(Pope Francis floats my boat.)
I watched mixed martial arts. The marquee match of the evening featured 41-year-old Kimbo Slice against 51-year-old Ken Shamrock. Kimbo outweighed Shamrock by forty pounds. Nevertheless, the old man got his younger opponent in a choke-hold and nearly rendered him unconscious. But Slice broke free and knocked Ken into next week with a vicious right hand. The ref stopped the contest, declaring Slice the victor.
I paid homage to the Christ God. I said the Lord's Prayer on bended knees. No big surprise. I'm not some dirty atheist. I asked Jesus to protect my children from the temptation of intoxicants. The shooting in South Carolina wasn't caused by institutionalized racism--as some might have you believe. The slaughter was nothing more than a drug-fueled episode of intense rage by a mentally unstable loon.
I went to bed at 10 p.m. I had a strange dream. The characters from Lonesome Dove were outside my shabby apartment killing Comanches. I wanted to join them, but my wife wouldn't let me. Her refusal pissed me off.
I woke up at 6 a.m. and turned on Fox News. Two murderers recently escaped from a maximum security prison in upstate New York. Police believe that the men are trying to cross into Pennsylvania. State troopers are sweeping the area. These fugitives will eventually get caught. I just hope that nobody gets killed before they're apprehended.
I read the paper while enjoying a bathroom break. Pope Francis believes in global warming. He wants us to take better care of our planet. I used to think that the Roman Catholic Church was satanic. In fact, I'm still not a big fan of the institution. But I absolutely love this pope. I wish that Francis was my neighbor. He comes from that great tradition of liberation theology which still exists in Latin America. It's nice to have a pontiff who isn't a capitalist pig.
Anyway, it's time for the song du jour. Here's Please Come to Boston by David Allen Coe. God bless.