Compostcompote

I felt like I should write about New Orleans (and Biloxi and Mobile and all those other little towns in-between) just to kind of honor these wonderful places.

I've heard people say "New Orleans is dirty and everything smells like urine." It's true, but the city is still so beautiful and wild and seductive everyone should visit. I was able to do so back in 2000. I stayed with a dear friend from grad school (and I dearly hope she and her loved ones got out before the storm hit) and literally ate my way across the city. The finest meal I had was at a little horse racing dive bar/restaurant called Mina's, which I believe was just off Canal Street at the edge of the French Quarter. I had a huge bowl of seafood gumbo which the crab claws hanging over the side of the bowl, a grilled cheese sandwich, and I Coca-Cola. Heavenly!

Another big highlight of my trip was The Voodoo Cemetery Tour, which featured a guided tour of the main cemetery (again, right off Canal Street) which I believe is called St. Louis 1. After we toured the cemetery, we visited a Voodoo Priestess (and her large, hungry snakes) at her own Voodoo church. Very interesting and definitely the best walking tour I've ever experienced anywhere.

Most of the time, I just wandered around the city listening to music -- there are amazing street musicians on every corner, eating, and checking out the varied architecture. New Orleans is a feast for the eyes, ears, and taste buds, if not for the nose, though I learned to ignore the pee smell. I think it's just inevitable in most large cities: Paris smelled a lot like New Orleans, and I really liked visiting Paris.

So basically, today's entry is just a love letter to a great place. New Orleans (and all those other wonderful coastal and bayou towns) has taken a hard hit, and my heart goes out to all the folks who are directly affected by the hurricane. I know all these places will be rebuilt and people will get some level of normalcy back eventually, but this has got to be a nightmare for everybody involved.

The good times _will_ roll again. Bless all of you.

P.S. If anybody feels moved to help, the Red Cross website would be a good place to get info, make donations, etc.

I don't know about you, but I'm pretty sick of hearing the same old stuff read at Protestant weddings. If it's not Ecclesiastes' "to everything there is a season..." or Matthew's "love is patient, love is kind..." the passage pretty much doesn't get read. The Bible is a huge book that contains many interesting readings. I'm in a listing mood today, so here are a few of my suggestions for really interesting wedding memories:

1) Revelation 17:3, 5 "and I saw a woman sitting on a scarlet beast, full of blasphemous names, having seven heads and ten horns...and upon her forehead a name was written, a mystery, 'Babylon The Great, The Mother Of Harlots And Of The Abominations Of The Earth.'"

Don't mess with a women who has seven heads. She will catch you no matter what you're doing.

2) Amos 7:14 "Then Amos answered and said to Amaziah, "I am not a prophet, nor am I the son of a prophet; for I am a herdsman and a grower of sycamore figs."

I, too, am a grower of figs. I can identify. Rock on, Amos!

3) Isaiah 33:23 "Your tackle hangs slack; It cannot hold the base of its mast firmly, Nor spread out the sail."

I think a little Viagra is in order. No bride wants to deal with any slack on her wedding night.

4) Psalm 144:1 "Blessed be the Lord, my rock, who trains my hands for war, and my fingers for battle."

Marriage is hard work, from what I hear. Like the Whore of Babylon, I remain unwed.

5) Leviticus 20:10 "If there is a man who commits adultery with another man's wife, one who commits adultery with his friends's wife, the adulterer and the adulteress shall surely be put to death."

In other words, don't get drunk during the reception and mess around with the maid of honor. Now that's good advice.

6) Deuteronomy 9:24 "You have been rebellious against the lord from the day I knew you."

And you thought your parents weren't going to get to speak during your wedding!!

7) 2 Samuel 6:14 "And David was dancing before the lord with all his might, and David was wearing a linen ephod."

Get ready for a great reception! We've got a live band and enough linen ephods for everyone!

Being filled with the Holy Ghost: Having observed the effects of the “Holy Ghost” on more than a few people, I’m constantly amazed that people invite this particular haunting. Those who are overcome by the power of the third person of the trinity speak in tongues (see below), run around the church sanctuary with their hands up in the air, scream uncontrollably, and even faint (see being “slain in the spirit”). It is exceedingly frightening to watch, and I can’t imagine for a second wanting it to happen. Yet, many people do and report that it was a fantastic experience. They probably wouldn’t think so much of it if they had a video recording of the event.

Speaking in tongues: A direct result of being “filled with the Holy Ghost,” speaking in tongues involves a person suddenly speaking a completely different language. The person who receives this “gift of tongues” won’t be able to control it; he/she will utter these new words ecstatically in front of the entire congregation. Now, before you begin imagining a United Nations event, please be aware that these utterances sound suspiciously like “lama, slamma, olabama, lie” repeated over and over. We’re not talking about French, German, Spanish, or Zulu here; these tongues are always of the “unknown” variety. Nobody has any flippin’ idea what “lama, slamma, olabama, lie” means, though some other person in the congregation will usually jump up when the “lama, slamma” portion ends and “interpret” the language. Again, don’t get excited. I have never yet heard any interpretation that was revelatory. Apparently, “lama, slamma” means “oh, we praise you Jesus/God/Holy Spirit.” Still, it is more fun than listening to Baptists argue over who is more backslidden: Bill Clinton or Janet Jackson?

Being slain in the spirit: People who are “slain in the spirit” are so overcome by the mysterious third person of the trinity that they faint. The slayage happens during or after other visitations of the Holy Spirit, i.e., after a couple of people have spoken in tongues, run around the sanctuary, and generally acted like a hippie on acid. For many people being “slain in the spirit” isn’t a one-time thing; really prepared folks make sure they have friends on hand to catch them when the Holy Spirit gets frisky. Less experienced people have to conk their heads a few times before they wise up and get a spotter.

Note: If you can’t get into any of the above and want to fake it, try standing up and screaming uncontrollably…but only in a Charismatic denomination. Baptists, Methodists, and Mormons will throw your butt right out of the sanctuary.

That Crazy Fool is at it again. Now he's claiming he was "misinterpreted." Yes, apparently, when one says "we should take him out" that doesn't necessarily mean "kill the guy." Pat Robertson says "taking someone out" can mean merely "kidnapping" them. So was Pat Robertson suggesting that the U.S. government should kidnap Hugo Chavez? And hold him for ransom, maybe?

Here is my list of other possible meanings for the term "taking someone out" :

1) To brunch. A nice long meal between political enemies is one of my favorite things.

2) On a date. Is Pat Robertson a closet case? Maybe he's secretly attracted to Hugo Chavez (and who wouldn't be?) and this is the only way he can let his feelings be known.

3) On a stretcher. Technically, the person wouldn't have to be dead. Merely wounded would do.

4) To a club. The youngsters like hiphop and such, but I prefer a Blues joint. Perhaps Chavez and Robertson will salsa 'til dawn.

5) To the Dollar Store. It's ridiculous to pay full price for shampoo when you can get the same stuff at Dollar General for $1.00. Snooty people may avoid D.G., but I'm betting a good leftist like Mr. Chavez would appreciate the good buys. Pat Robertson, however, seems like a bit of a spendthrift to me.

6) To swim with the fishes...actually, I think this _is_ what "taking someone out" means.

Any other suggestions? Pat? Anybody?

P.S. I promise, I promise. More weird religious stuff tomorrow. It's worth the wait!!

Charismatics (and boy do they have charisma!)

The most well-known Charismatic denomination is probably the Church of God, so we’ll start there. Church of God-style Christians are usually nice folks who enjoy life: they wear make-up (the women anyway) and nice clothes, they rarely take vows of poverty, and I’ve never yet heard one apologize for having or making a lot of money. On the contrary, Church of God folk believe that God wants to bless everybody with money, health, a nice car, good teeth, even good sex (within one’s own marriage, of course).

Charismatic is a good word for them, since they have charisma in spades. They are also suckers for anything flashy, be it a bright red electric guitar, a $1,000 suit, or an evangelist who is part Amway salesperson and part self-styled prophet. Not surprisingly, given their charisma, nice appearances, and money, charismatics are prone to backsliding (see Southern Baptists). It is not at all uncommon for a charismatic to have an affair, embezzle money, get a DUI, etc., which brings to mind another wonderful quality of charismatics: forgiveness. They are probably the most forgiving denomination around. Charismatics believe in second, third, and thirty-fourth chances – probably because they realize they will soon be needing that same forgiveness in return.

Southern Baptists, Methodists, Presbyterians (and other, more pedestrian denominational representatives) were aghast by Jimmy Swaggart’s tearful “I have sinned” confession in which he acknowledged hiring ladies of the evening for non-church services. Yes, Jimmy Swaggart is a married man and a minister of the gospel; he is also Church of God, which means he is allowed to screw up. Church of God folk, although disappointed in Mr. Swaggart, nevertheless forgave him, welcomed him back to the pulpit, and vowed to at least cut back on their own sinning. Charismatics love an evangelist/teacher/preacher who formerly – or even occasionally – lived/lives a dissolute life, since this provides an inordinately forgiving bunch of people more opportunities to forgive. It’s like offering chocolate to a fat kid.

What they believe:
Charismatics believe in the literal interpretation of the Bible, but as I have mentioned, they throw in a huge helping of forgiveness which makes the tough stuff easier to swallow. While they often preach that women should submit to men, Church of God-style Charismatics don’t frown on female ministers, Bible teachers, etc. And if she used to front a rock band, sell Amway, or herself, why she’s even more effective as a minister of the gospel. Male ministers/evangelists are also encouraged to be interesting: former professional athletes, car salesmen, porn actors, and real estate developers are always welcome. Former insurance adjusters? There are other denominations for you, praise God.

Coming tomorrow: Weird religious stuff that nobody gets but everybody finds interesting!

Okay, I know I'm not technically allowed to call a Fatwa on Pat Robertson (or anyone else. I'm not Muslim, nor am I an Imam. They don't let women be Imam's do they?). But there must be some nice Muslim Imam out there who could.

In case you're wondering, Mr. Robertson (known as Crazy Fool in many circles), has called for the assassination of Venezuelan President Hugo Chavez. According to Robertson (via an Associated Press article), President Chavez is in danger of creating "a launching pad for communist infiltration and Muslim extremism" in Venezuela, due in large part to Chavez' criticism of President Bush. The unspoken threat, too, is that Chavez may get so peeved at Georgie W. that he restricts the flow of Venezuelan oil to the U.S.; The Associated Press quotes CIA estimates that the U.S. sucks up about "59 percent of Venezuela's total oil exports."

Less oil would be a bad thing, of course. I don't relish paying $5.00 per gallon for "essence of dead dinosaurs" any more than others do. However, I'm also cognizant of the extreme human suffering and global ill will that occurred when the U.S. (under the guise of the CIA) helped overthrow the popularly elected Socialist president of Chile, Savador Allende. The extreme right military dictatorship that took control of Chile for a generation may have satisfied Richard Nixon's anti-Communist leanings, but it wrecked the hell out of Chile.

Plus, I think it's pretty hypocritical for the U.S. to be involved in overthrowing freely elected officials and replacing them with Fascists. Extreme left-wingers and extreme right-wingers have more in common than either care to admit, and there is no proof -- as there was none in the case of Allende -- that Chavez is extreme in his views. One thing is sure, though: if he is overthrown or assassinated, the people that fill the power vacuum will not have the best interests of the country's people in mind. They will rape and pillage the country until there is nothing of value left, and they will torture plenty of ordinary citizens in the process. This is the way dictators work. No exception.

Speaking of hypocrisy, does anybody else find it hypocritical that a Christian minister such as Robertson would call for someone's murder? That flies right in the face of "Thou Shalt Not Kill." The fact that Crazy Fool called for Chavez' murder on-air, during a "700 Club" segment just adds another layer of icing on the cake, doesn't it?

According to rumor, the IRS has been after Robertson for years and has suggested his monetary dealings are less than legal. Surely calling for the murder of a foreign president on a supposedly religious television show will get somebody's attention. IRS? Misuse of so-called religious contributions to fund political means? FBI? Threats against foreign nationals? FCC? Inflamatory speech?

If you want to give your money to religious people, for God's sake (literally), join a local church/temple/coven/etc. and keep your money in the community where it can do some good. Don't send it to unhinged television evangelists or muslim extremists or people that promise you you'll never have to pay taxes again. They are all liars.

Please, good Imams. Just one good Fatwa!

Mormons (or The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, or LDS)

Mormons are the nicest crazy people you will ever meet. They don’t drink, smoke, carouse, or even consume caffeine. They have thousands of children, whom they shower with attention, pray over, send on mandatory mission trips overseas before eventually sending them to Brigham Young University, the Mecca for all good college-bound Mormon kids. Mormons, in general, are so healthy and polite you think, “Wow! I need to check out their religion!” Well, before you do, you probably ought to check out what Mormons actually believe.

The LDS church was founded in the 1800’s by a fellow named Joseph Smith. Smith, who had a 6th grade education and parents who were into divining (searching for water, gold, etc. via a variety of extra-sensory means), was destined either for a career in politics or religion. Since no established church would have allowed a semiliterate diviner to rise to any echelon of church governance, Smith wisely started his own church.

According to Smith, God spoke to him through an angel named Moroni. Moroni revealed to Joseph Smith, then in his late teens, that God had hidden golden tablets on which were the Lost Gospels. Moroni then told Smith where to find the tablets and how to decode them, as they were written in Ancient Egyptian (as opposed to Aramaic or Hebrew, the historically established original languages of the New and Old Testament books). The method was singular: Smith was provided with special crystals, which he placed inside a hat. He then proceeded to place his face into the hat and stare at the crystals, after which he was able to decode the Ancient Egyptian on the golden tablets. Smith dictated his interpretations to his wife (his first wife, that is), who wrote them down. Remember, Smith only had a 6th grade education and was a notoriously bad speller. The golden tablets have been lost (big surprise), though Smith, Wife Number 1, and a couple of close acquaintances/early adherents to the faith swore to their existence.

The messages that Smith dictated to his wife eventually became the Book of Mormon. Throughout his lifetime, Smith received various direct messages from God regarding additions to Mormon beliefs/doctrine. Like the Southern Baptists, the Mormons at first believed that God could and did speak directly to individual Mormons, nullifying the need for church elders, Popes, etc. However, Smith, like the Southern Baptist Convention so many years later, realized how dangerous this precedent was: if every Tom, Jane or Job could communicate directly with God, church hierarchy and church leaders would become irrelevant. Smith, therefore, announced that God had revised the original message and would furthermore just be speaking through him; apparently, Smith’s fellow Mormons/Saints believed him, which brings us to what is still a sticking point for present-day Mormons.

Plural Marriage
Joseph Smith, whom respected researcher/writer Jon Krakauer describes as a “sex addict”, desired sex with women other than his wife. Since most Christians consider sex outside marriage a sin, Smith found a solution in the Old Testament: multiple marriages. Smith’s original wife had serious issues with this, as did both men and women in the church, but since Smith was the only one allowed to receive messages directly from God by then, Smith won. When Wife #1 suggested that women might take additional husbands, Smith over-ruled her again, announcing that plural marriage was only for men. He then proceeded to take a multitude of young “wives” – and some were as young as 14 – and call it God’s plan. Unlike the Old Testament version, the taking of plural wives by Mormons was not contingent upon being able to afford multiple wives; rather, Mormon men were supposed to take more than one wife because God wanted them to do so. Not surprisingly, Smith also received messages from God that explained how important it was for Mormons to have as many children as possible; the ability to have multiple children was purportedly the purpose for having multiple wives.

The Mormons hail originally from New York state, but they, in their sojourn to find a place where they could practice their faith – and have their many wives – in peace, settled in Ohio, Missouri and Illinois before high-tailing it out west to what is now Utah. Joseph Smith was killed in Illinois before the group could make its exit, and another fellow, Brigham Young, took over and led the wandering faithful to the promised land, so-determined because nobody else wanted it. The Mormons prospered and reproduced in this western territory, building their own cities, governments, and growing in considerable political clout. However, since the majority of the rest of the country was appalled by (or jealous of) plural marriage, the Mormons were forced to relinquish the practice in order to be granted statehood in 1896. Though mainstream Mormons today will swear to you that they disapprove of plural marriage and that nobody practices it anymore, they (and anyone else who is paying attention) know that lots of Mormons still keep an extra wife or three stashed in various hamlets/backwaters in the western states.

To this day, Mormons are encouraged to have big families (The Osmonds, for example), although they are not all required to be musical.

Mormons are overwhelmingly white and Republican, since Republicans support the kinds of “values” (no abortion, no homosexuality, no women getting uppity and trying to run things) that Mormons support. They are almost always white because the Mormon religion is at its core extremely racist. Most Christian denominations have their fair share of racists and racist ideas (the Southern Baptist Church, for example, formed in large part to affirm slavery and repudiate Yankee Baptists who weren’t wild about it); however, the Mormons base their theology on racism. According to the Mormons, Noah’s son, Ham (whom we only hope was not a vegetarian), married a non-white woman and produced a race of mixed-breed children who were less intelligent and less moral than Noah’s other children. Of course, this premise is inherently faulty if you accept that Noah and his family were the only humans to survive the great flood that God sent to punish humankind. Where did these non-white women come from? Wasn’t everyone dead? But again, if you believe that Smith translated a language inscribed on golden tablets by staring at crystals in an upside-down hat, it’s not such a stretch.

Until the late 1970’s, black men were not allowed to become elders in the Mormon church (women, by the way, are never allowed to have such leadership positions, black or otherwise). Although blacks are now allowed to hold these positions, there hasn’t been a huge rush of blacks joining the Mormon church. Go figure.

Mormons, in short, believe in big families, traditional family structures (men in charge, women doing what the men say, children obeying their parents), the absolute authority of the Church over members’ private lives, no mingling of the races, and absolutely no Democrats. They also wear sacred underwear, which are designed to cover up all the “special parts” and discourage extramarital hanky-panky and masturbation. Sacred underwear, needless to say, does not affect one’s fertility.

Mormon catchphrases:

1) “The Bible is important, but the Book of Mormon explains what has happened since then.” Meaning: The Bible’s old news; the Book of Mormon is where it’s at!

2) “We believe in strong families.” Meaning: The man’s in charge, the woman is submissive, and the kids will absolutely behave or we will knock them silly – praise Moroni.

3) “We aren’t racists.” Meaning: If you ain’t white, stay the heck out of Utah.

4) “We don’t practice polygamy any more.” Meaning: We don’t need to practice; we’re good at it.

I had two very interesting experiences yesterday, both of which I will now share with you, anonymous readers.

First of all, I was accused of being a George Bush-loving, war-mongering extremist based purely upon my current county of residence. The accuser in question, who calls in-town Atlanta home, informed moi that he would not consider venturing outside the Perimeter (that's I-285, for you non-Georgians) because "there is so much about [the county in question] that is diametrically opposed to my own values."

Apparently, the very act of crossing the county line causes one to apply "W" stickers to one's car, though I have developed no urges to strip my car of its Kerry/Edwards bumper sticker. I've been here about three weeks now, and I don't feel inclined towards privatizing social security nor am I jumping for joy that The Patriot Act is still in place. For the time being, I remain a "latte-drinking, Subaru-driving liberal." But who knows? Perhaps four weeks is the turning point. Ya'll keep an eye on this blog -- if I wake up conservative one morning next week, these entries are apt to change quite a bit.

For the time being, I'm walking the walk. I attended a wonderful peace vigil in honor of Cindy Sheehan last night (in very conservative Marietta, no less), and I was thrilled to be one of maybe 150 folks holding signs that called for an end to this useless war in Iraq, a return of all our troops, and a return to sanity in the way this country is being governed. It's a tall order, but I've always been a believer in asking for the moon in order to get your paws on a few stars. If any of you are interested in speaking out against the war, I recommend you get involved with moveon.org or any of the other great online sources for progressive government.

Who says you can't change the world?

And as for my accuser...where were you last night? Raging against the suburbs in some Midtown bar? Way to stand up for progressive causes! ;)

Coming tomorrow: More religion. I promise!

United Methodists
The founder of the Methodist Church, John Wesley (who remained, ironically, a member of the Church of England), had a life-changing experience while in church. During the service, he says he felt “his heart strangely warmed” by the spirit of God and knew forever after that he was “saved.”

Methodists the world over are still having their hearts warmed during church services, family night suppers, church-sponsored exercise classes, and youth meetings. Being social animals above all else, Methodists have never met a spaghetti dinner they didn’t love – or attend. While Baptists are all about getting you in church to “save” you, Methodists are mostly about getting you in church. Once there, you can join 8,000 different Sunday school classes, volunteer with “ministries” as diverse as Pre-School Choir, Visiting the Shut-Ins (church members who, due to either illness or old age or both, are no longer able to attend church regularly), Coaching Youth Softball (aka, paying penance for previous wild living), and even Sanctuary upkeep (changing the flowers on a weekly basis so that they don’t clash with the ministers’ robes). Baptists may make every attempt to save your soul directly, but Methodists prefer to monopolize every second of your free time. I suspect this is an attempt to drive Satan out by giving him not one minute in which to work.

Unlike Baptists, Methodists do not often abstain from cultural activities such as dancing, playing cards, going to movies, etc. Some churches even sponsor dances for their own young people. In response, other denominations in the area frequently sponsor prayer meetings in which to pray for Methodists. The one thing an Evangelical loves even more than converting a heathen is co-opting someone from another Christian denomination. Such activities earn Evangelicals “jewels for their crowns.” In this metaphorical turn of phrase, the “jewels” refer to the souls of those former non-Christians that you have “led to the Lord.” The “crowns” are of the kingly sort; i.e., the ones you wear on your head.

Many years ago, a Sunday school teacher of mine was lecturing a 20-something young man in the Sunday School class. She disapproved of this young man, who was rumored to have had more than a few romantic rendezvous with young ladies in his Ford F-150 after church services. I can’t swear to the rendezvous, since I, not being blonde, was never asked to participate. The Sunday School teacher, though, had posed a question she knew he could not adequately answer:

Teacher: “Ralph (not his real name), what will you do with your heavenly crown once you’ve earned all your jewels?”
Ralph: “Wear it?”
Teacher: “No! You’ll lay it down at the foot of Jesus!”
To Ralph’s credit, I didn’t know the right answer, either, although there is a Biblical reference in the New Testament that mentions laying one’s crowns down at the foot of Christ’s throne. Maybe that sort of terminology goes over better in countries with Constitutional Monarchies.

Catch-phrases to help one identify United Methodists:

1) “Do you want to come to our church hayride? It’s a lot of fun!”

2) “Do you want to come to the dance in our church fellowship hall? It’s a lot of fun!”

3) “Do you want to come to our family-night supper? It’s a lot of fun!”

4) “Do you want to come to our church-sponsored AA meeting? There’s food afterward, and that’s a lot of fun!”

The Southern Baptist (and those who love them)

Many, if not most, Evangelicals are Protestant. There are a few “Charismatic Catholics” and “Evangelical Episcopalians” out there, but there aren’t really enough of these to worry about. Rather, we’ll focus on the Protestant variety, in all their variety.

Southern Baptists
As the name suggest, they are mostly a Southern religion, with large populations found below the Mason-Dixon Line. Paradoxically, the Southern Baptists began as a denomination that favored what is called “the priesthood of the believer,” a clerical-sounding expression that means “Baptists are allowed to interpret the Bible for themselves, sans priests, Popes, etc.” However, almost as soon as the Baptists opened their church doors, their own members began chipping away at this belief. The Southern Baptist Convention, for example, is currently bent on ridding the faith of any preacher, teacher, or rural mail carrier who does not believe that the entire Bible – even the wacky books such as Revelation – is literally and completely “the divinely inspired Word of God.” Even summer and short-term missionaries – young Baptists who eagerly wish to serve the Lord in Pagan-invested cesspools such as Hawaii and Panama City Beach, Florida – must now sign statements of faith in which they swear the Bible is literally true, while also swearing that they will either be submissive wives or marry a woman who promises to be duly submissive. Since the Bible is pretty clear about lying being a sin, more and more young people are having trouble signing on, even for the short term.

Baptists often abstain from activities such as dancing, playing cards, listening to secular (not specifically Christian) music, and even attending movies. While the extent of the abstinence depends on both the sect of Baptist as well as the individual Baptist, it isn’t unusual to run across a Baptist who avoids at least one of the aforementioned.

Catch-phrases to help one identify Southern Baptists:

1) “Are you saved?” Meaning: Have you had an emotional experience in which you have declared yourself utterly sinful and lost? And have you then asked Jesus Christ to take charge of your life, guide you in all things – and be your eternal scapegoat, as in “Jesus told me to break up with you, Becca” – for the rest of your life?

2) “But are you walking the walk?” Meaning: I know you’ve been saved (see above), but are you following the rules (not having sex outside marriage, not drinking, not smoking, not doing drugs, not listening to secular music, and not having any fun that doesn’t directly involve a church-sponsored activity)?

3) “Is he/she backsliding?” Meaning: Is he/she having sex outside marriage, drinking, smoking, doing drugs, listening to rock/rap/hiphop/pop (country music, although often raucous is still often patriotic – see Toby Keith – which makes up for any nastiness – again, see Toby Keith – that may be involved.), or generally having any fun not directly linked to a church-sponsored activity?

4) “Bless her/his heart…” Meaning: This catch-phrase is the required preface for Christianized gossip of all sorts. As in, “bless her heart, she’s become a complete alcoholic since her husband moved in with that young man.” Often used in the guise of requesting prayer, “bless her/his heart” actually means “Pay attention – I’m about to dish some serious dirt.”

5) “I prayed about it, and…” Meaning: much like “bless her/his heart,” this statement is a preface for all manner of information, from the prophetic to the almost-profane. For example, “I prayed about it, and God told me to fire you. But remember, when God closes a door, He opens a window!(to jump from?)”; “I prayed about it, and Jesus said I shouldn’t go to the prom with you, Bobby,”; “I prayed about it, and the Lord told me you needed to stop listening to those evil KISS albums (this one is recycled from my childhood. Sorry!).”

After exhaustive research and zero soul-searching, I’ve come up with a basic guide to help you – the nominally religious, non-religious, or religious-but-not-all-bent-about-it – begin to understand the “New Evangelicals,” that amorphous group of religious folks who think George W. Bush is a good, Christian man and all Democrats are hell-bound.

In my not-so-humble opinion, these “New Evangelicals” closely resemble the “Old Puritans” of Thanksgiving and witch-burning fame.

The Puritans believed that if a person followed God’s laws and lived a pure life, he/she would prosper financially. Therefore, a person with money was also a good, decent person. The New Evangelicals have similar beliefs, mainly that taxes are straight from the Devil and poor people are bad people who clearly need to get their religious houses in order and stop living off welfare.

Evangelicals are basically evangelists, which means that they believe in trying to make as many converts as possible. This is why they show up at your apartment at 10 a.m. on Saturday morning – blatantly ignoring the no-soliciting signs – to invite you to their church. Like any graduate from a 12-step program, an Evangelical takes seriously the idea of helping others; unlike 12-step program grads, however, Evangelicals do not accept that people have the right to find their own peace. Rather, there is only one way out, and that way leads to the Pearly Gates. You may temporarily confound the stranger at your door by telling him/her that you are a Buddhist/Muslim/Jew/Pagan; however, the Evangelical will quickly rebound by attempting to convert you that much more. The only surefire way to get rid of the person is to lie. For example, you might try this: “Why, I was saved when I was 15, after losing my virginity at a Black Sabbath concert, which I would regret had it not drawn me closer to the Lord.”

Coming tomorrow: The Branding of Evangelicals.

Much as I hate to agree with anything Tim LaHaye (Left Behind) says, I witnessed two events yesterday that made me think perhaps the end of the world is near. First, I saw a sign advertising a housing development called Paper Chase Trail (no lie) with prices starting “from the 900’s.” Second, I saw a flock of geese flying north, likely in search of reasonable housing prices.

The 900’s?! I looked two or three times to make sure I’d read the sign correctly, and there it was, staring my impoverished, Subaru-driving self in the face. The 900’s. Snarky thing that I am, I immediately started mocking the advertising campaign: “Yes, Cliff, our statistics show that people respond more robustly to ‘the 900’s’ rather than ‘a million.’” Really? Does somebody with that kind of cash need to quibble over $100,000? Or is this a ploy to attract homeseekers who actually fall into the $500,000 to $700,000 range but wish to move up in the pecking order? For those of us who would dearly love to find a treehouse in the $100,000 to $150,000 range, questions such as these are merely academic. For example, we don’t use a word like robust to describe the economy; while robust does mean “strong and healthy,” this term is more accurately applied to either people (that bodybuilder is certainly robust!) or coffee (enjoy the robust taste of our rich, Colombian brew.) The term, robust, used to describe the economy is the latest attempt by not-very-smart people to sound smarter than they are by misusing perfectly good words.

“Cliff, we need some new words. Do you know where we can find them?”

“Yes, Rich. I do. It’s called the dictionary.”

“What’s a dictionary?”

“It’s a big book full of words.”

“Aren’t all books full of words?”

“Yes, but this book has words we can actually use, so it’s not a waste of time like all those other books.”

People who can afford to buy homes in Paper Chase Trail don’t spend their time reading books, for God’s sake. They have people to do that for them. Hey, maybe I could do that for some obscenely rich person? Read books for them (or to them, if they want. I like to read aloud.). Perhaps I could even live in the guest house – I feel sure Paper Chase Trail boasts guesthouses or servants’ quarters or at least a room off the wine cellar for the help. A few years from now, when we do run out of gasoline and sprawling Metro areas dependent upon roads/Interstates become ghost towns, I might be able to afford a guest house in Paper Chase Trail. Shoot, by then I might assume squatter’s rights in the main house and use the furniture for firewood.

But the Apocalypse will have to happen first, I suspect. Of course, there are those who think it’s already begun. Last November, after the disastrous national election, a dear friend at work patted my sagging shoulder and announced, “Last Days are here, honey. Last Days are here. Bad times comin.’” A month before, a man in the Lowes Foods Parking Lot (NC store – ya’ll don’t have them here) noticed my Kerry/Edwards bumper sticker and explained to me that he believes George W. is the anti-Christ. “He quotes the Bible and says all these religious things, but he does the opposite. The Bible says the anti-Christ will fool everybody, that people will support him and think he’s good. At first.” I smiled and nodded, then told him my ice cream was melting so he’d leave me alone.

I don’t buy into all the creepy 666/barcodes-on-foreheads/four-riders-bearing-plagues schools of thought, but I’ve been wrong before (I thought Kerry would win.). It certainly would be damn ironic if all these Republi-Christians had actually elected the anti-Christ. At the same time, it would also suck for everybody, but that’s what happens when you turn your backs on people for whom ideology is God. Maybe somebody should check Georgie’s feet; if he’s sportin’ cloven hooves, we’re even more screwed than I thought.

This morning in the AJC, a guy named Jimmy W. Hall had some ugly things to say about Cindy Sheehan, the woman who is camping outside our President’s vacation ranch, waiting to ask Bush why her son was killed in Iraq. Obviously, this is a rhetorical question, since anybody with any sense knows why the poor kid died: to find those weapons of mass destruction!

Anyway, Jimmy W. (is that W. for Wayne, the middle name of a ridiculous number of imprisoned men, and the fake last name of one John Wayne, whose real name was Marion?) goes on and on about how Cindy Sheehan is helping America’s enemies in Iraq by daring to question why her son had to die. What Jimmy doesn’t mention is whether or not he has ever served in the Armed forces of the U.S. I suspect this is because he has not – something else he has in common with John Wayne, who only portrayed a Green Beret? I'm not sure about ole Marion -- ya'll let me know if he was veteran, okay? Anyway, Jimmy allows that “thousands of other mothers have sons and daughters overseas,” and that by questioning the actions of her government (a Constitutionally protected act which will likely be overturned once George W. has his way with the Supreme Court) Cindy Sheehan is putting all these other soldiers overseas in danger.

Okay, how? Is Al Jazeera covering this protest in Crawford, Texas, and broadcasting it to Osama? Are the militants in Iraq really emboldened by the grief of a dead soldier’s mother? Furthermore, are the soldiers in Iraq all laying down their arms in sympathy? In a word, no. Jimmy W. says Cindy Sheehan is supporting the enemy by questioning this war, which is the same line of crap that the neocons trot out every time somebody disagrees with anything Bush supports. If you disagree with George W., you’re unpatriotic! You’re un-American! Blah, blah, blah. This idea was stupid the first time Ann Coulter, et al said it, and it’s even more stupid now.

I doubt Jimmy W. has a son or daughter serving in Iraq or Afghanistan. We all know that Bush, Cheney, Wolfowitz, Rumsfeld, and Mr. Loose-Lips himself, Rove, certainly aren’t making that sort of sacrifice with their children, grandchildren, cousins, etc. Lord, Bush couldn’t even show up for National Guard duty. Is it any wonder he can’t be bothered to walk down his driveway and actually talk to this poor woman whose life has been forever altered by his idiot war?

Jimmy W. – get a clue. People aren’t buying into blind, faux patriotism anymore. Cindy Sheehan deserves a straight answer about Iraq War II, and so does the rest of America. But I’m not holding my breath on that one. After all, Mr. Bush is on vacation.

My pal, Jake, doesn’t trust vegetarians. He always thinks they’re trying to get away with something, so he’s made up some rules. One of these is that vegetarians “shouldn’t want any meat substitutes.” No veggie burgers, no soy-protein breakfast links, no “mock” chicken or “not” dogs.

“If you want a meat substitute, you really want meat, so you should just eat meat,” he insists. “Vegetarians shouldn’t want anything that resembles meat.”

Okay, Jake’s a freak. I make no apologies for loving veggie "links" or veggie hot dogs. I’ll even go a step further and say these vegetarian alternatives are a huge improvement over the original meat versions.

Let’s start with the veggie links. Half the fat, no cholesterol, and no grease. And according to my father, the carnivore, they taste an awful lot like real sausage. I can eat a couple with a scrambled egg and feel as if I’ve had a genuine, big breakfast. In the process, I haven’t killed any pigs or mangled for life any meatpackers. By the way, if factory farming, with its brutal, unnatural treatment of animals doesn’t rouse any sympathy from you, perhaps you should research the average working conditions in the meatpacking industry. Mother Jones Magazine did a great expose' on this a few years ago. Things really haven’t changed much from the days of Upton Sinclair’s “The Jungle.”

But I digress. I really wanted to tell you about veggie hot dogs. The texture is a little different from meat hot dogs, but I find veggie dogs an extremely close alternative. With veggie hot dogs, the mix is consistent: no gristle, no grease, no little bits of things you can’t identify and wouldn’t if you could. Veggie dogs, or “not” dogs as they are also known, are made of textured soy protein and lots of other plant-based things such as garlic, onion, etc. One thing they don’t contain is nitrates, the really bad ingredient found in regular hot dogs. Nitrates, when consumed with abandon (for example, when a person goes on one of those horrible, high-protein diets) can really mess you up (see: How to Wreck Your Liver and Kidneys 101). “Not” dogs also don’t contain parts of an animal that one wouldn’t choose to eat if he/she were cognizant of them.

Sure, there’s always some redneck out there who doesn’t mind eating animal testicles. A Baptist church (God Bless those wacky Baptists) near my home used to sponsor a “Men’s Hunting Barbeque” every year. All the hunting men in the church were encouraged to bring some of their kill and cook it for a big, finger-licking meat-o-rama. The minister’s son, who was an acquaintance of mine, confessed to trying fried mystery-animal testicles. You’d think a group of people as homophobic as Southern Baptists wouldn’t go near a strange testicle! I guess that’s one of the great mysteries of the faith. However, I’m willing to bet that most people wouldn’t be so willing to chow down on ground-up internal and/or sex organs if they could just get a clear vision of what they are actually eating.

So Jake can bite me (metaphorically speaking). If the preacher’s son can eat some poor animal’s balls, I can order “mock” chicken in a Thai restaurant without feeling as if I’ve compromised myself.

August 9, 2005

For breakfast this morning I had hot tea (my usual) and brownies (very unusual). Not that I don’t love brownies of almost any variety, but I’m generally a little more careful about what I eat. However, my tasks for the day lent themselves well to junk food, so the choice was quite fitting.

After living in rural North Carolina for 8 years and fairly rural Washington state for two years, I find myself back in Metro Atlanta for the first time since 1994. When I moved away, you could still rent an apartment “in-town” for less than $700 per month, and by apartment I mean a one-bedroom with indoor plumbing and a kitchen. I nearly gave myself a heart attack by reading through the apartment listings in Creative Loafing: one-bedroom apartments in Midtown for $1,500…and that’s if you’re lucky. This means one of two things: either everybody in Atlanta is making at least $60,000 per year (and this includes barristas and those kids selling all manner of “goods” in L5P) or people are amassing outrageous credit card debt to put roofs over their heads. Or, perhaps 10 people are sharing one luxury loft.

But back to me! My tasks for the day were 1) go to the post office – I chose the one in Powder Springs rather than Marietta, since parking was better in P.S. and I was feeling a little nostalgic for my old high school hangouts, two of which are still there: Johnny’s Barbeque, which I can no longer enjoy since giving up meat in 1996, and the Dairy Queen, where I can still throw down a Blizzard.

Task number 2 was to find a Barnes & Noble and use one of the gift certificates kind friends in NC gave me when I announced I had had enough of teaching middle school and was moving back to the ATL to find some kind of office job (if you know anyone who is hiring, I have exceptional office-type skills. Oh, and I can strike fear into 25 7th graders just by changing the tone of my voice.). The B&N I located is on Dallas Highway in a pretentious development that reminds me of SouthPark (not the show) in Charlotte. I wandered through the faux cobblestone walks and water gardens looking for all the world like a barefoot mountain girl whose low-life fiance has pushed her out of the truck and left her in an upscale neighborhood. After 10 years of precious little choice in the way of shopping, it is nice to shop at a Target store without driving 45 minutes, and it was tres easy to locate a cingular store (if we’re not careful, I suspect we might wake up one morning to find cingular stores in many front yards, crowding out the swing sets and lawn furniture). Still I could compare the number of shopping choices at my disposal to the 80 channels on local cable: I only watch about 8 of them regularly, and the others are mostly a nuisance. Too much of a good thing? More like too much crap I don’t need, don’t want, and don’t even want to see.

Task number 3 was to go to the library, where those nice ladies had three English mysteries that I had ordered last week. If you enjoy mysteries and you’ve never read Josephine Tey, get thee to the library and check out her books. You won’t be disappointed…unless you’re stupid, and if so why would you be reading, anyway? Go shopping, already!

August 8, 2005

Anticipating people’s reactions is a favorite pastime of mine. I attribute this to a mix of neuroses, none of which I apologize for much anymore. I also refuse to apologize for the title of this blog: Compostcompote. (Okay, I wanted to call it Compost, but some joker already beat me to that simple, elegant title.) To clarify, compost – as opposed to compostcompote – is a mixture of rotting materials, amended by generous additions of dried manure. When allowed to achieve its ultimate state of decay, compost becomes the finest building block of any garden, infinitely superior to any and all human-engineered fertilizers and without the toxic pollutants.

Ignorant people love to poke fun at compost piles – “look at that big pile of crap!” – and at those who create them. Well, let these people pay ridiculous prices for mega-fertilizer and groundskeepers. I suspect that they live rather sterile lives, separated from growing things, from decay, from life itself, which is intrinsically dirty. If you’re afraid of a little crap, you’ll never know the bliss that is a warm, organically grown tomato, raised from seed and harvested from your own, compost-filled patch of earth.

There’s crap, and then there’s crap. What we do with the crap in our lives makes all the difference. We can combine it with other things to create something positive, or we can sit around and gripe about it. “That’s a bunch of crap!” Sure it is. Now what?

This blog will be my online compost pile. In it, I’ll put all the odds and ends of things that I’m obsessing over: writing ideas, stuff that really burns me, topics that pique my curiosity, and anything else that seems appropriate…or even inappropriate. No doubt, a portion of it will be crap. To quote one of my many writing instructors, “you’ll never be a successful writer if you’re afraid to suck.”

In that spirit, here goes…