operate in a similar manner to regular fingers, with opposable thumbs and all, but I also wonder what evolutionary purpose has caused this strange, dare I say disfigurement, of John's fingers.

The most logical cause, submitted by a team of esteemed scientists, is a conspiracy on the part of napkin manufacturers. John is in constant need of napkins because his fingers are always greasy. Have you ever seen how many napkins he keeps in his closet? There are many, many, perhaps several hundred, packages of napkins in there. I've contacted numerous celebrity personalities since John came clean about his anatomical anomality in hopes that one would be so generous as to form a foundation: "Napkins for John."

While all this may seem pretty dismal, John has kept an upbeat attitude. He says if he ever gets hungry, he can always eat a finger. But bear in mind, John, so can we. Forks! Knives! Bibs! and Dinner at John's!

The Whie House Journal: Porn or Literature?

Big news today everyone, John is creating a magazine called "The White House Journal," which was formerly called "The Diapason." Now, you may be expecting this to be some sort of political journal where John can find a good resting place for his mustachio-flakes from shaving, but in fact it is a literary journal, and if I judge correctly, it will be a good one.

Now, John and I may have had our differences in the past, but boy! that guy can write a poem. For those of you who are uninterested in literary works, I am currently suggesting that he counterbalance the journal by having literature and porn on opposing pages. Then, we'll have an official vote to see which wins by popular demand. I know that John will be adamantly against this for reasons of "principle," "dignity," and other made up literary devices, but I say we rally and get us some good literary porn. I may be way off on my conception of what the public wants, but hey, that's why we're having an official vote.

Who thinks John should regrow a mustache, but with more gusto this time?

I do. He only gave it three or four days last time. Now he's saying I "unsulted" him which is possibly a compliment.

A Warning

John is threatening to kill me. If I go missing in the nearby future, be sure to check in on John. He may have blood on his sheets or my carcass in his closet or something weird like that.

John has a problem...

John is saying that his feet are beginning to smell. Does anyone have a remedy for this? He thought he'd try Fiber Gummies (http://www.pedia-lax.com/Fiber-Gummies.php) but I recommended against this, as creating another stinky problem is no way to solve the first stinky problem.