The Scout Chronicles: I Just Learned the Story of Jesus Today from that Religious Freak Beagle in the Dog Park

He told me all about it. I think that little fucker is tooting blow in his kennel all day. He will not shut the fuck up about Christ and the Holy Spirit and how you’ve got to give up dry-humping shit if you ever want St. Peter to open the fucking golden gates for you and blah, bark, blah. I mean Jesus Christ dude, give it a rest. Some of us are trying to sniff some anus around here, not listen to you drone on endlessly about your savior. Anyway, I listened long enough to catch the gist of the story: A virgin teenage girl gets knocked up by a ghost, without any sex occurring, mind you, and gives birth to the apparently fully human son of an omnipotent entity who is nowhere and everywhere all at once, floating around in a cloud paradise somewhere, presumably above us given that is where all the Latin baseball players point when they cross home plate after going yard, and all the VIPs in town want to kill the baby, even though they haven’t a fucking clue who he is to begin with…….HAH! You have got to be fist-fuckin’ me dude! Maybe I would have bought that story when I was like 6 months old and still pissing the rug. But the Scoutmeister shits outside now and doesn’t need fairy tales anymore. I mean come the fuck on. I don’t buy that story, and I still think grizzly bears on TV are in our living room. I’m just saying beagle, you’re going to have to get up a lot earlier in the morning to pull that one over on ol’ Scouter. I’m not really on board with this whole story my parents have been feeding me either, the one about this fat-fuck in a red suit who is apparently going to sneak into our condo through the chimney on our gas fireplace, somehow without me hearing him (and I wake up when our neighbor 4 doors down the hall cuts a fart in the middle of the night, mind you). However, at least that fucking guy is supposedly bringing me some sweet potato treats and a stuffed rhino this weekend, so I’m not laughing them out of the building when they spin that ghost story. Live and let live beagle, I’m going to go run around in circles until I’m dizzy and then bark at that old lady sitting on that bench. Hope the savior and his son bring you some cool shit on Saturday.

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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