In the year of your lord 1989, a drunk Marine declared that I was god on the beach of Monterey Bay. (I had helped him up after he fell in the sand and handed his white Stetson to him) Later that year, a smallish man with a big scar on his forehead offered me a blowjob for giving him directions to the Monterey Yacht Club, which was just around the corner from where we were. He had a hard time believing that I wasn't gay. He said that if I'm not gay, then there is no god. My wife often screams 'oh god' during orgasm. But she also says 'oh fuck'. Those are my closest brushes with the possibility of a higher power.
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