Bless me father....for I'm a greedy bastard.

Have you heard about this Rev. Long (unfortunate name for what he's accused of)? I was watching it on the news and it was pretty much your standard "big religious guy grooming teenage boys for sexual favors".

I know, sad that is a 'standard' story in this day and age.

Now...nothing makes me madder...we've been over this. I think kiddie diddlers should be shot on sight (as well as turds that hurt animals...but that's another blog).

Then they said in the news report, "...he lured the boys with luxuries like: rides in the Reverend's Royal Royce, trips in his Leer Jet and jewelry..."

TIME OUT!

Now...I know this Long dude is the preacher for one of these mega churches..but I'm pretty sure Jesus cruised around in sandals. Jesus sure didn't fly in a jet. And ya know what...he sure as shit didn't have no jewelry!

You know what the biggest crime is here...that "men of the cloth" abuse their power and preach to folks about how they should be humble. THAT'S the real crime. This jack ass has pix in his bathroom with gold faucets and a bath tub that looks like a swimming pool. I'm sorry...but that's WRONG!

Not the pix...but the fact his bathroom cost more than I'll ever see in my lifetime!

Papa Ratzi ain't no better. The Pope sits on his gold throne, with his fur capes and handmade Italian shoes and tells his penniless priests and nuns to kiss his big-ass gold ring.

All the good the church does is built on the backs of those priests and nuns! Scraping together a few bucks to put on programs for the neighborhood kids and fund local charities. (they got issues too, but it's still a HUGE charitable organization)

And yet, the Pope stands in his lil window in the Vatican and tells his people to cinch their belts and offer it up to God. Then someone carries his silk train of his fancy gowns and takes a nap on is million thread count sheets and dreams of....well lets not go there.

It makes me sick.

All you "holy men" talking about who God would punish and send to hell.....better take stock. You might be surprised that the afterlife for you....is lil "warmer" then you're expecting.

41 days...but who's counting?

Yes...I have a countdown clock. I got it at the day after Halloween sale at Spirits. That's like Mecca to me. I travel there every year to pay homage to next years yard haunt.

Plus prices are scary good at that point.

I've already upped the ante this year with some demonic whispers and some cemetery tracks. I'm thinking about relocating the walk up to the driveway. The neighbors spotlight on their garage is annoying.

Hmmm....maybe it needs red lights in it. I've been on the ladder a few times at their garage to unscrew the lights. I have no shame.

I found a picture, when I was home in CA recently, of my grandma in vampire teeth and these plastic disks you put in your eyes like a monocle. They made your eyes look bloodshot and bug out. They probably cost .50¢ back then. (probably still do, if they make them) She would answer the door for trick or treaters like that.

This obsession didn't come off the wind, folks!

My grandfather was known for throwing a sheet over his head and standing outside a window till one of finally noticed and ran screaming from the room to find my grandma.

"Tiny...are you scaring these kids again!?"

Crazy aunt Joan (everyone has one...right? someone not related that was just always at every family party...no...just me?) use to do the entire Wicked Witch of the West routine. Green make up and all! I wouldn't even go through the front door as a kid. My folks had to sneak me around the back. She would use balloons for humps on her back. She thought it would calm my fears if I was the one that got to pop them with a pin.

Ya...not so much.

When I was in high school, we made our family home a walk-through, haunted house for 5 years. Gilbert Manor would have a line going down the block. No one could believe we didn't take money for it. (the story of my poor, penniless life)

And while the Hunted Mansion at Disneyland was the bane of my existence as a little kid, it became my lusty wish to live there at some point. I wanted to be the knight that jumped out at visitors for a very brief period.

I would have to say....Halloween has been my longest relationship to date. And because of that, I try to keep Halloween true in my heart every year. (even if that makes me a weirdo.

"This kind of certainty comes but once in a lifetime." ~The Bridges of Madison County

Finally....I can blog about this: We got married!

That's right, on the beach in MA, exchanged rings and vows, married.

We were kinda keeping it a lil hush hush cuz we figured no one, after us being together 14 years, wouldn't consider it a blip on the radar.

How wrong we were!

We were greeted with gasps of joy, tears of happiness and hugs of cheer. And in this age of social media, the comments went on for days with well wishes from our FB family and friends.

The day you relize your gay, there are a lot of images that dissapear from your brain that are not available to you. The wedding scene is really no longer a thing you can dream about. Oh...sure...you can do a ceremony. You can go thorugh the motions. But you always know that it's not legal. The 1,400 laws that protect your married friends and family are not for you.

While we took the extra step to legally bind ourselves to one another, with lawyer's fees others don't have to pay, we still didn't have the bulk of benefits that others have with just a simple ceremony.

There are only 6 states in the US that allow same sex marriage. We decided, since we were vacationing there anyway, why not get married on the Cape. Why not make it legal and do it up right?

NY recognizes marriages from other states that have same-sex unions. So why not? We've been trying to hold out for NY to do the right thing, but they missed their chance and who knows what will happen with a new Governer?

So on the beach we stood, Justice of the Peace speaking words we wrote, holding hands as the sun set in front of us.

Just me and the wife.

"Drive back baby to me, fast in your car. I'm here waiting, crash into me real hard." ~Gwen Stefani

So I'm headed to work. I've been taking this route through the Tipp Hill area, cuz it's nicer and less stressful than the Geddes route. But I was thinking, "Schools not in yet and I'm a lil late and I think Geddes is faster..."

I altered my course Monday morning.

As I free wheeled down the hill from my house, my head in a Monday morning fog, I was happy for the "kid free" streets. I had to snap myself back and be more defensive and pay attention.

It was a good thing too....as I came to a green lit intersection in my favor, I caught out of the corner of my eye, a scrap truck.

You've seen these. Beater trucks, really scrap on wheels themselves. Loaded down with metal framing, old bikes, bbqs, wheels and the like. Driven by folks who trash pick and stop in the street to pick up hubcaps and anything metal.

This economy has turned us into trash pickers. Anyway you can make a buck. I get it.

This truck, headed to the intersection I was just moving into, came barreling towards me. Weighted down to the point that the body of the truck almost scraped the ground. My Spidey sense tingling, I realized it wasn't stopping!

I was halfway through the intersection when I realized he wasn't stopping! Not only wasn't he stopping...but he would proceed to make a radical right turn. The scrap on the back of his truck, flying from the bed, clattering and clanging onto the pavement. A metal pipe, sticking out of the truck, draggin in the other lane, and sparking on the pavement, finally detached and rolled under the stopped truck.

I sat there, gripping the wheel. I was almost T-boned by this idiot. And if that didn't happened, I would have had metal scrap slam across the hood of my car!

Thank Oprah I saw him coming and chose to slam on my breaks, with no one behind me!

I cautiously, crept up next to the truck with my car. The driver, like a statue behind the wheel. His co-pilot slowly emerged from the cab.

The right thing to do....pull over, ask if they were ok. Help get the metal out of the street so morning traffic could flow once again. Check the driver across the street and make sure the metal didn't hit their car.

Yes...that would be the right thing to do.

But I'm not known for doing the right thing...oh no...not me.

"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!? SMOKING YOUR FUCKING BREAKFAST?!?!" My booming voice bounced off the overpass ceiling and echoed on the walls. The guy getting out shrugged like someone hit him.

Steam coming from my ears, I wheeled away to work. Blood boiling!

Welcome Monday...why must you start my week so?