May 11, 2014

-image-oh, stuff about mother’s day and the church

Last year during Mother’s Day week, I found a blog post about Mother’s Day and the church and what the church should do about this day. There were over 1,000 comments and there’s no way I could read them all, but as a childless woman who finds this day hard and who avoids church every year on this day, I was struck by a recurring theme in a fair portion of the comments:

The childless women’s comments were frequently countered with “Well, yeah, you’re sad on this day but you’re supposed to rejoice with those who rejoice, the Bible says.”

You know, I love it when people use only half a verse to make their point or take a verse out of context entirely because, yes, we are supposed to rejoice with those who rejoice BUT – as the verse goes on to say – we are to mourn with those who mourn.

As it relates to the childless, when does the church do that, publicly? When does it mourn with other mourners – publicly? If the church is going to publicly rejoice with moms, then by extension, if it’s going to live out this verse, it should publicly mourn with the non-moms, but it doesn’t, or at least I’ve never seen a church that does. To be fair, I think it doesn’t because it just doesn’t know how. (I have some ideas, actually, because I know this road intimately.)

The church acknowledges moms a lot. They’re not forgotten. It’s not hard to find support and friends with that common bond, is it? Mothers are everywhere in the church, so they can’t possibly feel ignored, generally, in the church. There are lots of programs, lots of women walking a similar road, lots of moms with whom to commiserate, so to my eyes, there’s no lack of company. I’m not saying that moms can’t feel alone sometimes; I’m saying the state of motherhood is certainly not ignored in the church at large.

But, frankly, I don’t think it’s the church’s job to celebrate moms. It’s the job of the individual families to celebrate their own moms. I think the church should leave this manmade Hallmark holiday to the culture at large and keep it out of the church entirely. Enough with the mom sermons on Mother’s Day (and enough with the dad sermons on Father’s Day). Enough with the flowers it gives to moms one year and enough with the flowers it gives to all women the next year so no one feels left out. (I’m not stupid. I know I’m not a mom. A flower doesn’t fix it and it’s just awkward and pandering. In the past I said “no, thank you” to those flowers.)

But back to the post I mentioned at the beginning of my tirade. You know, I was also struck by just how many Christian moms commented that they want to be asked to stand in church on Mother’s Day and that they want to be acknowledged and applauded by the entire church. Why? Why are moms entitled to acknowledgement from the entire church? Several women gave the rationale that it’s no different from Veteran’s Day when veterans are asked to stand.

And … then I had to comment. First calm down and then comment.

Because, no, it’s not like Veteran’s Day at all. When veterans are asked to stand on their day, they have served EVERYONE in that church in their service to our country. Moms don’t serve the entire church. They serve on a much smaller but no less vital front: their own home. Expecting honor from people you don’t serve in your capacity as mom is expecting honor that you’re not entitled to. If I were a mom, I’d care much more about things like a scribbled homemade card that says “I love you, mommy,” burnt toast and runny eggs, a sloppy mani-pedi, or a bouquet of random flowers from my yard than any polite applause from people in church who don’t even know what kind of mom I am. Who cares about that? And if a person does care about that, I think they have to ask themselves why.

Maybe moms want to feel like heroes for a little while. I can understand that, but, again, they’re heroes to the family they serve, not the church at large. No, it’s not on the same scale size-wise, but isn’t it much more meaningful?

And about that standing acknowledgement, can I be blunt – or more blunt? The only thing that separates a mom from a non-mom is that all the male-female parts worked correctly and in a timely fashion. The “standing mom” acknowledgement that some churches employ is for the physical fact of being a mom. It isn’t a judgment nor is it an endorsement. It’s not saying “these women are all great moms”; it’s saying “these women are all moms.”

At its core, it’s really a physiological difference that separates a mom from a non-mom, but the church doesn’t do other such acknowledgements and celebrations based on physiological differences, does it? You don’t hear “Stand up if you don’t have diabetes.” “Stand up if you can see.” “Stand up if you don’t have ED.” “Stand up if you can stand up.”

Absurd, right?

I stay away from church on Mother’s Day. I have for years and I don’t see that ever changing – for the rest of my life. I won’t go. In my house, it’s called “Tracey Day” and I get spoiled rotten. That’s how I cope and how I will always cope with this manufactured, exclusionary day.

But would Mother’s Day really be diminished for Christian moms if the church didn’t acknowledge it? Would the Christian mom feel gypped if there weren’t flowers passed out, sermons preached, applause offered? There are plenty of non-Christian moms who don’t get applauded by a roomful of people on that day, so are their Mother’s Days qualitatively worse for the lack of it? I rather doubt it.

I just looked this up: Mother’s Day was established as a holiday 100 years ago – in 1914.

So I’m just wondering.

If this were 1913, what would Christian moms do?

April 23, 2014

-image-i can’t look away from the duggars

Oh, those Duggars. (You know, “19 Kids and Counting Until Michelle’s Uterus Falls Out or Jim Bob’s Penis Falls Off.”)

On last night’s episode, the first Duggar daughter-in-law said this to her toddler son:

DIL: Today at the store, we’re going to practice self-control, okay?
KID: Mmm ……….
DIL: Do you know what that is?
KID: Mmmm ………
DIL (said like a mantra): Instant obedience to do what is right.

Well, yes, that’s the definition of “self-control” in a patriarchal fundamentalist context. Self-control to them is actually total parental control which isn’t actually “self”-control at all, now is it? And this control applies to their kids of all ages, not just the littlest ones. I just find it fascinating that obedience = self-control.

If they’re following the discipline system advocated by those cray-cray Pearls — which they are — then “instant obedience” is required at all times and they’re punished whenever they don’t display instant obedience. You don’t see that part on the TV show, though, because it’s all about being “good witnesses” as opposed to being authentic.

April 8, 2014

-image-get off the roller coaster

Over the last month or so, I’ve been reading the online Christian commentary/reviews surrounding the movies “God is Not Dead” and “Noah” and I’ve come to a conclusion: Christians need to jump off the validation-persecution roller coaster they allow themselves to ride when “Christian-themed” movies are released. “God is Not Dead” comes out and Christians everywhere applaud that “The Christian guy wins the movie! Hurrah!” The high of validation. Then “Noah” comes out and Christians everywhere boo and hiss that “The movie is gnostic and pagan! How dare they mess with a biblical story! The depths of persecution.

And I don’t get it. I really don’t. I don’t understand the intense emotional investment here, the endless cycle of “good movie/bad movie” hysteria that does nothing, ultimately, to move anyone closer to Jesus in any genuine way. Some Christians seem to need to praise or condemn a movie as a requirement of their faith, which I find bizarre: “Look at me going to a movie where the Christian guy wins everything! I’m a good Christian!” Or “Look at me lambasting a movie that messes with our biblical traditions! I’m a good Christian!” (Well, maybe, but not because of this, okay?)

It’s a movie. It’s not Jesus. It’s not the gospel. It’s not salvific. It’s a movie made for the purpose of making boatloads of money. The movie industry isn’t a 501c3. It’s a multibillion-dollar moneymaking business and its money-making goal has nothing to do with you and your beliefs. They don’t really care about your beliefs, okay? They care about stroking your religious ego with this “good” Christian-themed movie – if it makes them money — or stoking your religious hysteria with that “bad” Christian-themed movie – if it makes them money. And that’s all it is. It’s a business for them but we seem to need it to be The Church. It’s not. It’s entertainment.

Hollywood doesn’t care about this self-made roller coaster Christians are on, but they’ll ride along if there’s money in it. Christians, however, ride the roller coaster because they choose to get on. So get off. Get off the roller coaster and see it for what it is: our own self-made misery regarding our perceived rights and/or perceived persecution. Hollywood is under no obligation to make Christians happy. We need to stop being so emotionally invested in “good movie vs bad movie.” We need to stop expecting miracles from “Christian-themed” movies when most of them are — aesthetically — crap. We need to stop bitching about them when they fall short of our personal expectations or agenda and we need to stop praising them when they do our job of offering an apologetic for the faith. We need to stop being so insecure in our faith that a 90-minute movie can soar us to heights of validation or depths of persecution.

Hollywood isn’t in the business of making Christians happy, nor should it be.

So next time the roller coaster stops, get off.

August 21, 2012

-image-the unaskable question

We were out at breakfast yesterday morning when two forty-something men sat down at the table next to ours. One of them, a rather big-faced fellow, began talking about the TV show The Walking Dead, which MB and I are hooked on, so I began to eavesdrop in earnest. He told his friend how he “didn’t normally watch shows like that” and how it’s about “moral dilemmas and redemption” and, bam, I just knew: Christians. Christians are the only people I know who need to do a CYA for watching certain TV shows and they’re also the only ones I know who use the word redemption in casual conversation. I don’t say this as a judgment at all. I simply say this because I can recognize the language of my people anywhere any time like a Texan could recognize a fellow Texan in the middle of Zimbabwe. The big-faced one talked a lot — about youth concerts at his church, about singing worship songs in a circle, about using real bread for communion. He was very earnest about the things he thought were very radical. The friend nodded in very earnest agreement about these very radical things.

And it was then I knew: I had to ask the question. I had to do it. I don’t know what compels me, something malevolent I’m sure. I waited for MB to leave to pay the bill so I wouldn’t embarrass him too much. The success of our relationship is dependent upon MB evacuating the immediate area — a lot. The waitress brought their order and as she left, there was a natural lull in conversation. My heart was pounding. I’m such a jerk. That thought never seems to stop me, though, so I turned to them and spoke.

“Hi. I’m sorry to interrupt but I couldn’t help overhearing that you’re both Christians?”

They looked a bit startled but recovered quickly. I could have been a non-Christian who needed answers, you know, so they smiled and nodded, a polite veneer.

“Oh, yes. Yes, we are.”

“Okay. Well, I am too –”

“Oh, great, great,” they interrupted, relieved, I guess, there wouldn’t be any hard questions to answer. They had no idea.

“– and I was wondering if I could ask you a spiritual question that’s kind of ……. strange?”

“Uhh … sure …..”

“Okay. Well ….. ” I took a big breath. “Do you think there will be sex in heaven?”

They both fell back into their chairs, walloped at the very thought. Their eyes were saucers.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the little old lady at the table next to them lift her head from her book, eyes blazing with glee, a huge incredulous smile on her face. From that moment on, she blatantly eavesdropped on the rest of our conversation.

I was nervous, so I kept talking — very fast — as is my wont.

“Well, um, I think about this a lot.” Shut up, Tracey. You sound like a pervert. “I mean, it’s something that really interests me. ” OMG, it’s getting worse. “Well, most Christians don’t seem to really think about that, you know? I mean ….. Jesus never actually mentions this so ……..”

Thank God, the big-faced one spoke and put me out of my misery.

“Well ….. hm …… wow. Well, I guess I think there won’t be a need for it because of the presence of God.”

“Okay. That’s interesting. So do you think, then, that heaven is more of a utilitarian place that consists of only things we need?”

“I’ve never thought of it like that.”

“I mean, does God just pare down life to the bare essentials then, like a Motel 6, or does he keep and redeem (there’s that word) the things he originally created or declared good — like sex?”

“Well, I think he redeems things.”

“I agree. Do you think we’ll eat?”

“Yes.”

“Do you think we’ll need to eat?”

“Maybe not.”

“So food but no sex? Then is sex so corrupted that God can’t redeem it?”

“I wouldn’t think so … I guess …..”

The other man spoke.

“I don’t think I’ve spent time contemplating this — ever.”

What a surprise.

He continued.

“I think I’ll just be so full of joy, I won’t even care or think about it.”

I had to laugh.

“Come on. You’re a man.”

He laughed too.

“So do you think you’ll still be a man with …… man parts?”

“Actually, I do.”

“With a physical body?”

“Yes,” they both said.

“So …. gender is intact and physicality is intact, but no one will be allowed to …. uhh …. do anything with it?”

They both laughed this time — a laugh fueled by the unwanted gift of social discomfort I’d brought to their breakfast table, now laden with cold coffee and uneaten pancakes.

“I mean, won’t that be a source of eternal frustration?”

“I don’t …… knnnow,” the other one said.

“Back to your comment about the presence of God, look at the garden of Eden,” I said. “There’s Adam, he’s in perfection, in the very presence of God all the time, and God himself scratches his chin and says it’s not good for Adam to be alone, so he makes Eve. He tweaks his own creation. God decided that even his very presence was not enough for Adam so he made Eve and let them ….. be a man and a women together, to put it delicately. But he made the human one of his own kind. Doesn’t that kind of show that God understands that even in perfection, he is not enough? That humans need other humans and men and women need each other and how does that all play out in heaven?”

This verbal barrage spewed out across their breakfast table at approximately 473 wpm.

Wow. I really am a jerk.

They stared at me. The little old lady was smiling to break her face. MB had been standing by, quietly observing the conversational fray the light of his life had created.

“This is my embarrassed husband,” I said to the men to break all the sacrilegious tension.

“Hello, embarrassed husband,” they laughed. Looks of pity flickered across their faces.

MB just smiled. And I just kept going, a relentless grand inquisitor.

“Tell me honestly. From a male perspective, is a sexless eternity a bummer?”

“Well ……. I suppose ……. I mean, kind of ……. well ….. hm ….. I don’t know what to say …..” they said variously.

The atmosphere around MB had subtly shifted. His body language deemed it was time to go — before I said the word penis and/or vagina to these two hapless hungry strangers.

“Well, thanks for being so nice and answering my questions. I’ll let you get back to your breakfast and your original conversation — which probably wasn’t this, right?”

“No, but this was interesting. Something to think about,” the big-faced fellow said.

“Have a good day.”

“You too.”

Once we were outside, MB finally spoke with a laugh and a shake of his head. “My wife, always the wild card.”

He grabbed my hand with a quiet chuckle and we dissected the entire encounter all the way home.

I can’t help it. I don’t know what compels me.

Something malevolent, I’m sure.

July 23, 2012

-image-oh, hey, this just in: if you masturbate, you’re gay

Oh, sweet fancy Moses.

Celebrity pastor Mark Driscoll (Mars Hill Church, Seattle WA) strikes again. I seriously wanna thunk that guy so bad.

Brace yourselves, pippa. Here we go:

“First, masturbation can be a form of homosexuality because it is a sexual act that does not involve a woman. If a man were to masturbate while engaged in other forms of sexual intimacy with his wife then he would not be doing so in a homosexual way. However, any man who does so without his wife in the room is bordering on homosexual activity.”

Hm. You know, I didn’t know homosexuality was defined by who is watching your various sexual activities. This is news to me. Then again, it’s fashionable these days to change the common understanding of words and terms to something newer and better, I guess, so maybe I’m just not up on the latest definition of homosexuality because I’m not as cool or hip as Driscoll and I don’t wear my t-shirts with a vest or my Converse with a suit.

I just wear ’em with jeans. I’m a goober.

So following Driscoll’s logic here, if two men are having sex but a woman is watching them, that means they’re both straight then, right?

Or if one of the men is married to the woman, then he’s straight, but the other dude is gay?

Or, wait, if both of them are married and both of their wives are watching – something all women love to do, of course — then both of the men are straight. Do I have that right?

If Driscoll’s comment is true, then every man since the dawn of time is gay and every woman who is with a man is with a gay man and no one is paying attention to the t-shirt.

Bummer.

July 19, 2012

-image-christians don’t masturbate

Today I offer for your perusal, this:

x3t117-zoom-tm.jpg

Now I could go on and on about the basic oogeyness of anyone actually wearing this t-shirt, but I won’t because I really think that’s less interesting than my niggling punctuation issue here which calls into question the intended meaning of the whole image, so I’m curious:

Does the t-shirt imply a comma, as in “Christians, don’t masturbate”? Or does the t-shirt imply the even more emphatic colon, as in “Christians: Don’t Masturbate”? Either way then, is the t-shirt offering an unsolicited rebuke? Is it being a sartorial scold?

OR

Does the t-shirt really intend no punctuation, thereby making a declarative: “Christians don’t masturbate”?

It’s unclear, isn’t it? There’s no punctuation here. What does this mean, pippa? The larger red “CHRISTIANS” set above and apart from the words “don’t masturbate” seems to imply some kind of punctuation should follow CHRISTIANS. Then again, maybe not. I honestly don’t know and that’s part of why it’s so stupid: The true meaning/intent isn’t clear.

Perhaps the t-shirt means “Christians don’t masturbate, but all the hellbound heathens do”? Is that it then?

Let’s look at the possibilities:

If the t-shirt means “Christians, don’t masturbate,” well, who doesn’t love to be minding their own business, waiting in line to order their skinny chai latte, only to be confronted by a nagging, all-up-in-your-grill t-shirt worn by some Christian who thinks he’s helping you via the always life-changing venue of casual wear? If you’re wearing this, Slappy, do you really think some 16-year-old Christian kid who sees the t-shirt stops himself in his bed that night, thinking, “But …. well …… that t-shirt earlier today said ……”? No. I’m sorry, but the only t-shirt-related thought that kid thinks in the heat of the moment is how he wishes he had it handy to help him clean up.

You know, I’m actually offended by how stupid this shirt is, how stupid someone would have to be to wear it, how stupid it makes all Christians look, and how stupid it thinks its intended audience is. You’re not helping anyone by wearing this. You’re not even helping yourself because you look like a total wanker.

If the t-shirt means “Christians don’t masturbate” as a statement of fact, well, that’s just a flat-out lie. Christians do masturbate. Whether or not they should is something for eternal debate, I suppose, but Christians do masturbate. No one can make this statement as if it’s empirical truth unless they assembled all the Christians since the dawn of time, gave them polygraph tests regarding their, er, handiwork, analyzed the data, and then concluded that, yes, it’s absolutely unequivocally true that no Christian ever at any time since the invention of hands and fancy places has ever masturbated, world without end, amen. So did the creators of this t-shirt do this? Did they? Because if they did, they definitely missed our house.

So if you wear this shirt you’re either a) nagging, b) lying or c) a bit of both.

And that’s why Christians annoy people. Because we act like wankers but never ever engage in wanking.

Of course.

Lastly, if the t-shirt means “Christians don’t masturbate,” well, that’s a nice guilt-inducing sentiment, isn’t it? If you’re a real Christian, you don’t masturbate like all the blind hairy-palmed pagans we see staggering about us every day. If you do masturbate or ever have, you’re not a real Christian because, to repeat, Christians don’t masturbate.

But wait! Do my eyes deceive me or is there an implied loophole in this t-shirt’s design? A subliminal message? The image is a hand print of a right hand. So is this lie/scold/guilt trip of a t-shirt directed solely at right-handed Christians? Or the right hand itself? Does that mean use of the left hand in all self-completion activities would be acceptable then? I ask only for clarity’s sake, of course.

I have to wonder: Why the focus on masturbation? Is it guilt trip? The shock value? The superiority complex? I mean, why not a t-shirt that says “Christians don’t lie” or “Christians don’t steal”? or “Christians don’t commit adultery”? Those are taken directly from the ten commandments where, surprisingly, masturbation isn’t mentioned even once. So why not make t-shirts that say those things? Oh, wait. Those aren’t true either, plus they’re nowhere near as titillating as the whole master of your domain issue.

I shouldn’t underestimate this t-shirt’s value, though, because I’m now inspired to design my own similar t-shirts. For instance, how about a “Christians don’t lie” t-shirt featuring Pinocchio in silhouette with his nose wrapping all the way ’round the t-shirt. That would be cool, no? And, oh, how about a “Christians don’t commit adultery” t-shirt with two people really going at it in silhouette, doggy-style? I mean, why not?

Let’s cover all the things we Christians “don’t” do and put them on t-shirts.

You know, there’s only so much eye rolling my eyes can do before they’re stuck on “roll” forever.

Come on. Christians are humans first. They become Christians later. And later still, some become idiots.

But idiots or not, we struggle with all the same things everyone else does. Don’t let some random stupid t-shirt tell you otherwise.

(Also, I’m open to your t-shirt suggestions. Let’s start a business so we can fund our Sudden Yurt Commune.)

July 9, 2012

-image-the mindset of the foc male

I occasionally visit the FB page of a dude from Maybe Church who was one of the worship leaders when we were there. Actually, he was the one I wrote about who literally could not sing — he was tone deaf, I’m pretty sure of it — and it fascinated me that he was given that position simply because of the penis in his pants when there were women singing behind him who were clearly better singers.

As a bit of a background here, I’ve seen him around the various FOC “survivor” blogs — using his full name because FOCers think a screen name is a form of dishonesty — and he’s generally been mocking and condescending towards the people abused or traumatized by the FOC who are still deeply hurting. At one point, after my patience with him had completely frayed, I gave him a well-deserved (but fairly controlled) smackdown because I have zero tolerance for people who are cruel and dismissive about other’s pain just because it hasn’t happened to them. It is the essence of ungrace to me and the antithesis of Christian compassion.

His FB page is open to anyone, it seems, or at least many of the posts are public, so I check in on him about once a month. He’s a curiosity to me because, well, most FOCers are curiosities to me at this point and because he’s in a leadership position at his church that I don’t think he’s mature enough or sensitive enough to manage. My opinion.

I visited him this morning and found this thread. I believe most of the commenters here are also FOC men from his church.

I’m putting it up with no commentary from me — which is an act of extreme will power on my part, let me tell you. I think this exchange gives an interesting glimpse into the mindset of the FOC male. Worship leader starts the thread, so he’s “Poster” here:

POSTER: Just watched a girl at the gym, who was basically wearing nothing, go to the locker room and put on sweats and a shirt. Why? Because she noticed how many guys were constantly staring at her. I think this is a first…

MAN 2: One of them being you.

MAN 3: What?! No pic?!

POSTER: I looked at her with the look of, “Where is her dad at?” 😉

MAN 3: I would’ve given her a dollar. 😉

POSTER: And please no one jump to any sinful conclusions here. During the few minutes I was stretching I saw this girl and noticed the guys, and within a few minutes this girl changed. It wasn’t a workout long obsession…plus my wife is hotter anyways!

‎RANDOM CHICK: “Mission accomplished.” –that girl.

MAN 4: Do push ups at home.

MAN 5: I agree with Man 4. :) Home is much safer for the mans inherited wandering eyes.

POSTER: The point of this thread is that a girl who I would think that desires men’s attention like a whore, strangely changed her clothes in order to reject men’s attention. I thought that it was awesome. Secondly, I don’t think that God created females for us to make an effort to not be around them, except for one. Finding women attractive is not a bad thing. The sin is coveting someone else. Thoughts?

POSTER: Again, the point of this thread is to say that I thought that a girl changing her clothes instead of desiring men’s attention was awesome. I’d be a proud dad of that girl!

POSTER: We as men need to not be afraid of attraction. We need to flee the thought that we wished that our wives WERE these other women. Thoughts?

MAN 6: (ed.: He leaves a link to this video by celebrity pastor Mark Driscoll.)

MAN 4: There are some women we should make efforts not to be around. Especially if we don’t have to be around them. We might have to be around scantily clad females in our neighborhoods or at work. A gym is an elective.

MAN 7: It’s not easy being in the world but not of the world. When I see a beautiful woman I remind myself that (A) She is a co/Image bearer of God, (B) She is someone’s daughter, (C) she could be someone’s wife, (D) She doesn’t belong to me. Plus frankly often they are not so beautiful after they open their mouths…

MAN 8: Hey Man 7, one thing you said that always stuck with me. You said every time you see a beautiful woman you would think to yourself, “wow, good job God”. That always put things in perspective for me.

So I throw it back to you, pippa. Does anything in particular stick out to you?

As “Poster” said, “Thoughts?”

(Okay. I can’t hold it in. I can’t. I have to say it: I notice they’re using emoticons in their manly communications. Wasn’t this labeled “verboten” by ol’ Baldy, head of the FOC?)

May 27, 2011

-image-personal engineering

(A “letter” I wrote to some boob-lookers at Maybe Church. I didn’t post it at the time because I wasn’t sure if the boob-lookers were also some of the blog-lookers. Now I just don’t care.)

**************
Well, this is awkward. I’m all alone in front of a computer, yet I can feel my face burning tomato red because I need to dash off a random note to a couple of anonymous fellows at Maybe Church.

All right.

Here goes:

Fellas, it’s really okay with me if you ignore the boobins on Sunday when I walk by.

Really. It’s okay. I swear.

Please let me share something I’ve discovered that sometimes bothers me but might prove useful to you: They’re still there even if you don’t look at them, so it’s okay if you don’t. What I’m trying to articulate is that they don’t seem to need anyone to validate their existence. They seem to exist just fine apart from any validation. I can give them nary a thought or a glance for days on end and yet, still, they exist. Flourish, even. It’s a real mystery, I tell you. Besides, they really do just sit there. Trust me. I know this stuff firsthand. I’m a bit ashamed to admit this, but over the years, I’ve learned they’re extremely lazy and unmotivated. I’ve known some shiftless lumps in my life, but these babies take the cake. They don’t do dishes or fold laundry or make me a morning cappuccino, so in most ways, they’re pretty unhelpful. Believe me, I’ve tried to motivate them. Once, I even sat down and did that whole “What Color is Your Parachute?” dealio with them, but they only gave smart-alecky answers and we had a big ugly fight. They laughed and laughed when I tried to put them in timeout and one of them swore at me like a sailor. I won’t repeat the epithet here because I’m a delicate flower and my face is already ketchup red. Let me simply say that we didn’t talk for days after that. Basically, they’re disrespectful loafers who really don’t know what they want out of life. Turns out, my chest is a youth hostel and these Betties are permanent residents. They’ve hung around here for so long now that I’m afraid squatter’s rights probably apply.

You know, I wonder if I need to call my lawyer.

Oh, and here’s the other thing. I know they wouldn’t want me to share this — it’s embarrassing to them, but too bad, ya moochers. They are completely agoraphobic. I’m not kidding. They don’t drive or ride a bike or know how to use public transportation. They never leave the house unless I’m with them, schlepping them wherever they want to go, so I never get a break. I’m not kidding. There is never any “me” time where these babies are concerned.

Honestly, fellas, these accessories weren’t my idea and in many ways, they cause me no end of trouble. The good news is that they’re not spilling out all over bloomin’ creation or wandering off anywhere unauthorized by the Orange Vested Parking Gang because I do endeavor to keep them on a pretty short leash. Yes, I know; they are decidedly present. Believe me, I know. Deciding how to cover these babies on a daily basis is a creative endeavor requiring the skills and imagination of a Christo. Corralling these puppies every morning takes a massive feat of personal engineering involving flying buttresses and cantilevers and I don’t even know what those things are, which makes my daily accomplishment all the more impressive.

Maybe you should just praise Jesus for his endless imagination and sense of humor and rejoice that you only know one use for a shoe horn.

That’s right. You heard me.

Now you’ve made me cry, okay?

May 21, 2011

-image-where’s the rapture?

Hm. Hm. Where’s the breaking news of the disappearance of millions?

MB’s brother lives in Australia — where it is currently, ahem, almost 5 a.m. tomorrow, the 22nd. MB said, “Yeah, I think (brother) would have texted me if there were suddenly a bunch of empty Speedos on Bondi Beach.”

Hmm.

I guess the world lives to debauch another day, eh, Harold?

Honestly, though, this man is doing damage in so many ways. Here’s an example. You know, I’d be okay, Harold, if you were taken to your final destination at 6 p.m. your time today.

Oh, no. Wait. That would rob me of the pleasure of hearing what the hell you have to say for yourself on Monday.

Also: Will you be reimbursing the people who gave their life savings to promote this “guaranteed” rapture? Since you claimed “The Bible guarantees it!” when it, in fact, does not and this was simply one man’s flawed guarantee, I think the least you could do is reimburse those who gave everything to you because of your retarded and duplicitous “guarantee.”

I smite thee in my head, Harold. And all your minions who duped gullible and vulnerable people.

May 20, 2011

-image-“will you be raptured?” flowchart

Thanks to the adorable Katie, who left this in the comments of my judgment day post below, we now have access to this super-duper helpful flowchart which will allow you to know, without question, what will happen to you tomorrow at 6 p.m. your time.

Brilliant. And helpful.

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