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Saturday, June 21, 2003  
Anal Rape Comes For The Archbishop
Karma is a harsh, harsh mistress. However, I’m very happy about that for once. You see, one of the world’s biggest scumbags got his this week, and happiness in Arizona abounds.

Bishop Thomas O’Brien, who spent thirty years as the head of the Phoenix diocese of the Catholic Church, was arrested this week on the charge of a felony hit-and-run accident. A pedestrian unsuccessfully survived a meeting with O’Brien’s windshield, and the good Bishop didn’t stop to bother and help. Oddly enough, however, if he had stopped, O’Brien would have avoided any charges at all, unless he was drinking, particularly since the pedestrian was jaywalking. Hmm…what was that I read that said he was at church before that performing ceremonies, etc, and hitting the sacramental wine? Can’t wait for those lab results! I smell a bigger felony charge coming!

Some might say that committing that crime hardly makes him one of the world’s biggest scumbags, and they’re right. It’s his other crimes that make him one of the world’s biggest scumbags. O’Brien had recently signed an agreement with the local prosecutor acknowledging what most of us around the Valley had known for years: he’s spent the last thirty years covering up rampant sex abuse, obstructing justice to make sure his abusive priests weren’t caught, and transferring them to other parishes without informing anyone, including their new bosses, that they have a kiddie molester on their hands. That allowed for plenty of repeat offenders, and he obstructed the truth when the lawsuits came, too. In short, he was just as much an advocate for pedophiles to find new prey as he was for people to find God. Good thinking there, Tommy…you waste of a fucking life.

Countless lives have been ruined by this piece of shit’s disinterest in doing the right thing. His failure to speak up and advocate for harmed children speaks louder than any sermon ever could. And then the son of a bitch had the audacity and luck to get an immunity agreement. Sickening. So, yes, he is indeed one of the world’s biggest scumbags. You can quote me on it.

Now, ol’ Tommy might have finally found a crime that he could run from, but not hide. A witness to the accident followed O’Brien until he was sure he had the license plate number, and the damage to O’Brien’s car was pretty extensive. Hit-and-run could carry up to four years, and if it turns out he was drinking, it goes up to manslaughter and more years. And then Karma kicks in

You see, child molesters and child killers are the one type of person even the inmates can’t stand. They tend to feel like they deserve extra punishment for being such wretched low lives. So I expect that O’Brien will find himself a marked man on the inside, and likely separated from the general population. Too bad. Because the right inmate would show him exactly what it felt like to be a child that O’Brien left unprotected from a serial molester. And that would be the best Karma of all…feeling the pain of your victims. Good luck sitting down, mister Bishop…and enjoy Hell when you get there.

Marc@MarcMason.com

9:18 AM

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Friday, June 13, 2003  
It’s been a helluva week.

I turned 33 on Tuesday, and I have to say that I’m pretty damned sick of getting older. Getting older wasn’t supposed to happen to me. It was only supposed to happen to those around me, while I Dorian-Greyed myself through the next several decades. Needless to say, I find the fact that I’m not to be totally unfair, and I’m looking for someone to sue.

I’ve also had some emotional ups and downs in regular life, too. I’ve begun to feel a great swell of guilt about Rebecca and I’s relationship, and I’ve been struggling with wondering if I am dragging her down from leading a better life. We’ve both made some sacrifices to be together, but more and more I’ve wondered if she isn’t sacrificing too much in order to stay with me and maybe she’d be better off leaving me and finding more happiness somewhere closer to her family. In short, I’ve felt like an albatross.

It took me until today to really talk to her about it, and even then I wasn’t sure what to say. Well, to begin with, I couldn’t say much more than “I’m sorry” over and over through my blubbering. I don’t want us to break up, but I don’t want to take the best years of the greatest person I know’s life away from her either. I had imagined for days what it would be like if she admitted I might be right and what it would feel like if I did the stand up thing at that point and let her go. I’m just grateful that it didn’t play out that way, because for the last couple of days I was pretty sure it would.

I also had a horrendous week at work, and my emotional distress at home caused me to overreact in some stupid ways about other situations as well. So 33 hasn’t gotten off to a real flying start. Maybe I should just hope that I turn 34 pretty soon.

Marc@MarcMason.com

9:19 PM

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Friday, June 06, 2003  
Cheating.

Just seeing the word can send a shiver up the spine. For some, it brings to mind sitting in front of an IRS form and looking for ways to keep money that should go to the government. For others, it will now be forever linked with the name "Sammy Sosa" and the words "corked bat". To most, the word conjures up images of themselves or their significant other getting hot, sweaty, and dirty with someone other than their partner. It isn't a pretty word.

A few years ago, I had to apologize to Rebecca because I "dream cheated" on her. How's that for guilt: I didn't actually fuck someone else while I was awake, but I still felt bad about it. But is that really cheating? No, not according to my definition. You see, that is what makes cheating so rampant: people can alter their definition of their behavior and deny that what they're really cheating.

You aren't cheating on your taxes, you're creatively maintaining your bank account. You aren't using an illegal bat, you're accidentally using a show toy in the real game. She's not screwing another guy, she's supporting the troops. He's not getting blown by that waitress, he's helping her quit smoking. You can find a stupid way to justify just about any kind of wrong you're willing to perpetuate if you try hard enough.

I generally chalk this kind of thing up to the modern unwillingness to take responsibility for anything. Blame McDonalds for being overweight or whatever. Now, speaking as a guy who has had weight issues his whole life, I can tell you that it isn't goddamned McDonalds' fault. It's mine. But a good number of people in our society seem to lack the "put the blame on me" gene. So we get rampant cheating and excuse making. Very unfortunate. Even Bill Clinton didn't try to say that his cock inadvertantly slipped into Monica's mouth while she was picking up carpet lint, you know?

But at this point in 2003, we're finally at a point where our leadership, even though it has found itself backed into a corner, can't just openly admit it and come clean about the fact that it lied, and it cheated, and that it did so in order to justify the illegal invasion of another sovereign nation and claim its spoils. So think about that the next time you reach into the cookie jar while you're on a diet, and you're looking for a way to make yourself feel better about it. It might just make you presidential material.

11:00 AM

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