My Latest Little Obsession

Yep, that's the new theme. Mine is an obsession like putting your tongue into the hole left by a missing filling. I'm generally too lazy to be obsessed. And yet....

Am I the only one aggravated by the amount of time it takes to go shopping these days? We've got shopping centers and supermarkets galore, but it is more time-consuming than ever because of the plethora of products out there. I don't mean browsing for shoes or books. I'm talking basic groceries. Even a bottle of catsup offers a headache's worth of options.

Yeah, yeah, I know... move to Russia where there are fewer choices.

Cover Your Ears! It's My Granny!

I don't often talk about my grandmother. She wasn't the sweet southern grandmother who baked cookies and played games with you. But she did teach me things--much of which, she probably shouldn't have.

Briefly, my grandmother taught me a different language: blue.

Witchy Woman

"I shouldn't have voted against Christine O'Donnell.  When she said she 'dabbled into witchcraft', she wasn't kidding!"

Cartoon created by Ima June Pullet (aka TexasTrailerParkTrash)

The Great Impastor

meg·a·lo·ma·ni·a- n.
1. A psychopathological condition characterized by delusional fantasies of wealth, power, or omnipotence.

2. An obsession with grandiose or extravagant things or actions.

Glenn Beck wants to be your Megalomaniac in Chief. Within a matter of days, he's declaimed from the steps of the Lincoln Memorial, declared his ministry as spiritual guide to the disenfranchised, appropriated God and Martin Luther King, and launched his own news website, The Blaze. Oh, and channeled Moses, but that's such an old schtick (oops, I pun).

It's tempting to use my brand new laptop and my brand new blogging year (Second Blogoversary countdown: 359 shopping days left!) to write my fanny off on this subject, but the research all by itself has been so much fun that I'd hate to put too many words in the way. So tag along as I follow the Yellow Brick Road to visit The Great Oz.

Orson Scott Card, Mormon author referenced by NYTimes:  “Mormonism is not just another form of Christianity — it is incompatible with ‘traditional Christian orthodoxy.’” Amen! Absolutely correct! We send out missionaries to every country that will allow them to enter precisely because we believe that the gospel of Jesus Christ is incompatible with “traditional Christian orthodoxy.”

Russell Moore, Dean of The School of Theology at The Southern Baptist Theological Seminary:

A Mormon television star stands in front of the Lincoln Memorial and calls American Christians to revival. He assembles some evangelical celebrities to give testimonies, and then preaches a God and country revivalism that leaves the evangelicals cheering that they've heard the gospel, right there in the nation's capital.

American news media pronounces him the new leader of America's Christian conservative movement, and a flock of America's Christian conservatives have no problem with that.

If you'd told me that ten years ago, I would have assumed it was from the pages of an evangelical apocalyptic novel about the end-times. But it's not. It's from this week's headlines. And it is a scandal.

Michelle Boorstein, The Washington Post (8/31/2010):

Longtime Beck-watchers said he has always made references to his faith journey, his conversion from Catholicism to Mormonism, his crediting God with saving him from drug and alcohol abuse, professional obscurity and "friendlessness." But in the runup to Saturday's rally, Beck talked publicly and privately about God working through him, calling a pre-rally event Friday "Divine Destiny" and lining up evangelical pastor John Hagee and other religious leaders to appear with him."I'm a little nervous about that kind of talk," said Janet Mefferd, a nationally syndicated Christian talk show host who said most callers Monday wanted to talk about Beck. "I know he means well and loves this country, but he doesn't know enough about theology to know what kind of effect he's having. Christians are hearing something different than what he thinks he's saying."

 This isn't the first time Beck's faith has been scrutinized. Prominent Mormons haveoccasionally criticized him as being an entertainer, not a theologian. After an interview in 2008 with Focus on the Family, the article was pulled because some of the group's supporters thought it was wrongly validating his conversion experience. 

Glenn Beck, on Fox News Sunday: "You see, it's all about victims and victimhood; oppressors and the oppressed; reparations, not repentance; collectivism, not individual salvation. I don't know what that is, other than it's not Muslim, it's not Christian. It's a perversion of the gospel of Jesus Christ as most Christians know it."




Jillian Rayfield, Talking Points Memo, quoting Glenn Beck in the same interview shown above:

Host Chris Wallace also told Beck that "in the 40 years that I've been in this business, I have to say I've never seen anyone quite like you. You're not a newsman. You're not a preacher. You're not a politician."

"I'm a dad, I'm a concerned citizen," Beck replied.

Wallace also asked Beck about Jon Stewart, who's mocked Beck repeatedly on his show. "I think he's funny," Beck said of Stewart. "Quite honestly, I think he should write me a check."

Lacy Rose, in her Moneywood column for Forbes.com:

As I detailed in our Beck cover story this past spring, his now $35 million-a-year empire includes a variety of Web offerings as well as a popular radio program, Fox News TV series, books, podcasts, speeches, newsletters and stage shows. (To see how he makes his millions, go here.) 

Screenshot of Beck's other website, The Glenn Beck Program:

That headline reads:" Moses was high on drugs:Israeli..."

And the intriguing article noted above reads:

Moses was high on drugs: Israeli researcher

March 4, 2008 - 10:20 ET

High on Mount Sinai, Moses was on psychedelic drugs when he heard God deliver the Ten Commandments, an Israeli researcher claimed in a study published this week. 
  
 Such mind-altering substances formed an integral part of the religious rites of Israelites in biblical times, Benny Shanon, a professor of cognitive psychology at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem wrote in the Time and Mind journal of philosophy. 
  
 "As far Moses on Mount Sinai is concerned, it was either a supernatural cosmic event, which I don't believe, or a legend, which I don't believe either, or finally, and this is very probable, an event that joined Moses and the people of Israel under the effect of narcotics," Shanon told Israeli public radio on Tuesday. 

 Which naturally leads me to conclude that Glenn Beck was confused about exactly who was calling:

How's my hair?

Preface: it has taken me considerably longer than my fellow hens to hatch here on our blog. I was quite premature when born in true life, I've been running behind ever since ;-). 

Quick back-story: I've never liked snow-globes. My world was violently shaken and disturbed like one on the 11th of this month when my grandmother passed away. Her death was not unexpected; in truth, it was a blessing. And in truth, my heart remains splintered. At my core, I know it's best; still the fragments that split off from the rest of me hurt like hell and want her back more than anything. Not everyone is gifted with a profound relationship with their grandparents...many of my friends have never met or hardly knew theirs. My gift was two-fold: a grandmother who spoiled me rotten, and a beautiful heart who made up the difference for what I lacked, a mother. 

Healing through humor: My grandmother, Martha Elizabeth "Betty" [Rose] Meigs was not a vain woman, but like most women (especially southern women of her generation) liked to look her best. When she was well, she (again, like most women of her generation) had weekly appointments at the "pretty shop"...her salon. She had the same stylist, Darlene, for nearly 30 years. I thought of her salon as her personal version of Cheers; rather than "Norm!", she received a rousing "Ms. Meigs!"...accompanied with the obligatory (though genuine) darlin', hon, or sweetie. Once she's been washed, curled, and set - the 6 days until her next appointment were dedicated in large part to maintaining her 'do. This involved a special pillow behind her neck while she was seated in her recliner (which was an electric lift-chair), button-up blouses or tops which where placed very carefully over her head, bonnets for bed, bonnets for rain, caps for the shower, umbrellas for wind, daily maintenance with a pick & either Aqua Net or White Rain, and in case of emergency...curlers or touch-up with a curling iron. Aerosol hairspray was undoubtedly the primary contributor to her carbon footprint. The bedtime bonnets were hysterical. She and granddaddy ordered or bought anything they thought might work better than what they were using at the time. None of them worked, but like her dedication in the 80's to Publisher's Clearinghouse, she was persistent. She'd fuss at me for sharing these photographs, but did allow them to be taken...and also had a great sense of humor. One of them is of her (hair fixed) after a trip to see Darlene. The others are just a few examples...

Priorities: Grandmama, Granddaddy, and I went to TGIFriday's for dinner a few years ago. Once we'd eaten, I pushed Grandmama (she was in a wheelchair) to the parking area behind the restaurant where Granddaddy had pulled the van around (there wasn't enough space between the two handicapped spaces to let wheelchair lift down). I stood with/behind her (our backs facing the van so she could be wheeled backward onto the platform) while Granddaddy operated the lift. It wasn't working properly, so we traded places...hoping I'd have the Midas Touch. Being the stubborn the man he is, he insisted on trying to help me and turned away from Grandmama to fiddle with the buttons. It's important to note that the brakes on this particular wheelchair left a lot to be desired. He turned back to her a moment later - only to see her and wheelchair, suddenly equipped with turbo speed, flying across the [ever so slightly-inclined] lot. She hadn't squealed, yelled, or said a word. Her body was positioned just as it had been, perfectly seated with her hands folded in her lap. The only movement was the rolling of the chair and her - bobbing up and down (in a perfect upright..sort of fixed form) as though she were being wheeled by one of us...just at warp speed. Granddaddy yelled "SHIT!", which caused me to turn around as well; the chase was on. The area was clear of cars and she was headed for a curb + hedge. She had a lengthy lead on us and reached the curb before we did. Her front (smaller) wheels rammed into the curb; the chair tipped forward, paused, and fell flat black onto the [much larger] wheels. We were panicked...worried that she had been hurt through the violent jostling and confident she was frightened. Her concern? Her concern was that she'd nearly gone head first into the hedge...which would have messed up her hair. Clearly, she was fine. I was doubled over with laughter that reached 'round to my obliques. Granddaddy, entirely flustered, snapped at her...and asked her why she hadn't yelled for us. She hadn't been able to see we were distracted with the lift, and said she figured Granddaddy was pushing her. Why (or for that matter, how) he would have been pushing in that direction or at that speed...I have no idea. Because she was okay, I can say without guilt that seeing her fly across a parking lot with zero reaction on her part, is one of the funniest things I've seen. We had met at the restaurant that evening; once in my own car, I called my Dad...barely able to tell the tale because I was still laughing so hard. 

Thank the Lord it didn't mess up her hair. 

How Many Words Is This Worth?

From Rene Maltete, via Octopus at Swash Zone:

My dear Peeps, how many words does it conjure for you?

p.s. The lettering on the sign: Is that 7 Peaches or 7 fishereries?

Mama, Aunt Nellie Ruth, and Sex Talk

I’ve been thinking about my mother a lot here lately. September 15 of this year will mark the second anniversary of her death.

Mama had a great sense of humor and it is her laughter that I miss most. She came from a large family, 17 of them in all. Four of her siblings have survived her. My Uncle David, the youngest, has my mother’s sense of humor. We talk frequently and he always makes me laugh.

My mother’s oldest surviving sister, my Aunt Nellie Ruth, is in her mid 80’s. She and Mama were entertaining individually but together, they were ready for Saturday Night Live or Def Comedy Jam.

A few years ago, we were having Thanksgiving dinner at my parents' home, when my aunt announced that she had dreamed that her deceased husband, Turner, was standing in her bedroom. My father, who should have known better, inquired, "So Nellie Ruth, what do you think Turner wanted?"

"He looked like he wanted to," pause for effect, "have sex."

Without missing a beat my mother responded, "With whom?"

My aunt proceeded to explain that she was still a fine looking woman and that she could have any man that she wanted. She then gave my brother-in-law the eye, turned to my sister and announced, "I could have your man if I wanted him." I don't know what was said after that as I had to leave the dining table to get a cloth to clean up the iced tea that I had sputtered all over my plate. Never laugh when you have a beverage in your mouth.

I think my sister has never forgiven our aunt for having designs on her husband.

Aunt Nellie Ruth is actually a very proper lady; she never shows her bosom. She always tucks a scarf into the neckline of any dress that she fears may reveal her bosom. Actually, she refers to it in the plural, as in, "my bosoms." She has a yellow chiffon yard sale find that she wears a t-shirt under so as not to drive men wild with a glimpse of her bosoms.

I witnessed my favorite exchange between my mother and her older sister a couple of summers ago. I accompanied my mother to my aunt's home where she was sitting on the front porch. It was August; it was hot; and my aunt was sitting on her front porch with a paper fan and a fly swatter. Aunt Nellie Ruth isn't fond of air conditioning; she says it makes her joints hurt. Mama and I joined her on the porch and we were all making small talk, when a huge old beige Cadillac with shiny tail fins pulled up and parked in front of the apartment next door. The elderly driver took ten minutes to extricate himself from behind the wheel, nodded good day at us, and slowly shuffled into his home.

As soon as he closed the door, my aunt spoke up, "He ought to be 'shamed of himself, carrying on like that at his age."

My mother swatted at a fly with a rolled up magazine and gave her sister a puzzled look, "Ruth," my mother called her by one name, either Nellie or Ruth, when she felt that it might be necessary to chastise my aunt in some way, "what are you talking about?"

"He's been 'round to his girlfriend's house, laying up in there with her all weekend. It's just acting common; they don't even try to hide it."

I paused in my fanning and perked up at this allusion to sex among the elderly. My mother sniffed dismissively, "Ruth that man is over 80 years old and he can't even stand up straight, let alone have sex with anyone."

There was a pregnant pause as Aunt Nellie Ruth mulled this over before offering her counterpoint, "He could be having oral sex."

With another emphatic sniff, my mother opined, "He doesn't have enough breath to have oral sex."

The water that I was drinking went down the wrong way and I was racked with coughing spasms that were so distracting that my aunt neglected to make a follow up response. I vowed to stop drinking any liquids when I was in her presence.

Conversation just isn’t the same without Mama.

Sunday Funnies

Cartoon created by TexasTrailerParkTrash (aka Ima June Pullet)