Feast of Stephen's Eve

When the Angel of the LORD visited me in the year two-thousand and... something, I forget... to command me to BLOGGETH ONCE MORE, I really wasn't sure what the purpose was. If anything that the four previous years of blogging very nearly literally every day had taught me, cranking out throughput the way responsible Christians crank out unaborted fetuses, it was that I really had nothing to say. That sounds like false modesty, but the archive contains not one but a series of posts about how sometimes I would get a haircut. That was content, people.

But now, lo these... some number of years later, the LORD'S purpose is revealed to me: S/HE wanted me to have to blog on Christmas Day, to like proclaim the glory of HIS... whatever people usually proclaim the glory of on HIS behalf. How could it be a weird temporal coincidence that I was GIVEN the Holy DAY OF THURS to blog upon just to have the same said day then also land not only on the day of THE CHRIST-MAS but that I would also be obligated to further proclaim stuff on the first day of the NEW YEAR exactly one week later? Explain that away, atheists. That's what you always want us to believe, happenstance and numerical probabilities. But was it a coincidence that JESUS was born so close to the Winter Solstice, making it the simplest of matters to absorb pre-Christian calendar cycle observances into the TRUTH of Christian doctrine? You go ahead and believe in blind luck. I'm going to keep letting JESUS take the wheel. Just as soon as my license suspension expires.

No, I was sent here, to this place, to deliver crucial TRUTH to a very specific sub-dozen probably drunk people some number of days after Christmas when they remember to check this shit.

I'm new to REVEALED TRUTH, so I'm not 100% sure how it works. I assume the Divine Spark in me will be ignited at the chosen hour, so that my hands will move across this keyboard as guided by the HOLY SPIRIT when the time comes. I'm almost to the chosen paragraph break where I assume it will start, so lube up your spirit-holes, here it comes:

Uh...

It's possible I don't understand how it works because nothing is fucking happening. Maybe it's less an external animation of the spirit and more subtle, like the inspiration for the words I seemingly "choose" to type is itself the REVELATION cloaked in the (distressingly more) fleshly raiment of my corporeal being.

If that's the case, then the I'm just going to type the first that that comes into my head, without judgment or second thought, and that will be your, like, spirit words or whatever. OK, here it comes, for real this time. Mind blank, fingers poised:

The dog sitting next to me is licking himself. I'm not kidding, it's so aggressive. It's like he's on a third date with himself, you know, when it's still early enough to maintain the peak of white-hot erotic curiosity without the libido-killing burden of knowing the other party as a person. I've never seen--or, God help me, heard--anything like it. I swear to God, there's almost a smell it's so intense, like a pencil eraser on sandpaper.

I don't know. Maybe I'm not a prophet like I thought. I know I didn't want to make an End of the Year recap listicle or try to force another Bill Cosby joke on you against your will. But look, I couldn't even fully manage either of those.

Happy Jesus-mas, everybody.