Entry XXIII--Mainstream Blasphemy

The gigantic shiny metal bird plummets to the ground at a fantastic pace.

This mighty jet, wounded with a gaping hole in her side, from an explosion.

Plane comes down so fast that some witnesses will later swear it felt more like that the ground itself was rushing upwards or lifted by some unseen force to cause the jarring, fiery crash with the helpless aircraft.

In an instant, this wounded phoenix denied spews sprawling, flaming debris here, there and everywhere.

Fortunately, the crash happened in an empty grass-less Kansas field; no people or livestock or even visible wild animals below were hit.

A few anthills might have bit the dust, but that's the way it goes.

Being so rural and remote, it's over an hour before the first firetrucks arrive on the horrific scene.

Clouds of smoke obscure the vision of the rapidly growing number of people on the scene. That and the flames, make it impossible for anyone to tell if there are any survivors, but it doesn't look good.

Then, after quite some time, unbelievable as it may seem, a solitary figure emerges from the insane twisted wreckage...

Me.

Disheveled+, face dirty with soot, and in definite need of a shower, but still in one piece, which is more than I can say for the aeroplane raging in flames behind me.

The first people I spot are firefighters, running past me as they drag a hose towards the plane.

As they pass me, each stares at me in complete and utter disbelief, like I'm an angel...

Or the devil himself.

Finally, one manages to put a coherent sentence together, asking me in utter incredulity, "Were you in that plane crash?"

Look back over my shoulder just to make sure. "Yeah" I inform him and his cohorts.

"Are there any other survivors?" a firewoman asks.

Look back over my shoulder one more time, and answer her in utter sincerity:

"I highly doubt it."

Another firefighter who has her wits about her has the wherewithal to stop, let go of her portion of the hose and throw a blanket she was carrying around me along with giving me a bottle of water.

Parched beyond the pale, I inhale the pure spring content.

The firefighter leads me to a medical vehicle that just rolled onto the scene where I'm given oxygen and a check of vital signs.

Not too much time passes until the first of the media trucks pulls up--and no surprise, it's a DVNC mobile unit.

One of the firefighters points me out to the DVNC producer as being the survivor and a Latino male producer and blond female reporter quickly approach me.

"Hello, I'm Joe Escovedo, a producer with DVNC. I understand you actually survived that plane crash?" After asking me, he looks back at the wreckage, as if he can hardly believe his own words.

Replay, as always, with an edge: "Yeah, that's what they're telling me."

He looks taken aback, "I must say you look remarkably well. We'd like to interview you for our live breaking news update, if you're up to it."

Shrug my shoulders, it's easier to just go along with things, like I went along with that crash. Didn't try to fight it, just rolled with the collisions and explosions and whatnot.

"Great," Escovedo says, grabbing me by the arm to physically position me in the precise spot he wants me to stand.

Soon a camera is pointed square at me, and the aforementioned shapely blond reporter is standing next to me, offering a microphone.

"Hi, Mr. Grimm. You don't mind if we call you Darwin, do you? Is it Darwin, isn't it?"

"It is Darwin."

"Well, Darwin, I'm Jessica Whidbey, I'll be interviewing you about your experiences. Just basic questions. Have you ever been interviewed for TV news before?"

Shake my head, "Can't say that I have."

She smiles reassurance: "Not to worry, just relax, speak from the heart, and explain as best you can what transpired on the airplane and in the aftermath of the crash. Normally, we could run through a couple of practice questions, but the bigwigs in New York want you on the air five minutes ago."

Did a reporter from DVNC actually just ask me to "speak from the heart"?

Another guy behind the camera holds up a white board to reflect light onto the faces of me and the attractive reporter. Her expression looks momentarily distracted, like she's getting direction in her earpiece...

And--BOOM--just like that, I'm on national television.

"This is Jessica Whidbey of DVNC--Midwest reporting live from the cornfield in Kansas where a tragic airplane crash has apparently killed everyone on board except for one person, the man standing right next to me--Darwin Grimm."

Jessica professionally shifts gears towards me:

"Mr. Grimm, can you tell us what happened?"

"Yeah, well, I'm still in a state of shock over the whole thing, it's kind of fuzzy as to what exactly happened up there...and down here."

Pause. Want to scratch an itch on my face, but can't for some reason. Think it's because the attractive reporter wouldn't want me to do something as unseemly as scratch an itch on cable's biggest news channel.

Continue: "There was a loud noise...an explosion. Lots of people screaming."

"And then what happened?" Jessica asks, demonstrating her amazing insight, knowing just what question to ask to draw the right response from me.

"Then the plane lost altitude, I reckon, and started plunging. Faster and faster. I wanted more than anything for it to slow down, for us to regain flight, even though I knew it wasn't going to happen. Before I knew it, we hit the ground and it was fire and smoke and bodies everywhere."

Jessica seems unsatisfied and presses me, "Yes, but how did you survive, Mr. Grimm?"

Still can't scratch that itch on my face. But do manage to look down involuntarily at my navel as I respond, "My seat-belt."

"Your...seatbelt?" she asks incredulous.

"Yeah it kept me in my seat, so I didn't fly out, and I managed to duck out of the way of the flying debris."

"How resourceful," Jessica replies, in a weak attempt at improvisation.

I nod, unsure what to say, still itchy and unsatisfied.

Jessica pauses for a split sec as she listens to someone talking in her ear, as if she's being fed a question.

"Mr. Grimm, at any point during the ordeal, did you pray?"

She says pray with such emphasis, it was like being cut with the word.

Much as I'd rather scratch that itch, I answer her:

"No, there is no one for me to pray to."

"What about God?"

"There is no God."

Suddenly, luscious Jessica turns viscous:

"How can you say that, at a time like this, Mr. Grimm?" Jessica asks rhetorically, gesturing to the burning wreckage in the background.

"It's precisely at a time like this that I do say it," answer resoundingly.

"Are you saying that you're an atheist Mr Grimm?" Jessica suggests.

With an audience of millions--billions?--decide to play the smart ass: "Jessica, was it? If I may call you that."

Don't wait for her to reply: "Jessica, from your tone I take it that you're not too thrilled with atheists? Fair enough, if that is your personal opinion, but you don't exactly come across as an objective journalist--if that is your aim.

"To answer your question--I'm not an atheist, I consider the possibility of the potential existence of metaphysical planes of existence; but if you want to call to call me that to simplify matters for the typical DVNC audience, be my guest.

On a roll now, the camera and mic are my allies: "But the bottom line and what you're getting at Jessica is, yes, as impossible as it may sound to you and your millions of viewers in DVNC-land, the sole survivor of the plane crash is opposed to Christianity and denies the existence of God.

"I can prove it to--if you'd ever care to interview me on that subject"

Flash a cocky smile, everything is coming easy to me now.

Still can't scratch though.

Jessica pauses to listen to her earpiece again, and then abruptly cuts the interview short, "Thank you, Mr. Grimm for sharing with us your harrowing experience."

Then she turns from me and looks directly into the inviting lens.

"As you can see, the experience has left Mr. Grimm quite shaken and even doubting his maker."

I start fuming, this broad is implying that I'm only expressing anti-Christian views because I'm freaked out over just surviving a plane crash.

But a production assistant escorts me away from Jessica and the camera before I can jump back into the picture and defend myself.

Wonder if they'll interview me again. Maybe they'll try to "coach" me to say the "right things"

Little do they know.

And even if they never interview me again, at least I got one shot to shock the world. The spotlight was cast upon me and I delivered the lines right on cue.

But godammit, still can't scratch that itch, my arm...just can't move my arm.

And then comes that moment of realization...it was only a dream.

Wake up in the requisite cold sweat.

That was as realistic a dream as I can remember; right up there with any I had as a kid.

Not unlike the visions of Xmas Eve, and those times with Ms. Cabal. Still have never gotten a clear-cut answer as to whether she behind those visions--it's frustrating not to know what they're about, but whatever the answer is, its not coming to me today.

Tired of dreaming and thinking.

Rub my eyes, expecting them to be filled with daylight when opened, but alas, tis still nightfall.

No chance of sleeping again, at least not for a couple hours.

So I do what people with insomnia often do but I didn't before because I didn't have the means.

But I do now; a 42-inch opto-electronic laser TV that Ms. Cabal bought for me and had installed on my apartment wall. Color is amazing, sometimes seems more vibrant than reality. Certainly more vibrant than any of the colors in my still dark and dingy apartment.

And cramped apartment.. Did I mention it's very cramped? Damn screen is so big, to make it fit on the most suitable wall, had to rearrange the whole fucking efficiency, including having to push my bed too close to the door.

Now whenever the “neighbors” go in or out of their place, I get to listen to every tedious detail of their lives discussed with every turn of their doorknob. (Of course, now they can be drowned out by jacking up the volume of said big screen TV).

Once that book tour or whatever is over, I'm moving the fuck out of this loser apartment.

Part of me wonders if half the reason Ms. Cabal bought me the TV was to inspire me to move.

She was equally disappointed to learn that have a satellite dish, I've just got digital cable, which has more than enough channels for the likes of me.

Flip around for something to catch my eye at this 3 AM hour.

What's this on DVNC? The location graphic reads: NAUGLES, TX

Given that the scene is during the daytime, I know it isn't live breaking news, but a replay of a earlier report.

Opening shot is wide; a group of people gathered around the front of a house. So many it’s impossible to tell exactly what they’re congregating over.

Everything’s always so overproduced, shot and edited so slickly by DVNC, that every bit of news looks like some Hollywood production.

The state of the art digital vid technology they employ gives everything they shoot a “cinematic” texture, blurring the already microscopically thin line between entertainment and news. This is alleged to be DVNC's innovation--more like their distortion.

We, the viewers, are subjected to a series of close-ups of several of the gathering; a few are crying. All wear genuine profundity over that which they witness.

One woman, a Latina grandmother mired somewhere in her 60’s, gushes a virtual river of tears, so much that a rather sexy young woman standing beside her (a granddaughter?) is relegated to drying the old woman’s eyes with a handkerchief.

Then, a very clever dissolve, from grandma’s tears to the tears softly dripping from a statute.

A statue of the virgin mary. A weeping virgin mary.

In the background, subtle "celestial" type music is played, to enhance the perception that this is a legitimate spiritual event.

The next image nearly knocks me off my e-z chair: The female reporter, about to speak...is the same blond ice princess--Jessica Whidbey--who interviewed me in the dream I just had.

Find it hard to believe she's real. Must have been watching her all these years on DVNC but never registered it consciously.

Yeah, that's it. No other possible way she seeped into my reverie.

With the same voice and manner in which she reported on the plane crash Jessica reports for real this time: “Naugles, Texas has been hit extremely hard by the New Inflation. People are out of work, and those who have jobs are finding it harder and harder to stretch the dollars they do make.

“Maybe that is why the front lawn of Margarita Martinez is attracting so much attention. It's giving these downtrodden people something to believe in. For on this lawn sits a statue of the Virgin Mary, mother of Jesus Christ, actually emitting tears."

Roll my eyes at that comment, but the pupils practically fall out of their respective sockets when Jessica admits:

“I have to report to the DVNC viewers that I personally have witnessed the statue of the Virgin Mary crying. It is truly one of the most incredible sights I have ever personally witnessed. You hear about these things happening all over the world, but it’s hard to believe, unless you truly see it take place before your eyes.”

Hoax! Cruel one, at that. The statue of Mary is obviously hollowed out, and a mini-hose or something akin is being used to emit the “tears” from tiny drilled holes which are then painted over, but there’s still enough space for the water to get through. The christian tricksters behind this probably put salt in the water just in case someone wants to taste it.

And why is Mary always crying, by the way? Isn't she like the queen of Heaven or whatever, she should be ecstatic, ferchristsake.

It's the good people of Naugles, Texas that should be crying. No jobs or money, but dammit, they got a crying statue of a mother of a god.

The fact DVNC would devote so much coverage to this nonsense even more frightening than the nonsense itself.

But it’s really not surprising, if one knows who controls DVNC.

Their owner, Red Saunders, a former flamboyant playboy billionaire, who used to own a pro football team, is now a hardcore “born again” who forces every DVNC employee to sign a “moral code pledge” that they will not smoke, drink gamble or use vulgarity at any times, even while off work. Even Saunders couldn't get them to sign a 'abstinence from pre-marital sex' clause

All Internet use at DVNC is monitored, and all sites with any “controversial” material (anti-christian, liberal, anarchistic, etc.) are completely blocked from any access. Sometimes, it's used as justification to outright fire an employee.

Funny, thinking about all that reminds me that it's been months since I've corresponded with my fellow conspiracy maven, Tom Sawyer. He doesn’t even know about the book, and I’m still debating whether I should tell him that his paranoid pen-pal is about to become America’s most controversial author...

Just not motivated to correspond with him, or anyone, nowadays.

Only want to bury my fice in Ms. Cabal's vajunt again. Everything else, like watching TV, is just a distraction. Waiting around, never getting to do what I really want.

Having seen far more than enough of the weeping porcelain, flip the dial around and round the cable landscape...

Find a documentary on author Robert Heinlein to stave off boredom.

Too bored to even fall asleep; Have to be comfortable to sleep.


Watching TV for the sake of watching TV these days. Don't feel like reading anything and sure as hell don't want to write a single word, not even a fucking grocery list. When food is needed, just email a pre-selected list of my 'staples' to the local grocer, and they have someone deliver a box to my door. Guy (or girl) just knocks and walks away, so there's no interpersonal contact whatsoever, the way I like it these days.

Wish the food could just instantaneously appear in my fridge and in my cabinets, so wouldn't even have to go through the effort of opening the door and bending over into the hallway. Someone else in the building might see me, like the aforementioned couple.

Have to admit, though, watching TV all the time is an easy indulgence to slip into. Especially when there's really nothing else to do until the book is released and the promotional tour starts.

Could spend the time wandering the streets of San Francisco and play tourist--could be my last chance before I become big and famous after Halloween.

Won't be able to walk a block without being mobbed for autographs, people shoving copies of the Bye Bull in my face to my left and to my right; I'll have to run through a gauntlet of my own books.

Yeah, that's how it'll be alright.

But just the fact am becoming aware of my couch potato stagnation means it's getting to be an issue--or at least I'm letting it become an issue.

More half-asleep than half-awake as I browse from channel to channel, in search of something that may captivate for more than a moment's notice...

Inevitably, like death, taxes and SOMETHING THAT ANNOYS ME THAT WOULD PISS OFF PEOPLE BEING PLACED IN SUCH A CONTEXT (annoying relatives?) land on DVNC, and wouldn't ya know--Rev Gen Pleasant, being interviewed on one of their lame-o 'profile Segments', to further promote his image and agenda among DVNC viewers, of course, but also, to the greater public-at-large. If Pleasant or this doofus sitting next to him says something noteworthy, it'll be picked up by other forms of media; Internet, newspapers, magazines, other TV channels, eager to bask in DVNC's dominance. That's one of the ways DVNC extends its influence in subtle but still nefarious ways.

This set-up reminds me a bit of that xmas eve interview I saw in that liquor store, although this isn't as shameless as that cornball fireside chat.

Besides, this time, Pleasant isn't alone, seated next to a blond haired, blue eyed broad shouldered chap wearing a custom made business suit that exudes power and wealth. Feel like I know the creep, or should know him, but writing the book has put me in such a zone that only know am acclimating myself with the world-at-large--be it mainstream reportage or obscure conspiracy theories. With the help of satellite television and of course, the Internet, I've gotten more integrated with the world at large even as I stagnate on this couch.

The DVNC host with the name Brian Mackenzie is a generic talking ahead, nothing more than a moderator/representative for the network, offering nothing in the way of personality or any sort of divergent opinion from those being offered by his guests.
His carrot field shock of red hair is the only thing that sets him apart from virtually every other DVNC talking head. The differences are visual; a redhead here, a blond there, a male here, a female here, you think you're getting diversity of reportage, but it's all under the same conformist DVNC umbrella.

"Hello, I'm Brian Mackenzie Welcome to the DVNC's In Their Own Words, though today, you'll be offered two for the price of one."

Mackenzie pauses to chuckle at his own joke, a pathetic gesture to interject some kind of "personality" onto the proceedings, though Pleasant seems to get a rise out of it, offering a guffaw of his own. The younger blond man remains silent, tight-lipped yet confident, supremely focused. Of course he's a christian, he's got the cult look in the brow, and he wouldn't be holding such a prominent position sitting next to the most holy Pleasant if he weren't.

Mackenzie continues, as comfortable as could be with these two men: "As I'm sure my of the viewing public is familiar with my first guest, one of the most famous men in America, a real man's man, and a real gentleman. And there's not too many people you can say that about, especially these days. He's the 'gentle general' Supreme Commander of the U.S. Total Defense Coalition that was victorious in the Great Middle East war that finally liberated the Free World once and for all from the tyranny of Islamic terrorism. He then turned his life over to the Lord when he founded the Crusaders of the New Millennium. He is, of course, Rev Theodore Pleasant. Welcome, Gen--excuse me, Reverend Pleasant. You must forgive me, but it's just that I am in such awe of your prowess of the battlefield that it's hard for me to forget you are no longer a general. Welcome once more to the program, Rev Pleasant"


Jeez Louise, if this Mackenzie guy fluffs Pleasant any harder he's about to spew out all over the stage. If the old man's able to get it up for Mrs. Rev Pleasant, that is.

At least the aging hero is still able to flash his million-dollar smile as he responds: "Thank you, Brian, it is indeed an honor to have another opportunity to speak to the American people on your fine telecast."

"And we are equally honored tonight to have in our presence Mr. Derrick King, founder of Shepherd's Gate MAYBE, the outstanding, and frankly groundbreaking, military contracting company, which is part of the U.S. military's 21st Century concept of the 'Total Force' employing both traditional military forces with those of the private sector and one that saw the COMPANY play a major, if not outright decisive role in the U.S. victory in the Middle East Wars. For that, an entire nation is in his debt. So we thank you for that, and for appearing for the first time ever on In Their Own Words"

"Thank you for having me and Rev Pleasant as your guests, Brian," King answers, his clear and confident, but not too loud voice an effective contrast to Pleasant's genteel manner.

Hearing his voice for the first time--suddenly for some reason has me remembering that I have heard of this guy previously--Tom Sawyer sent me some stuff on him. But I'd have to comb my memory to recall exactly what King's connections are, sure they're nefarious, but for now would rather concentrate on what's transpiring:

Mackenzie: "Now I understand that both of you have some big news for us and that it relates to one another."

Pleasant: "That is correct, Brian. Very exciting news to share with your audience."

Mackenzie: "Well, then, why don't you go first, age before beauty."

All three men laugh, although in King's case, it don't come easy, but he's able to force enough through to appease the masses, who demand happiness.

Meanwhile, Mackenzie keeps buttering them up, "And of course, two important men like you wouldn't be here if you didn't have something extremely exciting to share with us, isn't that so?"

Pleasant smiles the smile of the eternally victorious while answering, "Yes, Brian, it is very exciting. I am proud to announce that we will be building a series of new Christian-oriented living facilities called 'Crusader Community', which will be established in various regions, including central Maine, southern Maryland, northeastern Florida, southeastern Ohio, north Arkansas, eastern Oregon, southern New Mexico, northwestern Nebraska and central Montana."

Hmmm, strategic locations covering a wide swath of America. Coincidence? As if anything with the Crusaders ever is?

"Sounds quite ambitious," Mackenzie lauds, "do you have any long-term goals for these communities?"

"Our long-term goal is to establish each Crusader Community as a self-sustaining, fully autonomous community that offers an alternative to Christian Americans who are fed up with the immoral contradictions of the secular world."

"But you'll still be a part of America?" Mackenzie asks, uncertain, but phrasing his query in such a way that he seems confident of Pleasant's response.

"Oh but of course, Brian. America is ultimately, a Christian Nation, but the secular world has taken firm hold in the culture-at-large, so to further answer your original question, our ultimate long-term goal is to have our Crusader Communities spread out and transform the cultures which surround the communities, and eventually, the states which surround Crusader states."

Instead of being alarmed at this overt plotting of theocracy, Mackenzie is impressed, "Do you really think you can have that kind of influence?"

"I'm certain of it, Brian, because people, whether they're fully committed to Christ or they're just dipping their toes in the water, they are looking for something bigger than themselves to latch onto. Something to give their lives a higher purpose, a true meaning a spiritual call to arms."

Always with the arms.

Surprised Pleasant is admitting so much. Maybe he's convinced he's got so many christian Americans in his pocket, he can be so brazen.

Mackenzie presses on: "When do you plan on having the first of the Crusade Communities established, Reverend Pleasant?"

"Work is progressing rapidly, Brian, almost a little too fast for an old-timer like me. We are not prepared to make any official statements at this time, but I can tell you that the first Crusader Community will be established in Florida, a state with a rich Christian tradition--few people know that Saint Augustine, Florida was the first city established in U.S. history."

Mackenzie nods approval, but I focus on the fact Pleasant never actually said when that "first Crusader Community" will open, which might mean that he doesn't have the money he thought he would for such a project. Then again, Pleasant might just be answering intentionally cryptic for his own purposes; like he said, no 'official statements' yet.

Already sensing that his questioning with Pleasant has reached a impasse--whatever the Reverend's reasoning, Mackenzie turns his attention to King, his wide shoulder muscles tightening in anticipation of his first question, via his body language it's not hard to tell King lacks Pleasant's vast television experience.

"Mr. King, what will be the function of Shepherd's Gate in relation to the Crusader Communities?"

A softball question if there ever was one, let's see Shepherd's swing.

"As you know, Brian, Shepherd's Gate has positioned itself as a 'one-stop shop' for the U.S. government's contracting requirements, be it overseas support as part of the 'Total Defense' concept, or disaster relief, such as the devastating Guatemalan earthquake last year, or now, in providing domestic security services, such as we will be doing for Rev. Pleasant's Crusader Communities. Shepherd's Gate's years of experience of security contracting in the most high-intensity military situations has placed us in an unique position of being able to offer very selective security solutions."

Translation: Shepherd's Gate's years of receiving fat no-bid government contracts has resulted it in becoming a multi-billion dollar organization, amassing a vast arsenal of state-of-the-art weaponry in the process. Not just talking an endless array of various guns here; but also small rockets, a fleet of helicopters, jeeps, and custom designed for warfare all-terrain vehicles that aren't far off from being tanks. In other words, Prince has assembled a private army like no other in the world. A private army that some analysts have said could take down many other countries' military forces. A private army that could be utilized to overthrow a U.S. military way too overstretched overseas--or worse, a U.S. military that does not resist being overthrown--and establish a christian theocracy in this country.

Mackenzie: "Without giving away any trade secrets, can you share any of the security practices you'll be using at the Crusader Communities."

Kings' shoulder tense even more, but in his eyes you can tell he's found something he can reveal and his words flow smoothly: "I can tell you this, Brian, that we will have the capability of identifying those individuals who might harbor a resentment towards Rev. Pleasant, the Crusaders, or the Christian Church in general, and then we have established security perimeters to ensure that no such individuals enter the Crusader Community without the permission of a Crusader Community resident."

Sounds creepy. Chuckle in realization that I'll never be visiting a 'Crusader Community' anytime soon. Unless Ms. Cabal could pull one of her strings and get me a townhouse or whatever it is they're planning to build.

If anyone could pull it off, it'd be her, with all her money and influence. Ha! That'd be a real gasser, me living in a Crusader Community. JOKE/IRONIC STATEMENT



WHY ARE THEY THERE TOGETHER
COULD BE PLEASANT BECOMING A PART OF SHEPHERD'S GATE
OR PLEASANT ANNOUNCING THE FORMATION OF A NEW CRUSADER'S COMMUNITY IN WHICH BORN AGAIN CHRISTIANS CAN LIVE TOGETHER AND THAT SHEPHERD'S GATE WILL BE PROVIDING THE SECURITY
NOW THAT WAR IS OBSOLETE, KING NEEDS TO JUSTIFY SHEPHERD'S GATE'S EXISTENCE AND PROVIDING DISASTER RELIEF AND DOMESTIC SECURITY IS JUST HOW THAT'LL BE DONE,
KING EXPLAINS



THE ACTUAL VIEWING OF THE BYE BULL AD IS SEPARATE

OPENS WITH

Close to setting some kind of record here. Haven't gotten out of my TV seat, except to shit piss eat and drink (the latter two of course inevitably leading to the former two)

Been watching TV for a week straight now, since that dream. Have barely slept since then and bathing hasn't even been a consideration. Ms. Cabal wouldn't think I'm so attractive now, she wouldn't be so eager to plop me in front of any TV cameras to be interviewed to promote the Bye Bull.

Flick the channel like it's a musical instrument, creating rhythms, ten seconds on one channel where a whale is in crisis, then blip-blip-blip through three more, a flash of a commercial, a reality show and another commercial then five seconds on a pair of tits on some cop show, then blip-blip-blip once more. It's like conducting the most pathetic symphony on Earth. Emphasis on the phony.

Spend half a minute on a documentary about mountain climbers, till I blip-blip-blip,
a news report about a fire, a commercial, and an image of the Bye Bull.

Wait, what was that?

Thrown so badly off-guard that I fumble with the remote, trying to get the picture back

And there it is, the Bye Bull, in all its glory, on my TV screen.

Holy shit! This is the commercial for it--Ms. Cabal didn't tell me when it was going to be on

Immediately cease the inner dialogue; any analysis or introspection will have me missing what's transpiring on the screen.

Cool, doesn't seem like I've missed anything as the image of the Bye Bull cover dissolves to that of a boy, on the verge of adolescence, walking into the family kitchen.

His mother and father are at the table, innocuously going over bills.

After a moment of hesitation, the boy speaks: “Mom…Dad…some kids at school stole the answers to a test we got coming up.”

His parents are mollified.

He quickly reassures them, “Don’t worry, I’m not going to cheat. But I don’t know if I should turn them in, I mean, they’re my friends. What should I do?”

His father looks at the boy, frankly, and says, “It’s not what you would do, Michael. The question you must ask is: What would Jesus do?

His mother nods affirmation as she looks to her son.

The boy is obviously confused, as he asks: “But weren’t we taught that Jesus is the Son of God? I’m not Jesus.”

An immediate 'cut' to the image of christ, one of those famous portraits where the messiah is depicted most beatifically.

Then, a voice-over, that of a strong woman with a rich tone.

“Christianity offers a lot of confusing advice. What has happened to a culture which lets its religion do its thinking for it?”

If I didn't know better, I'd swear that was Ms. Cabal's voice narrating.

Cut to: Some extremely raw video footage, a startling contrast to the polished, Hollywood-style narrative footage just witnesses--or perhaps an answer to her rhetorical question.

The footage appears to be from some sort of closed circuit surveillance. It’s focused on a medical building, the “Southern Alabama Clinic for Women”

Then, a startling, sudden BLAST of white light and red flame.

After a few seconds of dust, it’s apparent the clinic has been blown up.

Female voice-over: “What has happened to a culture in which the predominant religion of Christianity endorses violent acts against innocent targets?”

An abrupt cut to the c.c. camera's view--a shot of the wreckage after the bomb exploded; a cloud of dust, a gaping hole where the front door used to be, and a very visible corpse where life used to be.

Mutter "jesus" involuntarily. Commercial's genuinely hitting me in the gut--a good sign.

Female V.O.: "Is this what Jesus would do?"

Cut to a portrait of christ hanging from the crucifix, utterly defeated and filled with death.

“In a culture where this is the result of Christian politics, maybe it's time the culture needs a new voice.”

Then the image of christ literally burns away….

And is replaced by…

The Bye Bull cover, just as it appeared in the opening shot.

Ha! Talk about blasphemy; right here on regular cable TV.

Impressive, dramatic (yet not pretentious) orchestral music plays in the background as the woman's voice-over resumes: “Bye Bull by Darwin Grimm, is a collection of original essays that challenge the conventional acceptance and dominance of Christianity in American culture.

“You've been told for 2000 years how Christianity thinks. Isn’t it time you tried listening to the other side?”

“Bye Bull , published by Apogee Writ. Available October 31st wherever books are sold and online at www.darwinblinks.com.”

And in a flash, it's all over. Already regretting not taping it, but can imagine it'll be available on the Internet or someone from Apogee Writ can mail me a copy, now that I've seen it. Ms. Cabal wouldn't let me have any input into the ad, saying that was a matter for marketing and publicity, which requires an objective presence. Not sure I agree, but too late now.

For the first time in days, have absolutely no interest in watching TV, which is turned off immediately; instead will now process what I've just seen.

Don't think I'm going to have to turn the set back on again tonight.

How clever of Ms. Cabal (or whoever wrote this, maybe some Battery St. hack)to blame the clinic bombing on 'christianity' in general, and no specific denomination or religious leader, even though the temptation to include that jackass Pleasant must have been strong. That way no one can sue for defamation, unless jesus himself wants to reappear to take Ms. Cabal to court.

Of course, I'm the one who'll be associated with the ad; Ms. Cabal will likely remain behind the shadows, as is her preference it seems.

Enough of the negative though; how crazy is it that the Bye Bull has gone from being a bunch of disparate ideas rummaging about my noggin for years and years, with absolutely no hope of ever being collected in cohesive form, let alone released by a serious publishing house, to the star of its very own big budget commercial?

Wonder what kind of response/controversy it'll generate

And can't forget about what kind of weird coincidence was that? Flipping channels at random and I stumble right across it.

Although with all the weird shit surrounding Ms. Cabal, can it purely be attributed to 'coincidence'? Not that it could ever be explained that she could actually prearrange for me to randomly click on the exact channel at the precise moment in which the ad was running--and at the very beginning of the spot, mind you.

Still, it'd been nice to have known in advance. I would have popped some corn.

END OF SCENE





Still can't believe Ms. Cabal didn't tell me about it. We haven't spoken since she bought me the TV. Knowing her cryptic ways, getting me the big screen was probably her way of telling me the commercial was going to air.

But it took a weird coincidence for me to actually see it. Would have been nice to have known in advance, I would've popped some corn.


The next day...I called Ms. Cabal and she told me that one of her assistants emailed me that the commercial was going to air. She told me to check my "bulk" folder and it'd probably be there.

She reminded me the most important thing is that I finally saw it and I thought it was effective, which I do.

Want to ask her why she couldn't have had one of her assistants mail me an advance DVD of the commercial, but I don't have the guts. It'd just annoy her and I don't want to do that.

Thanked her for her time, not sure when we'd speak again, she said she'd be in touch "soon"

Immediately checked my bulk mail and found the email from her assistant notifying me that the Bye Bull ad would begin airing in August on select channels (in other words, those with integrity--or the need for sponsors).

So until that time when Ms. Cabal contacts me again, I'll wait, seemingly existing only to be animated by her, serving her grand designs of profit and...?

And this time I'll make sure to check the bulk folder...



Then, cut to some archival news footage. It’s Rev. Pleasant, preaching a sermon, hands whipping up in the air feverishly.

Suddenly, a bit of “movie magic” as an old reel of Hitler giving a speech, and contorting his arms just like the Rev., is inserted next to Pleasant,

Ms. Cabal did promise me a controversial commercial--which reminds me, why didn't she tell me this commercial was already airing?

But back to Pleasant, geez, going after a war hero. On top of the anti-christianity, this commercial is some kind of sacred cow slaughterhouse.

Pleasant will likely be bitching about this one before I even wake up, seeing as he’s on the East Coast.

Maybe he'll opt for the "classy, dignified" response by not responding at all.

The deep woman's voice over returns: “What has happened to a culture that chooses demagogues to lead them?”

Tonight she doesn't need me though, the Bye Bull will be promoted all by its lonesome.

That's why I sit here tonight with purpose, though I may be covered in scum.

For tonight is the very first public airing of the TV commercial

Was a little ticked off that I wasn't consulted about the content of the ad--hell, didn't even get to see an advance copy on videotape, but Ms. Cabal insisted this is all part of the marketing and publicity of the book, so it's out of my hands.

Plus, she said she wanted it to be a surprise for me.

HAVE TO CHANGE THE COMMERCIAL, TAKE OUT THE HITLER COMPARISON, BUT LEAVE THE WWJD INTRO

At the first commercial break, resist the urge to flip to the next channel, as I typically do.

Something tells me to keep watching.

And the next image I see is the cover of Bye Bull , filling up pretty much all 42 inches of the laser screen.

Am I still dreaming? Or is the dream having me?

It doesn't take long to register--that was the same image I saw on the hill, on that christmas eve, which has always felt like the night this whole odyssey of mine began.

It might seem impossible; but then, how possible is it that I wrote a book that is being advertised on an elaborate, high budget TV commercial?