I Need to Get my “Light Therapy” License

People need to quit hating on Feely McTouchowitz up there.  Guy is trying to get some cheap, middle-school poontang action by hook or by crook.  Why ya gotta hate on a playa?  Some people try to feel some boobies and get laid using their looks or wit, which is just fine.  My man here tries to rub his junk on chicks’ legs by becoming the pastor of a non-existent church and telling women he is healing them through “Light Therapy”; whats the fucking difference?  Last time I checked, this was America, Jack.  The country known for go-getters using their own wiles to make their way in the world.  That is all Philip Livingston is trying to do, and you are going to go and put him in jail for it.  What the fuck ever, comrade.  Philip did what any other red-blooded American male whose concrete business went belly up amidst charges of criminality would do: He ordained himself the leader of an uber-creepy “religious” sect and told chicks that if they followed him into the back room of his house he could heal them of everything from depression to yeast infections by everyone getting nude and feeling each other.  So to those of you who have never done the same, throw the first fucking stone.  And guess what?  Women actually followed him into the back room, took off their clothes, and let him fondle them.  Sounds like a victimless crime to me.  There needs to be limits on how far governments should have to go to protect people from their own stupidity.  I certainly don’t authorize any of my tax money being spent to prosecute this pussy entrepreneur.  This is how the conversation should go:
Policeman: “So let me get this straight….An obese man, with beady eyes, 1981 eyeglass frames, and a child-molesting moustache if ever there was one, has ordained himself high priest of a non-recognized religiousish cult, brought you to services in a really shitty house, then told you to follow him to a back room, get naked while he gets naked, then he rubbed your areolas while he asked you to tickle his bag and then sniff your fingers all in the name of curing your eczema….and you said ‘Yes’?  Do I have this correct?”
Clinically Stupid Bitch: “Yes officer, that is how it happened”
Policeman: “You have already been punished Miss.  Now go fuck off somewhere.”
If you are as downright cow-chewing-cud-in-the-rain stupid as these women clearly are, then guess what?  Blame Darwin.  Don’t go trying to pin the blame on Philip.  When you look like him you use your brains to cop a feel any which way but loose.  It isn’t his fault you are stupid enough to let it happen.  These women should be thanking their lucky stars that this is 2011 AD and not 20,011 BC.  They got off easy only having sticky tits courtesy of the above moustache.  If it were 20,011 BC the swifter predators aren’t as forgiving as Reverend Philip.  Saber-toothed tigers don’t tweak nipples.  At least in this instance you live to fight another day.

About Zach

Male homo sapien. Warrior poet. I live in Chicago with one wife, one offspring, and Scout the dog. I enjoy various stuff. Besides skinny skiing and going to bullfights on acid, I also enjoy running, reading, drinking, eating and procrastinating on many things, such as starting this blog. I have a mom, a dad, and a younger brother who recently produced a sister-in-law. I'm the only person in my family, sister-in-law included, who doesn't have a post-graduate degree. I guess that makes me special. I grew up in a small to medium sized town in the middle of Ohio. In fact the even smaller town next door has a sign which reads "The Geographic Center of Ohio". Given this is what they choose to boast you can only imagine how exciting that town is. My town is infinitely cooler. For example on weekend nights people from my town and the surrounding villages and hamlets converge on the public square to "cruise" in their souped-up mini trucks, some bearing Confederate flags, despite growing up and living rather safely north of the Mason-Dixon line. This is high-minded stuff we're talking about here. I graduated sometime during the Clinton presidency from the local high school where I played football and participated in absolutely nothing else. This strategy paid huge dividends when I applied to numerous colleges on the eastern seaboard which were highly selective. When you show up to the admissions table with "HIgh School Football and Nothing Else" on your application, you get respect. After graduating from Ohio University with a degree in Economics that I've used for absolutely nothing, I moved to Boston. Boston is a lovely city. I was doing things I'm not proud of for beer money and I left after 16 months. My next move was to Chicago and 10+ years later there I still reside. I write this blog for therapeutic reasons. Much like some people paint to relax or smoke crack to unwind after a stressful day, I record my thoughts on Al Gore's World Wide Web for 9 friends, 4 family members, 1 person who accidentally clicked through after an unsuccessful Google search for something else, and a guy named Patriot1 who lives in a silver Air Stream in the Nevada desert and broadcasts his own radio show. Is there a point to all of this? I doubt it. Years ago and in a galaxy far, far away (College Park, Maryland, then Athens, Ohio) I was toying with the idea of being a journalism major. I enjoyed writing so it seemed the obvious fit. Then I attended career day and learned that journalism majors could look forward to a salary of $EA,TSH.IT per year with the promise of a fatal heart attack at 47 years of age. I'm not falling for that trick, I told them (them being no one, and told being saying it in my own mind in the shower). Approximately 15 years later here I sit declared the big winner in that battle: I never made any money doing anything else and now I'm writing entirely for free. So suck balls, journalism career day. The views expressed in this website are mine and mine entirely. I don't wish to be an even bigger black eye to my family than I probably already am. As a result of this I will never be able to run for public office and I accept that reality. But this website is a very dignified, well-dressed skeleton full of witty retorts and honorable deeds compared to the disheveled, stenching, staggering and loud skeletons who would come marching out of the closet to White Zombie's "Thunderkiss '65" if they ever unearthed the college years. So enjoy your train ride, your hangover day at work, your AA meeting or your dump. I'm here to serve.
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One Response to I Need to Get my “Light Therapy” License

  1. Anonymous says:

    Thulsa Doom applauds this guy's skills.

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