God Hates Oklahoma

The holiest, most righteous church on Earth, everyone's favorite, the Westboro Baptist Church of Topeka, Kansas, is now picketing the funerals of children who happen to die in Oklahoma.

Why Oklahoma? Because at some point in the last few weeks they were in Oklahoma and someone slashed their tires. Because of this person (or persons), they've come to a new conclusion, reflected on their signs, according to this article, that "God Hates Oklahoma."

That's hilarious. God hates Oklahoma? I've been there a couple times, and I'm not that crazy about it either. No, seriously, it wasn't bad. I had a nice time there.

Oklahoma gave us Carrie Underwood and Merle Haggard's song about Muskogee. It can't be all bad.

The article is apparently true. It only sounds like something hilarious. God hates Oklahoma because these guys got their tires slashed. I wonder what He'll do if something worse happens. We might all be in for an asteroid attack. LOL.

Sacred Journey, My Ass

I went into a sacred journey store yesterday. I was kind of enthusiastic about it. But then just looking at the stuff, I got a fairly empty feeling, not quite queasy but just empty.

One, no one there really seemed like they were on any kind of sacred journey, but maybe they were... who knows?

Two, even if they were they were just there to sell trinkets, rain sticks, and other garbage. Although I must say, I do like the sounds that rain sticks make. But in all the times I've been looking at them I still haven't bought one yet. I am tempted.

You see tie-dyed wall hangings and stuff, and I'm kind of in the mood for that, but none of it grabbed me. I was waiting around for the inner light and my mind to say "this is it," but it didn't happen.

I shouldn't judge, but I do. As far as I'm concerned, there wasn't anything sacred about it.

It's Pat Robertson Time Again!

We've just had another massive earthquake, this one in Chile.

Meaning, of course, we've once again entered Pat Robertson territory, who we can expect at any minute to make his appearance.

I'm hoping to steal some of his thunder, so I'm feverishly checking the records of various national curses from the 1400s. But the data is hard to come by. Even Google's records aren't that reliable from so far back.

So we might have to wait on Pat after all. For him the 1400s were just last week, or his constant reality, so he'll no doubt have the inside scoop long before the rest of us!

But I'm definitely working on it and wondering ... Was there some ancient chieftain down there -- and it doesn't have to be the 1400s, it might be earlier or even later -- who made a pact with the devil -- that might just now be coming due?

We're looking in to it!

He Of The Echo Effect Hath Sent Me

I'm listening to an old record called "The Story of the Old Testament as told to young people" (Part 1). It was put out on United Artists Records, in the '60s I think. Or maybe the late '50s.

In it God speaks. And whenever God speaks He has an echo effect added to His voice. How awesome!

I used to have a cassette set of the Bible on tape. And I believe they had Jesus' words with a kind of echo too. I believe that one was called a "red letter recording," the audio equivalent of printing Jesus' words in red in the bible.

We need that, I guess, the idea that God doesn't talk like we do.

Amazing Grace

I like the line "that saved a wretch like me."

That's an interesting twist on self-esteem, isn't it? A wretch.

There's another song that has the same kind of self-deprecation theme. Except it says "Would he devote that sacred head for such a worm as I?" A worm.

Interesting choice of words.

Word Of The Father

I love the lyrics of many of the Christmas songs. But I'm getting tired tonight and can't think of all the ones I like. But it's plenty of them! Like the lyrics of "What Child Is This?" or "O Little Town of Bethlehem." "The hopes and fears of all the years are met in thee tonight."

I love the lyrics of "O Come All Ye Faithful," for sure, especially the ones that say, "Word of the Father, now in flesh appearing."

Yes, Lord, we greet you,
Born this happy morning,
Jesus, to you be glory given!
Word of the Father,
Now in flesh appearing:
O come let us adore Him,
O come let us adore Him,
O come let us adore Him,
Christ the Lord.

That's so beautiful, going along with the famous prologue to the Gospel of John, of course. You've got the Father ... then the expression of the Father in the Son of God. It really exalts one's thoughts to think such things. And with Christmas we have that opportunity. All the rest of the time, too, but it's very vivid when we hear the Christmas carols.

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph

Christmas is coming. Here's a beautiful picture. This was among my tiny collection of holy cards.

Did you happen to see the "Census" poster that someone made? It suggests that it's a good thing to take part in the census, because, according to the Bible, that's what brought Mary and Joseph to Bethlehem where Jesus would be born.

I think it's a nice poster. But of course there are some folks up in arms over it. It seems like it had something to do with Hispanic ministers being opposed to it. One of them, I read, said it was "blasphemous" to use the name of Jesus or God for anything other than worshiping. That doesn't make a bit of sense, since we obviously would use these names in regard to discussing many things about religion and life. So that guy doesn't know what he's talking about.

But anyway, for Christmas we don't want disagreement and disagreeable people. We'll just forgive the guy for being ignorant, just like Jesus did from the Cross. The guy "knows not what he's doing."

That's a beautiful picture. I love the stars and things. I love Joseph's very rustic, monk-like haircut. He's handsome and Mary is beautiful. At first I thought Jesus was naked, but looking closer he's in a onesy. And about to get warmer with a nice cloth from His mother. So beautiful

You Might Be A Bad Pastor If...

The Secret Service interviewed that idiotic pastor who gave a sermon in his church (!) on "Why I Hate Barack Obama" and prayed that Mr. Obama would die and go to hell.

It also turns out that the guy who showed up at the president's event in Arizona the other day with a gun goes to this pastor's church. So I'd say, if you're looking for a church, it pays to check around!

Apologies to Jeff Foxworthy, but here goes:

You might be a bad pastor if the Secret Service has to interview you for seeking the death of the President of the United States.

This guy is a couple testaments short of a full Bible.

Holy Card: Crucified Christ

A black and white close up of the crucified Christ, thorns on His head. Maybe the most stunning artwork I've ever seen of this scene.

His mouth is open but relaxed, his eyes are closed, there's a beatific expression on his face, the body is soft fuzzed, melts into black.

Behind Christ you can see just part of the cross, and there's a halo that arcs way out. If you continued the circle it'd cross His neck.

The only marking is D-57.

Agreed On Texts

I've been asked now twice in the last month and a half, "What are you reading?" The first time I said nothing. The second time, having been prepared for this from the first time, I said something about the poems of Sir Walter Scott, even though I've pretty much abdicated from reading them. I need to get back to them.

I was sitting in a chair today -- worried as usual -- and thinking I should read something. There was a book I was thinking of but I didn't know where it was. So I'm sitting there another 10 minutes and glancing around, the very book was four feet in front of me, almost hidden in a stack. So I read from it. It didn't help very much but a little. The thing is I know something about this, and the whole point of that particular text, if you went to the very heart of it, is that you don't really need texts. The real text is in here (tapping my empty head).

So I'm sitting here now tapping out another empty text. These paragraphs and the others I've written today, like at Grandma Slump. I like the entry over there because it picks up on this feeling of worrying and being down. But once you've written it and read it you think, OK, that's done. That helped for that minute but now it's just a thought that came from my own head. It's hard to be entertained by thoughts that come from your own head. One thing about it is that what the text is is a very selective part of the thoughts that come from your head, like .0001% of the thoughts you have all the time.

Who really can be entertained by themselves? It's like Frank Sinatra who said he never listened to his own records. And why should he? The voice was in his throat somewhere, lurking with him all the time. He didn't need a needle to remind him.

But there are these texts that get to us collectively. The Bible is the biggest, most obvious one. I think the Bible is fantastic, but it's a dangerous book because of what people have done with it. It's like it's intentionally dangerous and wouldn't pass OSHA standards if someone wrote it now. It has enough stories with jagged edges that it keeps us perpetually fascinated. That's probably one of the keys to writing an agreed on text. Don't round the edges. Leave it rough. So it appeals to everyone, from the Sunday School child with a white hankie to the biggest flaming, psycho, apocalyptic kook in the world.

The Castrators of Russia

I just got a book at the thrift store that looks interesting, "Secret Societies -- A History," by Arkon Daraul. Wow, even the name of the guy sounds secret. The blurb says, "The classic, sensational study, with an analysis of their forms, rituals, and beliefs." It looks pretty classic, although I can't figure out why I haven't heard of it before.

I turned immediately to one interesting looking group, The Castrators of Russia. I haven't read it yet but my eye landed on a few lines, including this one: "Each member is allowed to have two children, after which he must be castrated and can fulfil himself in the way which, the sect insists, was his destiny." I got to say, you wouldn't be a part of the group if you didn't want to be, I assume, but if I ever saw my wife with a pregnancy test, I think I'd be having second thoughts.

It says in another place that they had a real whoop-de-doo of a ceremony, with lots of singing and lots of prophetic outbursts. They're in trances and it says, "These ejaculations were carefully written down..." By that they mean what they had to say. Sounds a little weird, with the subject matter and all.

And one last snippet (pardon the expression), castration is called the Baptism of Fire by the sect, because it was originally carried out with a red-hot iron. Later they changed it to a sharp knife, "because of human weakness." It seems, though, that they used numerous other tools to get the job done. And there's a citation of statistics that lists those: Knife, 164; Razor, 108; Hatchet, 30; Scythe, 23; Iron, Glass, Tin, etc., 17.

A scythe? 23 guys were castrated with a scythe? You have to be careful. They might cut off your leg, too.

A Beautiful Spiritual Accessory

Watching a little daytime TV today, which I simply don't do, I was amazed at some of the ads. They're very much like those little ads in the back of magazines come to life.

Zit medicine and novelty trinkets, including a cross necklace that has a tiny tiny version of the Lord's Prayer inside. Hold it up to your eye and you'll be stunned!

The phrase "spiritual accessory" was actually used to describe it. You too can have the Lord's Prayer close to your heart, as an external thing, dangling there, and always handy in case you forget what it says. You can lift it to your eye and read the little print.