Finally!

After three long years of trying to pick the appropriate theme for my blog I have decided on the ‘Hemingway’ look. Yes, I believe it to be the one matching my personality best. Yes, it, like my repeated use of the word ‘yes’, and my overabundant use of the comma, is now part of who I am.

I – Jakob Lint – am a ‘Hemingway’ man. Well, as it stands this week. Next week I might experience a profound change and find myself drawn to another theme, or find myself, yet again, conflicted as to which one suits me most. If such happens to be the case I shan’t be seeing you for a long time. Probably longer than it took you to come across the word ’shan’t’ in a text written in the 21s century – that is where we are, I hope.

Now that I have a blog…

I will seek to transport aborted babies into heaven, using words and phrases meant to offend and disgust, because that is the only way. To explain…

When I was only a child, back in the ‘old county’, we use to play a game called ‘where god hides his skin’. It is a game in which people, any number really, get together and search for the shed skin of their god. This skin can be found anywhere, and since you decided what the skin is, it can be found by anyone, and since no one knows which god your god is, they can’t accuse you of cheating. Point is I would always lose.

(side note: sometimes I confuse loose and lose…unfortunate but true. if such is the case above: i am sorry)

And after each game the teacher, or the ‘father’, or the minister, or whatever he was, would come over and tell me that “It’s alright. Some people are better at finding things than others. [That] someone has to loose.” This got me thinking, though it is true and there has to be a loser in a game, outside of the game the loser needn’t be bugged by the imbecile words of a perfectly well-intentioned “cock-sucker” (to quote George Carlin, and to give away my age, and to possibly appear hip). No, the loser should be allowed to live without all the “You’ll do better next time” crap.

How does this relate to aborted babies?

Well, look at them as me. They are the loser. They never get to find the shed skin of their god. According to the rules, these little losers go to purgatory after they are ejected. A place I understand to be something like an after game talk. A place where a minister, or ‘father’, or cock-sucker tells you that you’ll do better next time. Having been in such a place, I can relate to the plight of these little lingerers. I can feel their pain, and thus I wish to help.

I turned to the yellow pages. A place I alway turn to when looking for answers. In this case, I looked for a name holding the letters ‘a’ and ‘b’. Having found such a name, I proceeded to call its number. A deep voice on the other end of the line said “I ain’t ready to take you back Lou-Ann, stop calling me.” I explained who I was and asked what it was I should do about the little ones. The man told me that the only way he knew to get people out of purgatory was to send them to heaven, and the only way one could do that was by offending people here on earth. He said that for every person offended on this planet one is sent to heaven.

Well, what could I do?

This is the answer. I have made a blog. And I shall write. You please, for the sake of the little ones, be offended.

-Jakob Lint