Look, I need to explain a couple of things.

Yeah, every now and then I get the ol' Head Case call from people because of my blog. Don't get me wrong; I could give a flying fuck what anyone thinks.

Actually, that's not true. I care about every opinion. I'm only human.

But there's always a reason people get why they get. And if I seem a little, um, angry, then maybe there's good reason.

And maybe, just maybe, it's healthy to have an outlet for that that doesn't involve kicking dogs or yelling at children, all right? Or getting stinking drunk every day.

What needs to be noted, and what the cognocenti may actually already suspect, is that it is always the farthest fall that hurts the most. Me, I was always a person of supreme idealism, generosity, open-mindedness. It's all still in there, man. I'm always surprised by how small the stimulus needed to bring that back out is.

People who feel the most hurt the most, baby. People who love the most gotta stay brave and keep doing it even when they get a slap. That's what your Jeezis said, right? And not everyone needs the threat of hellfire to act compassionately and morally.

Some of us do it just because. I know it's a kooky koncept. Some people go throw sandbags on levees and rebuild homes just for the sheer fuck of it. Some people dedicate themselves to a life of artistic ascetisism, essentially making a vow of poverty, because they look around and they maybe think they could do some good by creating beauty out of thin air instead of raping the planet for a buck or 8 zillion.

But sometimes the downside of that for people is that it's stressful. And stress can engender anger. And anger's just a thing, you know? Everybody gets it. It's what you do with it, man. It's what you do with it.

Listen to my god damn music. Like it or hate it, it's so innocent, man. It's so idealistic. It says, hey, I believe in you and your intellect and maybe you could use something really pretty and really romantic and really innocent for what ails you.

I'm not pissed off because I don't get to be fucking Sting, man. I'm pissed off because children die while fat fucks light cigars with million dollar bills. I'm not pissed off because I don't get laid. I'm pissed off because there's enough for everyone if we play our cards right. And we don't play our cards right. And I'm not angry because I've decided to get by with the minimum to make my footprint smaller, man. I'm angry because it seems like every resource that I decline to use gets snapped up and turned into landfill by some fucking corporation. It's a choice, man. I could put on a tie tomorrow and quadruple my income but I don't. It's a fucking choice and you don't get angry about choices.

I'm your dark side. I'm going to hold myself up to you so you can see, baby. I consider it my job. You don't like seeing it, do you? Of course you don't. But that's not going to stop me. If you think I'm just using this keyboard to whack off it's on you.

Now, I want you to tell me why a person of such self-professed sensitivity would come up with shit like Retarded Fuckface Jesus. I mean, that's just uncalled-for, right? You know it, I know it.

Hey, guys- Jesus wants me to do Retarded Fuckface Jesus. What you "Christians" have done with his deal is just well-nigh sick. You've turned your Jesus into an illness. Jesusitis.

Let me tell you a quick story. Once in California I fell for a girl hard. It was always tough for me in California because man, I was lonely and I was fighting a fight every day. I didn't really ever have a life there. It was just ten years of trench warfare for me.

And I met this girl at a club in Pacific Beach one night and she was really sweet and her friend was drunk and I put my 400 dollar Armani blazer over her shoulders while she puked her incipiently alcoholic guts out in the fucking parking lot. It happens, right? Judge not, right? And I fell hard for this girl (the first one, not th' puking one) and we started going out and it was great. She had such a sweet disposition and she made me feel protective and strong and everything a man should feel like. All the shit that makes a guy feel good and needed. And I was like man, a guy could really put something into something like this.

And I remember when her dad and his wife renewed their vows on the beach and we all went and it was great and the minister was funny and touching and gayer than a 50-piece orchestra of Rufus Wainwrights, man. It was so great because I was like man, these people are really open-minded and accepting.

I really don't know why it took a couple of months to find out they were into th' Christian thing really, really big. I don't know what set it off. Maybe it was some comment my girl made about gays. Maybe it was when I'd heard the word "nigger" a couple of times. When you're in love some shit will roll off your back until there's been two, three, four things and you have to man up and get off your cloud and find out what's up.

It must have been the gay thing, man. I think that's what it was. She said something really toxic about gays and I was like but what about the guy that did the ceremony for your dad and his wife? What are you talking about? she said. And I said, man, that guy was super, super gay. And she was shocked and said there was no way and how would I know anyway. And I told her I'd always had good play with the gays because I like to dress well and I look really cool and put-together and I get a lot of propositions and I know the vibe.

And she was actually really angry about it, that I'd intimate this preacher was gay because it's wrong to be gay because it's against god and all that. So the Christer thing came out big which really wasn't a big deal to me at first. I've met all kinds, man. I just want to know if you're nice.

See, I grew up in a dozen countries on a dozen continents and I had to get my head straight fast about that shit because I was always th' nigger, man. I was always the guy from that country that's always going around undermining regimes and making poor people die so I wasn't a big draw, you know? And I figured out that stuff that Jesus said about all that when I was still in th' single digits and it worked for me because it's true shit.

And I always thought fast and picked up the language fast because I was a guest, man. And I'm a chameleon now. I can hang with anybody. And not judge them. I was the guy in school who had some stoner friends, some jock friends, some nerd friends. And when you'd tell me that wasn't done I just didn't get it.

But you nouveau Christians aren't getting it. You're not getting it. And I keep running into you and I keep running afoul of you and it hurts me. See, I could hang when my little girlfriend told me I was going to Hell, you know? I could laugh it off because I'm not going to hell. Because there is no hell. Studies have been done. It's all rock and magma 'til you get to China, my friends. But when she told me my mom was going to hell and that all gays where going to hell I just couldn't hang, man. It made me really sad and angry.

Pick your Jesus, man. Pick your fucking Jesus, you guys. If you pick Retarded Fuckface Jesus instead of Tending To Lepers Jesus it's on you, man. If you pick Retarded Fuckface Cheney Jesus or Retarded Fuckface Exxon Jesus it's on you, man. Don't you dare make me feel bad. Don't you fucking dare. Because I will bring Retarded Fuckface Jesus to your church and to your youth group and your dinner table where you sit around and snort about homersexuals and niggers and I will hold your mouth open and I will breath your Retarded Fuckface Jesus into your lungs and I'll keep doing it for the rest of my life and maybe you'll get the hint. Let me put it in terms that you can understand; he came to me in a vision, alright? A vision. And I was told to do Retarded Fuckface Jesus and to rub your noses in your ridiculous, ridiculous hipocrisy.

And you think it's a parlor game? Man, I could go have a drink. I don't have to do Retarded Fuckface Jesus. I could jack off to Paris Hilton, man. I will hold your deal up to you in all its ugliness until maybe some day three or four of you start thinking for yourself. And you'll hate me and that hurts but there it is.

I don't care what you believe. Believe what you want. But it's hurting people. It's hurting the world really badly and I have to work against that. When your Jesus gets wrapped up in foreign policy and you keep taking Karl Rove's bait and facilitating lies and murder and poverty it is so fucking on you, man. Why are you letting that happen? You're not stupid. Profoundly, tragically, intellecually lazy, but not stupid. And I'm supposed to respect that?

Let me make this incontrovertably clear:

I'll die and I'll go up in smoke and my ashes will scatter and bring up a fucking petunia or two. Don't you realize how beautiful that is? How you have to make your mark now? You can't possibly believe that you can do a little ceremony and you go to hebbin no matter how many aspersions you cast on people that aren't like you. It's so arrogant and so pat and so harmful.

Stop hurting me. I'm a sensitive guy. Start thinking. Is there any love in your hearts?

I'm not going to stop.

As of this week it is policy that George Bush is a criminal. This man is the most dangerous thing to happen to our country since I don't know what. He's dangerous because he's stupid and intellectually lazy and simple-minded and all these smart, evil people whisper in his ear and he puts out his pudgy, mean little hand and signs things that kill people.

Don't listen to me. Look at Katrina. Oh, yeah- never mind. It's lazy niggers. Sorry. Look at the Middle East.

Do you have a BA in Mideast Area Studies? I do. I do, man. That makes me just a little qualified to say that what we're doing there is an abomination. And a bad, dangerous idea.

Jesus isn't going to come after Armageddon. You're staking the planet on this Easter Bunny shit. And a lot of people that I love live here. Gays. Niggers. Children.

And here's the example that I'm going to set for you: that girl that hurt me and shut me out of her life because I can't hate people who are different? I'm still going to love her. I'm going to love her every day even if she said she'd pray for me and I started getting all this toxic, wierd religious shit in my mailbox.

And when some friend of hers starts blowing chunks in a parking lot because she's so fucking tanked she can't even remember how to hate people because Retarded Fuckface Jesus told her to?

I'm still going to be there with my Armani blazer. That my mom who's going to hell gave me.


Blogger beyond passionate said...

Fantastic! Lightfoot hits one out of the park. This is one of the best posts I've read anywhere in a long time.


2:29 PM  
Blogger Bobby Lightfoot said...

Thanks, BP- that does me a world of good. I really appreciate it. Obviously this one is born of some pretty raw emotion.

I don't care if people hate my deal but I can't stand it when the assumption is made that I'm callous and just love to be a pig. I am as pure as the driven snow. I am kissed by th' god-head just like you and you and you.

We have to keep knocking over these statues. Especially now. It's a real head-scratcher to be called obscene by right-wing christians with what's going down now.

Ah, this too shall pass, I suppose.

2:51 PM  
Blogger helmut said...

Beautiful, Bobby.

4:31 PM  
Blogger Bobby Lightfoot said...

Thanks, dude.

I feel like I'm collecting bouquets at a funeral.

Doesn't my hope look natural? They did a great job with the makeup.

4:58 PM  
Blogger fgfdsg said...

Shit Bobby, this is fantastic. Ask th' Viscount if you can cross-post it to the Anecdotal Antidote blog. It deserves a wider audience.

You've nailed so much of my own thinking about life, but said it much more succintly than I could.

I figure there's two kinds of people. Those who see life as some kind of chore or prison sentence, and are holding out for their reward in heaven. They get no enjoyment from their time here, and so take their bitterness out on everyone else who does. Their whole life is bitter restraint, driven by the knowledge that one that they will have the last laugh on everyone else and get to sit on their cloud and look down at me burning in hell and *feel superior*. Their whole life, wasted, for that one little moment of cruel joy.

If that was me on that cloud, and I saw people being tormented and in need of help, I'd be filled with misery to my very core. Heaven's not heaven - it's hell.

I don't want to go to heaven. I don't want to be surrounded by people who want to think that way, like my Grandmother, who was a Christian, yet offered my mother no help when she left my abusive father, and just said "The worm has turned", and who'd talk about 'Abos' and 'New Australians', and yet slapped me when I asked her if she really thought heaven would be segreggated.

And then there's us. The ones who know we're alive now and that's all we've got, so we embrace life in all it's fullness, and because life isn't just a waiting game, but so full of potential and possibility and experience, when we see it snuffed out unjustly it just *kills* us to our very core. And yeah we screw up and make mistakes, but that's part of the experience. We get outraged over the things that really matter, rather than perceived imaginary differences in people.

An enternity of perfect happiness holds no appeal for me. You need the bad times in life to be able to be able to appreciate the good times for what they are even more.

And I love the fact that we'll end up as nothing again. Dust on the wind. It's beautiful.

I've never understood punk music. I don't want to scream at the injustices of the world. I'd rather try to create something beautiful and trascendent to make the injustices more bareable.

Sorry, emotions are pretty raw here this morning too, I played an old Alice Cooper record and was suddenly hit with a whole pile of shit from my childhood.

Fantastic post, mate.

7:12 PM  
Blogger Kevin Wolf said...

Doesn't my hope look natural?

Fucking funny. Oh, man. Great follow up comment to a great piece.

And "hebbin." Oh, god I love it. Gates O'Hebbin. Fuck.

Jesus, Bobby you are so funny and so fucking true. I laughed and I cried. Then I cried and I laughed.

I'll do the Normal Rockwell-ish painting if you do the lead article for the Saturday Evening Ghost.

9:12 PM  
Blogger mdhatter said...

I'm quite sure the world does not need another Sting.

5:20 AM  
Blogger mdhatter said...

a few more of you would be fine though.

5:21 AM  
Blogger roxtar said...

Remember "Miracle on 34th Street"? (The original one with Edmund Gwynn.)

Edmund Gwynn plays Kris Kringle, an old geezer who says he's Santa Claus. He's working as the Santa at Macy's when the shithouse-rat-crazy company psychologist gives him a psych exam, determines the auld fart to be crazy, and warns, "They (crazy people)can get violent if their delusions are challenged."

Well, he was right about that, anyway.

That movie made me decide to be a lawyer, because in the climax, the lawyer uses logic to prove that the old man is, as a matter of law, the One True Santa Claus. And as a kid, I realized that the ability to prove that shit was Shinola was some big fucking power indeed. The problem with your Xtian girlfriend was that she got all caught up in the shit, and forgot that it's all about the Shinola. The message I take from the parables of Retarded Fuckface Jesus is this: Keep your eye on the Shinola, because everything else is just shit.

1:16 PM  
Blogger Bobby Lightfoot said...

Thanks Simon. Fuck heaven. It's all this big daisy chain with St. Peter spanking off St. Whats-his-name and Jesus is like this trip-master telling everyone what to do while he tongues out Ken Lay's ass.

Heaven is making a smile or two now. Putting down a fuckin' gun and firing up some beers. And weed.

And I know how Alice can bring back th' bittersweet, man.

Thanks, Wolfenstein. Gates O'Hebbin- the latest rage in Christian Gangsta hip hop.

Thanks, Mad Hatter- I think now the more records you sell th' worse you are.

Man, I'm really, really good.

Thanks Roxtarrr- I could practically recite that scene. My "Miracle" was "A Hard Day's Night".

These nouveau Christers- woah. Man are they in for a bad trip when they close their eyes and see black, black, black.

What a thing- find an excuse that lets you be unthinking.

I choose th' Blessed Sacrament Of Marley.

1:29 PM  
Blogger Blowing Shit Up With Gas said...

Sometimes I get bitter and think that the people who need to read this kind of stuff never will. But, then again, the world's a different place from when I was a little scrapper. Maybe if I'd have had access to more writing like this when I was a kid, I've have awakened much sooner -- and maybe some of my friends who went Jesus-nutty on me would have realized the big secret -- that "not everyone needs the threat of hellfire to act compassionately and morally" as you said. So, I hope some of those folks read this while they're out clicking on "next random blog" or whatever, and maybe a few will stop and think -- and realize a thing or two.

But, if I could just add one tiny and completely asinine point -- it's probably okay if you pound one out to Paris now & again.

8:34 PM  
Blogger teh l4m3 said...


PS: You must really have been in love, 'cos the first second I hear that Christer shit -- let alone "fags" this or "nigger" that -- there's a teh l4m3-shaped hole in the wall.

Then again, I found it hard to walk away from a guy I fell for even though he'd been married once before and was from Texas. Eep!

12:45 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

A letter to the editor:

For the record ... Eight years ago, I met the most intelligent, passionate, sensual, dedicated, hard working, moral, artistic, honest, talented and forgiving man in San Diego. The bizarre part of our meeting and me getting to know him was that he was a rock star and all of the characteristics that I mention above just didn't seem to fit the traditional profile. As hard as I tried, I just couldn't shake one loose and shorten the list. It's completely overwhelming when you see this man on stage, signing with the voice of an angel and playing his bass (strung right handed, flipped upside down and played left) and hammering the shit out of it. The words flowing out of him are his, and most often express his love and/or trials of things and people that have crossed his path in life. Having said all of this, it's no wonder that I fell madly in love with this man. He is everything that I had searched my entire adult life for. I so hoped that I would be lucky enough to be the chosen one and have the opportunity to walk beside this man for the rest of my life.

So now that everyone has my take on who this man is, I'm struggling with finding words that express my outrage when those that refer to themselves as "Christians" set out to attack him. To accuse him of everything that he isn't. To cause pain and chaos. More importantly, put forth so much foul effort in attempts to hurt the innocent. I am so tired of these people living behind their "forgiveness shield". How many times do we have to see the politicians, corporate leaders, priests, movie stars, child molesters and the preacher's wife on the nightly news to know that these people are the most immoral of all. They think nothing of lining their pockets with our hard earned buck, stealing retirement funds from those that had dedicated their lives to a corporation, molesting and in some cases murdering innocent helpless children, spewing vile racist remarks through their overpaid lips, or killing their spouse over a dispute about increasing ones spending allowance. We've all seen the news clip that runs after the "breaking news", it's the one where the accused is strolling up the steps of their religious bunker, seeking the forgiveness of baby jeebus. Or walking the green mile with arms and legs shackled and their last words always have to do with peace of mind as they have been forgiven for their many sins. All the while we know that their sins consisted of slashing the throats, burying alive, raping and sodomizing, abducting from the safety of their bedrooms, innocent, innocent, innocent victims. Are we to be taken as fools? I think not.

I spent nine very long years in a catholic school. I suffered by having to memorize prayer, bow to the cross and remember now important it was to "love thy neighbor". Be respectful of everyone and do the most with the short time given on this planet. All the while being stuck across the knuckles of my left hand because my brain told me to hold the pencil in the wrong one. Most often the results were just welts but occasionally a nasty gash. It took me a long time to bring this to the attention of my parents because of my fear of the nuns. I guess they didn't have to love thy neighbor. Once I finally had enough and found the courage to talk to my dad, he want absolutely ballistic! I have a very vivid memory or him taking me to school the next day (he was a very tall man and his stride was great). He had my hand in his and I felt like I was flying down that hallway just trying to keep up with him. The look upon his face was very concerned and serious. He broke through the doors of the main office and demanded an audience. Oh boy did he ever get an audience. He probably had the attention of everyone within a square mile. This was one Swede that had a way of making his point. If my memory serves me, he said "her mother and I don?t have a problem with her being left handed and neither should you. She's not cursed by the devil! You're all just too ignorant, closed minded and lazy to brush up on your studies and learn how to teach a lefty how to write." I remember the looks upon several faces because when my dad got upset, his Swedish accent took hold and he was difficult to understand. After everyone had a few minutes to make sense of what was said, they appeared shocked and scared. Needless to say, I'm still a lefty. The humorous side of this story is that my younger brother was three years behind and as luck would have it, got the same nun to instruct penmanship class. Once they confirmed that his father was the infamous Mr. Dahlberg, they deemed it perfectly fine that he too wrote with the wrong hand. That is exactly how they phrased it. It wasn't that he/she wrote with the left hand, it was always referred to as being the "wrong hand".

Ok ... so I got a bit off track but the moral the long story of my childhood writing escapade is this. It's perfectly clear that the people of god, know the different between right from wrong. But know nothing of the differences between right from left. Those of us that don't worship at the feet of a lord need to make it clear that we too are morally sound. We make good decisions about the directions that life takes us. We respect the people that we love and go out of our ways to help those that we don't even know. We rebuild the neighborhoods that are ignored by our self righteous administration. We volunteer and commit our lives to children that never had a chance. Those that are hungry and homeless. We take them in as our own, raise them to be good honest people while giving them moral guidance and strength to achieve their goals and break the vicious circle that they were born into. We protect our planet so the next generations have something to pass on to their own. We encourage. We strengthen. We protect. We love.

In closing, I wanted everyone to know that Bobby Lightfoot is a man of great character. If you understand the meaning of his words you'll understand exactly who is and what he stands for. He can rest peacefully at the end of each day knowing that he was kind and considerate of all those around him. Of those he loves and those that he has yet to meet. For those of you who are offended by his writing, don't venture into unknown territory. Stay safe in your bunkers, keep you head down while licking the ass of our administration, and remember to invest wisely cause you're going to find yourselves hungry and homeless and knocking on the door of Bobby's house. And you know what ... he's going to let you in.

He is the man I choose to raise my children with. Our adopted children. The same ones that were hungry and homeless. The same two boys that we love, protect and guide. The same two boys that will never fight a war of oil and riches.

Lori Lightfoot

10:21 AM  
Blogger The Viscount LaCarte said...

God Lori, that was fantastic. Bobby knows that I know.

We live in a world of contradiction - of polar opposites where what is said does not equate to what is - and it is very hard to make sense of it all to those of us who try to acheive some parity.

I was also raised a catholic - and while I could write volumes on sheer evil and corruption of the church - at least we were told that mere belief wasn't enough - you what you did still counted. That is just not so down here among the "SoBaps." All you have to do is believe and you are saved. It is a free pass here - a ticket to forgiveness. "I have nothing to worry about - I know the judge!" That mentality shocked me when I first came across it.

I'm an agnostic and the Viscountess is an atheist. She is the kindest, gentleist, most compassionate, most morally upstanding woman I've ever met, and in the abstract she is feared and reviled by the Chirstians. In the real, she is an enigma to them. They know she is an atheist, and yet she behaves like the true ideal of what Jesus said we should be.

Beautiful post Bobby and perfect follow-up Lori.

12:00 PM  
Blogger fgfdsg said...

Lori, that deserves to be a post in it's own right. You might feel honoured to be sharing your life with a man, but he feels the same way about you too.

My mother suffered through abuses by the Catholic Nuns that I now find abhorent to my very core. My grandmother didn't believe it, until she saw it for herself. I had my own experiences where I saw hypocrisy shown firsthand, and saw just how *evil* christians can be. One day i'll be brave enough to blog about them.

You know the 'left-handed' thing stems from the Catholic belief that it's the 'devil's hand' and that a sign that he's whispered in your ear and evidence you're easily under sway by Satan. The fact that christians have the time to think up such stupid rubbish show's they're not out their filling their time truly practicing helping their fellow man.

Every anti-abortionist out there... go out and give an unwanted child a home. Some people aren't fit to be parents, and if you would damn children to a life of abuse and neglect you're not a Christian. Don't judge... *help*.

8:48 PM  
Blogger Soundsurfr said...

Great post, Bobby.

You and I could be friends, even though you love niggers.

12:41 PM  
Blogger Bobby Lightfoot said...


5:37 PM  
Anonymous Flora said...

Wow, great post - I have not visited for awhile, but I obviously must stop by more often!

You said it all- people who love and are compassionate are just going to keep on being that way and doing what needs to be done, even with no imaginary friends looking over their shoulder making sure they are following all the rules. I find it highly insulting, and demeaning to everyone of intelligence and reason, when I hear that only the fear of punishment in the "afterlife" keeps us from tearing each other apart.

Have you heard that Death Cab For Cutie song "I Will Follow You Into The Dark?" I love this verse:

In Catholic school
As vicious as Roman rule
I got my knuckles bruised
by a lady in black.

I held my tongue
When she said "Listen, son,
Fear is the heart of love",
So I never went back.

I never had the "pleasure" of Catholic school but that just about sums it up, no?

2:12 AM  
Blogger teh l4m3 said...

PS: Hey Bobby. I'm really glad you made this post 'cos it inspired my latest. Thank you so very much.

It's over at my place, if you're interested. The Freedom Camp one, not the Jism Nation one, tho'. That latter's just some crazy gay shit...

7:01 PM  
Blogger mdhatter said...

man!, go mrs lightfoot.

you two really scored when you found each other, eh??

11:36 AM  
Blogger mdhatter said...

"it was always referred to as being the "wrong hand"."

that hand is just so .... siniser.

ag ga ga ga gug (popeye laugh)

11:39 AM  
Blogger mdhatter said...


(typo's kinda ruin the joke)

11:40 AM  
Blogger Highlander said...

Brilliant fucking post, Lightfoot. Sincerely. It just fucking rocks.

Can I call you a cocksucker in an entirely brotherly, Al Swearingen sort of way? Because you, sir, are one righteous cocksucker.

I've never understood why cocksucker is an insult, anyway. I've known a few cocksuckers in my day, and they were good company. I enjoyed my time with them. In fact, you could say that I seek out cocksuckers when I'm recruiting soulmates. Can't mate with my soul if you won't suck my cock, don't you know.

I guess that's provincial of me.

Thanks for dropping by my blog, too, cocksucker.

12:26 PM  
Anonymous Adorable Girlfriend said...

teh sent me over here and thanks to you and teh and all the commenters. It's all good stuff that needed to be said.

12:40 PM  
Blogger Bobby Lightfoot said...


it's all comin' together, man. Yeah, see, that's why I started using th' term "polesmoker". I'm with you, man. It's like calling a really good car mechanic a "car mechanic", y'know? You just don't disparage a high, high calling.

teh, girlfriend, hatter, and all you beautiful ruffputters- th' day is coming, man. hatter- the "maybe you should reconsider fighting for your beliefs" thing- chills, man. That is just colder than an icicle colonoscopy. Guy probably had to move to Croatia.

9:47 PM  

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