Monday, September 06, 2004

Jesus- Where Are You?

Why have you forsaken me?

I can’t find Jesus. I looked at the Caravan. Checked the bus station. Stopped by the fountains down town. No Jesus.

Jesus is missing.

Recently I talked to Jesus and he helped me put my problems and priorities in order.

I had a really good week. I felt better about myself and my life- where it is going and what I have accomplished, and I wanted to thank Jesus for all he had done.

I wanted to thank Jesus for his help.

But Jesus is missing.

I asked around and word on the streets is Jesus got arrested.

Treason? Heresy? Blasphemy?

No, Chookie said it was shoplifting and could I spare a buck for old time sake. Here’s a buck, now surely Jesus would only steal for a good cause- to feed the poor? To protest societies obsession with commercialism and greed?

No- he said it was for a bag of Funions at the 7-11 on E. Santa Clara and could I have another buck for later.

Chookie is scary so I gave him another buck and said I have to go.

So, if anyone sees Jesus, tell him thanks for me.

And he owes me 2 dollars.

Mike Tyson and the Pigeon Man

I rent from the Pigeon Man.

The man who owns my house owns pigeons- not a few, not many- not a lot. I think he owns them all.

The ones in the park that poop on the statues? His.

Parked at Safeway and let loose on your windshield? His.

That one from 11th grade that crapped on my shoulder in the quad at lunch? Not his cause I fed it alka seltzer and no body owns that one no more.

He, I am sure, owns every pigeon in California- or at least southern Santa Clara County.

On the field out back of our house he built several pigeon coops to hold the resident birds, the ones not bombing the rest of the state. At any given time he has several thousand tenant- He’s kind of a pigeon slum lord.

One of the human tenants that live in our complex also raises birds. Together they have their own little pigeon kingdom.

It’s an old farm we live on, 3 cottages behind pigeon man’s house and it’s really nice. Quiet, peaceful, out in the country. I really like it, and will miss the place when we move.

I was talking to my fellow tenant the other day and he told me we had a visitor- It seems he met Mike Tyson at a pigeon show recently and Iron Mike bought some birds from him. Tyson came out west to look them over and arrange for shipping.

It just seems weird- Mike Tyson in my back yard. He had his entourage, or was it a posse? I’m not sure.

My neighbor said that when he met them all up in San Jose at the airport, they stopped at a store on the way to the farm and mike sent a guy, a posse-ite, into the store for a drink. Mike gave him a fifty, the guy brought back a coke and that was that- no change, no nothing.

A little strange, but oh well.

They got to the farm, looked over the birds, and made arrangements for shipping them out to Tyson’s home, in NY I think. The total cost for shipping would come to about 75 buck according to my neighbor. He told Tyson that he could add it to the bird bill or send them COD. Tyson handed him five 100 dollar bills and said that should cover it. My neighbor, being the good guy that he is, tried to give Tyson back the money, but he wouldn’t take it- Neighbor guy explained that he didn’t want to take the money- but, as we all know: Never argue with a crazy man-

My neighbor didn’t want to be another celebrity leech- taking something he didn’t earn, taking advantage of someone.

Tyson was at one time the most feared boxer in the ring. He is now a side show freak- The tattood faced crazo who threatens to eat your children.

Fifty bucks for a coke, 500 to mail a package.

No wonder he’s broke.