The Book of Muja

If you’ve read more than one of my blogs, you might have noticed the name “Raoul” popping up a lot. Well, Raoul is a good friend of mine who recently joined the Marines (no big deal). As it turns out, most of my blogs were inspired by some ridiculous conversation Raoul and I would have, so now that he’s gone he’s basically fucked my shit up. Well, not really, but the bars are way less boring when he’s not there getting punched in the face by a lesbian (true story). Anyway, this is a couple of weeks late, but I thought I’d send him off in style by devoting an entire Book in the Ablakalyptical Bible to him. You say “blasphemy,” I say “quit being such a martyr.” (double blaspheme!)

¹And the prophet shouted unto them “Lo, the end is nigh! The young demonspawn hath begun his training. Steel yourselves for annihilation, good people, though preparation against so formidable a beast shall surely be for naught. ²Soon, the Raoul, a dreaded Horseman of the Ablakalypse, shall obliterate existence with the swipe of his menacing hand and the monstrous force of his powerful grimace.”

³“Lo!” said they unto him, “How shall we know tis this ‘the Raoul’ of whom you speak that cometh?”

⁴The prophet replied “Tis not possible to mistaketh the presence of the Raoul! ⁵He wandreth the Earth, his frame slightly taller than average. In his right hand he holdeth a wicked and dull machete. In his left, a bowling ball emblazoned with the visage of the one they call ‘Mickey Mouse.’ On his back hangeth a satchel, from whence the Raoul produceth an endless supply of bricks, which he mightily heaveth upon those he wisheth to smite, all the while shouting ‘The Ablakalypse is NOW, motherfuckers!”

⁶But, lo! Before you see him, you will smell the impending doom what wafteth from his Enchanted Necklace. This fabled totem, as aged as the Raoul himself and fashioned from the ears of those who dare standeth in his path, serveth as a notice that death itself is assured.”

⁷“Lo!” they shouted again, “That’s nasty!”

⁸“AYE…TIS!!!” the prophet confirmed. ⁹”But, lo! Before you smell this insidious amulet, you will hear the horrid cry of the wretched beast upon which he rideth:  a camel continually dying, but never dead. Many fool, upon hearing this despicable sound, assume safety, for what damage can be done at the hooves of a dying camel? ¹⁰But, lo! Tis not the camel thou must fear! Tis the Raoul!”

¹¹“Lo!” they shouted a third time, “We are not impressed!”

¹²“Lo!” replied the priest. “Your imagination is weak! I shall depicteth the terror for you now here in the dirt.” The priest knelt down and with his stave he scrawled the image of the Raoul in the dirt. (Scholars and archaeologists have found myriad versions claiming to be the one true image of The Raoul. Awhile ago they voted on their favorite and have generously lent it to my blog so that I may spread the word of The Raoul’s coming.)

“Lo!” they gasped. “That looks terrible!”

“Aye! I told you!” replied the priest.

¹³“No!” they said. “We mean, where did you learn to draw? That doesn’t look scary at all!”

¹⁴“I’m drawing in the dirt with a stick!” shouted the priest.

¹⁵“Then how is it colored?” demanded the crowd. When they raised their eyes to the priest, they found he had vanished. In the distance, a camel brayed. ¹⁶And on that day, the people did shit themselves.

The End

But really, best of luck, Raoul. You will certainly be missed…though we’ll be glad to be free of that god-awful ear necklace. Seriously. That thing smelled like shit.

The Origin of (a) Man

Tonight when I revealed in an exclusive sneak preview that I was going to explain the origin of my name, Raoul, ever supportive of my endeavors, said “Have people been asking?” The answer to that is “no, not one,” but let me challenge you, reader: What would investigative journalism be if I just waited around for everyone else to ask the questions? It’d be sloppy seconds, that’s what. And nobody likes sloppy seconds (except for your father, apparently, who seems to enjoy having sex with your mother immediately after I have, the weirdo). But enough about Raoul Raincloud, this is MY blog, dammit.

Everywhere I go, people want to know “What does Ablakalypse Now mean?” Unfortunately, when strangers accost me, my BenevolenceFilter translates whatever they say into “Can you spare some change? I need to continue my drug habit” so I usually reply with something like, “Frig off, I don't have any food!” It isn’t until much later, as I review the day’s events with a bucket of scotch, that I discover what was actually asked. Well, my friends, if you dare, follow me into the rabbit hole so we can get to the bottom of the relatively simple origin of this blog’s name.

It all began some years ago when I toured the globe as a world-famous rapper. “Blaka,” you see, is my rap name, for it is the sound what my gun(s) makes when it is fired. The fact that my entire persona is named after a gun firing leads one to believe that my gun is fired frequently, and it certainly is, but this is no ordinary gun (more on this in a minute).

Now, when you hear “apocalypse,” you picture one of two things:
1. One of the best supervillains EVER
2. Fire raining from the heavens (in a bad way)

It is in the spirit of #2 that my name arises. So, if we couple my gun, or at least the sound of it (“blaka,” remember? We just fucking talked about this…) with this notion of things falling from the sky, we can then assume that what actually rains from above are bullets from my gun. Fear not, weary travelers, these bullets are not messengers of death, but of laughter. For you see, humor is my ammo. So I guess that makes the computer my gun?

Actually, I’m pretty sure…





Thank you, Stanley Kubrick.

So there you have it, my genesis, if you will. Just a note, if I were a female (only $10,000 more to go!!!), I would have named this blog "Blogging Molly." And I would also totally use my new powers to stare at other girls in the locker room...schwing!