Intro: MJ, Michael J, sometimes taking a razzin’ for having the same moniker as black pop singer Michael Jackson but our white MJ doesn’t care. He has his name and he’s his own man and this Michael, this white MJ is a baker. He has marathon baked, he has filled the bellies of those not fit to scrub his cake pans. Our Michael has slaved over breads that could rival the Taj Mahal in their perfect symmetry and aesthetic appeal. And oh, the taste! The melt-in-your-mouth transcendental experience is famous from the Southern states up into the corn and hog belt of the midwest. Yes, MJ brought confection so sublime to the small town that is home to the mum of all MUMs. But MUM disappointed our mild-mannered baker, she done him wrong, in short - MUM turned out to be a colossal bitch.
A day in the life: Michael lets out a guffaw and leans back in his chair wiping the tears from his eyes - tears which are the result of having read one of the best comebacks from Sal and Barry to Steve he has read on FFL. He is feeling good this morning. He has managed to find two articles exposing the chicanery of TM and all who practice it. This first particular article is a doozy; wait until Barry and Sal get a load of this, he thinks - his best find yet. Apparently, according to the article, it was discovered that three residents of Fairfield were found to have gum recession upon visiting their dentist on their semi-annual check up. In addition, one of the three also required a crown. Now this was a goldmine of information and definite proof of TM’s false claims and Maharishi’s lies BECAUSE THE THREE PEOPLE WERE LONG TIME MEDITATORS. The second “find” was almost as good. It seems that in 1976 an TM initiator had left a house he had rented without cleaning the oven and still demanded his deposit back. Now surely the rest of those sycophants at FFL will have to admit that Maharishi was a liar and a fraud, not to mention an old goat. Surely this will prove, without a doubt that I, MJ has been right and am now vindicated. With the SEND button activated and both incriminating pieces of evidence safely posted to his favorite forum, MJ sighs and feels that things are looking up. HIs work, for the moment, is done. He stands to stretch for a moment but a thought strikes him. “What if I am on the "no-read” list of the sycophants. He begins to frantically wonder if they might never see what he has posted here. He begins to perspire, he is feeling shaky - all that he thinks should happen may not happen at all. The horror, the waste! All his time, his efforts, his endless hours of pursuit toward what is right and good may go unseen. There is only one thing to do: find others on other forums, on Facebook on his own blog that will read what he has to say, oh, and bake a half dozen cream pies to throw at the pictures of those in the movement who done him wrong. He has them hung all in a neat row; today it will be Boston cream pie for the bastards.
