Jolt Country

[youtube][/youtube]

Your perception of me is way off base, as it belong to me.

http://www.zeitgeistmovie.com/

God wrote:[youtube][/youtube]

I went ahead and in-line the Youtube vid. Thanks, Goddie!

I thought you were dead.

This BBS gets such disdinguished visitors!

oh and look up "The God Who Wasn't There" on google video and or youtube.

BY the way all y'all got punk'd by me.....

Looks like we got a breach of contract here, Robb.

What the fuck, God? Of all the images you could have chosen to prove your point, only Hollywood gave you any inspiration? Not the news, not personal recordings, nary a glimpse of the future? All your rants on prides and mortalities cannot be taken seriously when superimposed over Superman and The Dude.

Hey don't shoot the messenger.. oh wait, that's what you guys do.....just ask my su.. er son. I was hoping to provide a view of your self and palebluefilms took some creative liberty. I did endow you with some independent thought.. or did I.....
Oh and being that Hollywood is serving as many people's God now I was okay with it.....Obviously you haven't watched Zeitgeist yet.....

Why don't some of you miserable heretics slow down and listen to the Word of God for a little bit? You know how I know he is legit? He isn't asking us to install RealPlayer.

hygraed wrote:I thought you were dead.

I wanted to get "GOD IS DEAD" above my front windshield as a decal where other losers put "HONDA".

I don't like the implication that magic ever existed and was snuffed out. It's really unrealistic, and I dare say romantic. I wish there was a better nihilist slogan. Not that it matters since my peers are trading in their bumper stickers for bumper magnets.

Vitriola wrote: All your rants on prides and mortalities cannot be taken seriously when superimposed over Superman and The Dude.

Hey that was MY rant dammit! And I second God's comment about the dumbed down population only being able to relate to what Hollywood has sold them/you.

Manifesto

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May/June 1999
The Bug Man Cometh.

This is a story about a kick-around-kid. His name was Bug (or 'The Bug-man' depending on how well you knew him). Those that made a sport out of The Bug-man simply called him Bug. Because it's a waste of time to elongate the name of a kick-around-kid. Unless, of course, you're calling him shit-head or cock-sucker. Then, and only then, it's not considered a waste of precious seconds. So, to clarify things, those that coveted him as their kick-around guy knew him as Bug. Everyone else called him The Bug-man. Simple adolescent politics.

When Bug looked in the mirror and started talking in his head he referred to himself as Bug. He didn't realize that he did it, but he did. This, of course, occurred primarily because it made him feel like he was a part of something. Even if that 'thing' was making fun of himself. There would come a day in front of that mirror when he would stop and look at himself and realize that it wasn't right. But that comes later. This is the beginning. And in the beginning he was just The Bug.

Before everything turned to shit and the world went upside-down, Bug was a senior in high school. Like a lot of kids he wasn't particularly good at anything. He had no idea what he wanted to be when he became a man. He knew only that he would become one. Beyond that there were just sheets of wordless suffocation and the distinct feeling that guys like him never got anything on the sacred list. The sacred list which, for countless eons had never been seen by anyone remotely associated with geek-dom, was comprised of five mystical and secret things. Some say that the list is a myth. Others claim that it's hidden in a great temple deep within the mountains, guarded by various quarterbacks, cheerleaders, hip kids, and bad asses from the days of yore. It's every geeks desire to quest for this ancient list. And many have died trying to find it. I would gladly give you some insight into its wisdom but I was from the other side of the fence.

So Bug was staring down the barrel of the final four months of his young life. Four more months and he would graduate into the real world. And although he was just a kick-around guy he knew that the future was the kind of place that afforded guys like him second chances. The truth, of course, was that he would be moving into a much larger pool of human beings. The kick-around-guy factor would more than triple in university. Little did Bug know then, but by fourth year there wasn't anyone left except kick-around-people. You see, they're usually the smart ones. They're the kind of people that build the stadiums that jocks play in. No stadium, no game. They're also the guys that become agents and high level executives. So they end up negotiating player contracts on both sides. So, rather ironically, kick-around-people usually end up holding the good end of the leash. But that's just the way karma works. Don't ask me why it works like that. That one's for The Buddha.

So you can dream, I guess. The reality of life is that all those hot chicks that wouldn't give you the time of day when you were a kick-around-guy will do everything in their power to woo you once you've been transformed into your new self. They get all dolled up and troll the clubs in hopes of meeting someone that makes enough money so they don't have to do anything ever again. And their victims are usually kick-around-guys. Why? Because they outnumber the other classes ten to one in successfulness. Out of every one hundred athletes only one will ever make it professionally. Out of every one hundred kick-around-people more than half will do the same. The ranks are filled with people that you would never guess were once kick-around-types. The list is so long that if you laid it out starting in Vancouver it would end somewhere near Beijing. That's a pretty big list. If you think I'm full of shit then rattle this one around in your melon. It's a well known fact that all the hot girls at high school reunions are mostly x-kick-around chicks. And the beauty of that scenario is that they're not only three times as sexy as any girl you currently know (not counting the ones pinned up on your bedroom wall that you have make believe conversations with), but they typically don't really give a damn if you've got a truck load of money. Why? Because they're all brain surgeons and shit. They may, on some off chance, recollect that you once drove your daddy's BMW around on weekends and were the center of attention in the McDonald's parking lot on Friday nights, but chances are they drive North American and don't eat meat. Not yours, anyway. But this story isn't about victorious eventualities, so you can get that pretty little picture of Bug and some super vixen-brain surgeon living a life of passionate happiness out of your mainframe. It doesn't end that way unfortunately. It ends another way.

So Bug was a kick around guy and he had four months left before his graduation. But during those final four months he would remain the property of three individuals. The three individuals in question were Brad, Tony, and Scott. Now, the demented thing about this little trio of hatchet men was that they all lived on the same street. Ironically, Bug also lived on that street. Even stranger was the fact that Bug's mom (Mrs. Bug) used to baby-sit all three of them when they were youngsters. So the four boys played together every day for years. Brad, Tony, and Scott ate thousands of meals at Bug's house, watched thousands of hours of television, attended eleven birthday parties, smoked their first cigarettes, and spent countless hours listening to Mrs. Bug sing opera. Because that's what Bug's mom did before she got married and move to the burbs. She belted out the good stuff. But things changed when the boys finished elementary school and started junior high. The unseen forces of social status, popularity, and a variety of other outer pressures began to change their landscape. Bug, unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on how you look at it) remained relatively the same. And because of that he became a target. And as everyone knows, the best way to take a target apart is by having good ammunition. Brad, Tony, and Scott had thirteen years worth.

So that's pretty much how it happened. Bug became 'The Bug Man' and his three childhood friends used the past to humiliate him to gain whatever it is you gain when you humiliate someone. Strangely enough, Bug did not. And although he could have easily told countless stories about his three friends (such as the one about Scott pissing his pants the first time they went on the giant roller coaster) he didn't. His perception of their friendship didn't change. And that's the way it is for kick-around-kids. That's their downfall. It's called loyalty. And though some might consider it a loyalty to others, you might find (upon closer examination) that it was a loyalty to himself above anything else. And that's what people, in an age long forgotten, called character.

But that's not the point. The important thing was that Bug was about to become the key figure in a series of extraordinary events. Events that would shape history. Events that would take decades, nay, centuries to fully comprehend. Perhaps, knowing humanity's track record, events that they would never understand whatsoever. And it all started, as many things do, out of nothing.

It was one of those better than average spring days. The kind of day that makes you remember why summer is the most acceptable season. It was one of those spring days that lulls you into wearing shorts and a t-shirt and then produces a thunderstorm right before you have to walk home. It was also the day that Scott McGrath asked Jennifer Rittinger to go to the movies with him. It was Tuesday. And that meant $2.50. But although our man Scott was a rather popular guy, he was beaten to the punch by Will Palmer, the son of a well-to-do carpet warehouse tycoon that had his own brand new Mustang. So Scott hit a wall. And, as lady luck would have it, the first person that Scott ran into after hitting that wall just happened to be Bug. It doesn't matter than Bug was simply walking around a corner and bumped into Scott (who didn't even know he was there). All that matters is that Bug was Scott's kick-around-guy and Scott was pissed off. Bumping into him was enough of a reason to start world war three. And that's exactly what Scott proceeded to do. He let loose on Bug like never before. Bug, in an attempt to protect himself, tried to turn and run down the hall. But Scott was able to reach him before he could. And, reaching out to grab Bug by the back of the shirt, he accidentally pulled Bug off balance causing him to fall to the left. To the immediate left of Bug was a stairwell. And that's where Bug went. Down the stairs. Head first, for maximum style points I'm sure.

Upon reaching the bottom of the stairs, Bug's head hit the floor and knocked him unconscious. It also split his head wide open. Open enough to encourage a doctor to give him thirty six stitches. Besides that Bug got off lucky. Just minor bruises to his arms, legs, ribs, and face. Scott, on the other hand, did not get off so lucky. Instead of helping Bug he decided to run and was later arrested by the police at his home (which, conveniently enough, was right next door to Bug's). His involvement in the entire affair had been confirmed by a boy named Jack Dykens (better know to several members of the basketball team as Jack-Off the kick-around-guy). Jack saw his chance to get some back. So he ratted on Scott. Later that week Brad and Tony would pay Jack a visit and explain to him why ratting on Scott was a bad thing to do. This, of course, led to a much larger and more publicized physical engagement between Brad, Tony, and the three individuals on the basketball team mentioned earlier. You see, in this crazy world there are a lot of strange rules that aren't written down on paper. One of them is that you don't kick around someone else's kick-around-guy. So there was a great and widely publicized meeting of the minds in what was once called 'The Gully'. And there, in front of three hundred blood thirsty teenage kids screaming their heads off, the two groups slugged it out for a while. Noblemen all.

Meanwhile, Bug spent a couple of days in the hospital and three weeks at home before returning to school. And it was on that day that everything changed. I'm not going to say that it changed for the better because that would imply that people had learned their lesson. That wasn't the case. It rarely is. So let's just say that it simply 'changed'. During his recovery Bug had spent a great deal of time laying in bed thinking about things. He thought about his life, about himself as a person, about the past, and about the future. And during all that thinking Bug began to notice that there was another voice in his head talking with him. At first he would simply close his eyes really tight and the voice would go away, so he attributed this anomaly to his injury. But as the days past Bug began to realize that there was someone else in his head talking underneath his thoughts, kind of like obscure radio traffic that one picks up by accident. So Bug started trying to figure out what the voice was saying. This wasn't as easy as you'd expect. If you'd like, try closing your eyes and shutting yourself off from everything. Once you've done that then try and defuse your inner monologue so there's nothing but silence. It's not so easy. But Bug spent hours trying to do it. And, after awhile, he was able to determine that this 'other voice' was repeating a single word over and over again. And that word was 'tonight'. It's safe to assume that Bug wasn't exactly pleased with his discovery. Instead of some universal wisdom he was given a single word. And, beyond that he had absolutely no idea what it was implying. So Bug tried to forget about it. But the more he tried to, the louder it got. Even when he went to bed it was still there. In the dark. Repeating like numbers...

Bug awoke to find himself in a small field surrounded by large, ancient trees. Soft lights shone from within the trees, illuminating the field. The sky was black and filled with millions of stars, all of which seemed to be moving slightly, as if the world was spinning out of control. But it was warm there in that field, so Bug decided to stretch out on the grass and watch the stars whip by. What pleased him the most was that the word had stopped repeating in his head. It hadn't gone when he had finally managed to fall asleep. Somehow it had continued, like an echo or an old sonar ping. And so Bug just laid there on the grass and watched. And it was comforting to him because he knew he was asleep at home in his bed but also very much in the field watching the stars, wide awake. And that's when the body that belonged to the voice came walking through the trees and all my foreshadowing comes into play.

'Peanut?' was the first thing the stranger said to Bug. Bug's response was to say nothing and just sit there with a perplexed look on his face as the figure came closer. 'You want a peanut?' the voice came again, followed but a slight laugh. Bug's gaze traveled from the stranger's face to his hand where, coincidentally enough, there was an opened bag of peanuts. 'Sure' was all Bug could think to say. So he took some peanuts and ate them. Sitting down next to Bug, the stranger laughed again and said 'you gonna ask me who I am or are you just gonna sit there?' So Bug asked him and the stranger laughed again. 'That's the funny thing about it,' he said 'it's a stupid question cause I don't really have a name. So you call me what you want.' Searching his thoughts, Bug came to the conclusion that the easiest thing to call the stranger was 'Voice'. So that's what he did. And so Bug sat there, after naming the voice 'The Voice' and listened to it talk.

'A lot of people spend a lot of time worrying about things Tom. They spend entire lifetimes worrying. People expend so much energy trying to figure out what's next that they forget where they are and all the things that got them there. A lot of us find that tragic. Our boss thinks it's funny. I don't know why he finds it so hysterical, but he does. He tells us all the time. He'll just be sitting around and suddenly break into hysterics because everyone's so damn confused and worried about everything. A lot of us wonder why he bothered making all of this in the first place if he finds it so funny. And he says that's precisely why he did it. And then he'll go on to correct himself and say that he didn't actually do anything, technically. That he just stumbled upon this place and decided it would be fun to see what happened. That's who you people call a lot of different names. I just call him Big Eddie. And this, well, this is where you all go when you die. Nice, isn't it?'

Looking slightly puzzled, though flooded by the new found realization that life after death was a very real possibility, Bug could do nothing more than nod his head with his mouth gaping open. The Voice realized that Bug was somewhat dumbfounded, so it decided to continue before Bug's mouth started collecting mosquitoes.

'Now, you gotta understand that there are some things that I can tell you and others that I can't. And there are some things that would just take too damn long to explain. So let me just give you a brief rundown of how things are before I get to the point...

One: Hell does not exist. All those images of lava lakes, fire breathing demons, and that Damon kid from that Omen movie,- chuck em. Everyone goes to the same place when they die and you're soaking in it, so to speak.

Two: There ain't no place beyond this place. You cannot die twice, nor do you get to go back to earth as a goat or a super model. This is, quite literally, the end of the line.

Three: There are only two kinds of beings up here. Us, and you guys. By 'us' I'm referring to myself and others like me that do Big Eddie's bidding for minimum wage without the possibility of unionization, medical, dental, or paid sick days. By 'you guys' I'm referring to those people who once had to go to the washroom but once here no longer do.

Four: This place, call it what you will, is infinite. It goes on forever. And though most people have a great deal of trouble actually visualizing that possibility, let me assure you that it very much does. There is no beginning, there is no end. Though there are emergency phones on most major highways in case you get stranded in the middle of endlessness and need a tow truck.

Five: And I can't stress this enough. You do not possess the ability to fly up here. You don't get wings. And, since this place goes on forever, we decided that it would be best if air travel was forbidden, since navigational instruments would be useless. Oh ya, one other thing. Clouds. The only ones you're going to see are up in the sky which, rather conveniently, also goes on forever.

Six: Memory remains intact after death. If you hated pickles when you were alive you'll hate them when you're dead. This particular point will come up again, I assure you.

Seven: No one, and I mean absolutely NO ONE, gets to see Big Eddie. Only we get to see Big Eddie. The problem with it being that Big Eddie isn't exactly a being of solid matter and it's rather difficult to spot him considering the fact that he too is, rather conveniently, endless as well.

Eight: And most importantly, all of this lasts as long as you peons can agree to disagree. I can't stress the importance of this one enough. Like you mortal types, the omnipotent also have a threshold for tolerating bullshit. Just because this place 'is' doesn't mean that it couldn't be 'isn't' in the snap of Big Eddie's non-existent, though quite endless, fingers.

Nine: Refer to points 6 and 8 for probable reasons for this conversation.

So there you have it Tom. Not pretty, I'll admit, but accurate enough. Now, I might as well get on with the task at hand if you don't mind, time's-a-wasting. Have you ever heard of destiny Tom?'

Sitting up slightly, Bug shook his head indicating that he had some knowledge pertaining to the subject. And though it might be argued by some that fate and destiny are, in fact, one in the same, Bug couldn't quite recall which was which. He was pretty sure that destiny was a power that is thought to predetermine events, though he fully conceded to himself that that might be what fate was. He always thought that fate was that which inevitably happens as if determined by some force. He couldn't remember which was which. It was times such as these that preyed upon mankind's annoying use of the blank faced 'nod and agree without thinking' look. A look that, if I may say so, has been the root of many evils and lonely nights spent sleeping on the sofa for countless men everywhere. So Bug just shook his head. Because thinking about thinking about it had made it hurt. So The Voice, seeing that Bug understood, rambled on like Lenny Bruce on uppers.

'Good. That's good. Well, let's just say that destiny isn't always what it's cracked up to be. Sometimes you've got to give it a little nudge in the right direction. That's where you come in. What I'm about to tell you might sound unbelievable, but try to bare in mind that I've got a pretty good handle on reality and that I often converse with a high power, so you'll believe me when I say that I'm not making this up. You see, there was a lottery of sorts. A whole bunch of names were thrown into a hat and yours just happened to be the one chosen. Now, before you have a heart attack let me assure you that this kind of thing's been done before (not that it's worked), but it's been done. The last time we tried it we sent a guy back to deliver a similar message. Our plan backfired, of course, and now the world's got Catholicism and a whole whack of other isms. Unfortunately, the poor bastard we sent ended up nailed to two telephone poles, though we were able to rescue his remains from that cave in time enough to avoid any legal ramifications. But you see my point. It's not like these things are entirely preordained. We just throw a whole bunch of names into a big drum and pick one. And, as it turned out, you just happened to be the lucky winner. I fully understand that it's not exactly what you might of had in mind for your life's work, but everyone's gotta step up to the plate sometime and it just so happens that you're next up in the order. The question now is: do you bunt or do you go for the glory and put one over the center field wall?'

As far as Bug was concerned, this was not happening. Now, he knew that his guidance councilor had been on his back to choose a university or some other institute of specialty training, but he hadn't thought that he'd be faced with his future before actually graduating. That, and the fact that it looked like he wouldn't have any say in what that future was going to be. So Bug decided to be brave and asked The Voice a simple question. 'What if I say no?'

'Well Tom, that's the problem with this sort of thing. You can't really say 'no'. You've got intimate knowledge about this place now and sending you back without enlisting your help would not be permitted. There are certain things we can and can't do. And, though it might be difficult for you to believe, we do not possess the ability to wipe your memory clean. No one can do that, not even Big Eddie. So either you agree to do this or you die in your sleep tonight from your head injury. There really isn't any middle ground. Besides, if you think about what everyone else is going to spent the rest of their lives doing, this is far more exciting. You get the chance to help rescue mankind, live a life of adventure, use tricky gadgets and drive cars with ejection seats. Well maybe just the first two, but that's still some pretty sweet shit. Well, what'll it be?'

Laying down on his back, Bug let the stars above him blur his vision. He thought about what The Voice had said and came to the realization that he was going to have to make a split second decision that would determine the course of the rest of his life. And though he would have learned much later in life that such decisions usually occur more often than one would suspect, he was daunted by it. So he decided to do the only thing he could think of. Sitting up he turned to The Voice and said 'you got a coin?'

Smiling, The Voice rummaged around in one of his coat pockets and produced a large silver coin with a lion's head on one side and a lion's tail on the other. Taking it from The Voice, Bug rubbed it between his fingers for a couple of minutes and then flipped it onto the grass. Leaning over he looked at the outcome. The Lion's Head. Bug sighed. Picking up the coin he handed in back to The Voice and sat there for a while in silence. 'Well?!''I'll say it now so there's no confusion later. You guys should've sent in a DH'.

Patting Bug on the back, The Voice thought it prudent to sit there in silence for a while before getting back to business. And as the minutes past he thought how strange it was that while most human beings exist in a state of selfish reluctancy, this teenage boy had just agreed to go willingly into the unknown on the flip of a coin. And for the first time since meeting Bug, The Voice thought that he might just have been sent the right guy this time. And maybe, just maybe, this whole crazy plan would actually work.

'So I guess you're gonna tell me what this is all about then,' Bug said breaking the silence. Snapping out of his own thoughts, The Voice nodded and motioned for Bug to stand up. Turning, The Voice started walking towards the trees and beckoned Bug to follow him. And so the two walked together through a small greenbelt before emerging at the edge of a massive prairie. And in the middle of the prairie, some miles away, there was a very large city that seemed to be made of pure white stone gilded with silver. And The Voice pointed towards the city and said 'That, my friend, is the center of the universe. Nice, isn't it.'

'What's it called?' Bug asked. 'It's not called anything,' The Voice returned. 'It just is what it is. And it's there that my story begins. You see, a long time ago there used to be this big pole sticking out of the ground where that city is today. Kind of like what you'd envision the North Pole to look like. Anyway, Big Eddie says that when you guys first started coming here you'd just pop out of the pole into the middle of this huge field and wander around like you were lost or on crack or something. For years Big Eddie found this highly amusing, so he didn't bother doing anything about it. But you guys ain't so dumb, so you started building things around the pole and, for the most part, put aside your differences in favor of building a place where you could enjoy all this wondrous endlessness. And, as time passed, more and more people came through the pole and the settlement turned into a town, the town into a city, and the city into the megatropolis you see before you today. But after awhile the city got crowded. People started grouping together into various factions that they had adhered to in life. And as time passed a great many of those factions decided it would be best to leave the city and build places of their own. So, that's what a lot of them did. But not before there was a big fight about it and part of the city was destroyed. You see, although you guys can't kill each other up here, you can destroy the place. It isn't indestructible by any means. So there was a big fight. And that's where we come in. Big Eddie wasn't too happy about that. You have no idea how close you came to losing all of this forever. But instead of being rash, Big Eddie decided to create us to police the various settlements and make sure that everyone was enjoying their utopian afterlife, not destroying it. So that's the way it went for a good many years. And then there was another big disagreement and another big war. This time it was about the location of the pole. It seems that some of the factions didn't like the fact that their people, who had no idea any of this was going on mind you, were entering the afterlife in a place where they were being 'brainwashed' into believing that everyone is equal and eternity is to be enjoyed to the fullest. That's what the people who live in that city in front of you believe. They're the originals. Anyway, there was another war. And this time there was a lot more damage than before. We were outnumbered and unable to stop it because the use of force isn't really one of our mandates. So Big Eddie gathered all of us together and told us to choose someone among the living and bring them here to show them what was going on. And then he instructed us to allow that person to return to earth in hopes of telling everyone down there that there wasn't any room in the afterlife for people who elected to behave so poorly. So, we did what we were told and we sent someone back. The only problem with that particular event is that it started a faction all its own which has since just turned into another faction up here. It wasn't his fault that no one understood the message. But, like most things, maybe no one was really listening all that closely. So eternity went marching on and things grew steadily worse. So, that, in a nut shell, is the dilemma. To be quite honest with you most people up here just want to spend their time in peace. In actuality they far outnumber the trouble makers. But it gets difficult when the minority starts lighting things on fire because they're not happy about something and a great many innocent bystanders get caught up in it. So people who would never normally resort to fighting back find themselves turning into the exact thing that they didn't like to begin with. And, eventually, everyone ends up on one side or another. And that, my little friend, will no longer do. Big Eddie has come to the end of his proverbial rope. He's decided that unless everyone changes their thinking in a big fucking hurry, he's gonna shut this place down. And let me tell you, the alternative is not attractive. I don't suppose you've ever been to oblivion so let me fill you in on something. There's nothing there. Just empty space. I don't know about you, but floating around in empty space for all eternity with billions of other people doesn't particularly seem too thrilling. And it's not like this place won't go on existing either. Big Eddie will just move the pole. So not only will you guys be floating around in space forever, but you'll be doing it with a zillion retards that'll be telling you stories about how they once dwelt in this kick ass place where life was sweet but they screwed the pooch for everyone and now life after death consists of a twenty four hour space walk and public fornication in a zero gravity environment. What a mess.

So that's the deal. And that's where you come in. You get the glorious task of telling everyone down there that they have to shape up or they get shipped out. And don't expect anyone to listen to you for quite some time either. We made the mistake last time of giving our guy some special powers so that he could convince people that he wasn't kidding. But not this time Tom. This time you've got to do it all by yourself. Big Eddie's orders. A lot of us are starting to think that Big Eddie doesn't really want you to succeed. That it's about time you were taught a lesson. And we fully expect him to do it too. Rarely does the guy bluff. And I'm sure there will come a time in the future when he'll change his mind and try all of this again, but I can't say that for certain. The only thing that's ever been for certain is this place. And well... there goes that theory.'

As The Voice fell silent Bug realized that he was shaking like an epileptic. Fear was not an applicable word for what he was feeling. Terror, though somewhat more directed, was a weak substitute. He was beginning to regret his decision, though it wouldn't have mattered much because he would have died. And that meant that he'd have to spent some time in this place before being thrust into empty space. So Bug tried to calm himself down a bit. Why not do it? What was there to loose? If people weren't willing to listen to him it wouldn't be his fault. He didn't have control over their actions and thoughts, only they did. So Bug followed The Voice back to the clearing where they had first met and, extending his hand, Bug shook with The Voice and tried his best to smile and look confident. The Voice saw through the boy like glass, but realized that returning the gesture would be the best thing. And then a huge ball of white light appeared in the middle of the clearing and The Voice motioned towards it. And, as Bug started walking towards the ball of light, The Voice turned and said 'by the way, what did you call in the air, heads or tails?' Smiling to himself as he went, Tom replied - 'neither.'

So. How does some punk kid go about saving the world from itself anyway? One word... TELEVISION.There's a new world order. If you just happen to live in Antarctica maybe you hadn't noticed. Television rules all. Little images dancing across a slightly bent piece of glass now control the collective destiny of 90% of the planet. It can destroy people and it can make them. It can get you elected, it can sway public opinion, it can create something out of nothing, and it can sell useless contraptions to people who don't really need them and can't really afford them. In short, it's the perfect replacement for thought. You don't have to think anymore because TV's going to do it for you (which is a good thing because it would be both messy and a real shame to see that many heads explode all of a sudden). And then there's 'the truth'. I would hope that by now you've all figured out that the truth no longer exists on it's own. Instead there is only 'perspective'. Now I'm sure that there are remnants of the truth left out there. You know, those things that make everyone's stomach turn so much that it's just got to be wrong, or right, or justified. But for the most part the truth is mired in perspective. Despite what you've read or been told most of your life, there are not two sides to every story. There's usually at least five. And, unfortunately enough, no one will ever fully understand all of them. Because there are those things that can be studied and dissected and there are those things that one has to experience to know anything about. Most of the time even those perspectives contradict each other. It's a big shit sandwich really. So turn on your TV and take a bite. Because that's exactly what television provides us with. Enough perspective to confuse you along with a little dash of warm, fuzziness to make you feel like everything's going to be a-okay. There are bombs falling somewhere. I'm counting peanut butter sandwiches with The Count. Fucking typical. It should be obvious to most that the best way to inform the world that heaven is about to be closed for eternity is by utilizing the magic of television. Why? Tom came up with one all encompassing reason: People love to get all worked up about absolutely anything that they can sink their teeth into. And once they get all worked up about something it's all anyone can talk about. What a disgustingly predictable lot we are. So that, my friends, was the lad's plan. Putting it into affect was another matter altogether. So go get some fucking chips and dip and get ready to get all worked up. '...and on the seventh day Big Eddie rested. And on the eighth day he made cable access and saw that it sucked and said 'fuck it, I'm tired'. And thus, cable access remains to this day...' Thank the maker for Career Day. Maybe you participated yourself, I dunno. When I was a wipper-snapper I got a work experience gig as a ski tech (though to be honest my Mom scored me the job because I was too lazy to apply at school. So when I was in there one day drooling over a pair of Olin's she asked the manager if I could work for free and, surprise-surprise, he said yes). I eventually ended up working there for the entire season and even got some bobbles for my trouble. It rarely works that way but sometimes kids get lucky and get to stay on after their week of work experience has come to an end. Tom was one of those kids. But before I get into that I should clear up some things first. The morning after Tom's ascension from mere high school kick-around-kid to new world savior, he found himself standing in front of the mirror in the bathroom brushing his teeth. And for the first time he realized that he was referring to himself as 'Bug'. In his head he heard his mother's voice calling his name. A distant memory from some lazy summer afternoon years before. And Tom smiled to himself as if to recognize the fact that he had just undergone a transformation of sorts. And it had nothing to do with the fact that he had to save the world from itself. It had to do with the fact that, no matter what happened, he had saved himself. And so Tom stood there and, for the first time, he called himself by his real name. And he grew a thousand feet tall in just under two seconds. So Tom was now a giant. A massive titan walking freely amongst the little people. And this new attitude was so glaringly obvious to everyone around him it was as if he was crushing them all as he strode through their quaint countryside raping and pillaging. And, as one might expect, he really didn't notice it. It wasn't the kind of thing that made him think 'hmm, I'm going to get me a little pay back'. He had bigger fish to fry. But let it be said that everyone at Tom's school saw him in a different light following his return. This was also reflected in the fact that Tom did not press charges against his former friend and kick around boss. He let it slide. That's called 'class' by the way. And I'm not implying that 'class' is something one attains by not doing anything about a wrongful incident. I'm saying that Tom knew it didn't matter in the scheme of things. He knew that Scott would always be like that and that would be punishment enough. Because, like I endeavored to explain in part one of this story, guys like Scott end up doing three quarters of fuck all. Why? Because when you consider the peak of your own personal mountain to be during your High School years you don't bother looking around for a bigger mountain to climb. You just sit there for a couple of years with your eyes closed and then open them only to discover you're sitting on a hill in the middle of the Himalayas. There are a million variables in every life. The most important ones being: always remember where you came from and always remember there ain't nothing in this world that's so bad you can't beat it. Anyway, it's safe to say that Tommy was fully back in black. A man on a mission, he had formulated his little TV plan after stumbling upon a poster in the hallway. So he decided to apply for a work experience job at the local cable station, Community Cable. And, as luck would have it (and because there wouldn't be anymore story if I didn't deem luck necessary), Tom got the job and went to work for them two weeks later. Now the downside to his first week at the station was the shows he had to work on. Thrilling programs like Gardening with Marv and The Pee-Wee Hockey Game of the Week. But after his initial week, and after the station manager decided to extend his stay, he got the opportunity to work on some more interesting shows. Shows like The Christian Armageddon Hour and Yoga with Mary-Sue (I'll let the guys out smirk at that one for a minute). Tony Viani was an easy sell compared to the two cameramen that shot 70% of the station's shows. Dan and Gilbert weren't exactly thrilled to learn that Tony was going to allow Brenda to have a show of her own. They were less thrilled when they found out that Tom was going to be the host. In their defense, they were quite interested to see what would happen after discovering that the show wouldn't have any segments. There was just going to be talking. No callers, no pieces, no guests, just some punk kid talking. So they were two thirds unimpressed and one third amused (if that's possible). One thing was for certain, it was highly unlikely that anyone would really be watching anyway. The show was scheduled for 11:30 on Tuesday nights. Greater forces play games with things sometimes just to keep them interesting. Maybe Big Eddie's guys gave the last astronaut some special powers to prove his authenticity but Tom had no such luck. Tom was thus forced to rely on something far worse than special powers. DUMB LUCK. Which, if you hadn't noticed, us earthbound types have in abundance. And if you equated all that dumb luck with atoms I would have to say we've been dealing with electron dumb luck as opposed to dumb luck of the proton variety. Be that as it may, the day finally came when Tom sat down in front of a camera and let the truth about his mission slip out of him like one of those terrible secrets that you carry around and just have to give away. Danny and Gilbert didn't bother operating the cameras that night, they just stood there looking at each other wondering what to make of it all. Brenda and Tony were just as perplexed. It seems that Tom wasn't talking about her father after all. And as the half hour drew to a close a great sense of relief came over Tom. The kind of relief you feel when you've said everything there is to be said and don't really care where it goes from there. Tom was quite happy with the fact that he'd gotten it all out and, at the same time, came to the realization that no one was going to take him seriously. His big plan was a load of shit and he knew it well enough. So for the last five minutes of the show he just strolled around in front of the camera having some fun with it all. And that, my friends, is when the dumb luck showed up like a hurricane hitting a cruise ship make out of balsa wood. It all started earlier that night at exactly 9:42 PM. The most horrific thing known to mankind occurred. Something so horrible that society was almost snuffed out in one brief moment like some bug hitting the windshield of a car doing 200kph. The cable went out. Mankind has witnessed some tragic events but there's nothing worse than leaving millions stranded with only the basic channels. The truly pathetic thing about it is that no one stopped watching television. They just sat there and suffered through boring shows hoping that cinemax would pop back on before they were forced to commit suicide or something far worse: talk to someone. So everyone sat there and waited. The world was quiet for a short time while an army of technical types scrambled to restore all 59 channels. But it gets worse. Much worse. Not only was cable out but everything from channel 8 up was fuzzy. And I don't know about you but I can't stand watching anything that's fuzzy. So that left everyone with seven choices. Well, six really because one was French. Channel six was local and was in the midst of showing some truly awful piece of shit from the late fifties. Channel five was Community Cable. Channel four was showing a cooking show that would be followed by yet another lame late night movie (this time from the eighties). Channel three was showing it's usual pap (that being something particularly cultural and quite comparable to Nytol). And channel two was teasing everyone by listing all the shows they were missing. So those who could stand the fuzziness watched something from 8 up. Everyone else fled to one of the remaining channels. Using some quick math we can assume that about 20 to 28% of the remaining viewers were now watching channel five. And this is how it played out... Picture a man sitting at a big metal desk covered with hundreds of flashing lights, levers, and switches. His feet are up on the edge of the desk and he's slowly sipping hot coffee out a Styrofoam cup while his eyes impatiently watch a nearby door as if expecting someone to come through it. The man's name was Rudy. And Rudy was very happy. Why? Because his uncle Jim had just got him a job sitting at a big metal desk looking at lots of meters, flashing doo-hickies, and a variety of other important looking things. This was Rudy's first week on the job. But that didn't mean that Rudy stopped being Rudy. Since he was the only one there at that time of night he had invited his girlfriend Sarah to come down and keep him company for a while. Thus the coffee and impatient eyes. When Rudy had called Sarah and asked her to come down she instantly formulated a plan (as most girlfriends do when their boyfriends work graveyard shifts). She decided to show up wearing an overcoat, boots, and nothing else. Of course Rudy had no idea that she was naked under the coat. He was formulating his own plan and completely oblivious to the fact that she might have been thinking the same thing. So Sarah gave Rudy the coffee she brought for him and went to the bathroom to loose the coat and take full advantage of the element of surprise. She went in at exactly 11:33 PM and re-emerged at 11:35. It was right about then that Rudy lost what remained of his concentration and concern for his new position. Sarah came walking across the room and immediately launched into one of those frenzied light-speed foreplay episodes that usually only happen in the movies. The two of them did what most twenty something's would do in that situation. They refrained from wasting time by moving to another location or the floor. Rudy's initial reaction was to just bend her over the big metal desk, but Sarah wouldn't have it. She wanted to get up on the desk so she could watch Rudy get that stupid look on his face that he always got when they had sex with the lights on. Being of the male gender, Rudy capitulated immediately. He wasn't about to say something stupid like 'I don't think I should bang the shit out of you while you're on that big metal desk because it's covered with important looking switches and levers and what have you'. No, Rudy just hoisted her up there and went to work. Work, by the way, officially started at 11:41 PM. Leverage. Sex on a desk (or table or bench or car hood or in an airport bathroom) comes down to one thing: good leverage. Controlled thrust is dependent on several factors. Height, angle, anatomy, and slippage. The big metal desk offered some problems. For one thing it was a little too high. So Rudy was forced to employ the tip-toe method. He also discovered that he had to keep pulling Sarah towards him by grabbing her hips and readjusting her position. This, of course, thrilled Sarah to no end. But it also meant that as things got wilder Sarah began to lean back onto the desk. So by 11:52 she was no longer interested in using her hands to keep her upper body vertical. And although it helped Rudy a little bit, it meant that she was now lying on a variety of switches, flashing button-lights, and a whole slew of other goodies. She didn't really mind the fact that it hurt a little bit. Her body from the waist up wasn't really her main focus at the time. Rudy, on the other hand, wasn't really thinking about anything. He was caught in that mental limbo that guys enter into when they're half way between the starting line and the finish line. It's that area where the realization that you're getting laid (yippy!) has melted away and you're either trying not to come too quickly or you're getting tired and you're over thinking it so much that you can't. Rudy was struggling with the first problem. So I'd like to take you right now to a specific moment in time. I'd also like to stress that everything you're about to read happened all at exactly the same nanosecond (unless stated otherwise). So bare that in mind. The time: 11:58:23.

THE CAST: Tom: At 11:58:02 Tom started to laugh uncontrollably. Why? Because he realized that he was going down in a big ball of flames and would most likely be committed later on that night. He found that so funny that he just started laughing. A single word kept racing around in Tom's head while he was cracking up. And that word was BOOM. Brenda: Between 11:48:16 and 11:58:23 Brenda Viani was thinking the same thought. I should have never stopped drinking. Tony: At 11:51:44 Tony was told that he had a phone call so he left studio 1 and went to take it. At 11:53:01 he learned that the cable was out and a record number of people were watching his station. At 11:53:03 he realized what was being shown on his station and he nearly had another nervous breakdown. Dan the Cameraman: At 11:58:23 Dan was thinking about his two daughters, Tammy and Terry. He was thankful that they weren't screwed up like this punk kid who was laughing like an idiot on live TV. Little did he know, but his two daughters were the go to girls for half of the High School's weekend inhibition reduction antibiotics. Years later Tammy would marry an abusive man that would push her out of a moving car and Terry would do nine years for trafficking dope. Gilbert the Cameraman: At 11:58:23 Gilbert was wondering whether his VCR had properly taped Star Trek. He would later discover nothing but snow on the tape and would end up throwing it out a window in a fit of rage. As luck would have it the tape would hit some lady in the head and Gilbert would go rushing outside to apologize. He would end up apologizing for the rest of his life because that lady ended up marrying him a year later. Mrs. Bug: At 11:58:23 Tom's mom was listening to opera quietly while folding laundry. She had no idea that Tom was even on television. Rudy: At 11:58:23 our man Rudy reached the promised land and made the stupid face. Sarah: Between 11:58:03 and 11:58:23 Sarah was trying her best to get to the promised land before Rudy crapped out on her. And in doing so she pushed herself up on the desk. In doing that her hand moved across a big metal covering that protected a big red button. So she accidentally flipped the covering up while pushing herself up and then rested her hand on the button once she was there. 26,089 PEOPLE: Were watching Community Cable at precisely 11:58:23. Tom: At exactly 11:58:22 Tom looked directly into camera one and said the following word: "BOOM!" SIMULTANEOUS EVENTS THAT OCCURRED AT 11:58:23 1 Tom had just finished saying 'BOOM!' 2 Sarah's hand pressed a very bad button which, along with a series of other things she had pushed by accident during sex, overloaded the desk and subsequently sent the biggest electrical power surge in civic history to every home in a twenty mile radius. 3 Everyone's televisions blew up along with most street lights, high powered electronic equipment, and local transformers. 4 The pulse from the surge affected three planes that were flying overhead causing them to make emergency landings. 5 The cable came back on. 11:58:31 1 Rudy realized that having sex on the primary control desk at a civic power plant was a very bad idea. He was know making the 'Uncle Jim's going to fucking kill me!' face. 2 26, 089 people were convinced that the wacky kid on channel 5 just blew up their televisions with a single word. It wasn't exactly walking on water or healing lepers. But it was good enough.Two Christians, a Jew, and a Muslim walk into a bar... I'll admit that it wasn't the prettiest way to do it but it worked well enough. And although only 26, 089 people were watching channel 5 when Tom said that now famous 'BOOM!', a week later there might as well have been a million. Every religious flake from the Yukon to the Mexican boarder had heard about the kid who blew up everyone's televisions 'as a punishment for not heeding the word of god!' as they put it (thank-you very much A Current Affair.) Not only did he destroy TV's but entire power grids as well it seemed. Religious experts everywhere were either trying to explain what had happened in a realistic sense (who would have ever thought) or they were spinning the whole thing so dramatically that Tom was being considered by some as the second coming. The tabloids picked up on the story immediately (of course) and by the end of the month anyone standing in line at a supermarket was being blasted by headlines about 'the new SON OF GOD!'. I know it's a little thin people, but consider this. How many idiots actually fell for that whole 'I saw Jesus in the chrome bumper of my car' gag? Our man Rudy, by the way, was fired at exactly 12:27:09. The power company was so embarrassed about what had happened that they lied to the press about what had actually occurred. I dunno, which sounds better to you, A or B? A 'At this time we're uncertain as to what caused the power surge. Investigators are currently looking into it but I can tell you that we've ruled out human error. There's a possibility it could have been a computer malfunction, but we won't know for a couple of days.' B 'This new kid on the night shift was fucking the stuffing out of his girlfriend on the station's primary control desk and she accidentally hit some buttons.' You can see why they felt it necessary to lie. But it doesn't end there. They actually paid for Rudy and Sarah to be moved to a new town. Exactly 842.7 miles away. They then gave Rudy three hundred thousand dollars and made him sign a document stating that he would never talk about it to anyone. The document, by the way, also included a fabricated statement wherein Rudy claims to have been 'mopping the floor' when all the commotion started. As a lowly 'janitor' there was really 'nothing he could have done'. So that's how it all went down. And right smack dab in the middle of this gigantic shit storm was Tom, the year's super-human flavor savior. It got so bad for Tom that he was forced to stop attending school because of all the 'pilgrims' camping out on the school's lawn. This also occurred on Tom's street, where police were forced to set up barriers and some temporary first aid tents (because so many people started suffering from heat exhaustion, dehydration, and a variety of other things that come along with camping out in the middle of a street for three to four weeks). And through it all Tom kept his cool. He spent about a week suffering through his mother's refusal to acknowledge that Tom actually believed anything he said while on the show. She was also rather disgusted that the station was selling video copies of the broadcast. A month and a half after the incident Tony Viani had sold almost 315,000 of them worldwide. But Tony wasn't the only one getting in on the act. Scott's folks started their own cottage industry. They were printing shirts with Tom's year book picture on them and the word BOOM! underneath. It was as simple as setting up a table at the end of their driveway and storing the never ending garbage bags of cash in their basement. It didn't end there either. Everyone that knew Tom was interviewed by every major news agency in the known world. Suddenly he was everyone's best friend. Tom got phone calls from Larry King's people, David Letterman's people, Leno's people, and a host of other people's people. Heads of state called him, religious leaders asked to speak with him, and two of the world's biggest film studios were maneuvering to by the rights to his life story. And through it all Tom just hid in his house, waiting for the wave to crest. And when that wave crested he would hold a press conference and reiterate his message to the whole world. Don't jump the gun. There were plenty of people that were so outraged by what Tom had said that they organized marches, sit-ins, and a whole host of other 'anti-Tom' events. And that's how four men came to meet one cloudy day in a crowded park. They were attending a unified protest that was put together by four different religious leaders in the area. One was Catholic, one Baptist, one Hebrew, and one Muslim. And though the followers of these faiths would have found it extremely difficult to come together in such a place under normal circumstances, their outrage over the kid from TV was enough to make their blinders hold. So that's what happened. A huge group gathered in a local park and there were speeches by people from all four faiths and there was fanatical applause as each one finished. And that's how the four men met. Now I'm sure that a public washroom is the last place in the world that one would suspect talk of assassination to arise. Usually it's either drunken yammering or dead silence. But on that day the guys were rather vocal while engaging in relief. And not because they were all boozed up either. They were high but not on any substance. They were high on the most powerful drug out there: HATE. So there's this public washroom in the middle of this park and a couple guys just happen to be in there shooting off at the mouth and suddenly one of them says 'someone should just shoot that boy and get it over with!' This peaks some curiosity. A couple of guys agree and a couple of them don't say a word. This leads to two of the guys talking outside the washroom with two others milling about in the general vicinity wondering just how serious the two loudmouth's are. Eventually the two outsiders find their way over to the two men (who are still going on about it) and enter into the conversation. So now you've got two Christians, a Jew, and a Muslim all talking about killing a teenage boy outside a park washroom. You'd be surprised, but a whole shit load of major historical happenings started just like that. With a pissing contest. The strangely funny thing about the group was obviously their religious diversities. The two Christians were as far apart as Christians come. The last two were obviously just as polar, one bring Jewish and the other a Muslim. Hell, there's a good thousand years of violence right there. But not one of them even considered the fact that the others were different. As far as they were concerned they had a mutual objective. And that objective was to kill our boy Tom. So they started meeting at night and discussing the idea further. At first it really was nothing more than infuriated talk. But as the nights past their conversations (and convictions) became more serious. By the end of two weeks they had all come to the decision to actually assassinate the boy. And all of them felt that it would make them heroes. I wonder how David's story would have been different if a Shaman and a couple of Celtic Druids had helped him slay Goliath? And that's how all the stars aligned. I'm not saying that there weren't others out there that wanted to see Tom dead. Since none of them did anything about it I can't rightly add them into the story. But let's just say that there were a considerable amount of people that had given some thought to Tom's eventual demise. And you know, that's the funny thing about one's demise. That eventuality thing is pretty ingrained in the whole process. No matter who you are or what you believe. Their plan was simple enough. Due to some warped sense of right and wrong they came to the conclusion that killing the boy from a distance like cowards was unacceptable. They also agreed that trying to get away with it clean was also out of the question. They were fully prepared to take responsibility for their deeds and felt that they had enough justification that others would support their actions. So the plan went something like this: all four men would attend the press conference packing hand guns. The first guy to get close enough to use the gun would shoot Tom. If anything went wrong then the others would make sure that Tom didn't leave the press conference alive. And lastly, all four men would turn themselves in no matter who did what. That was their plan. The truly dangerous thing about it being that they were fanatical. That they were willing to sacrifice themselves to rid the world of this evil little kid. Or at least that's what they thought at the time. There are people in this world that do things before they think. And then there are those that do the exact same thing and then try to twist it all around to make it look like they really weren't the ones to blame. And then there are those that act after thinking because they listen to that little mechanism that most of us have within ourselves which differentiates between bad shit and good shit. And then there's us. We just watch and do nothing and then wonder why everything turns to shit. 20/20 hindsight, it's a bitch and a cop out all at the same time. What a gift. So the big day finally arrived. Almost three and a half months after Tom blew up everyone's televisions with a single word he was preparing to say it all again. But this time the entire world would be watching and he knew it. This time it was serious and not some half ass attempt to just get it out there in hopes of making himself feel better. This time Rudy's libido couldn't save him. So Tom sat in his room and tried to focus on the 'pure' message. He tried to summate then entire thing in his head so that it didn't come out of his mouth sounding confused or complicated. And he did something else that he'd never done before. He prayed like a madman. A huge podium had been set up at the end of his driveway. There were countless microphones and news trucks, satellite dishes and crews operating them. There were even a couple of jumbo-trons that had been set up at either end of the street so that the crowd could watch Tom deliver his speech. The police had placed men throughout the crowd and in front of the podium as a precaution. There were helicopters whizzing overhead and literally hundreds of people up on the roofs of nearby houses. It was estimated that over 230 televisions stations would broadcast the speech live around the world. So the stage was set and everyone waited. All that was left was for Tom to walk downstairs and open his mouth. At exactly 12:20 PM Tom left his room and made his way to the front door. There were two police officers waiting there to escort him to the podium. And as he emerged from the carport into the driveway the crowd erupted like the game winning goal of the world cup had just been scored in overtime. This made Tom hesitate a little. He hadn't been outside since he'd left school and was taken aback by the multitudes that had come to see and film him. So it would have been safe to assume that Tom was trying his best not to turn and run or throw-up all over his shoes. After pausing briefly he started walking again and eventually reached the platform. He went up the stairs, paused again slightly, and then walked over and stood in front of the podium. Just for effect there was one of those classic microphone feed-backs that always seem to happen in the movies. So he stood there for a second longer trying to catch his breathe and then he opened his mouth. And this is what he said: 'There used to be this place I went when I needed to think about things. It's not far from here, just a block or two towards the ravine. Anyway, I used to sit there are say to myself 'Bug, what're you going to do with your life after all of this beginning stuff has ended'. And every time I asked myself that question I could only come up with one answer: 'I'm going to be better than I am now. Everything's going to be better than it is now. And that'll be enough'. I find it funny that I've never told this to a living soul before today and now I'm doing it on live TV (laughs from the crowd). But I guess that's my whole point. How come most people think that way? How come everything that has to do with improvement revolves around the future? How come it just can't be that way now? I realize that a lot of you might think I'm just some naive kid, but I've given it a lot of thought and I don't see that it's such an immature point of view. If the world is just some place where people disagree about everything all the time and we can justify that by calling it 'educated' or 'advanced' or 'enlightened versus unenlightened' then I'd have to say it's all bullshit (a variety of gasps from the crowd due to the use of profanity). John F. Kennedy once said that we all have something in common. We all share this small planet and we are all mortal. I find it hard to believe that the pursuit of eternity can cause such divisions between people. That our mortality itself can be transformed into a barrier that divides people instead of bringing them together. And I'm not going to stand here and say that religious differences are the only root of that problem. Not at all. Social standing divides people, beauty divides people, intelligence divides people, the control of geography divides people, even skin colour divides people. Sometimes it's nothing more than a brief glance in a hallway somewhere that rubs someone the wrong way. And for what? There's nothing more decadent than applauding our intelligence while we allow such divisions to affect our everyday lives. What if heaven wasn't just for Christians or Jews or Muslims or anyone else for that matter? What if it's just like the world? What if it's for everyone? What then? More of the same? Or does everyone suddenly undergo some big change or heart when they get there? I've had the opportunity to gain some insight into it and I can tell you this. It's not so different from life down here. It's not without hate or mistrust. It's just a place to make bigger mistakes because we've got an eternity to make them. If one thing's true about our mortality let this be it: we're given this life to try and realize our mistakes in time enough to learn from them. And in this day and age, after everything we as a species has been though, if we can't learn from those mistakes then we're doomed to repeat them. And not only in this life. Because what are we if not our basic selves? Are we transformed into something more enlightened and understanding? I dunno about you but it's an awful big assumption. Maybe someday there will be a great awakening and all of this will cease to exist as it does now. And when that day comes and the clock stops ticking you might find yourself looking for your own place to think. And maybe you'll ask yourself the same questions I have. And on that day, just maybe, everyone will find the same answers. I'm finished now, so go ahead and shoot…' and through the air came the sound of a great and massive thunder clap. And at that moment Tom's head jerked back suddenly and his body seemed to rise off the ground as if in slow motion. And then there was nothing but stars for Tom. Cool grass and a warm breeze. Back on earth all hell proceeded to break loose. Millions of people watched while the crowd broke into a frenzy and panic took hold. Several of the police officers in front of the podium had a good line of sight to the shooter and wasted no time in drawing their own guns and firing back. But that just made matters worse. Not only did they hit and kill the shooter but they also happened to hit several innocent bystanders that had been trying to get away from the 'crazy people firing the guns'. And while all of this was going on there were other people trying to loot Tom's corpse for whatever they could get their hands on. Due to the fact that total mayhem was fully in effect there was little anyone could do to stop them. By the time Tom's mom got to her son's body he was half naked. This, of course, was all being transmitted around the globe on live television. The entire incident had been caught on tape and was soon to be rebroadcasted a million times over. All in all it was a rather typical day in TV land. Well, maybe not as good as some seeing that two hundred and thirty odd channels now had prime footage of the whole thing. Somewhere out there Ted Filippe J. Suckmonger was reaching for a bottle of Maalox. As the days past the details surrounding the shooting began to emerge. Out of the four assassins only two of them were brought to justice. The shooter, who had been shot seconds later by the police, and the Muslim member of the gang. It seems that the other two weren't too keen on keeping their fanatical little blood oath. A massive manhunt would be launched to find the missing two assassins after the surviving member of the gang ratted them out. But after four months the search was called off, leaving their capture in the hands of bounty hunters and a few federal agents. The media, of course, had a field day with the entire thing. A mere two weeks after the shooting there were various poles taken to discover how many people actually believed that Tom was a messenger sent from heaven. 92% felt that he wasn't. And after all the interviews, speculations, panels, and debates not one person realized the most glaringly obvious fact about Tom's death. And that was this: four men from conflicting belief systems put their differences aside long enough to accomplish something. If only... Tom awoke to a brilliant solar system of stars. Billions of them, all sparkling and filled with possibility. And as he watched them slowly pass in front of his eyes he began to count them, one by one. And as he did that he felt his being slip away and his mind cleared of everything save the numbers. And that's all there is to it I'm afraid. No parades, no medals, no endearing last lines. Just the wind. And the fact that it blows over all of us at one time or another.

tl;dr

Though that's probably the fucking point with agnostic pussy footers who want to insist they've got this God thing right.

ugh, i wonder who's <i>ever</i> going to read all that.

add guy wrote:ugh, i wonder who's <i>ever</i> going to read all that.

not a chance, i've found myspace pages that are easier on the eyes.

I liked the story. I didn't read it at first, as I thought it was Draaaaal going off his meds again, but here were things I definitely took away from that. The typos and formatting need to be fixed, but aside from that and the fact that the narrator sounds, in my mind, exactly like the balladeer in 'The Big Lebowski' with more profanity, I thought it read pretty well. Thanks for sharing.

I found the first story from Matt Good's own blog and reformatted it so it is easier on the eyes. Yes, thanks for posting.