(Chris Weidman is a bad ass.)
The pastor's sermon focused on John 21. This particular chapter is one of my favorites. Jesus forgives Peter three times. The number's highly symbolic. The apostle denied Christ three times on the eve of the crucifixion. But his terrible deed's been wiped clean. After all, there's work to be done. Pagan sinners are in desperate need of the Gospel. Someone has to feed the sheep. And Peter is the perfect man for the job. Good stuff.
I went to McDonald's. I ordered McNuggets and French fries. The meal was delicious. I love fast-food. I washed the vittles down with a huge glass of genuine Coca-Cola. I was in heaven. Carbonated beverages bring me much joy.
I watched UFC 187. We get it for free in Korea. Chris Weidman is one of my favorites. He's a former All-American wrestler from the state of New York. He beat the living crap out of Brazilian challenger Vitor Belfort. The fight didn't even last one round. There was blood all over the place. The UFC is far and away my favorite guilty pleasure. The violence thrills me. Should I be ashamed of myself? Probably. But what's a boy to do?
I slept at 1 a.m. and had a strange dream. I viewed a Barbara Streisand film. I joked about the ordeal with David Letterman. I woke up at 9 a.m. and turned on Fox News. There was an O'Reilly special concerning Jesse James. Jesse had a crazy mother. She turned him into an outlaw.
I read the paper while enjoying a bathroom break. The Golden State Warriors are dominating the Houston Rockets in their best of seven series. Golden State will probably win the championship. Cleveland's missing two of their three most talented players. King James can't do it by himself.
Anyway, it's time for the song of the day. Here's Emotional Rescue by the Rolling Stones. God bless.