Now You’re Cooking: An Airlock Prayer
I’m in the sphincter.
Admittedly there is at least one major bummer about being an atheist. It’s a pretty big one, too. Quite simply: I’m deprived of a bunch of gods. Dammit. I guess that comes with the territory. So, in self defense, I learned to pray only to the Great Airlock.
“Oh, Great Airlock, please hear my humble plea.”
“I’m sorry, Tom. I’m afraid I can’t do that.”
It’s easy to see how the Great Airlock could come in handy. Alas, it never quite works out that way. The Airlock is a cruel god. But you still gotta believe, right?
I’ve pontificated about The Great Airlock in the past. In theory, He represents immutable consequences to choice and action. The origin mythology is exceedingly simple: When the button is pushed the door opens. The door cares not what is on the Other Side. The door cares not if the occupant is ready. The door opens. The results are what they are. Nothing can change that. Nothing. Not even a god.
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Should schools teach Rick Perry?
Yee-haw!
Most of this post was written Tuesday morning before Iowa caucuses got around to doing their thing…
Somewhere out there, right now, as I write this post, Rick Perry is in Iowa. He has dropped to the deck to flop like a fish. And he’s saying inane shit like, “I don’t have any doubt that if it is just me and Mitt Romney who the Republican primary voter is going to pick all across this country. They are going to pick the true, authentic conservative, not a conservative of convenience that Mitt Romney is.”
He also said he feels “very good” about his chances in Iowa today.
Isn’t it cute? It thinks it can win. It puts the lotion on its skin.
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Bonus post: Britney Spears
I’m off to work. Here’s a bonus points. Many thanks to YouTube for their help on this project. Without their invaluable assistance this post would be the written version of dog crap.
Enjoy!
This first song is as close as I get to prayer. I think you’ll find the central theme fits me like a glove.
This next song is completely autobiographical.
I just learned that Peter Steele, the heart and soul of the band Type O Negative, died earlier this year. To celebrate his death I offer the following little ditty:
Shouts from the Abyss 
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