June 18th, 2005

Dance For Mazzie

Whores for Christ

Hello and welcome to Whores for Christ, the only American brothel founded on the teachings and principals of Christianity. I'm so glad you could join us.

A lot of Christian churches steer their followers away from sex. They say it's dirty, unclean, and that the bible puts strong prohibitions on sexual activity. For the most part we agree. Sex for pleasure is wrong, it's using what god gave you to create children with to fulfill your own hedonistic desires. Sex for money though? That's a different story.

It's a well publicized fact that Jesus consorted with a prostitute named Mary Magdalene. Most accounts have it that their relationship was platonic, a pure friendship that showed Christ's ability to forgive even the most grievous sinner. If you believe that one I've got a bridge in Brooklyn to sell you. Sure Christ fucked her. Over and over again. He fucked up against the wall, standing on her head in the middle of the kitchen, and one time even had her give him a hummer under the podium while he was proselytizing. Christ fucked that whore so hard that she could barely walk for three months after he DIED. He put the wood to her but good.

Why? Well for one thing Mary was a slice of grade-A prime ass. Nothing but the best for the son of god if you get what I'm saying, and I think you do. For another she knew how to fuck. Experience is an excellent teacher. But it was more than that. Even as she was teaching him about things like the Cleveland Steamer and how to execute a good Donkey Punch, he was teaching her how to serve him...religiously.

What is the number one thing one needs to have true faith in god? Humility. Recognition of your small place in the world and his magnificence. And what's more humbling than serving 12 apostles and one savior's carnal lusts in a giant holy gang bang? Not much, let me tell you.

And that's what Whores for Christ is all about. Getting you to love Jesus, because you hate yourself. Stripping away that earthly pride so that you can instead experience heavenly love. A lot of women these days are proud of themselves, proud of their bodies. They have ripped abs and fake breasts and they think that they're really something in this world, something important. That's the road to hell. It starts with self-respect and ends in blasphemy. Now take a whore. Not a high class prostitute but a whore, the kind who finds herself servicing a one-eyed security guard in some warehouse so he'll let her steal a crate to sell for cocaine. Does she have a high opinion of herself? No. It's hard to think highly of yourself after you suck off an obese 50 year old diabetic for a couple snorts of blow. She probably hates herself, and what she has become. "I could have been something" she says "I could have been someone. Instead I am nothing. Worthless. An object to be used and discarded like a piece of tissue paper or a moist towelette."

We want to take that wonderful self-loathing and give it a Christian spin. Here at Whores for Christ we believe that you can't truly love God until you hate yourself. And hate yourself you will. After only a few short weeks most of the girls we take in have performed acts so filthy, so despicable and unmentionable that they are begging Christ for his grace and forgiveness because they know that wherever they go in this world they will carry the taint with them. Isn't it glorious?

Once we've broken them down we can build them back up and make them holy. Only after a woman has known what it's like to be intimately groped by a series of literally hundreds of middle aged Japanese businessmen can she know what it's like to walk with grace. We provide that service. Do we profit off of it? Sure. But as men like James Dobson and Mel Gibson have shown us there's nothing wrong with making money while doing Christ's work. It's a whole lot better than teaching heathens how to read or helping them vote. Whores for Christ is not about the money, though. It's about the look on a young woman's face after she leaves the bedside of an incontinent geriatric and is ready for the loving arms of the only man who'll have her now. Jesus.

Check out our FAQ below. Browse our website, www.whoresforchrist.com, and then, if you're comfortable, call our toll free number and see about whether you could qualify as a whore for Christ. You can also email us at inquiries@whoresforchrist.com. Potential clients can contact us via Sexpurchase@whoresforchrist.com. Don't delay, call today. Jesus is waiting. To pork you.

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I'm creepy


I had a headache so I took a nap.

During this nap I had a long and INCREDIBLY intense dream about going shopping for dessert. Most of the stores in my area were closed on a Sunday night (should have been a tipoff, the supermarket near me only closes on national holidays) and I found this new little shop I hadn't been in before. I went in and looked around before seeing this big chocolate cake on a high freezer shelf for only $8.99. It looked incredible, and there was nothing else there dessertish. I got in line, got up to the counter, and told the counter guy I wanted a cake. He told me there was a 2 year waiting period but he'd take my name if I wanted. Naturally I demurred (I wanted chocolate immediately, not in two years) and he said "Oh I guess you'll probably be moved away by then anyway." In the dream I assumed he thought I was a graduating college student.

After I left that place it was raining, and I walked alone through the cold rain to a 24 hour drug store that really exists. I went in and the radio was talking about the bad weather. The clerk was talking loudly about sports. I spent the next 15 minutes or so carefully picking through the candy aisle. They had a bunch of normal stuff, like Hershey bars and 100 Grand and stuff, and also some candies I'd never heard of. I ended up selecting three of these and as I went up to the counter someone text messaged my cellphone to tell me that someone had been seriously injured by the cake I had wanted to buy, not poisoned but injured when an unsecured slab of cake fell on them.

Then I woke up feeling guilty for having bought so much candy and crap. Dream candy, all the guilt, none of the taste. WHO WANTS SOME?

Anyway I don't know what it means other than I love sweets, which was already known to me. The other potential thought I had was it was some sort of reference to food as adventure, since I was going out on a dark and stormy night to look for exotic sweets, but man is that sad. That's so sad.

I've recently had some food...epiphanies...and I guess this might just be my psyche working through its issues while I snooze, but if there was ever a fat-man's dream this was it. No hot girls. No imminent danger. No pantslessness. Just candy.

Oh, and I dream in color. Bright brilliant color. With really good camera angles. Just thought you'd want to know.

P.S. The Clash is a really good band. I avoided them for a long time since my mom's first boyfriend after my dad's death gave me Sandinista to try and forge a bond, but that's not the Clash's fault, that's his fault. The Clash is blameless, and I feel sad that 80's music was so crappy compared to some of the creativity during the '70s. I guess we had the birth of hip hop, but how can hip hop compete with The Right Profile ? It cannot.

I am so white.
I'm creepy

Solo of fortune

A couple of friends of mine wanted to hang out today. I agreed previously but last night when we were concretizing plans they didn't have anything they actually wanted to do, just sort of hang out downtown. I ended up bailing. I just don't to do that stuff anymore, especially not with these friends. Don't get me wrong, I like them and I would enjoy spending time with them doing some activity like going on a hike or bowling or whatever, but just hanging out? With one person it's okay, because the conversation can be focused on things of co-interest and the activities can be planned around things I can at least tolerate, but I've never enjoyed spending time with larger numbers of people much and that's gotten way worse in recent years. If they are people who share my interests I can deal with it, hanging out with people after film class discussing whether Leni Riefenstahl was responsible for the horrible propaganda she produced was always cool, but in other scenarios I just get bored. I basically like to talk and think about two things, art and politics. Much of the rest of the world bores me (Sports can be interesting in relatively small doses.)

The thing about my current group of friends is you can't even talk about girls with them. They're all either long-term/perpetually single or in long-term relationships. So we end up rehashing old stuff from high school or gossiping, or just searching for some bar. I get bored and irritated and then they get pissed at me and it's just a mess. I'd rather stay at home and think or write. In fact I can say that about most situations.

So I need new friends. And I know that whining about friends on Livejournal is the second most cliched thing you can do, after whining about someone you are or want to be having sex with, or someone you have had sex with in the past. But needing new friends has helped me decide what my next move is. I'm going to put off any attempt at professional writing for awhile, suck it up, and find a fucking job. I won't take just anything, that meatpacking plant is going to have to find someone a little more...diverse...but I won't hold out for my dream either. As it turns out there aren't a lot of openings for "Talented but raw young writer with high level of perversity and low level of polish. Pay starts at $1 billion with your choice of supermodels." Maybe I'm just reading the wrong wanted ads. Instead I'll probably end up as a personal or production assistant at a bigger film company and try to make some contacts and find some people my age who might be interested in collaboration. I should be collaborating, I have a lot of great ideas that I can't put into action on my own because I lack certain skills, like graphical design.

So that's my plan for the immediate future now. I'll still try to get some stuff together to try and sell to magazines or something and keep writing, but I'm going to be daily grinding like a dog. LIKE A DOG.

At least as a writer you can never have too much experience. I keep telling myself that over and over. It's one of my mantras.

EDIT: Two minor events.

A) My 70 year old neighbor is sick. I went to the pharmacy to get her medicine. A pharmacy right near the one where my candy dream ended. While there I bought some candy, then after sampling it discarded it. Thus the conflict rages on. Meanwhile I brought her Curb Your Enthusiasm to watch on DVD. I strongly suspect that this will end in some sort of disaster. Old people and technology mix like oil and thermonuclear warfare.

B) My doorman indicated he was thirsty. I offered to give him a glass of water if he came up to my apartment. He said 6:30 and never showed. This made me relieved. I do think that we need to be friendly and open to people who work in our buildings and around us doing manual labor, but I've been in "Give an inch have a mile taken" situations in the past there. There's a line between giving a man a glass of water on a hot day and having your videogames borrowed for someone's son. It's a line I don't want to cross again.