Glenn Beck has a book out that he's promoting by getting people to become emotionally invested in this website,
faceyourstorm.com. You share your worst story about how hard life is, and has a nice little link marked "The Book," where you can buy Beck's story, "The Christmas Sweater," in which he tells you how hard his life was.
I submitted a story, actually because Tim Heidecker pointed out this site on
his Twitter.
First Name: Mumbai
Last Name: Florence
City: Newark
My story isn't that different from yours, Glenn. It's really hard to go through it in detail, but I have to every Kwanza.
As you can tell, I'm not of the same religion as you, but I feel our lives have a connection and the pain you and I have felt is very real.
I wasn't close to my mother, literally. She was back in Africa when she drove her car into a lion. You wouldn't think a lion would survive a hit from a car, especially a really fast car like my mother's Ferrari, but it did.
The lion began to have energy bolts come out of its eyes, and fire come from it's paws. I didn't even know these things were physically possible, but my former tribesmen witnessed it and told me. They wouldn't lie or even exaggerate to me at all because even though we aren't tribesmen anymore, we are still friends.
As reality began to bend to the lion's will, wormholes began to open and hoards of an ancient race poured through and murdered the lion. My mother seemed to be in the clear, but remarked that the ancient race "wasn't dressed warm enough for a cold day in Africa like today." Ancient races hate having their business told to them, so they murdered her too.
It was the day before Kwanza, and I had a dream that mom came back, but she didn't. Kwanza Claus didn't bring me mom. He didn't even bring me mom's corpse. What the hell use is Kwanza Claus anyway?
What is this world about, Glenn? What? I don't get it.
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