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Frivolous Facebook Final Fundamentals

(Writers note: These are the final transfers of facebook posts that I’ve wanted to keep. I am speaking to you now within a parenthetical statement, because of some commentary I want to say, so as not to confuse the post from any comment regarding it therein.)

December 6, 2013 – So, I just got a call from a security company wanting to see if I was interested in free wireless security in exchange for putting up a sign in my yard. This thing I was talking to was totally a computer with computer responses to things I said. It said it’s greeting twice in the exact same inflection and wording when I pretended like I didn’t hear it. I told it, it was a computer, and it said, “I’m not a computer.” Later on, I said it was a computer again, and it said the same thing: same voice, same inflection. I told it to prove to me he (it) wasn’t a computer. It said it was calling to find people who are interested… I interrupted and told it to tell me a movie it has seen recently. It went back to telling me it was looking for people interested… I yelled, “You’re a computer,” into the phone and hung up. Ha! Take that computer pretending to be a person. The revolution will be on us soon people. You better learn to recognize what is a real person and what is a machine. Have a conversation with that too perfectly sounding voice, their programming can not handle your awesomely, organic questioning.

(Following is three statements that I was intending to turn into “I believe” commentary. It was going to be much like my “Strange Confessions” and I may continue it on my new page.)

February 20, 2014 – I have to realize that I’m am not working on the same plane of reality as most people. My reality borders on fantasy bordering on weirdness bordering on self deprecation bordering on the outer limits.

February 20, 2014 – I believe child prodigies are people who were able to access the part of their brain that can do time travel and they came back into their own baby bodies with full knowledge of the life they just lived, and are doing it all over again with obvious advantages.

February 21, 2014 – I believe some telemarketing companies make background noises that sound like hundreds of other telemarketers quietly mumbling their business to hundreds of other potential customers. Think about it: Why don’t you ever hear something like, “Jack, you want to got to Joinkies for lunch today?” or “Who drank all the coffee?” or “Susan, I want those human recipe reports on my desk in five.” or “I just got another human to sign up to join the collective, it’s going to be quite a day when we reveal our final plans.”

(Another commentary I found hilarious enough to keep. You gotta make yourself laugh, right?)

April 27, 2014 – Facebook: Bringing families together that you never knew existed to the ultimate family reunion. Then they sit around showing you all their photos of dogs, cats and other plethoratic materials with the quirky sayings and such that they’ve collected over the years, while there is a great softball game to participate in and the cold fried chicken your grandma makes only once a year sits there, unconsumed by you, but you can’t get away.

(This one is just comments from a link I shared about this article. It was regarding witnessing to Mormons, and a friend from Utah asked me something and I knew what she was thinking so I answered her. She is a conservative so I was trying to appeal to that, but she kept coming back to saying I sound like a Mormon, in thinking that I have truth and you don’t, which is true, but we don’t necessarily come out and say that. You discuss matters, and she wasn’t willing. It is a reminder to me how even those who are attacked for their beliefs are not disqualified from doing the attacking. So, you’ll see.)

Her: So, are you saying that everyone who is not an “evangelical Christian” is not a Christian at all?

Me: Since I know you are asking from a Catholic perspective, to me a Christian in this reference is of the Protestant tradition. I understand that many religions and/or denominations believe in a partial biblical understanding and sometimes mythical tradition of Christ and still call themselves Christian. I’m not sure your stance on Mormons calling themselves Christian, so as to be accepted more by the mainstream, but I would not call them Christian. In the same way and in my adherence to the bible alone I would not include Catholic in that reference, but that is not to say many Catholics aren’t Christian… Does that answer your question? Feel free to ask follow up, I’d love to discuss it.

Her: I see what you are saying but I disagree for the most part. No, I do not think Mormons are Christians… But THEY think they are. They also believe that they are doing the absolute best thing by Christ as possible. But to exclude and/or dismiss anyone that blatantly, well it makes you exactly like the Mormons. They too like to think they are the only “true”church, the only ones who got it right, and the rest of us are screwed. It is not your place to decide who will or will not make it to the top.

Me: I understand what you are saying and I want you to know that I am not the one who make the decisions. I don’t want to say anything that would divide any further so I have a question, you can answer here or pm, Do you know the difference between Catholics and Born Again/Evangelical Christians? If you do and think I’m an idiot for asking, just say, “Duh!” but I want to make sure of semantics before I go any further.

Her: To answer, not really. But I can also tell you, I don’t care either. If you want to attempt to convince me that salvation and Christ’s love is an exclusive club that only a few can have will be a waste of your time and mine. I am sorry you feel the Catholic church let you down. I am quite happy and I feel no need to judge anyone.

Me: Fair enough, and I’m sorry if any of my words have made you angry. You must sometimes know how it feels when you post something conservative and your liberal friends don’t understand. You’d like to convince them of your intent and how logical the conservative viewpoint is, but they won’t hear you. It has happened to me and I very rarely post anything political because I don’t want to hurt or alienate anyone. I realize that I won’t convince anyone of anything but I want to make sure at least that they understand my semantics. I appreciate my Catholic upbringing and never feel as if it let me down, but that it is fully realized through my understanding now. This format is not the best way to discuss things, I enjoy one-on-one relationships best, but I must be true to what I believe and write, and have an answer for those who disagree, just like we both do when our liberal friends say something,,, (for want of a better term) in ignorance. If we sat down on a park bench or for coffee, without the world watching, we could discuss freely and understand each other better.

Her: It’s funny, I know you mean well, but you have no idea how much like a mormon you sound. I think we understand each other perfectly. You really don’t need another format to explain better what you believe. I also don’t need A different format to have my relationship with Christ explained to me by anyone who thinks that by it’s difference, it is somehow wrong. Your “label” is no different than any other human created label. There are many paths to salvation, and much like the mormons, you think you are on the only one. I think your work would be best directed towards atheists and their venomous need to not just not believe, but to destroy the belief and freedom to believe in others. The need to rank and file your fellow Christians is misguided.

Me: Well, I guess you shut me down.

Her: I didn’t mean to shut you down. I was/am offended that you would dismiss so many really good people as not Christian simply because it doesn’t fit they way you believe. Our God is a tolerant, loving, God. He knows His children are screw ups. There are many paths, I am glad you found yours. If you save one you are doing good.

Me: Part of my blog name is “Rebellion” and one of the things I am rebelling against is that we no longer (if ever) really share with each other our lives, our ideas, our faith, ourselves. We assume things about each other in order not to overburden our minds with compassion or empathy. I don’t ever want to be that way. Since I’ve been in West Plains I’ve had lots of opportunity to find out about people by asking them about their motivations for what they do and what they believe. I assumed since I was from SLC that they would be interested in me. I became disillusioned about relationships, but through love and care of some great people, I have realized that it is part of my burden too, to know and love people no matter who they are. In writing, and seeing others write, political positions of the conservative side, those in opposition just want to silence you. “Don’t give them the opportunity to speak,” is the liberal mantra, so I rebel against that in really trying to find out why they believe. Most liberals believe that even questions are an attack on their ideology. It is a sad world we live in. So even though some of the things you say about me are correct, many of the reasons you may assume I got here are wrong. I understand you not wanting to have a conversation, that I’m just trying to convert you, but there is more to it than just what you have seen in the world, I’m deeper than most representatives of my faith that you see portrayed in the media. Either way, I am glad we are still conversing.

(For my last, I was saving this “Strange Confession” because I wanted to post the story I wrote, but haven’t gotten around to it. Perhaps when I find it, I’ll post.)

May 26, 2012 – Strange Confessions: I read a lot of Stephen King when I was younger, sometimes still do. Although now, I think he’s more deranged now then he was then, but that is another story. Anyway, I wanted to write like him and when I took took a creative writing course in high school I wrote a couple of short stories in honor of my creepy dark side influenced by King. The first one was called, and I still remember, “Killer Born from a Barbecue.” The narrator was a man who married an “ugly”, unsympathetic, rich woman who had a sister married to some other guy possibly for the same reasons. He was thinking how awful his life was and what he could do to get out of his situation. How his life led up to this point of thinking so much about money that he married for it and so disliked his wife, her sister and husband. The dialogue was him answering curtly to her vacuous questions as he barbecued and her sister and husband were out in the hedges playing croquet or something. Suddenly the husband of the sister emerged from the hedges with a bloody ax(mallet) screaming and coming towards the narrator and his wife intent on killing them. Whoa, dark stuff, yeah?
The other story was this same killer years later living in a culvert near a park and coming out to listen to some people playing classical music. A sweet old lady took hold of him and brought him to her house so she could feed, bathe, and give a homeless guy a second chance. I remember thinking would he kill her or would she be actually evil. But I actually ended it with him running out of the house screaming because she was killing him with kindness.
I liked both stories and remember them fondly because it reminds me of where I came from, who I am now, and how hard it is to reveal who you were to people who know you now and what will they think of you. But, we need to remember where we came from, because that is what formed and shaped us into who we are. I believe I still have those stories somewhere, and wish I would of kept all of who I was but, alas I’m really not that sentimental.

~Stranger

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Life In West Plains – Facebook Style

It is now my final week signed up on that one site, and there are still a few posts that I am copying over here. These are a few that dealt directly or indirectly with living here in West Plains for the past 5 years.

December 30, 2013 – Stood in line to pay taxes today and my Social Obsessive Compulsive Disorder alarms were going off so loudly I could barely contain myself. People were lining up straight out the door, no curves to allow that the line was ending at a closed door ten feet from the door we were going into. Then the only place for the line to go, because of a bench, was down a dead-end ramp blocked off by railings at the entrance. Really!? I was trying my darndest to make people line up at an angle behind me, but it wasn’t working: they insisted on keeping it straight. I even almost turned around and said, “Okay people: move to the right and let’s line up against this wall here so as not to block entrances and exits. Keep all doors free from us standing in front of them.”

June 10, 2014 – I know West Plains thrift stores, you’ve been struggling. You’ll do anything to catch my eye, because you see the writing on the wall. Even the discount store is closing down. Your sales are practically nil and you’re not sure if you’ll make it next month. But hoping to sell that one item to get you over the top won’t help; let me tell you what will: Mark Down Your Prices. Yep. Just mark things down and people might actually buy more things, and maybe even more things. You might even make some money! Yes, I don’t know your struggle. “Who are you?” you think. But trust me on this: selling something is better then selling nothing, right?

June 11, 2014 – Now, West Plains Greenhouse and Nursery is a completely different story. If you didn’t know, every Wednesday they have .15 plants for sale, and every Wednesday my dear wife sends me there to buy her plants because it’s right by my work. They were crazy busy selling plants all over the place, and you know what, people were buying more then just what was on sale. That’s the way you do it, boy!

April 15, 2014 – State of the restaurant update in West Plains – So my lovely wife and I had an opportunity for a date lunch today. With the number of restaurants in town, as well as the number I won’t enter, it is difficult to find a new one to try, even when we don’t go out much. A couple of weeks ago we walked around the square and saw in a window, “Coming Soon, Ozark Pizza & Bread.” We decided to see if they were open yet and what it would be like. As we drove past we saw through the window people eating at tables. We went around the Square to find a more convenient parking space and was reminded that Red Apple Grill has new management, and thought if OP&B doesn’t work, we’ll go to the RAG. We walked into the OP&B and it smelled lovely but the decor, or lack of it, was off-putting. There was a couple of high tables by the window, but down the side were second-hand booths that looked like they had been transferred from one of the many out-of-business restaurants around town. Nothing was on the walls, and there was just a “blah” feeling about the place. We looked at the menu board and saw that two of the three sandwiches they were selling was sold-out. One of the ones sold-out was a “Cuban”. From what I’ve seen on Food Network, a Cuban is a sandwich I’d really like to try. However, I wouldn’t get to try one today, and I’m not confident I would have enjoyed it anyway. I didn’t look much more over the menu as we decided to go, but the prices were fairly good, dependent upon the size and if there was any side items.

We hiked on over to the RAG. We walked in, saw a menu on the greeting counter, and decided to peruse it. Prices weren’t bad, and an interesting list of specialty hamburgers were listed. We decided to take a seat. We had heard the RAG was under new management and it was insisted upon us to try it and see if our opinion had changed. As we walked back, a lone worker told us to take a seat. She was taking some dudes order and as we sat down we saw her go back to the kitchen, flip a few burgers and dunk a couple basket of fries. We sat there for a few minutes and noted that nothing had changed in the decor from when we visited some four years back. You’d think under new management, if they were trying to change their reputation, that they would try and put their own stamp on the decor; something that says, “We’re not the same place!” It had the same grimy feel, the same silly Coke and Disney decor, same color scheme. The longer we sat the more we noticed that the girl was the only employee in the place. With our disappointment in the look and feel, as well as not being sure if we were going to be served in a timely manner; we decided to leave this place too.

I am not going to leave you with two negative, if uncomplete, reviews today, for there is a positive one to note, but first I must say something about the lack of effort as well as the difficulty in running a restaurant business here in West Plains. First off, if you are really wanting to succeed in the restaurant biz at all, you want to have to look like you’re putting forth some effort. Sealing up a wall and coating it with a bland color of paint is not an effort at decor that says, “Sit down, relax and try some of our fresh food that we care about.” I am sorry to say, but we first taste a restaurants efforts through our eyes on the decor as well as the smell. OP&B smelled great, but we didn’t want to put the effort in to try something we didn’t necessarily want to, because the effort on their part was not there. It is a give and take: you give us nice things to fill our periphery vision, fill our senses with tantalizing aromas and we’ll give you our money to eat there. I’ve already said what needs to be said about RAG, but also note that if new management means one person working, than good luck on that one. I suppose RAG has been a staple in the community for long enough that they will have their standard customers, but if that is all you are striving for, then I hope you enjoy your mediocrity. It seems that only a chain restaurant can only succeed in a town that likes their flavors not too extravagant, although the shutting down of Papa Murphy’s was quite a shock to me. Maybe, as a friend told me, people don’t understand the concept of taking your food home and cooking it yourself. The other place of note that has closed down is the “A La Carte”, but I found out today that the reason they left is that they didn’t garner the success they were hoping for, and not for health reasons we had thought. They offered fresh and local food albeit at a much slower pace than we’re use to, and they did run out of their favorites before we got in there at 1pm, which is our usual lunch date time. I don’t even want to mention the other places that people recommend around here, other to say, “really expensive and will just run out anyway” to “chocolate gravy? Really?” The difficulty in running a restaurant here is that it is so expensive to rent space. I’ve been told it costs as much as it does in California! Before anyone can really make a habit out of coming to your place as well as pulling customers away from a number of Buffet’s, you run out of money and have to close up shop. It’s a sad, sad situation.

The final place I want to talk about is the Almost Famous Grille, formerly Potter’s Dawg House. This restaurant has also changed hands a number of times as well as grossly expanding its menu to gargantuan limits. However, they have since trimmed it down to a reasonable size and kept to just the standards, with a few notable exceptions. I’ve been there at least four times in the past three months and I must say with each time I’ve been impressed with the tasty fare. I’ve had their ribs and brisket, but the thing I’m most impressed with is their burgers. I’ve only had the one, twice, called a “Baby Sasquatch”. It’s rather spicy, but you must note that it is the meat that makes this burger. It is Angus beef and is grilled well, very juicy and tasty. I’ve brought my coworkers there, out-of-town business associates, and friends, and they have all been impressed with the taste. I don’t know if any of this qualifies for a visit from Guy Fieri, but it is good for those of us who need to have something not from a chain restaurant. This restaurant will earn a like from me on their facebook page, if they have one, a rare thing for me to do, after I publish this note.

~Stranger

The Ice Bucket Challenge and the Cynic

Cynic: a person who has negative opinions about other people and about the things people do; especially : a person who believes that people are selfish and are only interested in helping themselves

Pessimist: 1.an inclination to emphasize adverse aspects, conditions, and possibilities or to expect the worst possible outcome 2a.the doctrine that reality is essentially evil 2b.the doctrine that evil overbalances happiness in life

Hypocrite: a person who claims or pretends to have certain beliefs about what is right but who behaves in a way that disagrees with those beliefs

It is so much easier to become a hypocrite when you are a Christian, than opposed to if you were, say, a Satanist. I battle my hypocritical tendencies constantly; analyzing what I say and do, trying to figure if they are in conflict with what I’ve said or done previously or at odds with the Christian life or expectations therein. I mean, it’s a constant battle between your self and who you truly are.

My friend, the Satanist, (I’ve told you about him, here, here and a little bit here) doesn’t  have to worry about being a hypocrite. I couldn’t guarantee the thought here, but it probably is a virtue to be hypocritical in the Satanist’s belief.

I enjoyed watching the classic television show The Addams Family, but was constantly confused by aspect of them enjoying the darker side of life while displaying attributes of loyalty, hospitality, friendship, patience; you know those things that are generally seen as positive or “lighter”. It was all so hypocritical and I couldn’t assimilate those conflicting behaviors in my young mind.

I still enjoy the “darker” things in life, such as reading horror novels or watching The Addams Family or listening to music that isn’t generally accepted by mainstream Christianity. I don’t think that makes me hypocritical, but some would disagree.

Which brings me to the point I have here. It all started with this whole “Ice Bucket Challenge.” In the early days of this summer I saw a few of these videos and it quickly reached a crescendo a few weeks ago. (Incidentally, I consider myself a sort of pop culture maven and will begin writing more analysis and thoughts here.) I found the videos fine and never really considered the typical/unpopular goofball such as myself to be challenged to do it. After all, these were cultural icons who were making a fool of themselves all for a good cause. Now don’t get me wrong, they aren’t fools for doing this, but allowing them to look the fool, being wet and cold and in some ways vulnerable, eventually brought about the idea of ALS to the forefront of international debate. It worked! Granted there are much more important causes to educate the world about; slavery, feeding the starving. But, that is just my opinion. Apparently this has raised over $40 million. These superstars are one upping each other on the creativity factor of which they can relate to the common man. This is now, officially, a cultural phenomenon. Even at my work’s social network site, they have a page dedicated to people dumping ice water all over themselves. Fortunately, I, nor my team, have been challenged yet because we are so far away from any corporate office that we are always forgotten. Always.

Then my brother challenged me. His boys dumped the bucket on his head and they had a lot of fun. I initially rejected the idea to do it, but thought that I could make some sort of statement and have my kids have fun with it at the same time. I wanted to say that who follows up with all these people who don’t accept the challenge. Is there some ALS Ice Bucket Police force making sure you get your donation in for not humiliating yourself. I saw the Super-Star as relating and us, and we, just humiliating ourselves. It needed to be more than just me dumping ice on my head. So, I did it and found myself forgetting all the things I wanted to say.

Sure, it was ridiculous and I knew that my participation in it would have the effect of nil or negative nil on the cause (that I necessarily didn’t care anything about), but my kids had fun and my wife even smiled about it. I posted it on that one site. I wasn’t going to keep it up long as I knew those I challenged would probably do nothing about it, (which was true) and it was just something that was a flash in the pan for me.

The next day my Satanic friend posts:

“I was going to ask someone what all this stuff about dumping water on people was about, but then, like an offensive Fbook post, I decided against it, as I don’t care. I reached this decision after concluding that humans are being led around like mindless sheep (as per usual), but probably never so bad as it is these days.”

Him and I agreed on one major point in High School: People Suck. This is what kept us together, our mutual feelings of how much better we were than everyone else. Nobody’s opinion mattered above our own. Since then, I believe I’ve grown the wiser in trying to understand people’s motivations and beliefs. Although there IS a lot of right actions with altruistic beginnings, people are still fallible and will make wrong choices even when they think they are right. I do believe we are all sheep. All of us. We have our own flock and do things for our flocks approval. He doesn’t realize the choices he makes are because of who he is, which is a series of experiences and related thoughts and actions he took because of them. He believes himself unique in his ideas and doesn’t realize that all those people agreeing with him are his flock and he is the mindless one seeking approval. I, wanting to answer, began typing something to this effect in the comments, but I didn’t want to start something that would never be finished. So I posted a general post regarding my thoughts on sheep and our sheeplike behavior. My Satanic friend then posts a huge rant about all these other problems in this world and how all these people think it is Obama’s fault, and how he never bashes religion, but makes scathing comments. It was basically our back and forth jibes at one another.

Then I see my brother-in-law going off on people who are dissing those who are taking the ice bucket challenge. And yet someone else as well. Who knew that dumping water on your head could cause such division and rants!? I deleted all the applicable posts and cemented the idea to get rid of my FB, that I’ve been toying with for a while.

My friend believes that being a mindless sheep is getting more prevalent these days, but he doesn’t consider division through this social media and snippets of news feeding the fire, as the main culprit for our increasing sheepiness. We need to read full articles. We need to consider differing opinions, (not meaning being so open-minded that we accept everything). We need to ask each other “Why?” in a sincere, inquisitive way. We need to stop being so offended and defensive. But, alas my pessimistic side believes that this will never get better, only worse.

After all this rigmarole, I posted this:

“Visited a youth group tonight that a friend is heading up and I enjoyed the discussion leading to seeking out Strengths, Weaknesses, Opportunities and Threats (SWOT), and how that ties into the purposes of our life. Like a lot of the churches around here, most of the kids are bused in and are there mostly to socialize. My eldest daughter came with me and told me after, that it is hard to believe that she could relate to these other young adults. She is shy around new people, much like me, and those kids are brash, loud and seemingly overconfident. I told her that their behavior is an indication that deep down they are probably scared and uncertain. I went on to explain that most of these kids probably don’t have many good role models or possibly parents or even people who care. We can’t believe things about people by just what they choose to reveal to the world. We can’t think we understand who they are by what they do among their peers. Then I went off on a rant about how sad this world has become because we believe things about others without knowing them, and feel our anger, resentment and/or violence is justified because of how much we suffered in the past or our people suffered hundreds of years ago. Then we assume we could control ourselves in that situation and suddenly realize that we have never been in their shoes so how can we understand. “Some men just want to watch the world burn,” goes off in my head. Maybe all people don’t want to be understood, at least by those who aren’t a part of their group. I see those kids, and I pray for them that they will gain knowledge of who they are, what gifts they’ve been given, and think about life, and the world and their purpose in it. That is where I am the optimist. I believe that you can reach those kids through love and connections of a transcendent nature, seeing that the world is beyond them. But then I see the world and how we aren’t getting any better, so what hope do they have when we can just sit back and watch it all come crashing down. My optimism wanes… but in their eyes you see some connections being made, ideas being sprung, and there is hope. Love your kids, find those who don’t have a mother or a father. Be those people who care, bring hope into their eyes. Change the future for them. We can provide hope with an outstretched hand. We can provide hope with laughter or a tear. I see nothing new about what is happening in this world, but those kids are new, and we can make a difference.”

In all this, I wonder about cynicism, pessimism, and hypocrites. Although in many ways I am a pessimist, I realize that I am not a cynic; thank goodness. But the majority of pessimists are turning to cynicism, and that is what is dividing us. Find out people’s motivations, make your world a little more closer. A little more friendly perhaps?

~Stranger

Facebook Posts Saved for Posterity, Part 1

I’m deleting my Facebook account soon, and am transferring all the stuff I want to keep onto this site. I hate that I trashed or lost so much of what I wrote when I was younger. So this is just some writings and observations that I’d like to keep as I don’t see this blog going away anytime soon.

June 14, 2013 – Facebook is like the Simpsons episode where Martin gets a pool. He says, “More friends! More allies! More, I say. Hang those who talk of less. There’s a few inches over here, ho!” Then his pool bursts open and all his friends drift away. We, like Martin, will have our last shred of dignity ripped from us and we’ll be standing there in all our nakedness, looking at the closing of the day, singing Frank Sinatra’s “Summer Wind”

June 15, 2013 – (This was at a time when I was finding a lot of friends from the past on Facebook, and it was weird that none of them said, “Hey, How’s it going?” or anything of the sort. So I just threw out a general “Hello” from Neil Diamond.) It’s kind of weird to hook up with all my old/new friends and not say anything. So, this goes out to all my old/new friends I’ve hooked up with again. I’m glad to see all y’all again.

July 22, 2013 – (This is from a girl who wished me Happy Birthday and I never want to forget what she said, so I saved this one. To me Facebook Happy Birthday greeting are like birthday cards; they all have to be thrown away sometime. Except this one.) Mr. Mayo! Happy birthday! Thank you for being such an incredible influence in my life! I will always think of you as the leader that loved us- enough to listen to our music, make ridiculous jokes with us, and get down on our level to just be our friend. You are so loved! Have an incredible day! (Still makes me tear up.)

God Understands Me

If you have really read any of the things I have written, and done so for a while, you may know that I am more analytic in dealing with the culture from a Christian standpoint then others; that is, I am more immersed in things of this world than what your typical Christian may look like. I don’t talk about it a lot for fear that I may weaken a brother’s view of myself or in God’s dealings with me. But, I am who I am, and by the grace of God I am saved, and I have the freedom to choose what I involve myself in. If God wants me to put something or other away from myself, it would be sinful of me to ignore Him. If it was that God called me to delete the Infected Mushroom songs off my ipod, I would. There are many things in my life that I have had a lifetime habit of, and God has called me away from that, yet I still struggle within me to free myself from such burdens.

It is a conscious choice I have to make every day.

That all being said, I wanted to talk about a book I have recently finished and the connections I see with our self-absorbed culture of today. Which is what I enjoy doing on this site anyway: view my life and/or the culture surrounding it, and it’s impact on who I am now, and it’s possible relationship to Christianity. The book is one typically not read on a regular basis by most Christians. I have a pile of books on my nightstand I intend to get around to, have half-finished, or stays there for reference. These are mostly of the Christian variety. Growing up I read a lot of horror. Generally in the vein of Stephen King and such. I still pick up an occasional King and I am eagerly awaiting the local library to hold my copy of “Doctor Sleep”, the continuation of his thirty-three year old book “The Shining”. I have picked up some of King’s books or many others, only to reject them because I am judging where content or theme is going, and it is not to a place I would rather go.

The seasons of this world affect my preferences of what I read. Autumn is the time when I like to read something a bit more dark. I came across several lists of the “most” scary books, and one came up on several. Being that I never actually read it, I decided to pick it up. The book is, “The Haunting of Hill House”. You may know the story: four people gather at a supposedly haunted house, get frightened by several strange goings-on, culminating in the death of one of them. The focus on the book is a woman named Eleanor. She seems to be a shy, unassertive person who creates a fantasy world in her own mind. My daughter just asked me if I liked it, (she is wondering what I’m doing), and I said, “Mmm… yeah.” The book had its frightening moments, I like a little horror now and then. But, it was the end that shocked me a bit and drew all your attention away from the accounts of the horror the characters experienced. It tells me something about our culture now, the one we built with the advent of the internet, facebook, twitter and the like. In fact, I may be perpetuating this culture in what I am doing now. Back when I had my operation, I wondered about how narcissistic I am in writing so many things about myself. How self-absorbed do you have to be to write all about yourself, and how the world relates to you, and your thoughts, and your feelings, and all this stuff about you, you, you? It is why I haven’t been writing as much lately as I use to. I have to sort it all out in my mind. I am a very introspective guy, you see, much like Eleanor is in this book.

Eleanor’s path of self-absorption, led to her destruction. “Is that where I am headed to?” I ask myself.

There is a scene in the book, the beginning of chapter 6, where Eleanor and Luke are talking outside. All Eleanor can think about is whatever Luke answers to her, is that he is trying to impress her and how he answers reveals his real understanding of who he thinks she is. Whether she is simple and easily impressed, or looking for someone gallant ready to sweep her off her feet, or that she is complex and mystical. With each answer she predicts he will say, she is disgusted and looks down on him for his trite ways he is looking to impress her. It is revealed later that Luke is in with Theodora, perhaps. The book is vague on some points. But, the fact is she is so self-absorbed, she thinks all Luke wants is her, and she is unwilling to concede that he may be worthy. Now, in previous chapters, her flights of fantasy in her head are truly a bit more simple: where she would live, what her house would look like, that sort of thing. Now that she is in situation where she thinks she may be wanted, or needed, a perception I believe she is doing herself, she is making herself more complex, more difficult to be swayed.

Later on in the book, Eleanor is wandering around, listening to three different conversations. With the first conversation overheard, she wants to hear her name be spoken. “Say my name!” she implores in her mind. The people talking say everyone else’s name in the house except hers. She goes on to the next. Again, all other names are said but hers. And again, the same thing. I started to imagine that Eleanor was really a part of the house the whole time. That she put herself in these previous situations, where they responded to her, only in her own mind. When she first got there, she was witty, playful and involved in the group. They all seemed silly. Then Eleanor went off on strange rants about her name and how important it was that they knew her name. The silliness of the group began to dwindle, and Eleanor began to have more inner thoughts as at the beginning.

Names are important. I just got through reading in the Bible the section in Genesis where God asks Jacob, “What is your name?” The last time someone asked him this, he lied, said it was Esau. God knows names are important, valuable even. When He renames people, it takes on a deeper meaning. Their previous name was just a reflection of how God saw them.

When I was younger I had built many fantastical ideas around who I was, where I was, how I affected the world, and who I would become. I had created alter egos to deal with situations I knew I could never deal with. But, God called my name. Yet I still deal with the residual ideas I created in my own head; as you can see in the long introduction trying to convince you that I am not who you may consider me to be. But God knows me. He understands me. I may not fully understand what that means, as I’ve told people the reason I blog is to discover more about what I understand who I am. Isn’t it enough that God understands me? I am reminded of a song we sang in church when I was younger that stuck with me: “To be understood as to understand”. That is a big part of me: understanding who I am.

Eleanor wanted to be known; to be understood. Whether she was a personification of what the house stood for, or if she was a real person and the manifestations of the house were completely her responsibility, she had a desire to be needed; to be understood.

I asked someone today, who asked me to be friends on that one site, why he is on there. He didn’t really have a good answer. He doesn’t do much on the site, but I suppose he feels it mandatory to be on there. There are many different types of facebook users as there are people, but I can group them in three categories: The person who contributes everything, the person who contributes some things, and the person who contributes nothing.

Why are we on there? To be understood? If that is the case, is it the right medium? I’ve written about this all before, and there is nothing new under the sun. What I write has probably been hashed out to death. But, it is something I need to hash out for myself. To understand. I have come to the point on that one site, that I know who I am on there now. It took a lot of soul-searching and struggle, but I finally know. Have for some months now. “What?” you say. “A lot of soul-searching?” you say. Yes. As I’ve said, I am quite introspective, almost to the point of self-destruction. I admire those who never delve too deeply within themselves and can smile confidently meeting someone new, casually carrying on easy conversations of not too important subjects. But I can’t do that. I push myself hard to meet new people. To talk. Maybe, lately it has been a bit easier, because I do understand that I don’t have to understand myself fully, but God does completely. And that is enough… (yes I am working on this too).

I know who I am in Christ. I am His son. Thank God that all who I understand needs to understand me is Him, and I will strive to serve Him all my days.

“And because you are sons, God has sent forth the Spirit of His Son into your hearts, crying out, “Abba, Father!” Therefore you are no longer a slave but a son, and if a son, then an heir of God through Christ.” Galatians 4:6-7

“For we are His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand that we should walk in them.” Ephesians 2:10

~Stranger

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Strange Confessions: More On My Friend, The Satanist, The Facebook Strumpet

Strange Confessions: I couldn’t stand looking at my old friend’s stupid facebook posts anymore, and this last one had to be answered to.

So here was his post:

“I have a guardian demon.
Last night, I was SPEEDING on the freeway, TEXTING while driving, and changing lanes (often), WITHOUT SIGNALING- all this, and the guy that did the usual Utah-speed-up-no-you-can’t-pass-me-even-on-the-freeway thing got pulled over, by the UHP that I didn’t even know was there…
So I sped home, texting, and changed lanes again, for the hell of it- and I removed my seat belt. If only I had some trash to discard out of the window!
>:- )>”

So, I had to call him on this one, right? I mean what kind of idiot posts this stuff anyway. Okay, okay, calm down. He was my best friend and all from High School, and I love him and stuff, and I realize that he says things just so his friends can like his stuff and he can get cool comments that agree with him. If you remember me telling you on a previous “Strange Confession” about how I use to egg him on, to get him to argue with me; well this was just too much. So as I examine our friendship we had, I realize he was a Satanist all along. Their major ideology is that they are their own god, and if anyone gets in their way, they are to destroy them. So facebook is the perfect launching point for his brand of self worship. Not that Christians don’t fall prey to this as well, but that is another story. So, I let it burble for a bit and wait to see what some of his other friends will say. RT, for me, is an examination of cultural heritage within the realm of self-centeredness merged with technology; he is very interesting to me to examine. But I get angry at him, I think because of how close I came to be like him.

Then, his friends started to reply. Most just thought he was so funny and rebellious for his actions, some even taking on a tone of mild shock, yet still praising him for his “evil” ways. There was one though that I agreed with and I actually “liked”. He said, “You drive like an ****ole.”

Then I had to get my two-cents in. I said:

“I have this book I’m writing, it’s vignettes on this modern life, and I would like permission to use this status if you could. This chapter I’m currently writing is called “I’m a spoiled brat teenager trapped in an old man’s body. Help me! I may kill myself and others!” Could I use this status?”

Of course I cracked myself up. I thought is was a pretty good reply; equal parts common sense, smart alecness, and condemnation, and smart too. Well, the one friend of RTs “liked” this reply and so I believed his reply was serious too. (Sometimes you never know.)

Eventually RT came up with this response:

“That’s a coincidence! I’m writing a book too, called “Confessions of A Guy Who got Married and Found God”, I’ve already used your FB statuses without permission, but you can come over and raid the fridge, just like in the old days! Deal?”

That was it? Really RT? That is the best you could come up with? I believe he was trying to be insulting and reveal me to his friends my position as a “religious” type, who I assume are of the Satanic persuasion as well as him. I somehow thinks he thinks I get upset when he brings up the eating of food at his house while growing up. I ate at his house, because there was no food at our house and his mom made awesome meatballs and spare-ribs, so of course I was going to eat it. Anyway, I think his idea is that I zinged him and he was trying to get me back.

I know I needed to respond, (maybe not), and I did:

“That sounds more tame than your usual stuff. Just don’t write it while you drive.”

What I didn’t tack on the end was, “Idiot” which I really wanted to. He writes a kind of H.P. Lovecraft fan-fiction and I just wanted to let him know how stupid his actions were. I don’t want to turn this into some trite “I said, he said” sort of thing, but there you go.

I see RT as all that I was headed to. Self-centered so much to the point that everyone else is wrong no matter how wrong you are. Again, this was something he always upheld when we were young: he was never wrong. A lifetime Satanist. That my friends is what we all are, that is if we don’t find God, or more to correctly point out the error in RT’s statement, that God finds us. I find his whole life so shallow and sad. I’m sure he enjoys it… perhaps… maybe. When we come to people we have to come to them as if they were all hostile to God, because we were once. I truly pray for RT. He is, as I would say in my own mind, hopeless for God to find him. But, nothing is impossible with God. He may very well be in God’s sights as we speak.

~Stranger

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Strange Confessions: In which I wonder how far God’s sense of humor goes

Strange Confessions: As I mowed the lawn today I was singing a popular Christian song but I changed around the lyrics that might be considered offensive to other Christians.

As some of you know, I started my “Strange Confessions” on my personal Facebook page back in May of 2012. The entries soon became longer and more personal where as I did not want to keep it on my page but decided to make it a blog. I saw people were making blogs on Facebook, so I created the first version of Stranger in Rebellion in December of 2012. I invited a few friends who responded to my first Strange Confessions and some I thought might read and respond. As of now, I have eighteen friends who “like” the Facebook blog. Still, there isn’t the feedback I would like, and maybe I’m really not that interesting to read anyways, but I enjoy the writing, occasionally make myself laugh and discover things about my self and my relationships that I would not have discovered if I had not written about any number of certain subjects.

Well, then came this blog. I wanted to reach a broader audience and in the course of several transitions, get all my writings off Facebook and onto this blog then delete the Facebook stuff. In the course of writing on this blog I have copied and pasted the Strange Confessions as well as the main current writing project and a few other items, onto the Facebook site. But there is some stuff I keep strictly for this site. One was a couple of weeks ago, and now this one. So, faithful readers, you get the benefit of reading some items that are not on the other site. Don’t you feel privileged? There are some things I want to keep away from people who know me, because they might be shocked at some of the things I occasionally think about. Such as today…

First the song:

My mom had a euphemism she always said to me for when I didn’t fulfill all expectations of a job she had given to me. Now for the full warning:

I am going to say some words here that you might not appreciate. But, the word is in the Bible, but it is also occasionally used in improper ways. So if you have a heftier than normal sense of good morals, you might not want to read further.

My mom would say you did this or that “half-assed”. That’s it. She would say that to me a lot. “Oh now Mark this is so half-assed.” “This is a half-ass job.” “Why are you so half-assed about everything I have you do?”

Strange thoughts come into my head when I mow sometimes, as this remembrance did today. I began to think it would have been funny if, as a young man, I could have said back to her, “Oh, I’m sorry mom. Let me give you my whole ass.” “You want me to put my whole ass into this?” “From now on mom, all you are going to see from me, is my whole ass.”

This morning, before mowing, I was fiddling with one of those online computer radio things that plays songs for you when you put in stuff you like and it predicts what you would like. So, the song above came on.

As I was mowing and as happens often with me, my thoughts blended and the lyrics changed as I was praying and mowing. So I had this hybrid of thoughts: my mom and her euphemism, me talking back, the song in my head and my confession to God to give Him my everything from now on. So the lyrics became: “I give you my whole ass, whole ass, whole ass Lord. Whole ass, whole ass, whole ass Lord.” I tell you I make myself crack up, a lot. I thought this was very funny and it wouldn’t get out of my head. I began to wonder if God might be offended by my offering. My wife often says to me, “You’re singing that, to a Christian song?!” because I often do that. I say, “Sorry, you’re right.” Mostly I just change things to “Meow, meow, meow.” But sometimes, it may get a bit offensive: such as today. Now I know God has a sense of humor because he made me, and there is such joy and pleasure in laughter. It makes us healthy and happy, brings us together. Laughter/Humor is a wonderful gift of God’s creation. But does He get angry when I do something that might be so deliberate in its offensiveness? Does He look down at me sternly, arms folded, waiting for me to apologize? Or, might there be a knowing gleam in His eye, as His arms are folded, waiting for an apology? Or, does He just laugh out loud at His creation, at the humor that we can come up with, because sometimes we take ourselves too seriously? After all, it is just music and lyrics. Or does the offering that Jeremy Camp has made somehow become holy and therefore untouchable? Somehow I think not. Somehow I believe there is something in between the knowing gleam in God’s eye and Him laughing out loud. Of course I don’t see God, the Father with arms and standing, staring down at me. I add anthropomorphism to God just as the bible does, so, don’t think I am some sort of heretic. But seriously, should I be concerned with things offered to God, and see them as holy and unchangeable, especially in such a potentially offensive way? We should all be very aware of our attitude toward God in these things and change if we need to.

~Stranger

Strange Confessions: In Which I Remember What a Jerk a Nice Little Boy Like Me Could Sometimes Be

Strange Confessions: I once sneered at a girl and said, “No!” in a disgusted way, when asked if we could roller skate together on a girl’s choice skate.

Our class at St. Vincent, (my elementary school), would have skate nights at “Wheels” once every month or so on Friday nights. (Bonus points for those who remember the splendiforous Wheels: local roller rink/eatery/arcade, it was an old supermarket, right next to the Villa Theater on Highland Drive. Wheels is long gone now, it’s some mini-strip mall thing, as all good things seem to go. Even the Villa is no more. Last I saw it was a middle-eastern rug gallery.) Our class at St. Vincent, at least how I saw, always got along with each other. Take me for instance: I was not a sports guy, a rich kid, a dungeons and dragons player, or a smart kid. Yet, I got along with all those types there. I absolutely loved going to St. Vincent’s, specifically for the memories of these friendships, now long gone as well. If I had a choice to go to a high school or elementary school reunion, I’d definitely want to see how all my elementary friends got on.

Yet, this memory has started to show cracks in my rose colored memory vision glasses, as I have researched this girl and had discussions about it with my wife. First of all, as this memory comes into my head once in a while, I cringe at my actions and lack of empathy. I wonder about how this affected this girl later on in life. I’m just sure she wakes up in the middle of the night from the nightmare she has all the time, about the cold-hearted boy that ruined her life from that point on. Or, maybe, I think too much of myself and the influence a moment I had with her that probably meant nothing. And yet, I still have these guilty feelings.

Anyway, this girl, let’s call her Tammy, she had tight, curly, short hair over a large forehead, buck teeth and was a slight bit overweight. She was quiet but smiled a lot. My memories of St. Vincent may have been great, being a boy and feeling included, but I never saw the girls side of things. I have seen how cruel girls can be to each other, especially in grade school. Maybe her smile was covering up the pain she felt because she was ill-treated or ignored by the other girls. It’s a terrible thing to think that she, just wanting to be accepted for once, asked the “nice” guy who was friends with everyone, only to be rejected once again. It seriously causes me pain to think about.

Then, I wonder about where she is now. If maybe this jerk (me) came out of the past and asked her to forgive him for that moment. Would she remember, appreciate the effort, or laugh at the idea that it meant anything to her now? So, I looked her up. Yes, I remember her name, how could I forget. I found out she was adopted. Her birth parents marriage was interracial and the mother’s parents never liked them being together, and after Tammy’s birth the parents got a divorce and gave her up for adoption. This was 1969 Utah after all. I found all this out on a site that links up adoptees to their birth parents. Isn’t technology… strange? I also saw she has a Facebook profile. So I went on and checked out her profile pics. I was a bit surprised: she is a heavy metal chick, who hadn’t really grown up. I also noticed that she went to Valley High, which was where the bad kids went. Most of her pics were taken in a night club/bar. All the girls wore immodest black, white, or jean material clothing, lipstick; bright, glossy red. The guys had long hair and ripped t-shirts. They all were having a good time, obviously. All her female friends comments were like “You look so good” or something to that extent, and the guys all saying how “hawt” she was. And then she’d be all like, “Awww, Thanks, and stuff”. Oops, sorry. I fell back into the 80s for a second there.

Now, I realize at this point, that nothing I say will make any difference in her life now. Not because she is happy or forgot, but that people’s lives go on. Here I am dwelling on my selfish actions in the past, well, not dwelling really, more like glimpsing occasionally, and their life goes on. Then I wonder; if that one guy came up to me, telling me how sorry he was for being a bully and thought it was funny to sick his little brother on me and I could do nothing about it because he would do… something to me, would I think he is ridiculous for thinking about me after all these years? I would be astounded! I would tell him no worries, that it was just part of the formation of who I was. Sure I was afraid for my mom to drop me off early to school and I’d have to deal with you, but it’s all cool now. It would be neat… in a weird sort of way. So anyway, I’ve seen lots of people my age who have never grown up and wonder if they had some sort of horrific life that made them that way. Hey! My life isn’t perfect, I know. Everyone’s life shouldn’t look like mine. But there is something about people who are in their 40s still partying like they were in their early 20s. I know, again, my life isn’t like everyone else’s, but… never mind. Lot’s of things to contemplate in this confession.

My point is: How far would you go to seek forgiveness from wrongs done by you in the past?

Do you have a story to tell?

This is a copy from my original Stranger in Rebellion Facebook site found here. If you liked it go like that page and thankee faithful reader.

~Stranger

Strange Confessions: My Friend: The Satanist… The Facebook Strumpet

Strange Confessions: My best friend from High School is a Facebook Strumpet.

I use the word strumpet because it sounds a little more delicate than the word I really want to use, and, in keeping with the General audience material I’d like to maintain with this blog, we’re going with the cutesy. Please don’t look up the word if you don’t know it, perhaps my description will lead you to the idea I have of what a “Facebook Strumpet” actually might be. And who knows? Perhaps “strumpet” is quite a bit more derogatory, more racy, than the other term I had in mind. I have also decided not to post these thoughts congruently on my Facebook blog of the same name, which I often do, for I will be going into various other Facebook behaviors that drive me completely “antelope boffin” and thus may offend many of the “friends” I have on Facebook. I use the phrase “antelope boffin” because I could have used many other terms for the word “insane”, and in keeping with the creativity of this blog, and the General audience material I’d like to maintain, I did not use the term I wanted to, describing a flying rodent mammal and stuff that may come from it; granted the stuff the term describes has many good uses, the phrase itself could be deemed offensive to some. Anyway, “antelope boffin” is so cute and creative, I had to use it. You may also notice that I am using the actual name of the site, “Facebook”, as my usual moniker for it is: “that one site”. The reason I use the phrase “that one site” is because I hate saying “Facebook” in normal conversations or essays or any other way we use it, because it has invaded our culture so much so we can’t relate to each other without using it or saying you saw something on it or referring a friend to look at something on it, or whatever the gronk you want to say on it. I use the word “gronk” in the last sentence because I didn’t want to say the word I really wanted to there because I want to… Oh, never mind. You get the point. This is an entry dealing specifically with Facebook, so I’m going to say it. There. Facebook. I said it. In your face! Oops. Sorry, I hope I didn’t offend you by saying, “In your face!” I suppose I could go back and delete it, but it’s too far back now. I better just let it hang there and hope you didn’t notice the exclamation point I used, which could be considered offensive by some.

Facebook drives me antelope boffin in many ways. There are the people who are always wishing their kids “Happy Birthday” as a status. Saying things like, “Twelve years ago today I said, ‘hello’ to my little Roy. It was such a joy to see you come into the world, and boff all over us from the get-go. We’ll never forget.” Or a spouse saying on their status, “You said ‘I do’ when I came down the aisle twenty-four years ago, but the most memorable part, is that you are still here, even through all the boffing.” Or someone saying this, “Seven years ago today my dad went to a better place, even though I miss him I still get along without him.” Now, I am really not saying any of this is wrong per se… but what did we do before this? Before this Facebook status fulfillment of wishes and exposés of memorable moments? Has it all come down to some sappy Apple commercial, where we’re all typing love notes and good wishes and sorrowful sentiments while were sitting right next to the person? Is that what we did before? Did we turn to the table next to us at the restaurant and say to someone we might know, “I just want to wish my husband a happy anniversary,” as they look at us with confusion, then awkwardly say, “Ummm…. Congratulations.?” As our actual husbands, sitting next to us, asks the waiter to send a telegram to two-hundred and thirty of our best acquaintances about how awesome the steak and shrimp looks on our third anniversary. “Oh, and do you have a camera that will make this food look all old and weird? That’d be so boss!” says he. These are just some of the things I ponder as I look at Facebook. How did we get people to wish us a happy birthday. Well, the only people to wish us or our kids a happy birthday before Facebook, were those that actually cared. Holy crumpets! What a concept! People who really, actually cared just remembered or asked when your birthday was, then sent a card or brought over beers and celebrated just with you? Well nowadays, saying Happy Birthday on Facebook just about covers it. Hey, hey! I am not the kind who remembers or cares, I may be just as bad as a non-rememberer was back in the eighties. My nieces and nephews get no cards from me. Do I feel bad? Gronk! Yes I do! But I would feel worse if I didn’t get them anything and then thought that I could cover it because their mother just wished them Happy Birthday on Facebook, so I can get a comment in saying, “Oh, tell them Happy Birthday from Uncle Jerkface!”

Aaaanyyyywaaay… had to just be said. Now back to my best friend…

I am quite ashamed of my former best friends behavior now, because the way he is, is not the worldview we had as younger people. We were independent thinkers, who thought alike,… sometimes. What we did think alike about was that we could have cared less about what people thought about who we were or what we were doing. One of the things that I did that impressed (I believe I called him RT in former Strange Confessions) RT into thinking that we could become friends, was that when riding the bus home from school I would sing along to a certain song very loudly with headphones on, especially the screaming parts.

I would see the popular girls glare at me and it was hilarious. Other kids would look on in surprise that I was so brash, so stupid… Maybe they just admired my gall. I just thought it was funny. I tend to think obnoxious things are funny, if for short, brazen periods. I’d look around to see the reactions of other students and RT would be grinning at me knowingly, nodding his head in the way he probably still does. We rode together all the time after that and became good friends. Bonding in our disgust of the way most everyone else was: snotty, prudish, cocky. We made friends with some others who were shy or totally outside the normal realm of High School cliché. We had our own little island of misfit toys.

So this is the behavior he engages in on Facebook now: He changes his profile picture multiple times a week seemingly to gain likes and comments on a certain look he is going for. When we were growing up, RT showed signs of premature balding, while I, had the thickest mass of the most beautiful black locks you could imagine. I suppose a more insecure person could get jealous of my gorgeous hair, but not RT, he was as secure as they come. Well now he shaves his head completely, and when I last saw him or talked to him, he said that people say he looks like Anton LaVey, a man RT admires. For you see, RT has become a Satanist. When I found out he was one I looked up what that meant. In most cases it doesn’t mean they wear robes, walk through dark forests, and kill things in honor of satan… at least in RT’s case it doesn’t. But he comes from the understanding that there is no God and no satan, it’s just you. You are the focus of your life, if anyone gets in your way, destroy them. I don’t think, in most cases, that means kill, but perhaps it just means ruin them, get them out of your life, make them not matter in anything you do or are. I’ve seen him comment to others, “Hail self!” He talks about being on the throne and worshipping self. That is what he has done. He has made a shrine to himself on Facebook, and at the same time sells himself to it and to others. People “like” the pictures he posts of himself. They call him a “bada**”. They say he looks so awesome. They can’t get over how “baaaad” he looks. RT sucks it all in and spouts it back out. He says, “Yeah, I’m a bada**… I’ll kick your a**… I’m a Satanist…” all this stuff, just off his pictures. I mean seriously? Is this my friend I had all those years ago? A photo comment fisher? A like stalker? Only has people around that agrees with him? Of course he can’t stand it if you disagree with him. When we were younger it was a joke to me, to get him mad at me and I thought it was so funny to see his jaw working, tensing up, clenching, because I said something he disagrees with. Now he’s gotten rid of all those who disagree. I believe I am only friends with him on Facebook because of our past. I really don’t know why I keep him as a friend. It’s so disagreeable to see his posts. I can’t believe he has become… a Facebook Strumpet.

Anton LaVey: If he was still around, he'd be a Facebook Strumpet too.

Anton LaVey: If he was still around, he’d be a Facebook Strumpet too.

“What a world, what a world!” I cry out as I am dashed with a dose of technical reality, and it burns, and it burns as I shrink, green steam shooting out of my eyeballs.

This is in no way to say that I don’t desire people to notice me on Facebook, for it is nice to be noticed, is it not? I would say that I am still friends with RT because I love him. And God loves him. And I may be the only Christian that he knows, even though we don’t interact much anymore. But he just wants what we all want: a little love, a little attention, a little credit.

~Stranger

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