The name game

I distinctly remember as a child my father raving about the house yelling ,”Jesus H. Christ!”…most often after my brother had spewed chocolate milk all over the new white hall carpet or punched his third hole in the drywall with his head upon jumping incessantly on the bed mimicking American Gladiators despite being told 27.34 remainder 5 times, “Go to bed all ready.“ My mother also found this expression useful, though more often in my presence when asked to do something out of her realm, like teach me to change a tire because god knows one day it’ll happen and I’ll be stranded in the middle of the desert with nothing but a twelve disc cd changer and bendy Gumbi figurines adorning the dashboard for slightly humorous and vintage ambiance to keep me company while I’m forced to rely upon AAA, or to settle orthographical debates on ’desert’ vs. ’dessert’, though she could never quite agree on the middle initial, exclaiming instead, “Jesus M. Christ, Lauren, who do you think I am?” This leads me to believe that Jesus’ middle name was never adequately documented. Terrible advertising on his part. How do you know you’re taking his name in vain if one can never be too sure of the specifics? They could have been blasphemizing that twelve-year old Mexican immigrant down the street that spoke five words of English, slapped me with licorice laces and wore socks on his hands, because really, what is the purpose of socks when you don’t possess shoes? Sheer entertainment I imagine. But back to topic…that whole thou shalt not take the name of the lord, thy god, in vain commandment is terribly vague. I blame Charlton Heston. Well, really, that’s just one more reason to blame Heston…like you need yet another…but I do. I do need another reason. And I want someone to clarify the middle initial, or better yet, middle name, of Jesus.

On top of that, I would also like a life. Is that possible?

And in case you’re wondering, I don’t take the lord’s name in vain. I prefer to yell, “Sweet Jesus” which I’m fairly sure is a colorful, hard-shelled candy somewhere, and, therefore, in no way related to any religious figure whatsoever. Unless they started out selling Easter candy, and then I wish they’d explain to me how the resurrection elicited chocolate bunnies larger than my spleen, if not through pagan beliefs.

And if you still doubt me, note that all of my ’lords’ and ’gods’ are lowercase, which means you can send me hate mail at Idontgiveaflyingfuck@yahoo.com.