HolyJuan at Skreened.com

I know that 50% of my fans (one of you) have been asking me about HolyJuan apparel. Until recently, the only clothing you could buy was a pair of boxers with the stain that roughly looked like toast.

Now, BEHOLD! You can find HolyJuan t-shirts at skreened.com. They are a Columbus t-shirt company and I hope to sell one shirt in the next six months.

So far I only have one design.


Let me know if you want something personalized. Jesus cartoon shirts are sure to be next.

Buy me.

The made-up word story

Thanks to everyone who contributed to the Cratousum story. It turned out a bit dark as I have been listening to Margot non stop. See if you can find the words that are made up and the ones that are just horrifically misspelled.

Love without Definition

It was raining. Again. If this were a movie, you’d see the shadows of the rain on the windshield crossing my face. I turned the wipers on and the only good they did was to rhythmatically kick "The Girl from Ipanema" song that was dittyitising around in my skull. Now all I heard was the first stanza of “The Stroke” repeating over and over. The day was not going to get better. Thanks Billy Squire.

I drove off into the morning darkness. Though the sun was dragging itself up, it was getting darker. I reached up to the dash and put my hand on my kickidoe mounted next to the broken compass. It was a “Buddy Jesus” I bought after a murksom night of cable television. Glame, I know, but he always seemed to give me a sense of…

Shit

I slid sideways in the roadway as the breaks decided to work and then didn’t and then did. The car jumped and kicked itself straight.

Shit.

The 45MPH traffic had slowed to a crawl as some plippethead snailobily decided that 13 MPH would keep them from wrecking in the downpour. In trying to maintain safety, the goody two shoes almost caused a neekabaum. With the sudden stop and instant panic, I was about to have a neekabaum in my pants. I pulled into the berm and drove past 14 cars who only had time to honk once I passed them. I pulled into Jack and Jacks and smontelorped across the parking lot. The woman coming out of the front door decoded my walk and held the door for me.

In the bathroom, I barely got my pants down and speelisher on the toilet seat before I let loose with a rage that only a victim of Crone’s disease that had been pharmaphlarneffed 1500ml of prune juice extract would be able to withstand. My chest burned white hot. Sweat mixed with the rain on my face and I realized that I had left my inhaler at Jesse’s house in her kitcheneteria next to the half cup of coffee. The walls of the stall started closing in and I felt zoofloged and helpless.

I was fading. And I felt Jesse’s presence from the night before, her hair swuuuping across my legs. She was humming to herself.

The manager who called 911 later told me that he puked from the smell when he came into the bathroom and found me half in the stall and half on the floor. He told the paramedics it must have been mine. I can live with that.

Jesus at the Chinese Buffet

Jesus at the Winter Olympics

Jesus at the psychiatrist's office

The Real Question is: After Eight Years, Is George Bush Experienced Enough to Be President?

There has been some banter back and forth about Obama’s experience being less than Hillary’s because she had eight years of on the job training, behind the scenes, not baking cookies in the White House. Of course then people ask if Laura Bush is qualified for the Presidency because she has eight years experience, chain smoking at the White House.

The real question should be: Is George Bush experienced enough to be President? He’s got eight years, 9/11, and two wars under his belt. Knowing what we know now, with Bush’s eight years of experience, would anyone, besides the Jesus Crispies, have voted for him in 2000? If they could again in 2008?

Now… how much does “White House experience” matter?

Heart of Stone

Anne and I used to resort to simplistic means of dealing with project management stress and anger through various hand symbols with taglines. My favorite is “COMMIT.” (Create two fists and bump them knuckles together twice in front of your chest. Commit is used when you have a decision to make and decide to do the hard thing, which is usually the right thing.) The one I am using today is “HEART OF STONE.” (Create one fist and place it thumb first on your heart. Heart of Stone is used when you remove emotion from the equation and continue moving forward. Make a stone of your heart.)

I’ve decided to take the route of collecting all my Dave-leaving sadness and cramming it way down into my reality masking, humor generator. Not only can I avoid any possible un-manly emotional outbursts, but in doing so, I will create MORE content for holyjuan.com. I do this for myself, but you, my faithful readers, will reap the reward.

Heart of Stone. In the words of Lloyd Dobler, “The rain on my car is a baptism. The new me. Iceman, power Lloyd. My assault on the world begins now. Believe in myself, answer to no one....”

And now enough of my personal issues and back to comics of Jesus getting hit with a water balloon.

Young Jesus: Play Ball!

Try using the "whole" quote

Sarah Palin sent out a Tweet yesterday asking her followers to remember Martin Luther King Jr. I can see how Palin, who has been under a lifetime of racial scrutiny for her accent, could believe in the hope behind MLK Jr.'s message.

Also in her Tweet, she (kind of) quotes MLK Jr. (see the fixed Tweet at www.FixingPalin.com)


Palin says, " "Faith is taking 1st step even when u don't see the staircase"-MLKjr"

Now, beyond the crappy Tweeting, there is something very wrong with this quote. The real quote is, "Faith is taking the first step even when you don't see the whole staircase." (My emphasis on whole.)

Without "whole" the two quotes are completely different. King is suggesting that you understand your path, but not exactly where it might lead and that you must trust in others or a higher power after those first few steps. Palin is suggesting blind faith. It's the difference between walking down a dark set of stairs with a lantern and only being able to see as far as the circle of light glows *OR* running through a dark house with a blindfold on, hoping that everything will work out because of God's will.

I do not think Palin understands the difference, otherwise she would remember the whole quote and write it as such. To Palin, it doesn't matter. Faith is faith, blind or not.

Here are some other quotes that I assume Sarah Palin could Tweet and fuck up:

"The only thing we have to fear is fear, it's elf."

"4 score and 7 years ago, my four dads brought 4th, upon these awesome United States of America, with Liberty and JUSTICE 4 all."

"Mr. Gorbycough, all in all it's just another brick in the tear down this wall!"

"Dec. 7, 1941—a day which will live in for me"

"Jesus swept."

Jesus was a carpenter

Jesus and the Messy Bathroom

Jesus is my Co-Pilot (2)

Top 10 Jobs for 2009

Obama Shrine Fabricator

Article Writer About How Shitty the Economy Is and Will Be

Forecloser

“Coldplay Stole My Song” Songwriter

Coldplay Lawyer

Purse Thief and/or Retiring Bank Executive

Stocks into Origami Artist

Palin for Prez 2010 2012 T-shirt Maker

Bleeding Tears Jesus Statue Sculptor

SNL Critic

Jesus... that's morbid

Jesus buys furniture

Jesus at the Butcher Shop

Jesus as a child: Christmas Greetings

Don't ever...

Don't ever write about writing. No one wants to hear about that.  Even once you have become a successful writer, people don't want to hear about how you put words on paper.  They just want the words.

Aunt Betty is turning 80. She would have been 38 when I was born. She'll live to be 105 because she doesn't have time to be bothered with dying.  Aunt Betty sends birthday cards to me and my kids without fault.  They might be late, but she admits it.  I think I was 17 when she stopped slipping a $5 bill into those cards.  That was probably the first inkling I had that I might becoming an adult.

Aunt Betty is great at Scrabble. She's very Catholic. She is probably disappointed in me, but would never let it show.

We moved away from New York when I was very young.  Every summer we would travel back home.  I remember Aunt Betty's back yard was full of mosquitoes if you ventured too close to the trees in the back of the yard.  Her son had the most amazing Lord of the Rings poster in the basement.  I think it was Lord of the Rings.  It might have been a Led Zeppelin poster.

Her next door neighbor girl was at least four years older than me.  She once pretended that I was her boyfriend to make another neighbor kid jealous.  That five minutes is burned into my memory.  Her slanted driveway. She was wearing yellow shorts. She put her arm around me and claimed we were boyfriend and girlfriend. There was a broken lawn chair on the curb waiting for the trash men.  I played it cool. Or maybe I was scared shitless.  Either way, she was off after the boy in five minutes.  I might have waited an hour for her to come back. Years later I saw her again. She remembered me but only so.  I don't think she remembered the "boyfriend" thing.  I can't seem to forget.

In her most recent birthday card to me, Aunt Betty mentioned that she didn't really have a computer, but if she did, she'd look up my blog and give it a read.  While I stand behind ever letter and word and phrase and paragraph and Jesus comic I've written, I think I would be embarrassed for her to read all of this nonsense.  She would probably laugh.  She does have a good sense of humor and, by Catholic Law, has to forgive me for my sins.

Aunt Betty is having a surprise birthday party thrown for her next weekend in New York.  Sally suggested we go.  12 hours there.  12 hours back. It would be hellish. And totally worth it.

Happy Birthday, Aunt Betty!

And if between now and next Saturday you do get the internet and read this horrible web site, I'm sorry I ruined the surprise.  Forgive me.

Jesus is my Co-Pilot (3)

Jesus at Christmas