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A smattering of thoughts:
- My uncle tried committing suicide this week--although he claims not to remember doing any such thing.
- No one but preachers use cross references in a bible, and no one but preachers and those trying to impress others even read the god-damned thing from cover to cover--so why the fuck is it the best-selling book in the world? Vanity, pure and simple.
- People are assholes, which is why school shootings occur. It's at times like these where I agree with Ebeneezer Scrooge in that we need to rid the world of the surplus population--beginning with the shooter in Connecticut today. Although I will say
- I am against the death penalty and
- we would start with people like the shooter in Connecticut who did the world a favor and took himself out--just too late to save the non-surplus population
- Russia sucks. Yes, I said it. I mean it. Those poor god damned Russians...
- That last point had nothing to do with anything.
- But I like bulleted points, and I've had a full bottle of pinot grigio... That makes my opinions fact. You didn't realize?
Regardless--or, irregardless, which means the same thing but just sounds plain fancier--in less than 15 days I get to see my mother and father again. And my siblings. And my friends. I'm considering calling the ex for breakfast or lunch or something, but I'm, not feeling exactly charitable, despite the time of year, so that's up in the air... We'll see...
And I still miss my dog Hawthorne something terrible...
But there is a new one taking his place. Not that I don;t love Gizmo--the lil guy just tugs a heart-string I didn't know I had! But Maybel... My dear sweet Maybel... Kind, sweet, quiet, shy, gentle Maybel, of unknown parentage (excepting the mother, a black-and-tan German Shepherd whom she doesn't resemble in the slightest), of gentle nature and bottomless heart... I didn't know emotionally (although logically I did) that I could fall for another so soon--dog, that is. Smart as a whip, loving as a--well, a dog? I'm too tipsy to think that much outside the box at the moment, LOL!
IRregardless, it's winding down the end of a long, emotional year. Just a month ago last year, I started a new life filled with anxiety, worry, not just a bit of turmoil, and a hell of a lot of gumption, if I do say so myself. After all, who leaves an unhealthy relationship by moving across the country? Probably those of us too sick in the head to face life head on... Or maybe it's those of us who like to take things to the extreme by going to the exact opposite of what we had been doing for thirteen years?
Perhaps I should just get a new goddamn therapist already and be done with it. Ce la vie...
Now French--that's a freaking sexy language!
I've also decided to UNsubscribe from all the right-wing newsletters and bullshit. After all, it does nothing for my mood and everything for my high-blood pressure (which I don't have but would like to avoid, if it's all the same to you...), the breaking point being that asshole from the not-so-much "Family Research Council" using the Connecticut school shooting as a Christmas message! Really? Death to 5-year-olds makes you think "Now is the time to preach about baby Jesus!"? Seriously?? Talk about your surplus population. His ilk should be the next against the wall when the revolution comes... Given humanity's track record, however, that's still too far away...
But where was I? Oh, yes... Surplus populations, amnesiac suicidal tendencies, and a partridge in a fucking pine tree.... 'Tis the season, my lovelies! Embrace the chaos, thrill in the weirdness of life, realize you cannot choose your family even though you can choose to love, and know this--it ain't over til the fat lady sings, and I ain't but sure that unless she top's the Guinness Book of World Records? She ain't the right fat lady...
Until next time, my friends... I leave you with this tree, which the Blue-eyed Devil and I got for free.... :)
It's my first Thanksgiving that I'm not hosting...
Because my family is 1,200 miles away...
I'm used to two large banquet tables and a circular dining table added to one end. I'm used to two large turkeys cooking overnight, both easily over 25 pounds, started on Wednesday evening. I'm used to having 20+ guests--sometimes over 30!--coming to my home, eating, drinking, laughing...
To go from that, to just now unthawing a 10 pound turkey and cooking it for two...
With 80 degree weather outside....
It's odd, to say the least. I'm unsure if I'll have that experience again, honestly. How many stars would have to align to get the 16 people of my immediate family to come to Florida for me to ever do that again? How many heavens would I have to move, how many gods would I have to sacrifice to, to ever host in that way again?
I find myself missing the most poignantly, albeit of my own doing, starting a new life so far away.
***
But for a moment I shall digress and hop on my soapbox because someone just pissed me off with this photo:
1. It is *not* something to feel guilty about to want to spend time with your family on a holiday that has been around for 200+ years
2. It is *not* the same thing to be a soldier fighting for U.S. interests overseas (or even on home soil) and selling crap made in china at a national retailer
3. It is DEFINITELY okay to be PISSED that GREED on behalf of U.S. businesses are making you work--and probably threatening you with your job if you question it--on a day that SHOULD be spent relaxing, enjoying food and family, when there are 363 OTHER days of the year that people can enter your 24 hour a day establishment and buy cheap goods that are not supporting U.S. factories, let alone paying a wage above the poverty rate...
I can only assume that a Republican who thinks his right's are violated if he can't make slaves out of other Americans made such an asinine, stupid, insensitive poster...
Assholes.
I would wish you a hellish holiday, but that's not very nice, as the B.E.D. would say, so I'll simply say to the creator of this image?
FUCK YOU.
Fuck your greed for making your employees work just so you can make an extra buck when you barely pay them shit. Fuck your inhumanity for taking away one of the few days of the year when FAMILY should take priority over all else. Fuck you for trying to equate wanting to spend time with family with "unAmercanism" and "unpatriotism", especially because the wages you pay and the fact that you ARE making people work simply for your bottom line is the MOST unpatriotic, MOST unAmerican thing I can think of.
FUCK YOU.
***
Anyway, missing my family while staring at my paltry frozen turkey...
Luckily, I have an employer who pays a decent wage, allows me time off to spend how I wish, and has no urge to try to make me feel guilty about it.
In case any of you have been missing the fun, there's a new fundie who, I have to give him credit for actually putting his name on his comments, decided it would be fun to try to mock me (they say it is the highest form of flattery...), but, as everyone should be warned, generics and knock-offs are certainly not the same. (I think any of you who have tried store-brand spaghetti sauce know what I mean.) Plus, being as there are two brandons (who'd of thunk it?), this one is not to the one whom I dedicated my garbage post too, but the one who thinks he's witty (but not gay...)
To My Fundie Fan, brandon: Let's deal with the first comment you left, shall we? You decided to try your hand at dialogue (and, while not bad for a beginning to our lovely site) you failed on a few key points: You said:Fundie: So, you hate God?
Gay Jay: No, I don't believe God is real. I just hate fundies because they are hypocrites.
Didn't your mother ever tell you to say "not like" instead of hate? It really send the wrong tone. You were right on your first point though, a bravo to you for the key distinction: I can't hate something that isn't real, but I can hate the hypocrisy of the "moral majority." Kudos!
You followed up with:Fundie: Do you buy Christmas presents for your family and do you receive presents for Christmas from your family?
Gay Jay: Yes, I love to buy Christmas presents and I loved that new scarf Aunt Bea got me last year.
Kudos again! You realize that, though one can hate the actions of others (isn't that one of your big mottos? Hate the sin, love the sinner? I know, it is a cop-out, but then again, I'm not the one preaching you really have to love everyone, am I?) Oh, and Aunt Bea? I think your confusing Ms. Bea Dickson with one of my relatives... she's not. My Aunt Bea is dead. And it hurts. A lot. Thanks for that. I don't think I can go on... But then again, I think I can.
But then you said (and, just for reference, this is where you got off track a little--okay, perhaps a lot!)Fundie: But wait! If you don't believe in God, then you don't believe in His son, Jesus, so then that makes you the hypocrite for celebrating Christmas. If you don't believe in God, then there is nothing for you to celebrate at Christmas time. Giving or receiving Christmas gifts at Christmas makes the atheist an atheistic hypocrite.
My, so much hogwash in so short an amount of text--you make Jerry Falwell proud! (and that's no easy feat!) So because I like to get together with my family and show my love for them by buying them presents (or making them on the leaner years) and sharing food, love and laughter makes me a hypocrite? Newsflash, Brandie: Christmas has never been about Christ. It's always been about showing love for your fellow man, an idea much older and much more noble than sky god's raping of a poor village girl and shaming her before all his "chosen people."
In fact, celebration of the winter solstice goes back thousands of years--a time when people were observing the metaphorical death of the earth, the getting together to share supplies, each other's company, and make sure everyone would be okay for the coming winter months. It was a time to reflect upon the years work--harvest, hunting, what-have-you--and make sure everyone in your family or village was going to be okay. The buying of gifts is the natural evolution of that sharing of needs to wants as people and technology made life easier.
In fact, did you know before a man named Jesus ever walked the earth:- Early Europeans celebrated light and birth in the darkest days of winter. Many people rejoiced during the winter solstice when the worst of the winter was behind them and they could look forward to the start of longer days and extended hours of sunlight.
- In Scandinavia the Norse celebrated Yule from December 21, the start of the winter solstice, through January. In recognition of the return of the sun, fathers and sons would bring home large logs which they would set on fire. The people would feast until the log burned out, and that could take as many as twelve days. The Norse believed that each spark from the fire represented a new pig or calf that would be born during the coming year.
- The end of December was a perfect time for celebration in most areas of Europe. At that time of year, most cattle were slaughtered so that they did not have to be fed during the winter. For many, it was the only time of year when they had a supply of fresh meat. In addition, most wine and beer that had been made during the year was finally fermented and ready for drinking.
- In Germany people honored the pagan god Oden during the mid-winter holiday. Germans were terrified of him for it was well-known that his nocturnal flights through the sky would help him decide which of his people would prosper or perish. Because of his presence, many people chose to say inside.
- Brazilian archeologists have found an assembly of 127 granite blocks arranged equidistant from each other. They apparently form an ancient astronomical observatory. One of the stones marked the position of the sun at the time of the winter solstice and were probably used in religious rituals.
- Ancient Egypt: The god-man/savior Osiris died and was entombed on DEC-21. "At midnight, the priests emerged from an inner shrine crying 'The Virgin has brought forth! The light is waxing" and showing the image of a baby to the worshipers."
- Greece: The winter solstice ritual was called Lenaea, the Festival of the Wild Women. In very ancient times, a man representing the harvest god Dionysos was torn to pieces and eaten by a gang of women on this day. Later in the ritual, Dionysos would be reborn as a baby. By classical times, the human sacrifice had been replaced by the killing of a goat. The women's role had changed to that of funeral mourners and observers of the birth.
- Roman times: Saturnalia began as a feast day for Saturn on DEC-17 and of Ops (DEC-19). About 50 BCE, both were later converted into two day celebrations. During the Empire, the festivals were combined to cover a full week: DEC-17 to 23.
- Budhists: On DEC-8, or on the Sunday immediately preceding, Buddhists celebrate Bodhi Day (a.k.a. Rohatsu). It recalls the day in 596 BCE, when the Buddha achieved enlightenment. He had left his family and possessions behind at the age of 29, and sought the meaning of life--particularly the reasons for its hardships. He studied under many spiritual teachers without success. Finally, he sat under a pipal tree and vowed that he would stay there until he found what he was seeking. On the morning of the eighth day, he realized that everyone suffers due to ignorance. But ignorance can be overcome through the Eightfold Path that he advocated. This day is generally regarded as the birth day of Buddhism. Being an Eastern tradition, Bodhi Day has none of the associations with the solstice and seasonal changes found in other religious observances at this time of year. However, it does signify the point in time when the Buddha achieved enlightenment and escaped the endless cycle of birth, death and rebirth through reincarnation--themes that are observed in other religions in December.
- Druids and Druidesses formed the professional class in ancient Celtic society. They performed the functions of modern day priests, teachers, ambassadors, astronomers, genealogists, philosophers, musicians, theologians, scientists, poets and judges. Druids led all public rituals, which were normally held within fenced groves of sacred trees. The solstice is the time of the death of the old sun and the birth of the dark-half of the year. It was called "Alban Arthuan by the ancient Druids. It is the end of month of the Elder Tree and the start of the month of the Birch. The three days before Yule is a magical time. This is the time of the Serpent Days or transformation...The Elder and Birch stand at the entrance to Annwn or Celtic underworld where all life was formed. Like several other myths they guard the entrance to the underworld. This is the time the Sun God journey's thru the underworld to learn the secrets of death and life. And bring out those souls to be reincarnated." A modern-day Druid, Amergin Aryson, has composed a Druidic ritual for the Winter Solstice.
- Inca's: The ancient Incas celebrated a festival if Inti Raymi at the time of the Winter Solstice. It celebrates "the Festival of the Sun where the god of the Sun, Wiracocha, is honored." Ceremonies were banned by the Roman Catholic conquistadores in the 16th century as part of their forced conversions of the Inca people to Christianity. A local group of Quecia Indians in Cusco, Peru revived the festival about 1950. It is now a major festival which begins in Cusco and proceeds to an ancient amphitheater a few miles away.
- Persia: Shabe-Yalda (a.k.a. Shab-e Yaldaa) is celebrated in Iran by followers of many religions. It originated in Zoroastrianism, the state religion which preceded Islam. The name refers to the birthday or rebirth of the sun. People gather at home around a korsee--a low square table--all night. They tell stories and read poetry. They eat watermelons, pomegranates and a special dried fruit/nut mix. Bonfires are lit outside.
- Judaism: Jews celebrate an 8 day festival of Hanukkah, (a.k.a. Feast of Lights, Festival of lights, Feast of Dedication, Chanukah, Chanukkah, Hanukah). It recalls the war fought by the Maccabees in the cause of religious freedom. Antiochus, the king of Syria, conquered Judea in the 2nd century BCE. He terminated worship in the Temple and stole the sacred lamp, the menorah, from before the altar. At the time of the solstice, they rededicated the Temple to a Pagan deity. Judah the Maccabee lead a band of rebels, and succeeding in retaking Jerusalem. They restored the temple and lit the menorah. It was exactly three years after the flame had been extinguished--at the time of the Pagan rite.
- Some Native American beliefs:
- The Pueblo tribe observe both the summer and winter solstices. Although the specific details of the rituals differ from pueblo to pueblo, "the rites are built around the sun, the coming new year and the rebirth of vegetation in the spring....Winter solstice rites include...prayerstick making, retreats, altars, emesis and prayers for increase."
- The Hopi tribe "is dedicated to giving aid and direction to the sun which is ready to 'return' and give strength to budding life." Their ceremony is called "Soyal." It lasts for 20 days and includes "prayerstick making, purification, rituals and a concluding rabbit hunt, feast and blessing..."
- There are countless stone structures created by Natives in the past to detect the solstices and equinoxes. One was called Calendar One by its modern-day finder. It is in a natural amphitheatre of about 20 acres in size in Vermont. From a stone enclosure in the center of the bowl, one can see a number of vertical rocks and natural features in the horizon which formed the edge of the bowl. At the solstices and equinoxes, the sun rises and sets at notches or peaks in the ridge which surrounded the calendar.
DISCLAIMER: I closed the windows before I had a chance to link my sources, but if you think I may have gotten this info from your site, feel free to let me know and I'll link you!! But mostly I used Wikipedia, Encyclopedia Brittanica Online, and a few other free-lance sources from seemingly reputable individuals for the information above.
But who cares about all of that coincidence, eh? Your fabled god-child was born--who cares what everyone else celebrates, right? I mean, perish the thought that, not only has celebrating this time of year been in humanities blood eons before the desert-wandering Hebrews even thought up a monotheistic god who possibly might care for them, but even if you are celebrating what you believe to have happened so long ago in a manger, who cares? You celebrate this time of year, I celebrate this time of year, in fact thousands celebrate this time of year for vastly differing reasons! And even though it is good PR for all you fundies to come up with clever rhymes like "Jesus is the reason for the season," everyone has their own personal reasons for celebrating--even Christians!
Now, even though this is getting kind of long, since you may be learning something, I'll next touch on some things you said in your next comment.
You said: [...] but I felt it necessary to show the other side-the right side to his blasphemous remarks. You sound a little like John Edwards, you know that? The Other Side. Ooohhhhh, creepy! You didn't show anything but ignorance as to the history of humanity on earth, deciding instead it was all about your sky god and not the other souls who live upon the earth. And, sad to say, it wasn't even a good try, just--kind of sad...
You said: What about that teenage boy who is confused about his sexuality and stumbles upon this blog through a link from some other 'gay type' blog. He'll probably think, "Wow! You mean I can be a functioning normal adult? I don't have to listen to all that crap that's says there's something wrong with me? That there are others like me?" It'll offer some hope, some humor, some truth, all with a dash of sarcasm and satire. And perhaps even, a healthy sense of self that most gay teens don't get when they're growing up. But if you'd rather he think that he's an awful, "wrong" person in need of an imaginary friend, who should feel dirty and rotten about who and what he is, then by all means--keep talking.
You said: the truth of the matter is that he may be influencing someone away from God with the things he writes. Aw, how sweet of you to offer me hope. Not that I need it. But it's nice to know I'm thought of. :D
You said: I pray that you see the day when your son denounces homosexuality AND comes to Christ (I truly will pray for that). I'm thinking asking you to hold your breath for that won't make it happen, will it? Sigh. Well, if it gives you a purpose in life, who am I to take that away? Good luck--I mean that.
You said: I feel that sometimes the best way to show someone how they sound is to imitate them. Flattery will get you nowhere. I'm a happily married man.
You said: but I get riled when someone rips my Savior. You know what your book says: "Be angry and do not sin." Do you feel you may have committed a sin? (I personally don't think you did, but then again, I'm not living with a guilt-ridden soul that make some cling to imaginary beings either.)
And finally, I saved this for last even though you said it much earlier in your comment: You said: yet you continue to justify his actions. Fundie say what? Do you even read what mom posts? Have you heard our (HOURS!) long conversations? She has never "justified" anything about my lifestyle of choice, just as I have never condoned her lifestyle of choice (or yours, for that matter!) I'm guessing you are of the whole "tough love" school of though, eh? There's a bunch of crock that needs to be placed on the backburner and forgotten about, let me tell you! But be that as it may, while mom and I share a close friendship and great relationship, there are some things about ourselves we know we disagree on, we know we'll never see eye-to-eye on, and yet--somehow we manage to make it work out of respect. Now, she knows this is my blog--where I share my thoughts about what I read, see, hear, or generally wonder about. When I'm in her home, I expect to hear, see, or listen to things she believes strongly about, and you know what? I do. And we still make our proverbial red state-blue state friendship work. Go figure, huh? The Christian and the Atheist, something that tears most families apart since fundies seem to have a hard time with that thing called respect--it's what makes them try to legislate morality, demand to hear "Merry Christmas" instead of "Happy Holidays." RESPECT.
Oh, and a little blasphemy never hurt anyone--except when the Church sentenced them to death. I wonder why god can't kill blasphemer's on his own? Hmm...
So as we Americans get together to break wishbones, watch our children butcher their lines in a school play, and picture in our minds the image of Native Americans sharing a picnic table with a bunch of repressed white folks from across the pond, it occurs to me: How many of us actually know how Thanksgiving actually got started? It's now generally very well known that the Vikings actually "discovered" the new world (but even this encompasses a Euro-centric world view; Asians actually "discovered" America first when they crossed the Bearing Sea when it was frozen to populate this earth...) way before Columbus ever thought how nifty it would be to sail around the world in three ships (the Nina, the Pinta, and the Santa Maria) and find some islands he mistakenly thought was China. But once it was established that there was, indeed, a "New World" just ripe for the plundering by all the superpowers of the day, others saw a new land of opportunity for other reasons: some to escape prison, others to escape debts, some to escape religious persecution. These last were not the Pilgrims, despite what twisted history you may have learned in class. I know, I was pretty shocked too! These folks already had religious freedom where they came from--Holland, where they had fled to originally to escape religious persecution. But being the good fundies that they were, they felt they were losing their "identity," and becoming too much a part of the "world" in the Netherlands. So, being even better fundies, instead of trying to tell everyone else how to live, they simply left... (more fundies should be so considerate...) They actually decided to come to the "New World" to preserve their identity, and make some money on the side by contracting with the London Company to fish. Yeah, that's right: fish.
Despite what many believe, they did not land on Plymouth Rock. They actually showed up on Cape Cod, about 37 miles away from the unwarrantedly infamous Plymouth Rock. After having been at sea for a little over two months, the 102 passengers were quite elated when they spied land on November 10, 1620. Their elation would be short-lived. Many were sick, some had died, and most were worried about running out of food before they could find a place to land and repair their severely broken and battered ship, the Mayflower. While navigating the sometimes treacherously shallow water around the cape, small groups went to shore to bathe and find supplies.
They also managed to piss off a few natives.
When the first group landed, led by Myles Standish, they found not only native and euro-style homes, they found a village, a burial site, and some cultivated fields (quite impressive for a bunch of "savages," wouldn't you say?). So what did these god-fearing Europeans do? First, they started by stealing beans and corn, or "maize." They assumed that this was their god providing food for them after their treacherous journey. In fact, William Bradford recorded in his journal,
"And it is to be noted as a special providence of God, and a great mercy to this poor people, that they thus got seed to plant corn the next year, or they might have starved; for they had none, nor any likelihood of getting any, till too late for the planting season."
So after stealing what food they found in the abandoned housing, what did they do next? They desecrated the graves of the deceased natives... Seeing baskets and gifts left at the grave sites of dead natives, they took what they could grab (all with their god smiling down on them) so they wouldn't die. And really, let's be fair--which is worse? Let your family starve or steal a loaf of bread? They stole the bread; but worse, they desecrated the graves of those who had died from the smallpox, a disease brought to the new world five years earlier by the first European traders. The number of natives left was so small after the disease swept through them, it is estimated that, by the times the pilgrims arrived, there were only between 70 and 90 left from what was once a tribe that had covered all of New England. Sad indeed. It is recorded in William Bradford's book:
and shortly after a good quantitie of clear ground wher ye Indeans had formerly set corne, and some of their graves. And proceeding furder they saw new-stuble wher corne had been set ye same year, also they found wher latly a house had been, wher some planks and a great ketle was remaining, and heaps of sand newly padled with their hands, which they, digging up, found in them diverce faire Indean baskets filled with corne, and some in eares, faire and good, of diverce collours, which seemed to them a very goodly sight, (haveing never seen any shuch before). This was near ye place of that supposed river they came to seeck; unto which they wente and found it to open it selfe into 2. armes with a high cliffe of sand in ye enterance, but more like to be crikes of salte water then any fresh, for ought they saw; and that ther was good harborige for their shalope; leaving it further to be discovered by their shalop when she was ready. So their time limeted them being expired, they returned to ye ship, least they should be in fear of their saftie; and tooke with them parte of ye corne, and buried up ye rest, and so like ye men from Eshcoll carried with them of ye fruits of ye land, & showed their breethren; of which, & their returne, they were marvelusly glad, and their harts incouraged.
Well, at least they were honest about their thievery, eh? (Of course, it does make one really want to reconsider claiming their direct descent from a Mayflower occupant, doesn't it?) And here's the part where they "thank god" for his providence in allowing them to steal:
ther was allso found 2. of their houses covered with matts, & sundrie of their implements in them, but ye people were rune away & could not be seen; also ther was found more of their corne, & of their beans of various collours. The corne & beans they brought away, purposing to give them full satisfaction when they should meete with any of them (as about some 6. months afterward they did, to their good contente). And here is to be noted a spetiall providence of God, and a great mercie to this poore people, that hear they gott seed to plant them corne ye next year, or els they might have starved, for they had none, nor any liklybood to get any [50] till ye season had beene past (as ye sequell did manyfest). Neither is it lickly they had had this, if ye first viage had not been made, for the ground was now all covered with snow, & hard frozen. But the Lord is never wanting unto his in their greatest needs; let his holy name have all ye praise.
Now, again, we can't be too hard on them; I mean, they were going to starve to death if they didn't get food now, wouldn't they?
Once the expedition cut-and-run back to their ailing boat, they sailed a little further down the coast, to Plymouth Rock, or, at least, relatively closer than Cape Cod was. When they found that it was a good spot to build their settlement, they erected a barricade of stumps and trees around the perimeter--just in time. The remaining tribesmen who had watched as their graves were desecrated and their food was stolen attacked! Arrows flew through the air as the colonists fired back with their muskets. Even though many pilgrims had died, or were still sick from the voyage, they outnumbered and overwhelmed the native men who were left... And as the natives fled back into the woods over the hills, the pilgrims thanked god for their "victory" over the "savages." From Bradford's book:
But presently, all on ye sudain, they heard a great & strange crie, which they knew to be the same voyces they heard in ye night, though they varied their notes, & one of their company being abroad came runing in, & cried, "Men, Indeans, Indeans"; and wthall, their arowes came flying amongst them. Their men rane with all speed to recover their armes, as by ye good providence of God they did. In ye mean time, of those that were ther ready, tow muskets were discharged at them, & 2. more stood ready in ye enterance of ther randevoue, but were comanded not to shoote till they could take full aime at them; & ye other 2. charged againe with all speed, for ther were only 4. had armes ther, & defended ye baricado which was first assalted. The crie of ye lndeans was dreadfull, espetially when they saw ther men rune out of ye randevoue towourds ye shallop, to recover their armes, the lndeans wheeling aboute upon them. But some runing out with coats of malle on, & cutlasses in their hands, they soone got their armes, & let flye amongs them, and quickly stopped their violence. Yet ther was a lustie man, and no less valiante, stood be-hind a tree within halfe a musket shot, and let his arrows flie at them. He was seen shoot 3. arrowes, which were all avoyded. He stood 3. shot of a musket, till one taking full aime at him, and made ye barke or splinters of ye tree :fly about his ears, after which he gave an extraordinary shrike, and away they wente all of them. They left some to keep ye shalop, and followed them aboute a quarter of a mille, and shouted once or twise, and shot of 2. or 3. peces, & so returned. This they did, that they might conceive that they were not [52] affrade of them or any way discouraged. Thus it pleased God to vanquish their enimies, and give them deliverance; and by his spetiall providence so to dispose that not any one of them were either hurte, or hitt, though their arrows came close by them, & on every side them, and sundry of their coats, which hunge up in ye barricado, were shot throw & throw. Aterwards they
gave God sollamne thanks & praise for their deliverance, & gathered up a bundle of their arrows, & sente them into England afterward by ye mr. of ye ship, and called that place ye first encounter.
It's hard to imagine what it must have been like for both groups of people... One, the natives, who, knowing that the last time white people had arrived, most of their population had been decimated by disease, some had been captured and taken for slavery. The others, the new comers, wondering why they can't get the natives to approach them, near starvation, needing food and medicine and a boat that will stay afloat after being battered on the high seas...
But somehow, over time, a "peace" was made between the natives and those first pilgrims, and they did share a feast together:
They returned in saftie, and brought home a good quanty of beaver, and made reporte of ye place, wishing they had been ther seated; (but it seems ye Lord, who assignes to all men ye bounds of their habitations, had apoynted it for an other use. And thus they found ye Lord to be with them in all their ways, and to blesse their outgoings & incomings, for which let his holy name have ye praise for ever, to all posteritie. They begane now to gather in ye small harvest they had, and to fitte up their houses and dwellings against winter, being all well recovered in health & strenght, and had all things in good plenty; for as some were thus imployed in affairs abroad, others were excersised in fishing, aboute codd, & bass, & other fish, of which yey tooke good store, of which every family had their portion. All ye somer ther was no wante. And now begane to come in store of foule, as winter aproached, of which this place did abound when they came first (but afterward decreased by degrees). And besids water foule, ther was great store of wild Turkies, of which they tooke many, besids venison, &c. Besids they had aboute a peck a meale a weeke to a person, or now since harvest, Indean corne to yt proportion. Which made many afterwards write so largly of their plenty hear to their freinds in England, which were not rained, but true reports.
So what did the first Thanksgiving basically consist of?- The first Thanksgiving was a harvest celebration in 1621 that lasted for three days.
- The feast occurred somewhere between Sept. 21 and Nov. 11.
- Approximately 90 Wampanoag Indians and 52 colonists--the latter mostly women and children--participated.
- The Wampanoag, led by Chief Massasoit, contributed at least five deer to the feast.
- Cranberry sauce, potatoes--white or sweet--and pies were not on the menu.
- The Pilgrims and Wampanoag communicated through Squanto, a member of the Patuxet tribe, who knew English because he had associated with earlier explorers.
And that, my friends, is what started all of the bad school plays across the country that parents adore and friends of families endure...
Not exactly the fuzzy warm feeling you thought you would get, eh? Native Americans throughout the country don't celebrate this day. They actually call it "The Day of Mourning." Appropriately, of course. For when we "discovered" this land, a grand genocide began, wiping out tons of native people due to not only extremely differing cultural norms and misunderstandings, but resulting in the propagandist "Manifest Destiny" in which we just had to own all the land from the Atlantic to the Pacific, relocating anyone we saw fit, killing others... No wonder they call it "Day of Mourning."
Of course, that didn't stop Lincoln from naming it a national holiday in 1863. Fitting, that Lincoln, the man that essentially brought about the end of slavery, also made a holiday out of another part of our history which ruined another race of people...
Let us remember that, while our history certainly isn't a bed of roses, there are still things to be thankful for...
Happy Thanksgiving everybody!
To read William Bradford's complete book in pdf form, click here.
Me: Does it fit into a bread box?
Rich: Come on, you ask that every year!
It's true. I stare at the box that holds a gift (or gifts) for me, and I ask. I should have learned my lesson the first Christmas, when he replied "Yes!" quite emphatically. What he neglected to say was that I would have to break, bend, and pulverize the wrought-iron chandelier to make it FIT into a bread box. Nevertheless, tradition won out:
Me: Is that a yes or a no?
Rich: It's a "sometimes."
Me: "Sometimes"?
Rich: Yes. "Sometimes."
Me: Do I have to put it together?
Rich: You need to put it with something, but it doesn't exactly require "putting together."
You know how the fine print works, right? "Some assembly required," or "Batteries not included," or "Penis sold separately." Obviously I would have to ask something a bit more in-depth if I were to get a working clue as to what the mysterious box covered in bright paper held...
Me: What room will I use this in?
Rich: Any room you want, really.
Me: Is that so?
Rich: Yep. (He casually goes back to surfing the Internet while I stare at the box...)
Me: Will it break if I pick it up and drop it?
Rich: It could break, but it's not a guarantee...
You see, he's not like me. He doesn't care to get hints, he doesn't want hints about his gifts. Apparently it's not what his family does. They accept the fact that they'll find out on Christmas morning, and that's that. Sometimes, like last year? He gets down-right annoyed. He wouldn't even answer the "bread box" question last year!
I, however, love the suspense. I love the give-and-take. I love the anticipation of what I think it will be just as much as I love seeing it when I open it, whether I was right or not! (And, I'm usually right, which does not work in my favor when fishing for hints the next year...)
Me: Would you mind if I picked it up and shook it around?
Rich: Yes. (Very emphatic.)
Me: Okay, okay... Um... Any room in the house?
Rich: Yep.
Me: Do I have to rearrange the house to use it, in, say, the kitchen?
Rich: Not really.
Me: The bathroom?
Rich: No.
Me: Out in the garage.
Rich: That might be a bit tricky, but I've seen you do it before.
Me: I've used this outside?
Rich: Well, not this, exactly.
He's getting into it now. Can you tell? Getting "chatty" about it, as it were.
Me: So I have something like this already?
Rich: Hmmm... Maybe...
Me: Did I ask for it?
Rich: Not exactly.
Me: Does it get plugged in?
Rich: No.
Me: Oh.
Rich: (evil grin) You can give up now, if you want.
Me: Why? Do you think I know what it is?
Rich: I know you have no clue this year!
Me: What room will I mainly use it in? Is "use" even a good way to describe this gift?
Rich: Not really, but you'll "use" it mostly in the living room, I think.
Me: You think?
Rich: All the time. Hehehe.
Me: But it fits into a bread box without it being broken into bits and ultimately destroyed, right?
Rich: Yep.
Me: But I didn't ask for it?
Rich: No.
Me: And I can use it anywhere?
Rich: Yep.
Me: I hate you.
Rich: Kisses to you too, babe.
Three more days of flying on the wings of anticipation.... And loving every minute of it...
Me: No, I have to... It just wouldn't seem right!
Rich: But it defeats the whole purpose! We're trying to get the house ready to sell, not enter it into a decorating contest!
Me: You know what my grandfather used to say about the undecorated houses?
Rich: Uh...
Me: "Oh, they must be Jewish!" Not that there's anything wrong with that, but you know how I love the holidays and decorating!
Rich: But--
Me: I have to decorate something!
Rich: But--
Me: I've already agreed not to put up a tree so we can sell it on eBay, and that's a huge part of decorating.
Rich: But, babe--
Me: And I'm not putting up the icicles around the edge of the roof!
Rich: Yes, but--
Me: But I am decorating in a "tastefully simple" kind of way.
Rich: (Quizzical eyebrow raise.) Huh?
Me: You know, a little here, a little there. The Christmas plates, stockings on the mantel, a few bubble lights.
Rich: I suppose...
I had already started, you see. With the stockings and the nut cracker soldiers on the mantel, the ancient Santa and reindeer that Mom always had placed in the corner hutch. About seven boxes were strewn across the living room floor with Beaux hopping from box to box to sniff and toy with some of the precious treasures.
Rich: I just thought that--
Me: The upstairs is still being worked on, I need to rerun the wiring, but it will get done--we have all winter to finish the upstairs.
Rich: Yes, but--
Me: And I'm not putting up the village or the train set, so that also saves time and space. (I was really quite proud of this sacrifice I was making!)
Rich: Can I just--
Me: And we'll even, if you don't want to, not set up the Island of Misfit Toys display, just in case that one (jerked finger toward Lil Wet Paws as he discovered stringed lights and Hawthorne stared at him with utter boredom mingled with contempt) gets a little to mountain-climby.
Rich: I just--
Me: It's just a few lights and some of the smaller decorations!
How the hell am I supposed to enjoy my last Christmas in Pennsylvania if I can't decorate?! It would go against all the fuzzy-warm memories of childhood, the sense of tradition, the only bright and shiny time in a long and gloomy winter! I was now on the war path...
Me: I'm decorating, and that's all there is to it! I'm tired of feeling like Scrooge! Thanksgiving was already five days ago! This house is usually decorated FOUR days ago! All the neighbors have their lights up already! I feel like... like...
Rich: I just wanted to ask if I can put up the nativity?
Me: Oh... Why wouldn't you be able to?
Rich: Well, I know it's not exactly your thing...
Me: So? It's your thing! And you have just as much right to put it up as anyone else! I've never stopped you before... Why are you asking now?
Rich: Well, since I was the one who said we wouldn't decorate, but now it seems we are decorating, I just thought... I dunno...
Me: Quit being such a dick and start decking!
Rich: Decking?
Me: The halls? "Deck the halls with boughs of holly, fa-la-la-la-la, la-la-la-la?" Ever heard of it?
Rich: Okay, okay, I'll start decking!
Ahh... Now it's starting to look a lot like Christmas...
I'd like to be the first to make a motion that St. Patrick's day from here hence forth shall only be recognized, celebrated, and acknowledged on either Friday nights or Saturday nights...
So how Irish was I last night? Let me count the ways:- 1 Irish car bomb (pictured)
- 2 pink fruity things
- 1 Mike's Hard Lemonade
- 2 rum and Pepsi's
- 1 gay kiss at a straight bar in small town PA at a "traditional" Irish wake
... and me back at work with only four hours of sleep...
And I promised myself I would call off today. I'd like to take this opportunity to thank my parents for the guilt-ridden work-ethic they passed on to me, their 2nd of 5 offspring...
Such a blast, though, such a blast... The town of Bally didn't know what hit them--especially when I ran into two cousins and an aunt!! OMG!
Here's the weird circle of my life--I have a hubbie named Rich. Together we went to the Bally Hotel with his cousin Courtney, our friend Trace, Trace's cousin Rick, and his friend Debbie. When we ran into my cousins Megan and Matt, it came up that Courtney, long before she knew anyone in my family, used to cut their hair when they were but wee lad's and lassies. And Matt knew Rick from Zern's where he has a stand (Zern's is the farmer's market in Boyertown my great-grandfather used to own most of)! It was like the six degrees of Jason in Bally! (Okay, okay, all this seemed a lot weirder when we were all heavily buzzed... Huh.... "were" buzzed?)
Come on, you know you wanna start singing "It's a Small World After All!" And even if you didn't, you're singing it now in your head. Consider it a traditional Irish curse. :) We didn't get due representation on the ride in Disney, thus you are cursed to have it swimming around your noggin for at least another hour or two...
We did manage to earn ourselves a lot of Mardi Gras beads (I know, I know, but something tells me beads are becoming more and more universally accepted at EVERY holiday...) I think there was at least two spilled green beers, a broken camera, at some point someone did the Hustle (mistaking it for a dirge), and we all joined hands and tried our hands at River Dancing.... That last was thanks in large part from the car bombs--taste like chocolate, hits you faster than Obama's economic recovery package, and leaves you feeling much better than either on it's own...
It was a good night... I'll post some pics as soon as my fellow Irishmen and women wake and upload from their various broken and unbroken technological appendages--after all, the proof is in the car bomb...
For those who wish to make their own Irish car bomb:- 1/2 oz. Irish Cream (Bailey's)
- 1/2 pint Stout (Guinness)
- 1/2 oz. Whiskey, Irish (Jameson)
Mixing Instructions:
Pour half a pint of chilled Guinness into a beer mug and let it settle. Take a shot glass filled with 1/2 oz. of Irish whiskey on the bottom and 1/2 oz. of Irish cream on top. Drop the shot glass into the Guinness and chug.
Chug, chug, chug, chug-chug-chug-chug-CHUG-CHUG-CHUG-CHUG...
Makes us all wish we had just a bit more of the Irish in us, yes? Hubba-hubba...
Happy St. Patrick's Day everybody!
Thanks to Restoring Love for the pic.
This is a great shot my friend Trace took at our house at the holidays, the puppy lying peacefully under the holiday tree...
And I shouldn't call him my puppy so much as my dog--after all, he will be nine years old this May...
(sigh...)
As my mother says, only the good die young. So we should have him around for a while yet... :)
Just wanted to share this. Working on something lengthy, so enjoy the short posts while you can. ;)
Another year, another broken promise...
Remember the 80s, dear reader? Perhaps some of you are too young. Those of us fortunate enough to be born in the early- to mid-seventies have such fond memories. Blade Runner had us easting sushi while technological pyramids stood stark against the smog-filled sky and hover cars flitted about with all manner of life. Robocop had crime-ridden streets and half-dead cops running around unable to overcome their programming but still able to stand for truth and justice. Back the the Future gave us the ability to make a better future for ourselves with time machines that looked like cool cars, skate boards that hovered, and televisions that changed channel on command... There was Running Man, Demolition Man, Total Recall, Terminator, Alien, The Fifth Element... Okay, some of those are verging into the 90s, but you get the idea...
I still can't afford that robot that fetches the paper for you in the morning--and I don't even get the paper! Yet the movies promised me hover cars...
A trip to Disneyland at Epcot in Tomorrowland had giant arms slowly moving up and down rows upon rows of corn fields, testing the soil, maintaining the crops and feeding the world. A purple dragon named Figment extolled the virtuous land of tomorrow where disease was extinct, Earth was the breadbasket feeding the colonies of Jupiter, Mars, and Saturn, and wars were played out in a virtual reality where no death occurred. (Granted, I was maybe seven or eight at the time, and the ride probably didn't extol near this much virtue, but that's what makes reminiscing so wonderful--it's as glorious as you remember it being, not as cheesy as it probably was...). Did I mention Tomorrowland had hover cars in the near future...?
Science fiction has always held a special place in my heart. I grew up reading Isaac Asimov's Foundation series and many other titles of various authors, and I always had imagined my first car would be a hover-stang that could change color every day if I so desired, talk to me like Kit, and shoot torpedoes out of the headlights... (Okay, that last one I added after I started driving--I never realized how many idiots pass the drivers exam every year until that point...)
I remember one year in seventh grade, the teacher, Mrs. Sassaman of the blond-hair-so-bleached-it-was-greenish, caught one of my classmates drawing a picture of a snowman. Mrs. Sassaman held up the drawing to show the class and proclaimed: "You see this? Good, cause in the near future there won't be any snow, or snowmen!" (I wish...) Did I mention that, even as early as 1988, we were learning about climate change and global warming and man's impact on that? (Perhaps that's why it seems so odd to me that people still don't face the reality of climate change when it seemed scientifically proven enough to be taught in 1987...)
Even though most times our fears show the future as pretty damn bleak, I can't help but believing in humanity and our ability to make the future better than our fears imagine it to be. I can't but believe that we will find ways to cure the common cold (not to mention cancer), that we will end world hunger and that no person should ever starve, that we will learn to cope with the population issues by colonizing other worlds, that we will make contact and eventually coexist with other intelligent life (not to mention with one another!). It will all just take time...
And a facing of our fears...
Hell, I may even get a hover car out of the arrangement...
I fought tooth and nail to get to you tonight, dear reader. You may not realize what goes on within the domain of a single-computer, dial-up household--after all, from what I hear, each family now has 2.5 computers, broadband up the ass, and a child for every MP3 player that needs programmed. Since not all of us are so blessed, this is how it goes here:
Me: Babe, I need to blog.
Rich: Uh-huh... Five more minutes...
[Thirty minutes later...]
Me: Babe, I need--
Rich: Yeah, I heard you, I'm just in the middle of looking up something for your birthday...
Me: Didn't you do that yesterday? And the day before? Honestly, how much are you spending?
Rich: Enough, but I need... You'll have to... Five more minutes...
[Thirty minutes later...]
Me: Babe, I--
Rich: Hey, I'm sure your millions of fans aren't that worried. You can blog tomorrow. It's just that--
Me: --wanted to know if you want some ice cream... Smarty...
Rich: Oh. Um, no thanks, I... Uh... Five--
Me: --more minutes, uh-huh... I'll just blog tomorrow... Again...
Rich: At least it's for your birthday present! [Big grin...]
Me: Lemme guess. For my birthday, I'll get to use the computer again? Oh, goodie!
So, in the interests of allowing a certain someone to get back to eBay to spoil me rotten just 21 short days after the gift orgy known as Christmas, I'll keep this brief. Granted, each of the following topics were to be much grander, much longer, and much more awe-inspiring with the intent of leaving you in a state of rapturous wonder at my wordy wisdom, but I digress safe and secure in the knowledge that I'm about to get more gifts, and you will be left wondering what that gift is... :D
Brief Topic Number One: God doesn't want his followers to have Christmas trees:
Jer 10:2-4: 2. Thus saith the LORD, Learn not the way of the heathen [...] 3. For the customs of the people [are] vain: for [one] cutteth a tree out of the forest, the work of the hands of the workman, with the axe. 4. They deck it with silver and with gold; they fasten it with nails and with hammers, that it move not.
Discuss.
Brief Topic Number Two: Bathrooms have many nooks and crannies--and you don't want to be in most of them...
It also amazes me how people actually get paint all the way behind the toilet for uniform color on a wall. At this point I would upload pictures of the new black floor (which, if truth be told, is the result of a quasi-lost battle on my end), my hand-made wooden blinds custom colored to match the walls, and the spectacular end result, but blogger's pic feature seems to be down at the moment of this posting, so that'll have to wait. Trust me, however--it looks fabulous! Black floor and all...
Brief Topic Number Three: You can put too many chocolate chips into a cake.
Cake then collapses into a half-baked chocolate mush pile that your dog just loves to knock over the garbage for, and you end up buying a package of Oreo's to bring to the family get-together. Much is made over the effort you must have put into said Oreo's, and you grin and bear it, as that is what family is for. :) I have to say, I have the best family in the world, even if evil grandmother lied about bringing her traditional graham cracker pies. I think this is the first holiday EVER in which they were not present (the pies, not the evil grandmother...) Personally, I think she was just trying to think of a way to piss us all off, but none of us took the bait. It's nice to know she can bring so much joy to our family just by being a typical bitch when we refuse to play by her mind-game rules. (I think I feel a Tiny Tim moment coming on...) But I digress.
That'll have to do for now--a certain someone is saying he must check on an auction for the upcoming 3rd anniversary of my thirtieth birthday, so I'll leave you all with this:
Have a happy new year, have fun, and in the words of my awesome Uncle Scott: If you can't be good, be careful.
Ta ta for now, my friends!
A new year. A new president. A new dog. A new InDesign program.
Change is everywhere. In fact, there’s ninety-seven cents of it in my pocket at the moment. (I just checked.) Granted, not even enough to spend at the dollar store, but it is change, nonetheless.
For me, change begins every year the night of Thanksgiving. After stuffing ourselves full of food, I tend to go home and bring down all my holiday decorations from the attic (which, if truth be told, could also use a little change, but that’s a project for my father’s finely-honed wood-working skills when he finally retires...)
As I figure out what lights work (and don’t work), hang wreaths, and remind myself of all those little things that need done before the family comes over to eradicate the hours spent cleaning my home, I remember the seasons past as I unwrap my great-grandmothers’ ornaments (sans glitter); my aunt Ruth’s hand-crocheted elves (Freddy Kruger-esque); my mothers’ tea set that she purchased the year I was born, decorated with holly leaves and berries and the year "1976" in festive, red lettering (Ahh, the seventies...). My acquisition of these items required change on their part, whether simple changes in decorating taste or something more life-altering, such as a move or a death...
Any type of change creates a past. (Honestly? Puberty creates a past, but I digress...) We can only embrace change if we are willing to say good-bye to something else (and not in a Target sort of way: "Hello, Good-buy, Hello, Good-buy!"), and that isn’t always easy. Whether it be to finally retire that T-shirt from high school, or toss the gaudy wreath my mother-in-law gave me five years ago ("Rich, did you not hear me tell her 'No pink!?' "), or even something as simple as going right instead of left on your way home (I knew I should have taken that left turn in Albuquerque...), change IS good, even if we don’t think it at the time...
As I look forward to the New Year, and the many changes in store both personally and professionally ("What do you mean, we’re upgrading to Quark Five—thousand...?"), I can honestly say while I don’t expect all change to be good or easy, I do expect all change to bring with it memories, a past, and a lifetime I shall never regret living. After all, what good is living life if we never expect to learn or change anything about ourselves? Our homes? Our lives?
As we all gear up for the holidays and the New Year, I want to wish all of you a year filled with wonderful things, and a past filled with wonderful memories. I know none of us can promise that everything that happens will be good, or even best, but inevitably something, somewhere in our lives, will change. And I hope that change brings personal growth, happiness, and all the best that humanity has to give...
Happy holidays, everyone!
If our last computer hadn't passed on to that great motherboard in the sky, I'd let you see last years' pumpkins, but alas--to everything there is a time and a season...
I carved the werewolf, Rich decided he wanted something a little more spooky, so we went with Icabod Crane as his inspiration (courtesy of some very lovely pumpkin-template web sites).
Happy Halloween everyone!
It's just amazing to me what people spend their time creating...
The husband knew this, and took this candid shot of me contemplating a metal chicken with plants coming out of its back... He finds it quite humorous how I can just get lost in thought over what, on the surface, seems "uncontemplatable"--his word.
He finds it amazing that I contemplate metal cocks with plants, just as I am amazed at who would bother making such a thing... (as well as whomever first dubbed the male chicken a "cock"...)
At least the artist behind the chicken gets paid for his creation. There's a huge market for kitchy/rustic/metal/country shit...
It's almost like those TV commercials that sell items for just $19.95--who in the hell needs a spatula that flattens, dices, and waxes your car? Of course, enough people think they need it, and will call in the next ten minutes just so they can end up with TWO flattening-dicing-waxing spatulas at the same low price.
I hear they make great stocking stuffers...
That same say--a glorious day spent with hubby, Mom, and Aunt Denise flea-marketing and yard-sale perusing--that I also laughed out loud at this--what brilliant mind thought, "Hey! I know what the market needs--a still-life in white plastic of Jesus on the day he was born! We can even include a wooden base--all for just TWO DOLLARS! What a great memorial to our lord and savior!"
Something tells me it won't become the family heirloom the first-ever nativity creator was expecting... But hey--who knew you could get Jesus so cheap? And outside the church?! Not that the church doesn't cheapen their god in much more myriad ways, but I suppose it's the thought that counts... This way even Jesus can be a stocking stuffer, and perhaps--just perhaps--re-steal the holiday season once more from unbelieving pagans...
And at bargain-basement prices to boot...
What kills me is that, while Jesus and family are worth two dollars, the metal cock? It was selling for $45...
So in an effort to br "green," or what passes for green so far in this century we call the twenty-first, the husband and myself have bought our first ever string of solar powered holiday lights. We plan on pretending we live on boat-house row in Philadelphia and will be outlining the entire front of our home in white lights. Due to my high sense of tacky, however, I had to declare a firm "NO!" when it came to the Snoopy-on-his-Doghouse light-up display.
More people could take a lesson like that.
In addition to solar-powered lights, we also are the proud new owners of a rotating Christmas tree stand. Rotates 350° in one direction, stops, and then turns back the other way (to keep the cords from getting tangled, of course...).
I'm just giddy with excitement! I've already started my Christmas shopping (take that, Hallmark!) and I'm only a few people short of completing. Did I mention I just started three weeks ago? I must confess, I normally don't start this early, but when you come across a few good sales, nothing beats getting a jump start, you know?
I can see it now--I'll still be at the mall at 5:00 pm looking for that one thing to bring that awesome smile to someone's face, the one that says "How did you know? I love it!"
I love the holidays, even though they come at a most horrible time of year (see previous post). Just the immense joy and happiness you can bring to so many people with a gift, a letter, a cookie--hell, even a hug!
So, yes, I guess I'm as guilty as the mall in "pushing Christmas early," but you know what?
It makes me happy...
And it's better than being all Eyore about winter, you know? After all, it is our ability to accessorize that separates us from the animals. Well, that, and thumbs... And the ability to think of others...
In that order...
Happy early holidays! (And try not to hate me too much... You know, for being a better Christmas shopper than you...) :D
I do apologize for the long silence, dear reader. You see, my life has been one hectic, overblown sense of haplessness and exhaustion over the holiday weekend and the gumption to write just hasn't been there. Call it a slump, call it a sense of euniu, but don't call me late for dinner, okay?
It's a bit more complicated than that--you see, first there was the complete and utter meltdown of my motherboard (and no, that is not a reference to my mother's surfing days, long since gone...), followed by the scheduled-out-the-ass picnic, which in turn led to the "Is this your dog out in the middle of the highway?" conversation at one in the morning on Saturday (which, for the record, it wasn't, and thus we had a second dog for two days whilst trying to locate it's owner), the baby sitting responsibilities of four ferrets while certan family members go on vacation (well-deserved on their part), outlets in the basement trying to put on a fireworks show of their own (thanks again for fixing that, Dad!), and honorable mention must go to my boss who continues to assume I'm an idiot even after 7 years of service making green things...
Starting at about 9:00 pm EST on Thursday, July 3, 2008, just now ending on Tuesday, July 8, 2008, with me playing with my first ever brand-new computer, plugged into outlets that are no longer feeling patriotic with fireworks displays, while Hawthorne enjoys watching the four ferrets play in their playpen and Fred (the other dog) is back with his wonderful owners (aged 600 and 660, fresh off babysitting Jesus while god went and smote some poor soul for wearing plaid today...)...
I'd like to say "It's been fun!" but Momma always said not to say anything if you couldn't say something nice (although a quick drive around the water cooler leaves me wondering how many orphans there really are in the world as their mother's didn't seem to teach them a damn thing), the one silver lining I can point to is that I finally have a computer which will run SimCity 4... (yes, yes, I'll put my supernerd costume back on...)
There's much more to say, of course, but that falls under Momma's wisdom, so until situations resolve themselves, I'm taking the high road and ignoring the holier-than-thou riffraff in the hopes that all things will come to a happy resolution... If not, well then there will be hell to pay (and it should go without saying, that's in the most metaphorical sense as we all know there is no such place...)
I promise something of substance soon (for SimCity 4 love can only last so long) but hope that you'll bear with me as I learn how to operate a computer that doesn't have any technical difficulties! It's amazing how many technological things have changed since Windows 98!
Reservations have been verified. Airline tickets have been purchased. Car rental agencies have been contacted.
And unlike those pesky "10 commandments," mine are chiseled into 1's and 0's on hard drives up and down the Eastern seaboard. So if, while vacationing in Aruba, I happen to come across my people worshipping a golden calf made from jewelry, I need not smash those plans of stone and end up doubling my workload by starting from scratch... Thank goodness for the Internet! Oh, and, of course, confirmation numbers consisting of at least 7 letters and 12 numbers randomly thrown together in what companies hope is a professional-looking pattern...
I wonder if Moses would have even bothered, knowing what the future held?
God: Moses, I need you to take some notes.
Moses: "Notes"? Do I look like a secretary?
God: Listen you bearded doof, I have some very important things to say, and since no one else would climb the mountain, and I dare not come down for fear of a nasty sunburn in the desert, it's you or nothing! Now grab a stone. Something flat we can carve a nice border outline onto... I'm thinking roses!
Moses: You know, if you just hold off for another two thousand years or so...
God: Hey! I'm in charge here!
Moses: I'm just saying... If one thousand years here is as a day to you... See where I'm going with this?
God: No, not really...
Moses: Just take a nap, take in a movie, get Holy Casper out of the house for a nice long weekend, and before you know it--BAM! No need to carve a stone, you can just--Zing! Everyone gets a copy!
God: I could do that now, you know...
Moses: Will you, please?
God: No... I don't wanna...
Moses: I'm going to regret this... (Grabs some limestone and a an iron dagger...)
God: "Dear Israelites; Being an awesome dude, I feel you don't give me enough props... To that end, I decree that you shall have no other gods before me." How's that for a start?
Moses: I'm still trying to carve a "D" for crying out loud! Slow down!
God: So... You're saying we could be here a while, yeah?
Moses: It will feel like a thousand years...
Ah, who cares, right? I'M GOING TO ARUBA!!!!! In 12 short weeks, I will be on white sands, swimming in clear water, and utilizing my brand new passport for the first time EVER!
Begin the countdown...
I've never been big into Halloween... Perhaps it was too many years in church and bible school, hearing about how it was the devil's holiday... Maybe it was because most of life I was already pretending to be something I wasn't... Perhaps it was just because chocolate didn't have the hold on me that so many other children swooned over...
Regardless, I have always been fascinated, actually, by people's enjoyment of being scared. From the haunted hayrides, the corn mazes, the creepy houses, the horror flicks, the screaming and the blood--it boggles me more than fundidiots!
I personally have never liked being scared--indeed, even mild suspense can sometimes get to me, although I will state that I love a good suspense flick much better than a horror flick. My brothers would actually make fun of me when, if they happened to be watching a horror movie or show on the television, I would vacate the living room as soon as I thought something even remotely horrifying was about to make an appearance. Whether suddenly having to go to the bathroom, or making up some other such excuse, I would take that time to play the "for-once-not-being-played" Nintendo, or have the bedroom for silent reading. (We three boys shared a bedroom until I was seventeen and demanded my father build a wall in the basement at a key point in which I could finally secure my own room...)
I sometimes wonder if this is how I try exert control over my environment? Or is this me being a slave to my fears? I don't fear fear--in fact, there isn't much I do fear! I just don't like that feeling of unknowing, of the surprise that's coming, and ultimately, of the nightmarish stories my subconscious imagines in the dead of the night! I remember I once made it through (what I now realize is the cheesiest flick ever made) a whole screening of the movie Alligator, and for years afterward, I had a nightmare in which a giant alligator was coming down Toll Gate Road, trying to gobble up my family... And while I can appreciate the cheesiness of it all now, back then I was terrified at the idea of loose alligators. Go figure, eh?
I must then ask myself, why doesn't the fear of eternal damnation hang over me, or even my subconscious, to the point where I must err on the side of "caution" and "believe" just to save myself the fear of hell fire? Is it that, as an adult, I can appreciate the "cheesiness" of fire insurance for a consciousness that won't survive past my heart beat? Or, on the flip side, is it my survival instincts of self-preservation that keeps me from even contemplating the notion, much as I wouldn't contemplate watching a horror movie?
I think it must be the first, as the second, the "contemplation," has been discussed both here and on other blogs, about the ludicrousness of such a netherworld created by a being to punish beings he created and doesn't want to punish... The circular, anti-rational logic of it all, is more reminiscent of a fire insurance policy, nay, perhaps even a panic button people can hit at will in an effort to absolve themselves of misdeeds and "less than nice" thoughts or actions!
In the ultimate of ironies (much like having a spoon when all you need if a knife), one must remember two key tenants: One, that you need Jesus blood to "wash away," or "cleanse" your sins, even though through some sort of loophole, you still end up paying the price of sin (i.e, death), but end up with life "eternally" in the presence of the one who died for you; and Two, even though you have been "washed" or "cleansed" of these sins, you will still commit acts of "wrongness" or "misdeeds," and thus continually need to regret and repent of these misdeeds (although it must be pointed out, in most Christian circles, misdeeds do not end your salvation, just a close relationship with said god).
And you have to wonder (or, at least, I have to wonder) why wouldn't "salvation" erase the sin nature, thus leaving you sinless the remainder of your life? OR, barring some sort of telelogical law about such a scenario (although a study of the holy book will reveal no such block to sinless nature through salvation), why not then BAM! automatic everlasting life? Why the need to still die if Jesus truly paid the price for all our sins?
As you can see, it reduces into an acrimonious harmony of illogical thought and circular rational...
Fear, at its core, must be substantive, if it is to remain effective as a motivator (much like "justice" and "mercy" must have finite, measurable punishments for finite, measurable deeds, but that's for another time...). Fear is defined by Websters as "1 a: an unpleasant often strong emotion caused by anticipation or awareness of danger." In other words, you need a reason to be afraid, to have fear... Otherwise, your fear is considered irrational, and thus, is categorized as a "phobia." Phobia, from Websters, is "an exaggerated usually inexplicable and illogical fear of a particular object, class of objects, or situation."
Hell, or even the once-removed cousin through marriage thought of eternal punishment, is a christological phobia. An irrational fear. Inexplicable, illogical, and brought on by an exaggerated fable of yesteryears beliefs. The reason hell has lost much of its umph in driving hoards to a "saving knowledge of Jesus" isn't due to a sudden gambling urge against Pascal's Wager, but by a continuing body of knowledge which points in the direction of logic, not pointy-tailed red-horned devils on one shoulder and beatific angels on the other...
And while my primal subconscious may still be dealing with the supposedly very real threat of being eaten by alligators (or its related off-shoots), I can rest easy in the knowledge that- Alligators are real.
- Alligators have eaten people.
- Alligators do not live in northeastern Pennsylvania.
Thus, there is a basis for the fear, and my conscious realizes this. The rational, logical portion of my brain recognizes the facts, and makes a decision which supersedes the more primal nature of "fight/flight," and as long as I don't feed this "fear" with heresy, false logic, and panicky hypotheticals, I sleep easy and don't plan my entire life, indeed my every thought and whim, on the basis of fear.
And, and this I believe is most fundamental, fear, while maybe not widely recognized as such, is the sole motivator of continued religious belief, and it flourishes best in the minds of people who entertain false logic and hypotheticals...
Perhaps, as humanity continues to advance sociologically and psychologically, more people will confront the irrationality of god and his supposed eternal promises (not to mention punishments)?
It almost stretches one's faith in humanity to think so...
But there is a new one taking his place. Not that I don;t love Gizmo--the lil guy just tugs a heart-string I didn't know I had! But Maybel... My dear sweet Maybel... Kind, sweet, quiet, shy, gentle Maybel, of unknown parentage (excepting the mother, a black-and-tan German Shepherd whom she doesn't resemble in the slightest), of gentle nature and bottomless heart... I didn't know emotionally (although logically I did) that I could fall for another so soon--dog, that is. Smart as a whip, loving as a--well, a dog? I'm too tipsy to think that much outside the box at the moment, LOL! 
