The Church of Rick

On Hiatus

2007-04-24T16:47:00.000-07:00

Church of Rick blog postings have been discontinued for the time being. Feel free to view our videos and browse the archives.

Bush And Torture

2006-09-26T22:04:00.000-07:00

The Bush administration thinks it's okay for us to torture people. I have to admit at first this struck me as a bad idea. How could "defending our values" -- by what appears on the surface to be ignoring them -- be a good idea? It seemed to be a classic case of "stooping to their level." But the more I've thought about it the more I have to admit I kind of like the idea now.

One of the first things my mama ever taught me is that the world is full of bad people. This whole "war on terror" sure proved that, huh? In fact, there's one guy in particular that I'd really like to put the screws to. I imagine strapping him to a board, tying a towel around his mouth, then tipping him backwards and pouring water onto his face. As he was forced to breath the liquid into his lungs, I'd ask him if he just made that whole weapons-of-mass-destruction thing up in order to justify a war he'd been looking for ever since he took office. I'd also ask why he lied about those supposed ties between Al Qaeda and Saddam. As he screamed in terror and begged for his life, I'd make him admit that turning our allies against us, plunging us into trillions of dollars of debt and causing the deaths of over 100,000 people, all while putting our country at an even greater risk of terrorist attack might possibly have been a mistake.

Then I'd throw him in a giant freezer and wait for his system to go into shock. Though I probably wouldn't be able to understand him because he'd be shaking so violently and his diminished brain function would render him practically unintelligible, I'd ask why he keeps giving tax breaks to all of his rich buddies while the people who put him in office, the poor and middle class, keep taking it up the ass.

Oh, oh, oh! That gives me a great idea for what I'd do to him next.

What I Want

2006-09-24T22:18:00.000-07:00

I want to lie my head on the breast of a naked woman and have her tell me that everything is going to be okay. I want to look up into her eyes and believe that I can become what she already believes me to be. I want to hear the story of her life and see where she lives and meet her friends. I want to close my eyes and fall backwards into her world, to lose myself between her legs, to find meaning in her smile and the sound of her voice. I want her happiness to be my own. I want to open doors, pay compliments, buy flowers, celebrate the first kiss and dream of those to come. I want to be a good man, to protect and comfort, to be strong when strength is needed and gentle when it is not. I want to hide nothing, to share everything, to promise the world, and mean it all. I want to make her laugh. I want to fall in love -- crazy, lost-in-a-kiss, irrational love -- one last time. I want to defy my fear and offer my half-healed heart to the love of my life.

But first, of course, I want to meet her.

I Want To Sleep With Julia Roberts' Daughter

2006-09-22T10:56:00.000-07:00

I have hip friends who hate Julia Roberts. They make fun of her and say she has no talent. So I'm kinda embarrassed that I like her. Actually, I like her a lot. And just like people sometimes say to me that they think we could be friends based on things I've talked about in my shows, I think Julia and I could be friends based on the way she acts in her movies. But of course she'd never have anything to do with me 'cause I'm so damn unhip.

For some reason that reminds me of something that happened the other day. I was downtown and I walked past a woman in her 40s who was talking to a woman I assumed to be her daughter who was in her early 20s. The older woman glanced at me in a semi checking-me-out kind of way, at the exact same instant I was checking out her daughter. This struck me as being sad, pathetic and natural all at the same time.

A woman who may have been vaguely interested in me was stung by my apparent preference for her daughter over her, and I was interested in a woman who would have been repulsed if she had known that I was attracted to her. And it's all as natural as birth and death. And just as painful.

DUE TO LACK OF INTEREST THERE WILL BE NO NEW VIDEO BLOGS

2006-09-19T09:56:00.000-07:00

Day 98: You Are What You Own

2006-09-11T08:20:00.001-07:00

Episode Five of "Rick Reynolds Gets Happy"

Rick gives us a tour of his awesome pad and shows us a bunch of neat stuff that he collects in order to mask his debilitating loneliness and despair. "Reynolds is a national treasure" -- Tim McDonalson, President, American Self-Storage Association

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Day 91: Shut Up And Don't Eat

2006-09-04T07:28:00.004-07:00

Episode Four of "Rick Reynolds Gets Happy"

Rick visits his nutritionist, Dr. Mom, who tells him to eat his vegetables, cut out the sweets, and keep his elbows off the table. "The feel-good hit of the summer!" -- The New England Journal Of Preventive Medicine

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Day 87: Blog Blog Blog

2006-08-31T12:20:00.000-07:00

It looks like I'm going to stop posting these little articles for a while. I just can't get over the feeling that I'm standing in the middle of a big room full of strangers shouting, "Look at me! Look at me!" Everybody has problems. What makes me think mine are any more unique or interesting than anybody else's? I get the feeling that the internet is all about commerce and ego. Everybody's either trying to sell you something or bore you with the tedious details of their lives. The worst of the lot, like me, do both.

So for a while I'm going to print any questions or comments you may have and try to respond to them in a half-way intelligent or humorous way. Tell me about the boring crap in your life. Maybe we can get a half-way interesting conversation going about it.

Write me at rick@churchofrick.com

Day 85: Blue Balls And Cold Showers

2006-08-29T07:42:00.000-07:00

In case anybody noticed, I took the weekend off. Even I was getting sick of hearing about the minutiae of my sorry little life. Who gives a rat's ass, really? My mom named me after Humphrey Bogart's character in Casablanca. 54 years later I've finally figured out he's right -- it doesn't take much to realize that my problems don't amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world of ours.

So, I've been doing some thinking. I've been avoiding women, dolls, skirts, dames, because I just wasn't ready to take another plunge into the always stormy Sea of Love. I've been spit up onto shore -- bruised and battered, my balls covered with barnacles -- too many times to take such a move lightly.

But might it not be possible to just stick my toe into the water? In other words, am I doomed to follow the same pattern - see woman, talk to woman, kiss woman, fuck woman, love woman, annoy woman, lose woman -- over and over again? I love the idea of hanging out, going to movies, having dinner and long conversations with somebody whose breasts I long to caress but don't. And though it's true I've been doing this for years with my friend Dave, that's not what I'm talking about here.

I'm talking about being friends first. I'm talking about getting to know each other and really like each other first. I'm talking about exercising a little self-control. I'm talking about blue balls and cold showers, and getting it right for the first (and last) time in my life.

Day 84: What's Your SPQ?

2006-08-28T00:06:00.000-07:00

Episode Three of "Rick Reynolds Gets Happy"

Are you a slut? Does your sex life qualify as "pathetic?" Rick dons his sexologist hat to help viewers calculate their SPQ (Sexual Promiscuity Quotient). "A profound sociological study" -- Big Jugs Magazine

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Day 81: Letter From A Friend

2006-08-25T07:28:00.000-07:00

My touchy-feely friend, Paul, sent me this yesterday, and rather than strain my brain to come up with something new today I thought I'd pass it along.

Rick,

Just read your last two blogs. Nothing like hearing someone say you should be happier to make you feel like saying, "thanks so much and fuck you." My only response to this is a quote I once saw on a t-shirt, "whatever the question, the answer is love" and to also say that all someone can do sometimes is to keep getting up off the canvas after life smacks you in the head (and that can just as easily come from within rather than the outside world).

So happiness is like a new muscle you've never exercised before, you start with one rep and gradually move up. Some people are never going to be one of those cheery, ain't life grand types and have to settle more for contentment and equanimity and that may only come in fleeting moments. For me, I'm looking more for peace than happiness, a kind of even-keeled neutrality that allows me to experience both life's highs and lows, without getting overly excited about the former and overly depressed about the latter. That's why meditation appeals to me, it helps me clear the decks and focus on the moment, which as long as I'm above ground, is a much easier place to live than the past or future. It's also why exercise is a good outlet, it gets me out of my head and into my body (not to mention the group sex and crack parties).

Paul

Day 80: The Ideal Weight

2006-08-24T07:00:00.000-07:00

I saw my nutritionist yesterday, and the news was not good. In the last three weeks I've only lost one pound. On the plus side, though, my body fat has fallen to 21 percent, dipping into the "acceptable" category for the first time in recent memory. Supposedly, through working with my trainer, I've replaced some fat with muscle, which apparently weighs more. Sounds like a bunch of crap to me, but rather than feel like I'm doing all of this for nothing I'm buying it.

So I've gone from 265 pounds to 234 in just over three months. By the way, here's a little formula for figuring out your "ideal weight:"

Start with 108 pounds. Add six pounds for every inch in height you are over five feet. If you're small boned subtract 10 percent of that number. If you're large boned add ten percent. If you're never boned contact me.

I'm six feet two-and-a-half inches tall, so I'd multiply 14.5 (the number of inches in height I am over five feet) by six, then add that number (87) to 108 -- 87 + 108 = 195. Because I'm big-boned I'd then increase that number by ten percent -- 195 + 19.5 = 214.5 pounds. That's my ideal weight. Which means I have about 20 more pounds to lose. Which sounds doable, especially since my stated goal at the beginning of the project was 205 pounds.

I just wish somebody would come up with a formula for calculating a person's ideal happiness.

Day 79: Is That Still All There Is?

2006-08-22T21:45:00.001-07:00

I'd like to take a moment to respond to some comments I've gotten lately to some of my more recent blog postings.

First, why is it so hard for people to understand that not everybody is like them? Just because you've found a path -- a way to experience some kind of lasting happiness in your life, doesn't mean that others are blind or stupid or stubborn for not seeing that path too. In fact, others do see the path -- I see the path -- it's as clear as fucking day to me! My boys are playing on that path -- their laughter so sweet it brings tears to my eyes. The air is touched with the scent of pine, and birds are chirping. Beautiful women tread softly there, waiting for me to pass by and steal their hearts. Trust me, I see the path. I see it every single day. But I can't take it. I've spent 54 years trying, and I can't drag my sorry ass up the damned thing. And if you think that I think I'd be "happier" if I had more money or more fame, you know almost as little about depression as you do about me.

There's a scene in some old John Wayne movie where he cures some kid who stutters by yelling at him to stop stuttering. That's how people feel about depression these days. "You've got money and the love of your kids; you're healthy; just get over yourself already." "Other people have it a lot worse than you." "Stop dwelling on the bad stuff." "Count your blessings." "Just be thankful for the precious gift of life." "Look around -- there's plenty to be happy about!"

The problem is -- the obviousness of these little pearls of wisdom only serves to make the depressive even more depressed. It's much more frustrating to not be able to grasp something that's right in front of you, than something that's far outside of your reach. Long story short -- I'm b-b-b-broken. So get off my b-b-b-back.

Day 78: Is That All There Is?

2006-08-22T06:54:00.000-07:00

As I edge my way toward nonfatosity and unsuicidalness, I find myself drawing closer and closer to pointlessnessitude. I am overcome, these days, with that old Peggy Lee ennui, and often lie in bed at night wondering, "Is that all there is?"

At the risk of sounding sophomoric, let me ask you -- What is the point? We're animals, of course, so part of it has to be just plain old survival. We gotta eat, drink, sleep and perpetuate the species. Yeah well, I got the eat, drink and sleep parts down cold -- trust me. And so far I've perpetuated twice. But as far as I can tell, that and a nickel would buy me a tablespoon of coffee.

Some would say that having kids and raising them to be good adults is the point. But if you're just raising something whose entire point is to raise something whose entire point is to raise more somethings who are just there to repeat the process, then the "point" is a self-perpetuating cycle of... well, survival. It's like saying "the point is the point." Which, of course, is pointless.

Then there's the people who take every question they can't answer -- "Why are we here?" "Where did we come from?" "What's going to happen to us after we die?" "How did Adam Sandler get to be such a big star?" -- and they sweep them into a big pile they call "God." For them the point is to not only get into heaven, but to drag as many people along with them as they possibly can by annoying the hell out of them. These folks, of course, are crazy...........(more tomorrow)

Day 77: Meditate On This

2006-08-21T08:04:00.000-07:00

Here it is, Episode Two of my weekly Internet TV show. Please leave a comment below and let me know what you think...

"Rick Reynolds Gets Happy" - Episode Two

Rick takes a hike and gets jiggy with nature, trades jibes with his disgustingly spiritual friend Paul, then crashes a meditation retreat where he is forced to shut up and eat his vegetables. "Funny and Insightful" - Buddha Call Magazine (Running time: 4:46)

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View past episode(s) of "Rick Reynolds Gets Happy" here.

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Day 76: Fat Lazy Bastard

2006-08-20T09:00:00.000-07:00

Somebody left a comment for me the other day about my daily schedule. He thought it would be better if I moved my "work" -- my career-oriented tasks -- to some time earlier in the day. His thinking was that if I put the hardest stuff off until last it might never get done. And I agree with him. That's a definite possibility. Which is precisely why I've scheduled exercise, yoga, Tai Chi and meditation first.

These are all things that for some reason I can do in a class setting, but when it comes to doing them at home by myself I'm completely lost. I'll be sitting there in front of my TV and think, "Hey, why don't I get down and do some sit-ups or push-ups while I'm watching?" But here's the interesting thing: I'll like the idea of doing some exercises; I'll know it would be good for me if I did some; I'll know I would feel better about myself if I did some; I'll even know it would make me happier both now and in the future if I did some -- but I won't do any.

My theory is that this has something to do with not wanting to fail. The best way to not fail is to not try. It also has a lot to do with inertia. I've been this way for as long as I can remember. The grooves I've worn in the record of my life are so deep it's hard for me to crawl out of them. And it has to do with not believing in myself, which can be traced back to an even bigger problem -- not loving myself.

And, of course, it has a lot to do with being a fat, lazy bastard.

Day 75: Growing Pains

2006-08-19T12:44:00.000-07:00

I know that some of you just want to slap me when I write about how "hard" life is for me. After all, I'm not dying of cancer or being thrown out on the street, or anything awful like that. I'm not blind; my house isn't flooded; my kids aren't hooked on heroin; I don't have chronically bad gas; I don't hate my boss (I don't even have a boss); I'm not a republican -- so what's my problem?

When you hear me complain about how depressed I am I'm sure you just want to shake me and scream, "Hey, there are tons of people worse off than you and you don't hear them whining about it all the time!" When I complain about how hard it is for me to lose weight you must want to shout, "Just eat less crap you fucking pig!" When I say I'm lonely you no doubt think, "Then go out and find somebody. The world is full of women looking for fat, depressed guys like you."

Believe it or not, I feel that same way. Sometimes I just want to shake myself and yell, "Get over it already!" I want to look at the positive things in my life -- my boys, my friends, my career, my health, my "stuff", my skills, -- and feel good about that life.

There are those who look at me, I know, and say, "You're unhappy because you want to be unhappy." To those people I say, "Kiss my sad ass!" Closer to the truth, I think, would be, "I'm unhappy because that's the only way I know how to be."

Pardon me if I complain as I struggle to learn how to be happy.

Day 74: Blood Is Thicker Than Kool Aid

2006-08-18T08:07:00.000-07:00

I just got back from shopping, and am pleased to announce that I saved over 44 bucks using my Safeway discount card. Another victory for the consumer! The fact that my boys and I are now forced to eat a bunch of crap we don't really like does little to diminish my satisfaction at having lowered my monthly nut by nearly one whole percent!

Two of the items I found on sale today I didn't even know they still made -- Jello and Kool Aid. I bought the sugarless variety of each in hopes of satisfying my sweet tooth without ballooning up like Mr. Kool Aid himself. I don't know if you've seen the old guy lately, but he's really let himself go. Granted, it's true that he only has one love handle, but my god it's huge!

And speaking of weight, they really should get some physicists to study how these products are made. The packets of Kool Aid and boxes of Jello were so unbelievably light I was worried they were going to float out of the bag on the way home.

Anyway, I can hardly wait to whip these treats up and take a trip back in time, and try to my recapture some of my childhood. I may not have a drunk woman here to abuse me, but I'll try and make do.

Day 73: Never Put Off Till Tomorrow What You Can Do The Day After Tomorrow

2006-08-17T06:47:00.000-07:00

My boys, Cooper and Jack, are starting school next Wednesday, so I've earmarked that day to finally start my "schedule." Whenever I want to "kick it into gear," or start a new project, or just get off my ass and be productive, I put it off until some clearly-defined temporal line of demarcation. New Year's Day would be the best example of this. "I'm going to go on a strict diet starting the first of the year." We all know how well that works.

I might tell myself that I'll start writing the script on the first of some month, or that I'll learn how to meditate after some construction has been completed on my house, or that I'll stop masturbating so much after hell freezes over.

Well, anyway, I figure it's about time I incorporated some of the crap I've been working on into my everyday life. So starting next Wednesday -- and God strike me dead if I don't make good on this (thank god he doesn't exits, huh?) -- my day should look like this:

7:30 write blog
8:00 walk
9:00 exercise
9:30 yoga
10:00 Tai Chi
10:30 meditate
11:00 read
12:00 lunch (free time)
1:00 chores (from to-do list)
2:00 "work" (on TV show, script, etc.)
6:00 done

I'll let you know how it goes -- i.e. when the whole thing goes to hell.

Day 72: Love Thyself

2006-08-16T06:57:00.000-07:00

For years now my best friend Dave has been telling me that part of my problem is that I don't love myself. I could never agree or disagree with this evaluation because, in a very real sense, I had no idea what he was talking about. How could a person love themselves? (Insert your own masturbation joke here.) Seriously, though, the concept of self-love made absolutely no sense to me.

Recently, however, Dave said something I did understand -- that I treat those I do love better than I treat myself. That's certainly true. And from this small insight I've begun to have a vague inkling of what he's talking about. And for me it boils down to this: I don't feel lovable.

I never felt loved as a child. And if I was it wasn't expressed in any conventional way. In fact, the only times I can remember an adult family member even touching me when I was growing up was to beat me. The women I have loved, with the exception of one, have been fairly cold and unaffectionate. I've also convinced myself that that one exception was so emotionally needy she would have loved anybody.

Cut to today. A lonely man, trapped in the suburbs, feeling unloved -- even by himself, sits and writes a blog about his growing awareness of his unlovability. Pathetic, huh? I agree. In fact, the more I think about it the more I really hate that guy.

Day 71: Podcast Advice

2006-08-15T08:48:00.000-07:00

Hope you enjoyed the first installment of my new "TV" show. I got a lot of positive feedback. And, of course, people had suggestions for making it better -- almost all of them wrong (at least for me) in one way or another. One person wanted me to express more angst, one wanted me to act out a tragic scene from my past, one wanted some kind of useful advise, one wanted it shorter and zippier.

Well, in the first place, as with my one-man shows, I do not act in these pieces(and, in fact, can not act, period -- as is evidenced by my failed sitcom). You get the emotion I'm feeling at that moment. Angst will come -- when I'm feeling angst-ridden. But I will never act anything out. It would defeat the purpose.

Also, I cannot give advice about something I myself am struggling to understand. The closest I could come to giving any kind of really helpful advice would be, "Don't be me." Future pieces will be shorter and funnier than this one, but as far as making them "zippier," no thank you. These aren't made for kids; they're made for intelligent adults who enjoy seeing someone much worse off than themselves make a fool of himself week after week.

Day 70: Bubzac

2006-08-14T06:52:00.000-07:00

Well, here it is, the first episode of my new internet TV show, "Rick Reynolds Gets Happy." I put a lot of time and money into the damn thing, and my big fear is that hardly anybody will see it. So, if you could, do me a big favor and let your friends (and if you hate it, your enemies) know it exists. I'd really appreciate it.

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"Rick Reynolds Gets Happy" - Episode One

Rick sits down with another suicidally depressed guy, comedian Larry "Bubbles" Brown, to discuss the ups and downs (and ins and outs) of life, romance, and happiness. Funny and uplifting, in a sort of "Gee, I thought I had problems," kind of way. (Running time: 7:16)

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Day 69: Daddy Bashers

2006-08-13T17:02:00.000-07:00

I woke up crying this morning.

I had just had a dream in which I was on some sort of amusement park ride, and in the seat next to me was a woman with an incredibly cute baby. Looking at the baby I wanted very much to kiss its cheeks. The more I looked at it the more it reminded me of my boys when they were babies. And the more I thought about my boys when they were babies, the sadder I got.

I longed for the days when I would rock them to sleep -- one hand on their butt, one hand on their back, their face nestled in my neck. I miss that so much. Now I have two nearly six-foot, smelly, sarcastic daddy-bashers. If you look at them and squint your eyes and imagine them without hair and about a hundred pounds heavier, you can almost see me.

So I started crying in my dream. Crying for the days when they were so damned cute and needed me so much. And when I woke up I kept crying, because I knew the day would soon be here that I would wake up and even my big boys would be gone.

Day 68: Friendship

2006-08-12T07:18:00.000-07:00

I'm too lazy to write an article today, so instead I'll post this letter I just emailed to my old friend Lizz Winstead, who, among other things, created The Daily Show. Lizz and I were very good friends for years and then lost touch until just recently. My rational for printing the letter here is to give you an insight into who I am. As they say, you can tell a lot about a person by how they treat their friends.

Lizz,

I can't tell you how happy I was to talk to you the other day. How could such good friends let so many years pass by without staying in touch? I blame you, of course. You were so busy championing your left-wing pinko causes you didn't have time for friendship. How many times did one of your assistants tell you I'd called, only to have you say, "My time is too important to waste on the likes of that nobody,"? Now that you're down in the gutter, though, a washed-up has-been whose vagina is drying up even faster than her career, you throw me this bone. Well you know what? I'm not too proud to take it. Yes, I'll take it. And I'll caress it and stroke it and fondle it until it's engorged with that same affection we once felt for each other. Because that, my selfish, celibate slut, is what friends do.

yours in Christ,

Rick

Day 67: Coming Soon!!

2006-08-11T11:11:00.000-07:00

Well, for those of you still with me after my apparently controversial, "close-minded" and "judgmental" postings this past week, I have what I hope will be good news. Starting this Monday -- and continuing every Monday thereafter -- I'll replace my usual written posts with episodes of my new internet TV show, "Rick Reynolds Gets Happy."

The shows will run between five and eight minutes, and will have the feel of my past one-man-shows. That is, they will at least attempt to be honest, interesting, and humorous.

The first episode deals with depression, and features a very funny interview with my favorite depressed comedian, Larry "Bubbles" Brown. Show number two deals with my frustrations regarding meditation. Number three is about nutrition, and in number four I'll help you calculate your SPQ, your "sexual promiscuity quotient."

I'm producing the shows with my friend (and soon to be lover -- come on, Tom, you know you want it) Tom Scheuber. Tom isn't particularly good at what he does, but he thinks I'm funny, so he's in.

Anyway, keep an eye out for it. It starts this Monday.