There I was, titty fucking some random skank's nipples off, wondering if that was enough or if I needed to do something else completely pointless for breast cancer. If only there was a gesture equally as empty as wearing a pink bracelet or having a bake sale or throwing a magnetic ribbon on my car or walking with a herd of heifers for 5 kilometers. Something that would show my hollow support without taking any actual effort nor furthering the cause in any real way. Then it hit me like a ton of boobs. This and every October, porkjerky.com will go pink as a lip service tribute to breast cancer. Please follow my magnanimous example and do something meaninglessly worthless that doesn't require any real effort on your part for this great cause. Believe me when I say, it should be the least we can do.
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Jason, you uncreative, piece of shit liar. You honestly expect me to believe these wild fairy tales you post to go with the cross pics you take? Please. There is no way that a kid who graduated from an alternative high school died in automobile accident at 2:45 in the morning while driving at a high speed. Jesus Christ, Jason, next time try and make it at least a little plausible. these stories you make up keep getting more and more outlandish.

You really outdid yourself this time--19 year old, alternative high-school attending Curtis Gunderson died in the wee hours of the morning on 11/28/2005 in a one car accident? Sure, Jason, sure.

The death threats, the wishes of harm upon my loved ones, the profanity filled messages calling me names; none of them tear at my heart (Or at least the lump of horse crap that takes up the space where it should be) like the emails I get saying that I shouldn't make up stories to go with the crosses I find. Those are the emails that really cut me deep. Surprisingly, I'm a pretty emotionally walled off guy, not much gets to me. But those emails saying that they don't like my fictional accounts of how crosses came to be really hurt my conscience. Or at least the nugget of elephant turd that takes up the space where it should be.

Those emails happen so much I have a template email I respond with trying to correct people's beliefs about these stories. Correctly guided, but incorrectly based hatred for me really rip at my soul. Or at least the pile of donkey excrement that takes up the space where it should be. So, if you take one thing away from this, please let it be this:

I am not an asshole for writing fiction about how these roadside crosses came to be:

I am an asshole for researching the actual ways these roadside crosses came to be.

Corroborating sources are in the left hand column of every page. All I ask is that you hate me and all the lumps of shit I am composed of for the right reasons.

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For your convenience, use jason@porkjerky.com to send all prayers for my soul and salvation, as well as any idle threats (lawsuits, death, property, bodily harm, etc.) you need to make.
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There I was, titty fucking some random skank's nipples off, wondering if that was enough or if I needed to do something else completely pointless for breast cancer. If only there was a gesture equally as empty as wearing a pink bracelet or having a bake sale or throwing a magnetic ribbon on my car or walking with a herd of heifers for 5 kilometers. Something that would show my hollow support without taking any actual effort nor furthering the cause in any real way. Then it hit me like a ton of boobs. This and every October, porkjerky.com will go pink as a lip service tribute to breast cancer. Please follow my magnanimous example and do something meaninglessly worthless that doesn't require any real effort on your part for this great cause. Believe me when I say, it should be the least we can do.