RIPPED FROM THE FAKE NEWS HEADLINES

(Disclaimer: When I lived in Arizona, more than two decades back, one of the local news outlets advertised themselves as “more news/no chit chat.”  Wow!  Did I ever love that idea.)

Local news on channel (X) Lubbock, yesterday, featured only female newscasters.  (Men’s day off? Dunno.)  And seeing how the weather in recent days has begun to relent from summer heat, that Fall officially started last week, and this is a “Christian” town filled with caring, self-sacrificing, image-bearing “Christians,” the segue banter between the weather girl and the substitute anchor obviously dealt with cool weather fashions.

Yes, in both evening news slots, the girls chit chatted about their desires for the temperatures to drop so they can get out their new clothes for Fall and Winter.  Oh, how exciting!  Turtlenecks!  I kid you not.  This was the concern for seasonal changes.

I note this, not because there is anything innately wrong with it.  But because soon someone will win the “first freeze contest” and freezing temperatures will become a regular feature of our nightly news.  On those nights, the weather girl (or boy) and the anchor will banter their normal cliche chit chat about “bring in your pets and potted plants.”

Rare, if ever, is the concern for the homeless.

This “Christian town” has hundreds of people toughing it out on the streets night after night.  There are many an empty “guest room” in “Christian homes” all over this town.  There’s even room at the inn!  But by golly, Wally, there’s no mention of hosting “the least of these” brothers and sisters.

Instead, there’s all this concern for pets and potted plants – and now let’s add to that “turtlenecks.”

I WANT BOWEL CANCER / I FOUND SOMETHING NEW (LIKE THE TESTICLE THING)

The nameless protagonist asks Marla Singer if she is still going to group.  She says, “You haven’t been going to yours…”  The nameless protagonist finally confesses, “I found something new.”

Yeah, after fighting over who should get bowel cancer, we are reduced to this.

I can’t help but think of it when I remember this blog.  All the insomnia this blog helped me fight, and now I got something new.  Marla would notice, but no readers here do.

Yeah, I would tell you more, but the first two rules of Fight Club are…

Anyway, so I got something new.  And yes, it’s like the testicle thing.

However, I haven’t forgot ya.

Perhaps that’s what makes me different.

I’d love to tell ya more, but then my inner CIA agent would need to kill ya.

Answers upon request.

God bless…

I CONFESS MY CHRISTMAS SINS

Yeah.  It feels a little early to be celebrating Christmas.  I get it.  But my kids are rotten.  Just sayin’, and I picked up the toy phone in front of them and pretend called Santa Claus.  I told him my kids are all on the naughty list this year, so there’s no need in coming to our house.

You’d think Jimmy Kimmel took their Halloween candy!

I am such a naughty parent.

SPECIAL ED (SP…ED) – “SPED”

“Things have changed since I was a kid.”  Yeah, we walked up hill, in the snow… barefoot (both ways).  My school bus didn’t even have seatbelts, and though we had them in the car, the only one I ever used was “Mama’s outstretched hand” which saved me from dozens of near misses, I reckon.  (Thanx Mom.)

This year (the first since pandemic), the Fat Beggars Home for Widows, Orphans, Sojourners is sending kids to school.  As you can imagine, if you are particularly astute, the kids we send to the system for a public education require a few special accommodations.  The system still tries to “mainstream” them as much as possible (btw, that term is out of date, apparently).  So, they still go the same school as everyone, but a different teacher in a different room.  They eat lunch with the other kids, but they have special helpers.

Basically, they look (for the most part) and sound (for the most part) like most of the other kids.  They get a green student folder in the file room just like the other kids, but theirs has a small red asterisk next to their name.  Yeah, my kids are just like all the others except not.  We are all getting educated right now in education, in what it’s like to go to school and learn stuff – and being blended in with the mainstream to the extent possible makes it hard to know what bits are special.

But wait!  Aren’t all kids special?

But wait!  Isn’t telling kids they are special the problem?

But wait!  Doesn’t public education fail to educate?

But wait!

Yeah, as a parent of students in today’s public education, I am still trying to learn what to be outraged about.  “It takes a village,” as you have heard, and I believe it.  But then our household pretty much is a village.  I would call us “the village people,” except that name is already used.  But I certainly hope the village will help us, because for the last 2+ years, we have isolated from the village, and during that time, I have seen school board meetings come to blows like mudwrestling contests and trashy night clubs where everyone is drunk.

This year, I was called into a special conference with the principal, the teacher, and a handful of other staff to discuss goals, accommodations, expectation, and other policies.  I am sure I sat at a table with at least five professionals who were speaking in acronyms and jargon amongst themselves as they breezed through tons of information like the speed reader outlining all the contingent liabilities at the end of a medication advertisement on TV.  (You know… the one who always mentions “oily discharge” really fast, sandwiched between “headaches” and “thoughts of suicide” among other horrible things you might not want?)

I had to ask them to stop and slow down and repeat things several times.  I mean, they had me signing papers like I was buying a house.  I kept thinking about how all of this meeting was really about not getting sued.  This was a fancy production masking self-protection.  And the more I smelled this rat, the more distasteful the experience, which is sad because these were really nice people!

I didn’t personally attend a one-room schoolhouse, but we had one down in the canyon in the county where I graduated high school in the 1980s.  We also had two other local elementary schools that were not one room but had four grades in two.  My dad used to point out that with all the problems you find in public education, it was one-room schoolhouses that turned out America’s first astronauts.  (Let that bake your noodle.)  I couldn’t help but think of the image given me by Little House on the Prairie TV show when I was a kid.

Yeah, we have all this hifalutin specialness going on now days.  If you are a teacher, you specialize in primary education, math, science, art, history, reading, PE and what-have-you, but those first astronauts got the first eight years (or so) of their formal education being taught by mostly young women (some as young as 16) who taught only the basics to a room full of little, middle size, and big kids all at once.  That just sounds chaotic to think about now, but then again….

Wow!  If you strip down the experience to that today, you must be some nut!  I barely trust 16-year-olds to watch my kids for an hour!  I just hope they aren’t too absorbed on their phones to keep my kids from burning down the house!  Clearly, we can’t simply go back to the old ways and just pick up where we left off.

But still, sitting here through a CYA session with a staff of professionals has got to be barking up the wrong tree!  Surely!

I can’t help but think about my sixth-grade teacher.  We lived in a very small, west Texas town where everyone knew everyone else, and in fact, the sixth-grade teacher was a family friend (church friend, no less).  My dad is still friends with the man who was my principal, though mostly a Facebook thingy now.  That school kept records on me and sent home formal report cards, but my parents knew about my learning pretty much on a weekly basis through informal channels.  The paperwork wasn’t really necessary.  It was more a formality.

As I think about how “it takes a village,” that is what I mean.

Just the last three days, the local news coverage has pointed out that Texas leads the nation in banning books from schools.  We have an outrage about the things our kids might read or be taught (by strangers), and my state leads the nation in this outrage.  There’s a group of teachers and students in Austin trying to protest this trend.  They want kids exposed to all the books, but our governor and a handful of parents are leading a charge to expel a long list of books.  I just don’t want my kids shot!

Which way should I be outraged?

To be honest, I don’t know.  I am sure that right now, my kids are not in danger of reading anything except their own names.  I’m more concerned about putting my kids on a school bus with a driver I don’t know.  I’m more concerned with the security measures I had to go through just to get into that conference room for this CYA meeting.  I had met the teacher before, but none of the other staffers.  They don’t know me, nor I them.  Some of them don’t keep offices in that building or on that campus, even.  We were all strangers!

So, there I sat, signing here, here, here and initialing there thinking to myself, “You people sure seem like nice, caring people.  I get a strong sense of that.”

After a minute, I stopped signing, put the pen down, and suddenly it seemed like pulling the emergency cord on the bus or train.  Everything ground to a stop.  All eyes looked up from tablets, and I had everyone’s attention.  I stated the obvious, “It really feels like everything we are signing here today we are put up to by some lawyers.  I reckon I need to pretty much just sign whatever you give me, or else I need to be prepared to make a stink.  Honestly, ladies, the only thing I really care is this: Do you love my kids?

We were off script, I could tell.  But the response I got was unanimous.  These strangers love kids, they want to love mine.  They are here to educate, of course, but love is at root the common motivating factor.  I agreed to keep signing papers, but I insisted that without their personal commitment to love my kids, we were wasting our time.  With their love, I would abide with whatever the village needs from me as a parent.

I think it was a relief in the room when I said it.  Not sure, but I think so.  Love.  It’s a word no one dared to utter, except me.  We were sitting there trying to have it, trying to share it, but too busy choking the life out of it to even say it.

I really do hope my kids learn to read and write and do some math.  I hope they get some science, art, and history too.  I hope they learn to appreciate poetry.  But I think they are going to need a lot of love and patience to do it.  In fact, I think they will require sacrificial love and patience in order to thrive at nearly everything they ever do, nearly every day of their lives from now on.  In fact, since my kids were all born hooked on meth, I expect they will need extra helpings plus medication every day for the rest of their lives.

Honestly, if my kid gets a hold of a book I would rather he didn’t read or look at, I think love is a bigger deal, still.  In fact, I hope that my kids’ school will teach all the students there to LOVE and help my kids, to accommodate them as well as challenge them.  I think the world would be a better place.  In fact, if the world can’t do a little of this for my kids, then I’m not so sure life is really worth living.

I think I know what I am outraged about now.

It’s not the books.

PEACE! PEACE!

“Peace! Peace! when there is no peace.”

(Jer. 8:11; 14:13-13; I Thess 5:3 AMONG OTHERS)
First things first:  Please notice, this refrain (this announcement) is not some arbitrarily false prophet’s oracle.  It’s not some esoteric, produced in a vacuum, oracle exclusive to prophets opposed to YHWH.

No.

Look at it carefully.

This is the message of empire.  Empire seduces you to TRUST empire.  Empire needs trust in order to be imperial.  That is the secret it doesn’t want you to know.  Empire in fact keeps you from trusting anyone else, but trust empire itself while doubting others.  (Empire is a parasite on God’s rule.)

Peace!  Peace!  That is what the mafia sells you just after they burgle your shop.  Then they come around the next morning and offer to keep you safe … for a price!  Then once you pay, they keep reminding you how dangerous it is OUT THERE and how bad you NEED them for protection.

Thus, you are a SLAVE to their game.

This game comes in all shapes and sizes, but it’s always imperial.

………
NOW.   WITH THAT AS THE BACKDROP

Look at how good, traditionally, conservatives have been about sniffing this game out when played by Democrats and liberals.  In fact, they claim this is largely behind welfare and the war on poverty.

“Government” comes along and robs the poor of their soul, of their money, of their future, of their God-given initiative and imagination.

Sound familiar?

Yeah, it does.  Because conservatives have championed this calling of the bluff for generations.
Let’s not rush to judgment and simply presume conservatives are NEVER right in their critique.  Let’s in fact say that to some extent in at least some instances, they are right.

But let’s also not rush to give them a pass.  In fact, they have ulterior motives for pointing this out, even when they are right.  Furthermore, let’s consider how calling the bluff on this game CAN BE an extension of the game!

IF those same conservatives rightly see liberals seducing the poor with claims of peace when there is no peace, but then launch a fight against care for the poor on account of this game, is it not possible (even likely) they thereby turn and tell independents and other would be conservatives, “Look!  WE just called the bluff on liberals!  Count on us to get you PEACE!  Peace is with us, not them!”  And thereby play the same game?

O boy.  This is staring to get complex.  I am still holding it together in my mind, but barely and anymore complexity is going to have me in retreat.

Never mind that you can do good to the poor ANY TIME YOU WISH.  Jesus says so.  If Jesus says so, you can do it.  The crime of liberals is NOT therefore in the giving of care to the poor.  If there is a crime there, it’s not in the government doing it or in the size of government, but only in the lie that the government thereby secures peace.

Likewise, it cannot be wrong for a conservative to give care and charity to the poor.  In fact, kicking the poor while they are down in the name of initiative, imagination, freedom and all that is not biblical, not from Jesus at all.  That is conservatives warping the Bible for the purpose of their own brand of the same lie.

In fact, PEACE, PEACE is only found in Jesus.  The government can give and care all it wants with no foul, but it cannot claim to provide peace or lordship.  Conservatives can call the bluff when government OR ANYONE else tries to, but they mustn’t thereby lie and warp the truth in an effort to play the game.
LOVE dictates that when you see a brother in need while you have something, you share it.  Otherwise, St. John is a liar.

Donald Trump might be the king of liars.  This despite the fact he beat Ted Cruz by calling him Lyin’ Ted.
The fact is he was right to call Ted a liar.  He was wrong to then thereby make common interest with this liar when it suited him later.  That only points out they are both liars.

Donald Trump who said LOCK HER UP should not get a pass when he is found suspect of the same crimes!  And I in no way give Hillary a pass by saying this.  I am quite clear that under the kind of suspicion she herself brought upon herself should at the very least have been disqualified from running for office!  To defend her and not Donald Trump at this point also is a lie.  There is no PEACE in any of that.

Yet each side is shouting PEACE PEACE! when there is no peace.  They shout it in a particular imperial context.

LOVE is the way of peace, but you won’t find it in Hillary, Cruz, or Trump.  Even Biden, and it pains me to say this since he is a milquetoast president I take a lot of relief in after recent elections, is not your source of LOVE nor peace.  He’s a better version of the lie, but not the truth.

I don’t think you can depend on an American politician in this case for love.  Politicians are beholden to some tradeoffs somewhere, and never will give themselves to LOVE.

I don’t think you can depend on a paid preacher/pastor either.  And I know evangelists are, biblically speaking, allowed pay.  But in modern America, that is so thoroughly wrapped up in status, competition, waste, and other manipulations that anyone preferring to offer Jesus for free and support themselves like St. Paul is to be preferred.  I am certain there are NO evangelists in need of private jets!  They don’t need designer shoes, suits, or fancy homes in the Hamptons either.

But I think it’s up to Jesus, moving (I am sure) through his people.  Possibly despite them sometimes – maybe a lot of times.  Whatever the case, I will pray for it, hope for it, and work for it.

Let us pull out of this PEACE whore.  She is a lie.  Don’t put your hopes any more in Biden than Trump (or vice versa for you brothers and sisters who come into this from THE OTHER direction).  Let us in fact stop putting our hope in the flag, apple pie, “one nation under god” or any other expression of the lie.  God might have blessed America, but that doesn’t mean he endorses us to lord it over gentiles.  (Think about it.)

I get that you have disgust for a politician.  I have a hard time sympathizing with the particulars involved, but honestly keeping it generic and just saying A POLITICIAN already says enough.  Just don’t champion one liar over another, and that pretty much catches them all.

BUT, to the extent God strengthens you to do it, LOVE an enemy (including politicians).  I can safely say this: I never prayed more for a president than I did Donald Trump.  I mean I really disliked this one, but I sure did pray for him.  I took him before God A LOT!  I even found a couple of times where I wondered if God might be using him!  Not many, but in prayer, such ideas took root on a couple occasions!  And God called Darious his servant, which was scandalous at that time!)

But let’s love other little people we disagree with too.  Let’s look hard for the few things where we do agree and give one another some breathing space on those points – even if we still in fact disagree but find the point not all that important.  (I hope you follow me on that.)   Because we surely don’t want to be in the way of God’s LOVE frothing up from within us!  And he is on record as LOVING our enemies!
It’s more important that he does THIS than any of our lesser agendas.  Let us pray for it and work toward it as best we can, but of course it will be God’s doing.

I hope you will do some self-examination and find one or two places where you can pray, work, and bring a bit of hope to those in your realm of influence today.

God bless you for even listening.  God bless you for praying.  God bless you for giving it some care and attention.

There is peace to be had in such ways.  And I hate to watch American just piss away the greatest nation on earth all for a little hate of neighbor.  That probably makes some politician a bundle of money and some corporate executive a mint.  All while it gives you a moment of self-righteousness.

Think about it.

Thank you

MARTHA’S VINEYARD AND MARY’S SON

Today’s post is a continuation of the thoughts I posted yesterday, a post which has found some serious traction suddenly.  This dying old blog hasn’t had this much company in a while, and one reader has voiced quite a lot of reaction (Thanx, Matt), and hopefully more will join.

I gave, I think, too much ink to the regular arguments yesterday.  I was trying to acknowledge them, but I didn’t want to bog down in them.  So, allow me to punch through again today, to jam on the bits on the OTHER side a bit more here.  I really want to illuminate the hidden things, mysteries, which are RIGHT UNDER OUR COLLECTIVE NOSE.

As I reread today, what I wrote in haste last night, one line jumps off the screen at me which I want to reiterate today.  Here it is:

But Jesus tells us that he is the least of these brothers, and he reveals himself in the breaking of bread.  You have a very important guest in your midst now.

Listen up all you CHRISTIANS out there.  All of you with the ears to hear and the eyes to see the mystery of the kingdom of God, because this is just going to be parables and religious blathering to everyone else.  I promise.

Jesus just showed up in Martha’s Vineyard this week!  That is huge!  Roll out the red carpet and celebrate!  Put on the fatted calf and eat!  Throw a huge party!

Man, if there are any Christians on that island, I hope they will do this.

Jesus tells us in the Scriptures that he IS the “least of these” brothers.  He is the needy sojourner.  It’s been true since he showed up in Bethlehem finding no place at the inn.  The Scriptures also tell us he is made known in the breaking of the bread!  We have known this AT LEAST since the walk to Emmaus.  (IF you need me to cite Scriptures, just ask!)

Man!  If I were a lowly homeless bum at Martha’s Vineyard, sleeping in a tent on the beach, I would get some tuna and crackers and invite the immigrant into my abode!  Jesus isn’t picky!  He can make due with a manger if need be.

I ain’t never visited Martha’s Vineyard, and as I hear it, I probably can’t afford a cup of coffee there.  But if there is a Christian there, this is your chance to host Jesus!  I know he looks funny, smells funny, talks funny… all that.  But it’s HIM!  It really is!  And you can have this fact revealed to you, most likely, over a shared meal.  BREAK THE BREAD!

It turns out, when God made humanity, he put deep within us, this mysterious way which we don’t fully know, appreciate, or even sense very often, but when we share a meal together, God is revealed among us.  Peace is made in such ways!

DO YOU BELIEVE IN GOD?  (Or is that just lip service you spout off?)

Take him at his word!

The ramifications are tremendous!  I am certain you will find incredible value in this person when Christ is revealed to you in him.  I think you will view LIFE differently.  And finally, I think Abbott and DeSantis will catch on to the idea pretty quick and be jealous!  (And then mysteriously a LOT of our problems will vanish as God wipes away tears from every eye!)

Somebody try it.  Please!!!

BETWEEN FLIGHTS TO MARTHA’S VINEYARD AND BUS RIDES TO NEW YORK CITY…

There are many facets and moving parts to the drama(s) produced by Republican Governors Abbott and DeSantis which are above my paygrade and outside my purview – especially with this blog.  To be frank, I have a little sympathy with these governors on this one.  I am not straight up shocked and appalled.  Though, I am a little appalled.

But that’s not my point in writing about it.  I could point out that they are right on this one, and their gesture is almost prophetic in nature as they share the load they didn’t ask for either, one the federal government should be working out, one that currently overwhelms streets in El Paso, according to local reports.  But then I would temper all that with observations such as how this isn’t really DeSantis’s problem or how that after making his point, Abbott could continue this newfound program only play nice with NYC, DC, and other cities and coordinate like a shepherd of the sheep who actually cares about the lambs.

But in various ways, these points and others like them are already being made.  And people seem to be listening only to the points that suit their political slants, by -n- large.  So, there isn’t much useful dialog going on even between those qualified and making these observations before me.

No.  I have a different point to make altogether.

I recognize that plenty of liberals and Democrats are not Christian people, and plenty have no interest in Jesus or his teachings and example.  But some are; some do.  More than a few, in fact.  And of THOSE, if I can get your attention, I say: HELLO, BROTHERS and SISTERS from Texas!  But also, I say: You have been given a tremendous gift!

The sojourner in your midst needs your hospitality tonight.  I encourage you to open your houses of worship, your homes, your community centers and welcome these strangers like the sanctuary cities you claim to be.  Open your arms and put on the fatted calf.  Share your table with needy people and elevate their status with yours.

You will be blessed more often and in more mysterious ways than you probably imagine possible.  If more of us imagined it, our world would be a better place, so I know you need some encouragement to do it.  But Jesus tells us that he is the least of these brothers, and he reveals himself in the breaking of bread.  You have a very important guest in your midst now.

Oh… and when you figure this out, send Governors Abbott and DeSantis THANK YOU NOTES!  They should be jealous of you for the gift they just gave away.

HOMELESS IN LUBBOCK’S NEWS

I’ve been both busy and sick in recent days.  I have not ignored the homeless, though true enough, I didn’t post either.

Here’s my personal regurgitation of the recent story and my own thoughts on it which Lubbock is sure to ignore:

So, right in the midst of our long, overdue summer rains about 10 days ago (give or take), the evening news featured a woman taking shelter under the gazebo in Clapp Park during a heavy downpour.  The pictures alone were worth millions of words!  Late in the evening, after dark, rain coming down in buckets, and here this poor woman struggles to keep – not dry, but out of the drench.

They showed her propping up a small windbreak on the picnic table behind which she ate food hunkered down like a climber on Everest.  Then in the next cutaway, she was bedding down on the picnic table wrapped in a plastic tarp for all she was worth.

My God!  I couldn’t help but think how channel 9 news just offered this sacrificial lamb up to any ill intended salivating wolf who happened to be watching TV at that hour!

What made this newsworthy?

Well, a combination of things really, because I have seen that very image multiple times when the broadcasters didn’t carry the story.  It seems this woman is something of a poster child for “the deserving poor,” on the one hand and, on the other, none of the usual shelter services would take her.  She fell through the proverbial cracks.

Yeah.  I was stunned.  Lubbock’s homeless shelters suddenly made the news for NOT being there for the poor!  This has been an untold story for a decade now, but it got passing mention for once!

Yeah, the reporter listed off the three main shelter services in Lubbock and explained the excuse each gave for why they could not keep this woman.  (None worthy of a pass for the goats and sheep in Matthew 25, but excuses nonetheless.)

The woman appears not much older than me.  Newly homeless, she only recently lost her job and her place to live.  She is a mother!  Though, I expect her kids are grown, and they were not featured in the report.  But she was not a drunk or addict, and she recently had it all.  Somehow, she still has a good attitude, which came across very positive on camera.

The first time I saw this story run, I looked around my house, talked to my wife about it, and I strongly felt the urge to drive down to Clapp Park and find her, bring her here.  I literally could drive past a minimum of two dozen churches to get there and back, but if Lubbock’s homeless ministry already doesn’t have any room at the inn in September, by God, I reckon it’s up to me.

I’m not gonna lie.  I didn’t go after her.  I complained and moaned about it for half an hour, but I did not go get her.  I have a million excuses, two or three of them being really good too.  I have a foster kid in this house and bringing in a stranger like that would get the other one I already have in here taken away.  That is a GOOD excuse, though I take no comfort in it.

But a week later she was in the news again.  Things are looking up for her since her story first aired.  Somebody put together a GoFundMe account and she has over $4000, a new car, and some man from Idalou (a neighboring town OUTSIDE of Lubbock,) saw the same report and he too was moved, only he actually went down to Clapp Park and found her.

Praise the Lord!  Some Jesus-lover out there responded!  Thank You, Jesus!

Of course, this “solution” cuts against the sound business advice they teach at the shelter services which were all too busy to help this woman.  Giving this woman money is not the right thing to do, according to them.  However, these same services (one in particular especially) advertise on TV a dozen times a day bragging about all the great things they do for needy people.  Their website boasts all the biggest donors, and they operate on a million-dollar budget.

You can send THEM your money if you want to REALLY help needy people.

Just not this nice lady, of course.

Somehow the TV news managed not to notice any of that.

THINKING ABOUT COVID FARTS

I worked so hard for two and a half years to avoid contracting COVID.  In fact, I am pretty good at it.  I know how to do it.  I can avoid it in almost any circumstance.  I am pretty happy with that track record, truth be known.

But, of course, there are some circumstances I just cannot avoid, circumstances which require a cooperation with the public that just ain’t forthcoming.  I’m not mad, though.  I might be a bit cynical, but I’m not bitter.

We have come a long way, baby.  There are vaccines, treatments, and a lot more understanding of this deadly disease now than there was two years ago when Americans were dropping like flies and shutting down.

I bravely faced the risks, but I managed them as carefully as I could too.  I don’t apologize for that.  I probably saved a lot of lives despite the guff I took from people who hate(d) me for it.  To them, I say, “You’re welcome.”

But this highly contagious disease was bound to catch me eventually.  One week into the new school year, and all those people unwilling to mask up (thank you so much for that) circulated it around my kids, and here we are.  It worked its way into my home, and I got it.

I’m one of those who fought hard, outlasted most, and finally it’s my turn.

I have been reading, listening to, and hearing from such people for a few months now, and there is a funny little phenom we seem to share.  We have a THOUGHT about catching it.  What’s it like?  This bug we have fought so hard against all this time?  What do you THINK now that it’s got its tentacles in ya?

Yeah, bloggers, comedians, friends… people talk about this.  Not everyone, but among those of us who succumb after so much fight, some do.  There’s a THOUGHT to be had about it.

And of course, it’s something more than just “glad to be alive.”  It’s something more than “glad to be able to smell and taste.”  It’s something other than “grateful it’s not worse.”  And, it seems, it’s something different for everyone.

Let me tell you what it is for me.  Here is what I THINK now that I have COVID:

I know this is going to be a little crude, but do you remember among all the strange headlines over the last few years, everything from bleach your takeout food and shove Ivermectin up your butt, to elderly people weeping at the thought of going into the grocery store and dying for eggs and milk, there was another more obscure headline that almost faded away.  I am talking about the COVID FART.

Yes, the COVID fart.  There was a headline back there somewhere in all the whirlwind of fear and loathing which ANALyzed the toxicity of breaking wind when you are infected!

I’m sure you remember it.

It’s all I can think about!

Suddenly, my butt is literally SILENT BUT DEADLY!

I just want to walk maskless into your interruption at the school board meeting and quietly cut the cheese while you rant!  The thought amuses me!  I actually slay myself laughing over it, which sends me into a coughing fit!  But my God, it’s funny!

I bet you hope I am wearing UNDERWEAR!  That homeless minister might go commando and you just wish you had your mask!

But seriously, folx.  I don’t want to kill anyone.  So, I am keeping my butt at home these days.