Tags: humor


LJ Idol Week 5, Bearing False Witness

I’m leaving you.

No no, don’t speak. It will be easier for us both if I simply make a quiet exit.

Why, you ask? You can’t be serious. Because you’re a liar, that’s why.

Well, there was the time you convinced me that dancing on the table in three-inch heels was a fun, safe way to show my appreciation for the many talents of the band, (who, I might add, I didn’t even enjoy until you came along). O, and let’s not forget when you insisted that Foster actually looked more like John Mayor with freckles and less like Gimli the Dwarf than I originally thought. You later tried to gloss it over by saying you simply wanted the poor guy to get some much needed experience, but let’s not delve further into this topic for fear of dredging up unpleasant details best left to my muddy memory on the subject.

In the beginning, you were fun to have around. I always felt more beautiful in your presence, like I could have any man I wanted, like I could fly. We laughed together, cried together, ran across the quad without any…well, you get the point.

The trouble started when I began believing I needed you. It didn’t take long after our introduction for this realization to take hold. I needed you to dance, to flirt, to smile, to feel. This dependency leaves me with bitter memories of those who, I thought, loved me, when in reality, they loved what you made of me. I’m afraid that I won’t love myself without you, but fear and doubt are your sisters, and I will not listen to them.

Perhaps one day, we can learn how to have an easy friendship. Maybe we’ll be able to sit down and have a relaxing evening with my mom, or Steven Colbert, (I see the latter more often). Until then, I have to insist that you go.

O, and a word of advice; stay away from Pot. You two never get along, and it always gets ugly, so just save yourselves the agony.


LJ Idol, Week 1, Empty Gestures

To: God
From: Briley on behalf of humankind

I hope this reaches you. The postman looked a little confused when I handed him a letter that was to be delivered to Heaven, but if the postal service can handle Santa Clause’s mail, I figured this would be no problem. I apologize for the sheer number of stamps. I wasn’t sure how many it would require.

On to the purpose of this letter.

This letter is meant as a most sincere apology from the human race for our shortcomings. I’m sure you’ve seen the signs of our rapid decline; the startling lack of music on MTV, the male musician’s sudden preoccupation with skinny jeans, and the unfathomable success of Twilight. But these trespasses, (though most certainly egregious,) are not the reason for this written supplication.

We write to you today to beg your forgiveness for the modern church sign. With attendance down in our church’s, we thought the best solution lay in advertising. Instead of asking our already dwindling congregations to spend their precious time dealing with the hungry, homeless, and imprisoned, we thought bright signs with witty, eye-catching phrases was just the remedy for our illness.

“Looking at the way some people live, they ought to obtain eternal fire insurance soon.”
-Fear is sometimes a great motivator.

“Have trouble sleeping? We have sermons — come hear one!”
-The original target market for this one was the balding middle aged man with a large collection of joke books and Whoopi cushions he liked to bring to parties…not as big of a demographic as we originally thought.

“I kissed a girl and I’m going to hell.”
-Yes, this one clearly affronts the whole “judge not” precept in the Bible, but hey, it is singable.

In hindsight, these were definitely not the way to go. Studies are showing that they are actually decreasing people’s desire to attend. We are sorry for our massive error in judgment.

The good news is, we’ve figured out the solution!

Strobe light Sunday night!

We do hope you approve.

The Church