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Just when you think we've gotten past the stupid shit from the eighties... You know, things like, "Play the record backward and you'll hear 'I love Satan and Satan loves me!'" or "Madonna is the new anti-Christ!" (Did you know you can listen to "Like A Prayer" on the local soft-rock station now? Perhaps it lost its Satanic power when Madonna became a Kabalist...) you read something so stupid and so ridiculous, you have to wonder if it's all just in the communion water. I mean really, get these excerpts!:
One of Lady Gaga’s songs on YouTube has drawn 223,934,322 hits (as of Thursday, 06-10-10). [...] Lady Gaga is just another lost soul that has sold herself to Satan for a short time of power and success. The name of this popular song is “Bad Romance” and it is clear that she is singing of the devil. The lyrics begin with her singing in strange ramblings. I believe the devil means the strange words as a blasphemy against the Holy Ghost and the tongue of fire we see in Acts on the Day of Pentecost.
[...]
I believe that she is singing in the tongues of fallen angels. Some of the lyrics of this song are sung in French, other lines do not translate. If she is singing in a version of tongues, then every spirit of Satan understands her and incredible powers of evil are communicated. That is the reason for her huge success. We had better learn the truth of Satan’s powers as we approach the end.
[...]
Recently, a dear soul called me with a question that describes how far from God the church world has fallen. The minister of this person’s church was claiming to have had sex with the Holy Ghost. Of course, this was a demon masquerading as the Holy Spirit. This is believed by many to be exactly what happened in Noah’s Day.
Really? I mean, seriously, REALLY?! People believe this shit! Lady Gaga sings to Satan, ministers are having sex with demons pretending to be the Holy Spirit, and French is only a partial glance into the secret language of the fallen angels. (Apparently Pig Latin had been taken by the talking snakes, so Satan and gang started with French and added things "that don't translate" from there...)
Although I'm wondering--if the minister had married the demon first, would it have then been okay to have sex with it? And, since god made angels (and, as every good fundamentalist bible-believing, literal interpretation reading Christian knows, demons are nothing more then angels who no longer live in lala land with god...), and angels have been made genderless--how exactly did this pastor have sex with this demon who was into role-play? Do angels and demons have orifices for such use, and if so, why? And was it a boy-part-bearing angel, or a girl-part-bearing angel, or something in between? What were the parts made of, Play-Doh? It couldn't have been dust, man was made from dust... Ah, Bible, don't fail me now! Answer me!!!! WHY DID GOD GIVE MEN HAVE NIPPLES IF MEN DON'T BREAST FEED?!?!
But I digress... God obviously originally planned to have men do the breast-feeding before he made Eve and decided she would be better at it, and Play-Doh is a tool of the devil to draw young minds in early...
This "pastor" (who has obviously donated his brain to the afterlife long before his body has gotten there as he apparently doesn't need and/or use it...) is "Pastor" Joseph Chambers, of (surprise, surprise!) the bible belt, and apparently has a congregation! (Proof that people are willing to listen to just about anything or anybody if it means they don't have to think! Perhaps part of becoming a church member also means donating their brains to the afterlife before the body as well?) Even scarier, these zombies donate enough money and time to the "pastor" that he's able to have a web site, acquire guest speakers--hell, they even have a school!
And this is the crap being taught to those children... Sad, really...
I wonder if the video of the pastor/angel (Oops! Sorry, I meant pastor/"demon"!) sex-capade is on YouTube?
Near the Beginning: A Painful Sigh
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It's like... Well, you know that old antique mantel clock your great-grandmother always had sitting out? And you have hundreds of fond memories of just staring at that clock...? And when she died, you somehow ended up with said clock, and have had it sitting on your mantel so that you can relive those fond memories of your great-grandmother... And life is wonderful and happy and full of fond memories and the sound of a ticking clock...
Then something happens that calls into question the placement of the clock... Say, for example, a psychotic kitten who you are convinced was actually Jeffrey Dahmer in his last life... (So much for karma...) It may be the way he stares intently at the radio perched on the windowsill near the tub... Or that he just happens to find that steak knife too much fun for words as he bats it around the house... Or that he even knows where to find another steak knife once you've picked the first one up and locked it in the dishwasher...
I think the clincher, what finally made me realize Little Wet Paws (his Native American name due to his endless fascination with anything H2O related) was in fact a reincarnated serial killer was the methodical way he hunted... Now, I've had cats before. I've seen them hunt. Pavement was an excellent hunter/killer; Spot couldn't kill a fly to save his life. Cleo? She went in fits and spurts depending on what I filled her food bowl with...
But Beaux? It's insatiable joy. Nothing is sacred. Nothing is safe. Nothing, I dare say, will survive. It's almost like that Chucky doll--you know, the one everyone thought was too adorable for words even as he slashed into your face with that giant carving knife? "My buddy and me like to climb up a tree, my buddy and me... We're the best friends there could be!" Slash, slash, clunk! "Whoops! Sorry buddy!"
Uh-huh... It's... The little things...
Near the Beginning: Four Legs Good, Two Legs Bad!
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Near the Beginning: A Gateless Community
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Dude: If I give you a Jell-O shot, will you talk to me?
Me: Huh? Why wouldn't I talk to you?
Dude: (rolls eyes) Whatever, here.
Me: (to Rich) What was that?
Rich: You know...
Sadly, I do. It's a curse, really, even though if you were to trap me in a corner and simulate Chinese water torture I'd swear up and down I don't believe in such rubbish as "curses" and "demon possession" and "compassionate conservatism." No, what I'm speaking of is something I know afflicts myself and my youngest sister: Shyness being interpreted as snobbery.
Unless you who know me (you know who you are...), I come off as confident, vivacious, optimistic and happy-go-lucky, but if you don't (as some of you who know me remember), most of you thought I didn't like you when we first met--and, as at least one of you knows, I didn't! (At first... :D)
Luckily for me, first impressions can and do change. But it's hell meeting people. Believe it or not, I am the shy, quiet type until you get to know me and I actually feel comfortable being around you. And from my quiet, imposing, silent-type father I inherited a stern, smoldering look that comes off to others as snobbishly sexy. From my mother I inherited a free-spirit hippie earth-child love-of-life. In reality, this means I come off as snobbish until I get to know you, and then it's no-holds-barred, you're-going-to-hear-every-passing-thought-between-my-ears-spew-out-from-my-lips-even-if-it-should-be-filtered time.
It's like the first time I went to a bar up in Wilkes-Barre by myself (which to most comes off as confident) and sat at the bar for two hours before anyone spoke to me, and that conversation started off as:
Dude: Um, are you okay?
Me: Uh, yeah? I think so...?
Dude: You have that "I'm mean as hell so don't talk to me" look, so my friend and I made a bet, so...
Me: Why do I suddenly feel as if I'm in a teenage chick-flick where I end up with a broken heart because it started off as a bet and ended up true love, but I won't find out for another half an hour?
Dude: (Laughs) Yeah, well, let's hold off on true love for a bit yet, shall we?
See? All you need to do is say hi!! How hard is it?
Rich also thought I was a snob when we first met. It was outside of a church, you see, my first time there, and Rich, a stunning masculine hulk of a man, was the usher. When the services ended, I was outside being mobbed by every old pervert wanting to make conversation and probably hoping to get a boy-toy of some type. As Rich was leaving, dark curls blowing in the wind as he drove by in his sea-foam green convertible, he waved. Since I didn't know who he was from Adam, I assumed he was waving at someone he knew in the group of people I was standing there with! Apparently, however, this was his attempt at making a connection with me in the hopes of... Well, getting a boy-toy of some type! It took him a few more months to get me to give him the time of day... :)
As we come up on our eleventh year together (sometimes seemingly longer, sometimes seemingly shorter...), it's good to know most people stick around long enough to get to know me. As a teen, I had very few friends, and even fewer acquaintances. Like my 16th birthday party: a Disaster! How many people invited, and only two show up? Or when the soccer coach decided to ask in front of the whole team on our first day, "Hey, you, kid--you a boy or a girl?" (To this day I wonder why he couldn't start off with something like, "Hey, kid, what's your name?") Or when a certain young lady, while waiting for the bell after biology class, gave me the female "once-over" and decided to say, out of the blue, "God, you're so ugly I can't believe anyone would date you. Disgusting!" I couldn't even begin to think of a rebuttal...
Just for the record, I am not one of those people who would love to relive high school. Or junior high. Or elementary school. In fact, if I could relive every moment from the age of 22 and up? That's when my life started. That's when life became meaningful. That's when I started living life honestly.
Today, to have such a rich, full life filled with people I know who love me--both family and friends--whom I also love and care for in return...? Well, it does a body good. To get beyond the drama and the heart ache and the angst...
It's a goddamn good life, you know? And if I am a bit reticent at first when we meet in person? Just say hello, and I'm sure we'll get along just fine... Look at what's it's done for me and Richie? Eleven wonderful years... Hopefully just the beginning...
I stared at her. I could tell she was up to no good when she caught my attention only because she looked like an ex-coworker I had no interest in speaking to. She was staring at the back of my car as I stared at her from inside the physical therapy waiting room. I was hoping it was just because my Mustang is just such a sweet-looking car, and perhaps the jealousy and envy is what caused her to stop and stare at it with obvious consternation.
I saw reach into her purse and walk around to the passenger side. I put down the magazine and leaned forward in the blue-floral pattern chair that seemed to be a staple of all waiting rooms in the Lehigh Valley. My first thought was she was going to try to reach through the open windows and steal some CDs. I watched as she glanced around herself in all directions, that "Make sure no one is watching" head rotation. Then, almost as if she were a pro Frisbee athlete, tossed something through the open passenger side window, and started speed-walking away. I leaped up from my seat, startling the receptionist who after six weeks was quite used to my sedentary ways in her waiting room, and slammed through both double glass doors.
Me: Hey! What the hell are you doing throwing shit in my car?!
Lady: Wha-- Huh?
Me: What the fuck are you doing throwing shit in my CAR!
Lady: Oh, I-- I am so sorry, I meant no harm, it was just a business card--
Me: A what?
Lady: A business card, I-- I'm so sorry, I meant no harm.
Me: A business card for what?
Lady: Well, here, let me hand you one...
Lady: Do you have a minute?
Me: (I glanced at the back of the card and saw the word "God" six or seven times...) No, I do not have a minute. Good day.
Lady: Wait--do you forgive me? Please? I meant no harm, honestly.
Me: You seriously need to rethink your methods, lady.
Lady: I do, I do! Every day I ask God to show me--
Me: Yeah, save it. Listen, I "forgive" you (and yes, I did use air quotes...), but I need to get back inside to my husband and--
Lady: Gasp!
Me: --then... Oh, please, like the rainbow sticker didn't give it away?
Lady: I, uh--
Me: Listen, take your misleading "business card," and beat it, and don't be littering on other people's personal property. I'm quite sure it's not something Jesus would be doing, okay? Thank you.
Lady: Thanks for forgiving me!
Me: Get stuffed.
And yes, that image is of the actual "business card" so carelessly tossed into my car. It was purchased from Ray Comfort's web site--you remember him from this post where he commented (or at least the commenter claimed he was Ray Comfort...), but it really boils down to the fact that he's a charlatan of the worst kind... After your money in the guise of caring for your soul.
Of course, it seems this lady isn't the only one who casually throws these cards around like used tissues. One person commented on the web site, "These business card tracts are cool because you can keep them in your wallet and hand them to people like you are handing them your card. I also like the fact that the message on the back is to be verbally read out loud. I like to place them in smoking areas outside of bars and nightclubs."
Ugh. I hate litter bugs...
Near the Beginning: Don't Fence Me In!
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Just when you think we've gotten past the stupid shit from the eighties... You know, things like, "Play the record backward and you'll hear 'I love Satan and Satan loves me!'" or "Madonna is the new anti-Christ!" (Did you know you can listen to "Like A Prayer" on the local soft-rock station now? Perhaps it lost its Satanic power when Madonna became a Kabalist...) you read something so stupid and so ridiculous, you have to wonder if it's all just in the communion water. I mean really, get these excerpts!:
