Today is supposed to be Good Friday. It isn’t. I don’t think Jesus would have named it that. I think he would have named it F**ked Up Friday, and that’s what today has been for me. I still can’t breathe and I had a crappy bike ride that culminated with a flat tire. It was truly providence that I didn’t lose my shit and smash my bicycle. I don’t know if flat tires are something that avid bike riders just deal with or if I’m something special. It seems that every third time I ride my bike I get a flat tire. I hate that. I didn’t even get to ride ten miles. It was just a giant waste of time and energy. If I was riding off road I don’t think the equipment failure would bother me as much or at least I would understand it. I’m riding on public roads and sidewalks in nice neighborhoods. I don’t know why but I get the real feeling that the dude at the bike shop sold me some defective tires. I’ve always gotten a weird vibe from him. I think it’s best for everyone involved if I change bike shops.
As for our Lord and Savior, he had a much worse FUF back then than I did today. He was flogged, stabbed and crucified. That’s a really bad way to go. You just hang there until your shoulder muscles fail and then you suffocate. You also have to carry your own cross up the hill.
I remember a couple of jackasses in the early UFC that carried crosses to the octagon to show their devotion to Christ. They both got crushed. The second got his gonads pounded into fine paste in the most brutal display of violence I’ve ever witnessed. He’s been the punchline for almost twenty years. He’s MMA’s version of the Wide World of Sports “Agony of Defeat” guy. A couple of years ago a breakthrough in DNA testing proved he was a sadistic rapist and now he’s spending the twenty-five years in prison.
I don’t know what any of this has to do with anything other than me being in a bad mood on a twisted holiday. Merry Christmas.
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