CHRIST NEVER SHOWED UP!

THE TEMPLE ON HOLD!

JOE IS A AA SCREENEWRITER!@

200 million an cxouting! I figure ee there isx a SEQUEL in THE WOKRS! THE PASSION 2!

Jo has jus t the idea: Recenet events INspire Joe!

FADE INN: Stone rolls waway. Jusus hobbles out, all bea t to shit, blleeding like amother. MArys ees him as sc4reams.cut tO:

Apostles on the road:L Scary fucked up jesus appares. They preetend to not know him (who would) he is FUCKE D UP and bleedin everywhwer.

CUtt to:

{Parety: aposotles hanging: Jesus ruins the aparty!

AScendes!
CUT TO:
HEAVEN: God is pised at little boy Jesus"YOu scre3wed up the mission! " I Said Mission Acoomplishee, DAddy!

NO! You mus ssuffer more.

40! Fouerty! MINUTES of BEATING ! 1, 2, 3 445678910 8111 trwelve 134 14 1545 18 n9niting 20 21 2002 alllthe tway to 40 M(NUTES of JESUS CHRIS BEING BEAT UP BY HIS FATHER WHO IS GOD!

WHO IS GOD! Can you imagine how much that WOULD HURT! A punishment laid out by7 the God who DROWNED TH WHOLE EARTH!

THene we show Jewus Sucking air throug h a tube (Joe konw about this from HIS puhishment -- brain trumor operation -- ) and God saying, wake him , it's time for mor!

NOw an hour! Jesus cry and weep and suffer more than Mel coulddd ever think up!

Pass out!

God say: Kick him some morE.

THe en d is Jesusu all fucked up and bound to a chair ffforr all eternity WATCHIGN...

WATCHING JOE'S LIFE ON TELEELVISION!
For all eternity!

That's a billllion dollar movie!

DID YOU EVER HAVE A PUPPUT!@
THat always fallowd you around?

Here's the lirics from RIVER DEAAP MOUTNATIN HIGH BY TINA TURNER:

"When you wer ea young boy, did you have a pupppy that always followd you around
I want to be as FAITHFDUL as that Puppppy, you knooow I"l always bbe around!"


RIVER DDEPMOUNTAIN HIGH! I thougght it was PUPPET! 1

I wasted my life on puppets!

And I weated my life on JSus!

And I wasteed my life on QAshely!@

And I wasted my entire life on E.G! WEho just fuckingh lefyt wihtut a Explanatiaon or antyihing.

TYis one hurst the most!
BUILD THE TEMPLE!

ALONE! ALONE! ALONE!

again

MY LAST SERMON

E.G. here. Yes, now even I am calling myself that. Why not? No one knows my real name, not even you. So this is E.G.'s final entry in this little tragedy.

I'm moving on. Not because of any lack of kindness on Joe's part, but because I've told him this story three times now. And Joe loves it. Tears streaming down his face. And he loves me for telling it. And it's just about the most painful story ever.

So I'll tell it here and pack the bags. And this will be my final gift to Joe, who really doesn't deserve his life, but who does?

He may delete it later, and so, if so, goodbye.

And now, for Joe. And, as he says on each telling, "WITH FEELING!"

THE STORY OF MY LAST SERMON

The setting is a beautiful church on a cliff. The blue waters of the Pacific Ocean can be seen from the pews, from the altar. Where I stand. Starched white collar and everything else black as death. For this is a funeral.

The funeral of my son.

The hymns have been sung, the prayers repeated, the scripture read. I stand before God's people, "my" people:

"Sinners."


E.G.

THOUGHT FOR THE DAAY!

From Tim toe Time Joe will allowww a question and ana answer:

Q: Where is the Temple?
A:None of your busineess Jeol or Richrard J or Ashelyor any Goth or Wren fairy who lives!

ON TO BUSINESSA:

Am i wRITGH! is NOT E.G> the most brillian t mother mother mother f oaf all time: If you've red his writings here WHICH I HAVE NOT

I HAVE NOT READ A WORD HE WRITS CUZ you have to

HEAR IT! to hear him tlell it is like oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooh; to see his beauttiful face, offten bleeding, tell theswe words, tell theesses worsds!

He sleeps or I wolud aske him to give you that pale reeflection, that like a mirror held up to a fire, BELIEVE ME YOU COULD feel that heat~~!

Who nnedds Jesus th4e Welfare Whore wqhen you got E.G.!

Is my Blog HOT
or NOT?

HEY I TOLD YOU I HAD GGGOOD SENSE

E.G Is stil l here an I am that tt mcuh cllser t o the TEMPLE wiht my work todayu. LEt me tll you abou the TEMPLE: IT WILL BURN!
a
and I didntot deltee anything that EG WRITSES:

Enough, leett me say hell o to EG and let him Talk: YOU HAVE NVER HEARD TALk LIKE THIS! HE IS BARRABAS! HE IS MY NEW FRIEND!

Her'es's EG..:

Okay Joe I AM BARRABUS

The crowd asked for a Sacrifice that day. They could have released Jesus Christ and spared him the pain of the long walk up to Calvary hill and his horrible execution there.

But instead they released a horrible misshapen monster. ME!

I am not literally that man. I am me. Jack Grey, Jakob Gradus, Jeremy Glassner. I go by many names. But in this little pit with the brand new computer, I am known as E.G.

My host, Joe, says "go to it". He says “spread your message.” He shows me his web page, he shows me all the hateful writing he sends to the Pope, to every local minister he can find an address for, his love letters to Mel Gibson.

And he asks me to repeat the story that made him love me in that alley two days ago. After he beat me so badly that I almost wished I was dead. Almost.

He thinks my ideas are important. That they could form the beginning of a “new world religion.” And he says the government is “on my side.”

Read this Joe. Read it and kick me out of your home. I will not take a thing. I have no use for this, it will not spare me the horror that you feel entitled to.

Kick me out, or I will tell that same old story, just for your sake.

ALLOW ME TO INTRODUCE MYSELF

I’m Jack Grey. This is not my real name. Nor it is Jakob Gradus. Nor is it Jeremy Glassner. I generally do stick to some variation on these initials. Which is why I find it astounding that my host and current benefactor, Joe McCain, if that’s his real name, insists on calling me E.G.

There is a lot to wonder about this man. But I must insist that he is a good man.

For example, I now sit alone in his apartment, which is no Taj Mahal, but it is filled with many items, all of them brand new, that a man without a home would gladly take. He would sell them, this man, and buy drugs or booze or women, whatever was his particular poison.

For all my host knows, I am that man. I found him last night hurting four men in an alley. These were helpless men, lost men. I found myself drawn to this whirling demon, his complete surrender to anger, to his utter lack of remorse, or was it a lack of worry about recompense?

Intrigued, I allowed myself to become the fifth man who he hurt that evening.

Then we got to talking.

And we ended up back here. No sex. No more need to hurt. To be honest, I would have accepted both from him. For a warm bed. And a belief in love.

I don’t believe in a real love. But I am amazed that Joe McCain would motor off this morning in his little beat-up car and just leave a desperate awful man like me here.

But I won’t take Joe McCain’s expensive stuff. Mostly because it wouldn’t do me any good.

But I lie, it’s because I’m damned and Joe isn’t!

I’ll post this and Joe can delete it later, but even if you didn’t read it, it was good knowing you.

EG

I BROke A PROMEISE THIS TIME!

And THIS TIME: I GOT A A WONDERFUL THING BACK!
Yes,I Joe Mcpuppet declare that I was 1) weak) 2 went back to every sho2wing of the Passions OF the Crhist from Noooon to Midnight and yes yes syes KICKED 3) the shit out of the first second an dthrird Homless man I could find. But NUMBER FOUR:

NUMBER FORU is my new friend E>G. That’s what I can undersantd his name to be: is EG. It’s shor t for something but

I TESTIFY THAT I AM NO LONGER THE SOLLLE AUTHER OF THIS POSitTING cux EG NOW WRITES WITH ME For awa SWLONG AS HE WILL STAY here:

Here’s EG:

Hello. My name is Jack Grey. Joe McCain continues to call me E.G. Which is not my name or my initials, but it’s just fine with me. He offers me a warm place to sleep tonight, and a chance to touch a keyboard for the first time in a long time. If I’m lucky, I will take a shower tommorrowGODdeqam right yYOU can SHitttt hin the Shwoer!

It seems that I will be able to take that shower.

Signing off for Joe and me Jack.