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This story is making the rounds on Facebook, probably as a chain e-mail as well.  You know, one of those stories with a “message”…

When I got home that night as my wife served dinner, I held her hand and said, I’ve got something to tell you. She sat down and ate quietly. Again I observed the hurt in her eyes.

Suddenly I didn’t know how to open my mouth. But I had to let her know what I was thinking. I want a divorce. I raised the topic calmly.

She didn’t seem to be annoyed by my words, instead she asked me softly, why?

I avoided her question. This made her angry. She threw away the chopsticks and shouted at me, you are not a man! That night, we didn’t talk to each other. She was weeping. I knew she wanted to find out what had happened to our marriage. But I could hardly give her a satisfactory answer; she had lost my heart to Jane. I didn’t love her anymore. I just pitied her!

With a deep sense of guilt, I drafted a divorce agreement which stated that she could own our house, our car, and 30% stake of my company.

She glanced at it and then tore it into pieces. The woman who had spent ten years of her life with me had become a stranger. I felt sorry for her wasted time, resources and energy but I could not take back what I had said for I loved Jane so dearly. Finally she cried loudly in front of me, which was what I had expected to see. To me her cry was actually a kind of release. The idea of divorce which had obsessed me for several weeks seemed to be firmer and clearer now.

The next day, I came back home very late and found her writing something at the table. I didn’t have supper but went straight to sleep and fell asleep very fast because I was tired after an eventful day with Jane.

When I woke up, she was still there at the table writing. I just did not care so I turned over and was asleep again.

In the morning she presented her divorce conditions: she didn’t want anything from me, but needed a month’s notice before the divorce. She requested that in that one month we both struggle to live as normal a life as possible. Her reasons were simple: our son had his exams in a month’s time and she didn’t want to disrupt him with our broken marriage.

This was agreeable to me. But she had something more, she asked me to recall how I had carried her into out bridal room on our wedding day.

She requested that every day for the month’s duration I carry her out of our bedroom to the front door ever morning. I thought she was going crazy. Just to make our last days together bearable I accepted her odd request.

I told Jane about my wife’s divorce conditions. . She laughed loudly and thought it was absurd. No matter what tricks she applies, she has to face the divorce, she said scornfully.

My wife and I hadn’t had any body contact since my divorce intention was explicitly expressed. So when I carried her out on the first day, we both appeared clumsy. Our son clapped behind us, daddy is holding mommy in his arms. His words brought me a sense of pain. From the bedroom to the sitting room, then to the door, I walked over ten meters with her in my arms. She closed her eyes and said softly; don’t tell our son about the divorce. I nodded, feeling somewhat upset. I put her down outside the door. She went to wait for the bus to work. I drove alone to the office.

On the second day, both of us acted much more easily. She leaned on my chest. I could smell the fragrance of her blouse. I realized that I hadn’t looked at this woman carefully for a long time. I realized she was not young any more. There were fine wrinkles on her face, her hair was graying! Our marriage had taken its toll on her. For a minute I wondered what I had done to her.

On the fourth day, when I lifted her up, I felt a sense of intimacy returning. This was the woman who had given ten years of her life to me.

On the fifth and sixth day, I realized that our sense of intimacy was growing again. I didn’t tell Jane about this. It became easier to carry her as the month slipped by. Perhaps the everyday workout made me stronger.

She was choosing what to wear one morning. She tried on quite a few dresses but could not find a suitable one. Then she sighed, all my dresses have grown bigger. I suddenly realized that she had grown so thin, that was the reason why I could carry her more easily.

Suddenly it hit me… she had buried so much pain and bitterness in her heart. Subconsciously I reached out and touched her head.

Our son came in at the moment and said, Dad, it’s time to carry mom out. To him, seeing his father carrying his mother out had become an essential part of his life. My wife gestured to our son to come closer and hugged him tightly. I turned my face away because I was afraid I might change my mind at this last minute. I then held her in my arms, walking from the bedroom, through the sitting room, to the hallway. Her hand surrounded my neck softly and naturally. I held her body tightly; it was just like our wedding day.

But her much lighter weight made me sad. On the last day, when I held her in my arms I could hardly move a step. Our son had gone to school. I held her tightly and said, I hadn’t noticed that our life lacked intimacy.

I drove to office…. jumped out of the car swiftly without locking the door. I was afraid any delay would make me change my mind…I walked upstairs. Jane opened the door and I said to her, Sorry, Jane, I do not want the divorce anymore.

She looked at me, astonished, and then touched my forehead. Do you have a fever? She said. I moved her hand off my head. Sorry, Jane, I said, I won’t divorce. My marriage life was boring probably because she and I didn’t value the details of our lives, not because we didn’t love each other anymore. Now I realize that since I carried her into my home on our wedding day I am supposed to hold her until death do us apart.

Jane seemed to suddenly wake up. She gave me a loud slap and then slammed the door and burst into tears. I walked downstairs and drove away.

At the floral shop on the way, I ordered a bouquet of flowers for my wife. The salesgirl asked me what to write on the card. I smiled and wrote, I’ll carry you out every morning until death do us apart.

That evening I arrived home, flowers in my hands, a smile on my face, I run up stairs, only to find my wife in the bed – dead.
My wife had been fighting CANCER for months and I was so busy with Jane to even notice. She knew that she would die soon and she wanted to save me from the whatever negative reaction from our son, in case we push thru with the divorce.– At least, in the eyes of our son— I’m a loving husband….

Very touching, very sweet, but come on!

1)  This woman had been battling cancer for months and it NEVER came up in any conversation?  Even before she knew her husband was fucking Jane, she never mentioned any doctor visits, nothing?  BULLSHIT!

2)  She is dying in a month, and she is still going to work?  Time is running out!  You need to squeeze in whatever shit you still need to do, things you want to experience before you die.  Work?  Are you kidding me?  BULLSHIT!

3)  She is wasting away from the ravages of cancer, and the dipshit husband just thinks she is losing a few pounds?  People in the final stages of battling this disease look a hell of a lot different than someone who has dropped a few pounds.  BULLSHIT!

4)  I have known people who have died of cancer.  The days leading up to their death they looked terrible, the disease had taken it’s toll on them.  You don’t go to work in the morning thinking everything is OK, stop and buy some flowers, and then come home to find her dead in bed from cancer.  BULLSHIT!

5)  And finally, this chick is on her way out, she knows she is going to die.  So instead of letting her husband go and create a new life with Jane, she forces him to hang out with her as she wastes away.  That’s all good if she is vengeful and wants to screw things up between her husband and Jane, and then leave his ass alone after she dies as a final FUCK YOU!  But the story paints her motives as being pure and altruistic.  BULLSHIT!

Anyway, this MIGHT be based on some actual event, but the story above is bullshit.  It has the message tacked on at the end which I didn’t include, some religious crap.  If people want to pass it around and get a message out of it, OK.  But as a public service to wistful women everywhere, I’m sorry but it’s bullshit.

What if  I told you that I had a friend Maynard that none of you had ever met?  And then what if I told you a long time ago Maynard died, but then a few days later he rose from the dead?  And what if I did all of this with complete conviction, as though I really believed it?  You’d all think I was a fucking loon right?

Well today, millions of otherwise sane adults will celebrate the resurrection of Jesus Christ and not find it the least bit odd.

Happy Easter you crazy bastards!

How is it that God gets credit for anything good that happens, but never gets any blame when something shitty happens?

I’m sure you’ve heard the story, it’s been all over the news.  If you haven’t, here’s a brief summary…

Mike Hermanstorfer was clutching his pregnant wife’s hand in a Colorado hospital on Christmas Eve when she stopped breathing, her life apparently slipping away. Then he cradled his newborn son’s limp body seconds after a medical team delivered the baby by Cesarean section.

Minutes later he saw his son show signs of life in his arms under the feverish attention of doctors, and soon he learned his wife had inexplicably started breathing again.

How were this woman and her newborn son saved?

Mike Hermanstorfer credits “the hand of God.”

“We are both believers … but this right here, even a nonbeliever – you explain to me how this happened. There is no other explanation,” he said.

No other explanation?  Did he not notice the “feverish attention of doctors?”  Think that might that have had something to do with it?

I try really hard to stay away from religion because I know some of my friends are religious, and I try not to piss on their beliefs.  But it always cracks me up when something bad happens, and religious people ascribe any good things that happen afterward to “the hand of God.”  In this case, I would just ask if God truly was involved in this whole thing, why did he allow them to die in the first place?  Was he distracted by having to bless sneezers?

With a quick search of the net I found a bunch of people that God apparently didn’t have the time or desire to help.  These things happened on Christmas Day as well, no miracles for any of these people.

• Police are investigating the shooting deaths of two Moulton brothers who were found dead at a home in the 700 block of 5th Avenue earlier today.
• Six people have been arrested after a teenager fell to his death from the third floor of a building on Christmas Day.
• Fire investigators say five adults managed to escape the fire with injuries, but a 12 -year-old and his 10-year-old brother died.
• Police officers do not suspect foul play in the death of a Hutchinson man whose body was found on Christmas.
• A Brazilian national who journeyed to Lethem to party was found stabbed to death near the Takutu Bridge on Christmas morning.
• The festive season will never be the same for the family and friends of a woman who died in a car crash on Christmas night.
• The Kentucky State Police are investigating the shooting death of a 35-year-old from Russell Springs, KY.
• A pastor fatally shot one of his eight children on Christmas Day during a dispute at the family home, where more than a dozen relatives had gathered to celebrate the holiday, police said.

Strangely, there were no quotes attributing “the hand of God” in any of these incidents.

For many people, when you were a little kid you learned of Santa Claus.  Santa is this dude who can do crazy things like drive a sleigh with flying reindeer, deliver toys to every kid on the planet in one night, and slide down chimneys.  He lives with a bunch of elves up in the North Pole, manufacturing toys all year in preparation for Christmas Day.  You have no idea what Santa’s motivation is, where he gets his funding, and why he does all of this, except that he gets a bunch of cookies and treats.   You are told that this dude keeps a list of which kids are good, and which kids aren’t.  If you are good Santa will bring you presents and other goodies.  If you screw up Santa will put a lump of coal in your stocking.

So basically, the Santa Claus myth is just an imaginary story about a guy you never see who lives somewhere you can’t go.  This myth helps keep kids in line with promises of rewards for good behavior, and penalties for bad.

Is it just me, or does this sound a lot like religion?

Every once in awhile I recommend something to my good friends and visitors.  I do this not because there is anything in it for me, but for the satisfaction of turning people on to something cool.

Today I am telling you about Spade L Ranch seasoning.  The people who know me well have undoubtedly already heard about it, or even had some at my house.

The good people at Spade L Ranch make seasonings for beef, pork, chicken, and fish.  Hell, they will even give you a FREE sample.  The seasoning for the chicken is pretty good, however I can’t comment on the pork or fish seasonings because I have never tried them.  But the stuff for your steak or tri tip is THE BEST!

If there is an Albertson’s store near you, go there and head back to the butcher.  Somewhere near the meat counter will be a rack with a bunch of other lesser seasonings.  IGNORE THOSE!  Look for the Spade L Ranch bottle, and then grab one.  Hell, grab a few, you’ll probably need some more somewhere down the road.  Then buy your favorite steak or tri tip and head home.

Pour a bunch of Spade L on a plate, don’t be stingy!  I like it better if there is plenty of seasoning on my steak.  Wash your steak, and while it’s wet slap it down on the seasoning, and then flip it over.  You now have a bunch of seasoning on your steak, but you aren’t done.  Rub that seasoning into the steak real good.  If some parts of the steak look neglected, throw more seasoning on it.  Then, if you have planned ahead, throw it in a ziploc and let it sit in the fridge for awhile.  I usually like to let it sit for at least a half hour to an hour.  Then BBQ it up and enjoy!

If there isn’t an Albertson’s near you, you can go to the Spade L web site (link is at the left under The Lizard Recommends) and order some.  I look forward to your comments.