I’ve been in LA, living amongst the beautiful people and searching for stars but just finding tourists. When I returned to the real world (if you can call Vegas the real world, which you can’t) I learned that we have a new pope, Bush is trying to give another Jackass a job, and that Mary, as in the Big J’s Mom, is making a special appearance on an underpass in Chicago.
You know, I don’t mean to be skeptical, but if this apparition is the real thing, shouldn’t she have picked a place a little more dignified? Show me a water stain on a wall at the nearest Prada store and I’m a believer. There’s something logical about the God of handbags and the Mother of the God of Mankind appearing in the same venue. Oh there I go again, with the blasphemy. I can’t help it. I lead a small life and I love to make fun of people who get inspired by water stains on an underpass.
I once wrote a short story about a child who was spooked by the wood knots in her grandpa’s walking cane. They looked evil to her. That story got rejected everywhere. What a dumbass I was. I should have changed the story so that the cane held the likeness of Mary, and bam, the AP would have picked me up, fiction or no fiction. It’s all the same these days.
