Have I mentioned I hate the Space Nazi Super Pope?
July 21, 2008
Jumped Up Jesus on a Pogo Stick.
So the Space Nazi Pope says on his church's apparent international Youth Day, oh, by the way, sorry about all those pedophiles that we've fed, clothed, and shielded from legal action all these years. No, really, honestly. Didn't mean it, or something. Of course, nobody asks the Space Nazi Pope about his specific role in protecting the pervert whack jobs involved.
Oh yeah, and while he was at it, he made sure he took off his custom-made, incredibly expensive super Space Pope Secret Decoder Hat and made sure he left all the church's incredibly expensive solid gold gewgaws behind when he told people that YES, THE WORLD IS AN AMAZINGLY MATERIALISTIC PLACE AND YOU SIMPS SHOULD STOP BEING SO DARN GREEDY. I guess we're supposed to give our stuff to him instead?
Those Secret Decoder Pope Hats have got to cost a lot, after all.
But I'm not here to talk about that unflushed turd - not really. I'd meant to ramble on about something else entirely but you know, when I look into the stark face of a raving senile hypocrite I just start frothing and y'know, it's time to at least put my thoughts into words so they're not floating around in my head. I don't need to be furious about this at work.
I have completely different material to be vexed about at my job, and I don't need the senile, drooling ramblings of Pope Palpatine to get in my face while I'm being talked down to by a distressingly lisping Canadian man trying to insult me for not knowing how to use the already outdated software he's trying to teach me how to use. Think about that for a moment.
A condescending man with a stereotypical Canadian accent, save for the addition of an incomprehensible lisp, literally becoming exasperated with you because you don't know, how to use, the software, he hasn't told you how to use yet. Mull that over for a few minutes when you have the time, and pretend you aren't going to punch him when he tries to pronounce 'authorities'.
Combine the accent with the lisp and you have an idea.
I suppose normally I would let all of this douchebaggery roll off my back but it's a lot easier to dwell on stupid crap like this when it allows me to be completely distracted from the real life horror show that's about to ensue. I am going to be opened up on Wednesday, inflated like a volley ball, and have things inserted into my body. And not in the generally accepted, more pleasant manner.
So that gives me two days. One of which will be filled by a lisping condescending Canadian, the other probably in county lockup for first degree assault on the previous. I'm assured that this whole procedure is routine, despite all the Mad Science trappings involved, but I find myself growing more and more uneasy. Though perhaps the proper term is 'paralyzed with fear'.
They're my intestines!