The Lad who talked to God
In my early 20's I spent a few months living in a backwater town called Nederland, Colorado. It was full of weird Americans who had been brought up on a diet of Jerry Springer, corndogs and beer. I wouldn't be surprised if the this town was the inspiration for deliverance. The locals were so backward that when I told them I was from South Africa it had them stumped and then they went quiet. After some moments in thought one of the slightly brighter ones said, 'That's in africa right?'.
'Yes', I replied. We carried on with our pool game and some time later I happened to look over at the bright one. A knowing smile crossed his face as he said, 'Is that in the South of Africa, riigth?'.

Yes, so that paints a picture of how dim the people in this particular town were. Apartheid was also a new word which they had never heard. It too was deciphered using similar logic to that applied to the South Africa conundrum. The word 'apart' they understood, but 'heid' "...must be German or something". Yes, they really were that stupid.

So my purpose of my trip there was to work on the local ski resort. In between working I spent a lot of time drinking beer. At $1 a beer its hard to say no. We also used to play pool against the locals of which there was one who was ever so slightly more deranged than the rest. You see this young lad of 20 had tattooed his own face. It was done in the style of a Moari warrior so he told me. Except it wasn't really. It was horribly skew and he looked like he'd been attacked with a permanent marker. It went across every part of his face including down his neck. He said it took him a few days to finish, but he was happy with the final result. He did mention that he felt it held him back a little bit as he was now struggling to find work. No fucking shit!! Even the local grocery store turned him down to pack shelves. You know tough times are ahead when you can't get a job as a shelf packer in a town with a population of less than 1000.

The real clincher in all of this was when I asked him the reason for doing it. He answered immediately, "God told me to do it". It was also noted that this lad smoked a shit load of pot and on closer investigation there was some correlation between the times God spoke to him and when he was high. In fact I'd say that 100% of the time God spoke to him he was high. Never-the-less, he was still happy that "God had chosen him to give this message to the world".
'Oh, what message might that be', I enquired.
'I don't know. God hasn't told me yet'.

Well so there you have it. The strangest lad in my local was talking to God. I bet you can't say the same about yours!
(The Archduke of South London I'm in your Girlfriend eating her organs, Fri 6 Feb 2009, 17:19, 1 reply)

The nutters in my local frequently speak to God
on a big white telephone.
(wellgroomedwookiee is a filthy-minded hobgoblin, Mon 9 Feb 2009, 14:28, closed)