Open Letter To Beggars & Parking Lot Salesmen:

Until milk drops below $6 a gallon and a loaf of bread (that I would consider eating) is under $4, you might want to stop thinking of supermarkets as the right place to be doing what you’re doing.  And yes, you have the right earn a living however you want but don’t I also have the right to drop $150 bucks on groceries without being hassled in the fucking parking lot?  You keep approaching me all you want, I’ll keep telling you no.  Anyway, think it over.

Most people I know believe whatever they believe and are quiet about it and that’s great.  But then there are the people who are vocal about it and have a desperate need to make sure everyone knows their opinion.  To those people I say this:  You know what I find interesting about your opinion on God and/or religion?  Nothing.  Seriously, I don’t care what you think and I’m tired of hearing about it.  I can’t imagine anything (with the possible exception of SEO seminars) more boring than yet another debate on whether or not there’s an afterlife or a god.

Atheists:  People have always believed in God or gods or witches or ghosts or aliens or bigfoot or whatever else and they will until the sun burns out so fucking accept it, deal with it and get on with your lives.  Oh and by the way, I have an incredibly difficult time understanding how a bunch of you organizing and discussing your beliefs is terribly different from a church.

Everyone Else:  You NEED to shut the fuck up.  About everything.  Catholic, Protestant, Muslim, or Jew, just shut your fucking mouths and live your lives as well as you can.  Islam isn’t evil and the Pope isn’t the Antichrist and all of you need to stop judging other people because when you do, you’re stepping on God’s toes.  If two guys want to get married and have icky butt sex for the rest of their lives and you believe that’s an offense to God and they’re going to burn in Hell for their sins?  Let them burn in fucking Hell then.  But what they do here in this life is none of your concern.  I understand you think that your way of life is the best and you want to share it with everyone but that’s crazy because it’s your way of life.  I guarantee you there’s someone in the world right now who thinks the best way to live is to start every day with a chicken soup enema and if he started insisting that everyone follow his lead, someone would slap the shit out of him.  I believe I’m rambling now.  I’ll end this point with two quotes from a guy who happens to be both a priest and one of the wisest people I know:

“God is bigger than our religion.  God is bigger than all religion.”

“Who on Earth would want a god they could understand?”

I wonder if, when Charlton Heston died, someone had to pry a gun from his cold, dead hands.

I’ve been doing this Douche Bag Friday thing for a few weeks now and it started as an (over)reaction to something stupid Sean Hannity said.  It occurred to me recently that I hate what he does for a living more than I hate him and his peers.

I’ve been watching the Rachel Maddow show lately.  I really like her because she’s a huge, unashamed nerd, is incredibly smart, and because I agree with a lot of her politics.  But something has been bothering me while I watch her show and I finally put my finger on it last night:  I hate what she does for a living.  Obviously, I don’t know her, but based on the little I know of her, she seems like a decent person and someone whose conversation I would enjoy, and I feel safe in saying she’s a better person than Sean Hannity.  But what she does for a living is destructive, unhelpful, and bad for our country.  Televised, biased commentary is bad, even especially if I like and agree with the bias.  She won’t be in any of the Douche Bag Friday posts because she’s not a douche.  But I’ve stopped watching her show.

I swear to God, I’m not making this up:  There are four people in my office, I’m less than two hundred feet away from the person furthest away from me, and my boss wants us to start having video conferences with each other from our desks.  Really.


Tim Hatch lives in a secret volcano headquarters somewhere in the South Pacific, where he controls the world economy and writes confessional poetry about his disappointing childhood.

His poetry has been published in MungBeing, East Jasmine Review, The Pacific Review, The Vehicle, Touch: The Journal Of Healing, Apeiron Review, and he is the recipient of the 2014 Felix Valdez Award.

He finds writing about himself in the third person to be an overtly seductive invitation to tell lies.

He once captured a French Eagle at Talavera.

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