Oh, Sweet Jesus

Names don’t offend.  People do.

Haters Gonna Hate

Atheists don’t hate God any more than we hate fairies, leprechauns, or unicorns.  There are some of us who hate what religion does to people.  We no more believe that God does exist than any of those other things.

I’ve just never heard anyone denigrate, denounce, devalue, or discriminate in the name of fairies, leprechauns, or unicorns.  The minute they do I’ll start blasting those imaginary friends, too.

When somebody comes along and tells me I’d better love Tinkerbell, Larry the Leprechaun, or Stabby over there, else I’m going to a bad, bad place for all of eternity, I’ll tell them they’re crazy and if they gain a following I’ll label it a cult(oh my).

When people start having slaves, demanding submission, or waging wars, and abusing others in the name of their fairy, leprechaun, or unicorn, I’ll hate on those.

Until then, religion will do.

Somewhere Down There

Every once in a while, and less and less often, I get into a funk of sorts. Not a good one like this, either:

It’s like I’m in a deep, deep, hole and can barely see the light of day beaming down through a pinhole at the top. I’m somewhere down there.

Then I envision myself scratching at the sides, piling the dirt beneath my feet.  A little at a time I can build myself up until maybe, just maybe, I can climb out.  When I get like that I feel like I need to kick ass and take names, but just whose ass and whose names I do not know.

So I kick my own.  First I kick it for feeling this way and then I kick it into high gear.  I run.  I do pushups.  I lift light weights.  I ride my bike.  I need to sweat.  I need to punish something.

I want to write but I have no idea what.  I’m blank.  Yet I have a million thoughts in my head that won’t shut off.

I don’t want to cry.  I don’t want to be down in the hole.  I don’t want to take it out on someone else.

It’s time for one of our Little Talks.

You Have Not Because You Ask Not

Apparently 51 year-old April Lee Yates didn’t pray hard enough.  According to WBTW News she dined out in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina Sunday night expecting Jesus Christ to pick up the tab.  When he didn’t show up with the cash in hand she was carted off to jail because she hadn’t the money to pay.

I wonder how many times Jesus has paid a dinner check for her.  She certainly expected him to come through for her.  She didn’t even do a proper dine-and-dash.  She sat there for four hours waiting on him.

Seriously, you can’t make this stuff up.

Crap You Didn’t Know(And might not want to)

Alice over at Whatsoever Is Lovely tagged me to participate in sharing five facts about myself a few days ago.  I promised to have my facts up tomorrow two days ago.  I thought I’d have time yesterday morning before work.  No such luck.  Then my day was so busy I didn’t have time and I thought I’d do it when I got home.  Unfortunately I was so dang tired I collapsed.  So the tomorrow that was yesterday became today.  And I know that your inquiring minds are just abuzz with anticipation. So without further adiue, here they are:

1.)  I am a mutant.  Did you know: 2.)  I have brown hair when I’m not paying to be a blonde. About which the ultra scientific people at Mysteries24 say:

For example, brunet hair and jet black hair are the most dense and toughest varieties of follicles. This leads to the conclusion that their wearers are very responsible with a strong mentality, better at overcoming stress, and even to some extent – curmudgeon. On the other hand, people with brown hair have an average of fewer hairs: between 100, 000 and 110, 000, much less than blondes, who have about 150 000. This fact is associated with lower susceptibility of Brunettes to spiritual and abstract undertakings. They are practical and earthy, with good orientation toward secular bustle and vanity. They are interested in facts that are pure and tangible through our five senses. They can maneuver, adapt and implement plans and projects, even in an environment of controversy, conflict and intrigue.

Maybe they’re onto to something, even if their research isn’t…100% credible. I don’t even know what their credentials or methods are.

3.) I really like to play games; card games; yard games; board games; you name it really.  Spades, Uno, Cornhole, Bocce Ball, Scrabble, Checkers, whatever.  If I don’t know how to play, I’m game to learn.  I don’t know how to play Chess, but would love to learn!

No, I don’t know these people.

4.) I’m a Leo.  Hear me roaarrrrrrr! Rawr?

At the end of the month I’ll be forty…something(mumble, cough, %&^*$).

5.)  I’ve stopped and started the Couch to 5K program more times than I’d like to admit.  Right now I’m on week 4.  Again.

I’m hoping to advance to 8k when I can run five without being dead.

And that’s about it.  This is the part where I’m supposed to tag other bloggers to do the same but there are so many creative bloggers I follow that I can’t narrow it down and I don’t think you all want me to tag all of you.  So if you want to share some detes about yourself, jump on it and leave a link in the comments!

Southern Pride and Heritage…A Euphemism

In the wake of the frenzy surrounding the Charleston shootings and subsequent debate surrounding the Confederate Battle Flag I am reblogging this essay I wrote a while back concerning southern pride. I stand by what I wrote then and will have an original follow-up coming soon.

Out From Under the Umbrella

Despite some of the things I’ve written here about the religious zealotry that happens in the U.S.A. and about the state of our welfare system I’d say that this is a pretty great place to live.  In fact, it may be some of the things that led this country down that path that I love.

This really is a land of opportunity for anyone who knows how to best take advantage of them.  Even those “trapped” within the welfare system can, given the right circumstances, get out of the “trap” if they want to. The key is having enough experiences outside their cultural norm to see that they want to.  If that’s the only life a person has ever known anything else is foreign to them.  It’s for other people.  It’s not just being told you can’t do something else, something more; it’s never having been told that you can…

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