Does Jesus Prefer Birch or Ash?

Blinded by the Light

With Thanksgiving out of the way, the Christmas decorating has started in full-force. Not at our house, mind you, I haven't been kicked in the ass by the Christmas-spirit fairy, yet. However, our fellow-Arkansans seem to be completely full of Christmas joy and goodwill. And, what better way to show their love for this festive time than to litter their lawns with tacky, plastic Virgin Marys and blinking lights? Of all the Christmas displays I've seen so far, 95% of them are horrible. I passed one house the other night, and I swear it looks like they took one end of the lights and plugged them in, and then got their dog drunk, gave him the other end and turned him loose in the yard.

And even though it pains me to mention it, I feel I must. To all of you who live in portable housing and have old cars and discarded living room furniture scattered on your lawn: 1. You should probably be spending your money on something other than Christmas lights, and 2. The lights aren't going to make your lawn look any better. They aren't going to hide your white-trashiness, oh thou who hast copulated with thine cousin. And do you know why they won't? Because, the plastic nativity scene in your yard already gave that little secret away. Not to mention the cars, furniture and the fact that you still have your Halloween decorations up.

Even the town square in Fayetteville is a disappointment in the Christmas display department. I expected white lights strung gracefully on branches in a tasteful display, but instead my sense of style was assaulted and violated by a plethora of multi-colored lights that were strewn about. That's right, people. Strewn. They were horribly strewn. There were trees with multi-colored lights up top and then red or green or blue lights on the trunk. Blue lights, red lights, orange lights, pink lights, green lights. Thousands upon thousands of lights in every shade of the rainbow. It was as though I'd stumbled into Liberace heaven.

Even the romance is gone from the town square Christmas debacle display. In previous years, there was a horse and carriage ride for the more amorous among us, but this year...there's a camel. Yeppers, you can ride a live camel. And, really, what bespeaks of love more succinctly than camel sweat?

I'm sure in some cultures it's an aphrodisiac.

What Wood Jesus Do?

The Guy Who Thinks He's Boss went to southern Arkansas over the Thanksgiving weekend and he brought this back just for me:

Well, we are apostrophe happy, aren't we? Do you suppose that maybe Joe and Wanda have this huge stockpile of cabinets behind their house waiting for Jesus to return? What on earth do they think Jesus would do with cabinets? Is this some new cult I don't know about? What would the saviour of mankind possibly keep in cabinets? I mean besides the wine, bread, fish and holy grail.

I really shouldn't make fun of Joe and Wanda, because Jesus was supposed to be a carpenter. So, they're just furthering the Lord's work in bringing the joy of cabinetry to the world. Praise Jesus for wooden repositories that hold our dishes and foodstuffs. Amen and again I say, Amen.

Take Care,
The Bablatrice - who isn't multi-colored, blinking or plastic.

Gobbledygook.

Happy Thanksgiving!

That is all.

I jest. Of course, that's not all.

I have much to be thankful for. And, even though I think it's more fun to be cynical, I'll set my cynicism aside for a minute and give you my short list of things I'm grateful for.

• Kids who are amazingly funny, smart and beautiful people.
• A husband, who in spite of my "gift" of being a total nutjob, tolerates my nuttiness.
• The functional portion of my dysfunctional family.
• My husband's family - and that they have accepted me as one of the mob.
• Good food, good health, good music.
• Friends who take me as I am.
• Warmth on a cold night - which is quite the task in the house we live in.
• Nature and all of it's amazing beauty.
• That I'm finally getting comfortable in my own skin.
• Achieving clarity and possibly attaining a little bit of wisdom. A very small bit. A teeny-tiny bit. An almost microscopic bit. But, it's more than I had when I was 20.

I could go on with my list, but that'll do for now. I'm starting to feel the cockles of my heart beginning to warm, and warm heart cockles will never do.

Just for you - a horribly bad turkey joke.

What goes gobble, gobble, ha ha ha, plop?

A turkey laughing its head off.

Hey, I warned you it was bad, didn't I? But, you just had to keep on reading. It's your own fault.

I hope all of you have a safe Thanksgiving surrounded by those you love. If you're unfortunately surrounded by people you can just barely tolerate, I wish upon you copious amounts of alcohol.

Take Care,

The Bablatrice - who is more potent than tryptophan in putting people to sleep.

Sex, Love and Peace.

Speak Louder, No Habla Engles

At the office we have a Hispanic cleaning lady. I know that "cleaning lady" isn't politically correct, but what the fuck. She's a lady. And she cleans. Her name is Maria, and she's one of the sweetest people I've ever met. Maria doesn't speak English so well, and some of the guys at the office seem to think that because of this, they need to speak louder to her than is really necessary. As if the louder they speak, the better she'll understand.

Um. Guys, she's not deaf. And, screaming at her will not magically make her fluent in English.

However cool that might be if it were true.

Coital Cease-Fire

I read an article today about a California couple that have decided that we should all have orgasms on December 22nd. And we're supposed to have orgasms as an anti-war demonstration, because "The orgasm gives out an incredible feeling of peace during it and after it," Reffell said Sunday. "Your mind is like a blank. It's like a meditative state. And mass meditations have been shown to make a change."

Um. Yeah. Mushroom tea anyone?

The article goes on with, "The couple have studied evolutionary psychology and believe that war is mainly an outgrowth of men trying to impress potential mates, a case of "my missile is bigger than your missile," as Reffell put it."

So, there you have it. The reason we're in Iraq is because George W. has a little weenie.

Jamaican Java, Mon

I bought Thomas some Blue Mountain coffee, which is supposed to be this super fantastic coffee. I'm pretty sure you're supposed to masturbate while drinking it so you can enjoy the full essence of the bean. Anyway, he's going through this huge production out of making this coffee. Because it's that damn good, people. He's making sure everything is just right, and talking his way through this process. I think it's kinda cute, and I just thought you should know.

Church Sign O' the Week

"There's no wrong place to share the gospel."

Oh, church sign guy. So deluded, you are. There's a place that I can think of where sharing your gospel would be inappropriate. Like where you ask? Well, let's just say hypothetically you're in a hotel room, and you're a televangelist and you're butt-fucking a male prostitute who is also your meth supplier. That would be an inappropriate time to share the love of Jesus. Don't you agree?

Can the Ted Haggard jokes ever get old? I hope with all my being that they can't.

I promise after the end of the month I'll quit making closet-gay preacher jokes.

Unless another gay preacher gets booted out of the closet. Then I'm all over that shit. Fo sheezy.

And now, I'm off to be a baking fool.

Take Care,
The Bablatrice- a little dab'll do ya.

For Jeff.

I consider all the guys I work with to be either my younger brothers or sons- and all of them my friends. Today we lost one of my boys. Jeff was only 27. He was the most laid-back person you could ever meet. We used to joke that we could tell him that his ass was on fire and he'd very calmly look back, stroke his chin and say, "You're right. I should probably put that out." I never saw Jeff mad. Ever. In fact, I don't think you could catch him when he wasn't smiling. He was solid. You never had to guess what his mood was going to be like when you greeted him in the morning. He was one of the special guys, and one of my favorites.

The sadness hung over us today at the office, and I watched as we were gentle with each other. The normal banter was quieted. Voices were lowered. Tears were shed. We were reminded of the fragility of life. 27 is just too young. Especially for such a great guy. My heart goes out for Jeff's parents and brother. I can't imagine the pain they're going through.

I saw Jeff for the last time yesterday morning. I had just pulled into the parking lot and he caught me primping in my car and he proceeded to mock me. Then gave me one of his big grins. Had I known it was going to be the last time I saw him, I would have jumped out of my car, given him a great, big hug and let him know that I thought he was one helluva guy.

Jeff, I don't know if there's an afterlife, but I hope there's one for you. One that has great beer, good golf, beautiful women and Jerry Jeff Walker on the radio.

We'll miss you, but we'll never forget.

I promise.

Rachel

Zen-Like Cynicism

Riddle Me This

What's worse than Phil Collins singing?

Phil Collins singing a remake of "True Colors."

What's worse than Phil Collins singing a remake of "True Colors"?

Him singing it in my living room while naked.

What's worse than Phil Collins singing a remake of "True Colors" in my living room while naked?

Doing the above while touching himself.

What's worse than Phil Collins singing a remake of "True Colors" in my living room while naked and touching himself?

Absolutely nothing.

No Soliciting. Really. I Mean it This Time.

We get solicitors at the office from time to time. When I first started working there, I put up a "No Soliciting" sign. That didn't work. So, I made a new one that read, "No Soliciting. Not even a little bit." That didn't work either. So I made a new one that read, "No Soliciting. Not even a little bit. That means YOU, the person trying to sell us something." Still no success in keeping the blood-sucking sales people away. So the current sign reads, "No Soliciting. If you are rude enough to disregard our sign, please don't be upset when we're rude enough to ask you to leave." Guess what? It STILL doesn't work. I have to say, you outside sales people are some tenacious little fuckers. I'm at a loss as what to do next. A trained attack dog? A chalk outline with a sign that reads, "This is what happened to the last salesperson, capiche?" Remote-controlled electric shock? I think next time one of them ignores the sign, I'm just going to sit there twitching and flash 'em the crazy eye and then say, "My stapler's talking to me again, and I'm really having trouble hearing it over your spiel and the tape dispenser's incessant chatter. So, I think it's best if you leave before I start having another 'episode'. "


Toys for Tots: 1 Talking Jesus: 0

Once featured right here on Flumadiddle, the talking Jesus doll has been rejected by Toys for Tots. Bill Grien, the vice-president for Toys for Tots stated that, "Kids want a gift for the holiday season that is fun."

Sorry JC, I know it's supposed to be your party and everything, but you're just not nearly as fun CooCoo-The Rocking Clown. Maybe if you just loosened up a little. Put your hair in a ponytail, wear some leather - anything other than that tired, white dress. Maybe a tattoo? How about some piercings...oh...nevermind.


Finally, a Moment of Zen

Take Care
The Bablatrice - who is feeling more than peaceful right now.

38 Years Combined Experience

Let's Dumb it Down for the S---L---O---W People

The other day I heard an advertisement on the radio and the business was touting its 200 years combined experience. You know what? I don't give a green monkey's butt about your combined experience. You could have 200 employees with one year of experience. Or 400 employees with 6 month's experience, or 800 with 3 months. Okay, I think you get the picture. This kind of advertising is saying, "Attention. Can I have your attention please? General Public...we think you're a bunch of fucking morons, and we are going to trick you into thinking we're the company for you by using asinine terminology such as, "combined experience". We'll also make sure we talk really slow so your under-developed brains will be able to grasp the concept we're trying to get across. And, we'll use small, Dick and Jane words, because chances are you're driving while listening to our ad and we don't want to overload you with too much sensory stimuli. You may now resume being tard muffins, and we thank you for your support."

It's Beginning to Look a lot Like Christmas

Driving home tonight, I passed a house and the owner's already had their Christmas lights up. People, it's only November 13th. Really. Do we need Christmas lights so soon? Isn't it bad enough that the stores have Christmas stuff in by Labor Day? As if early lights weren't bad enough, they were multi-colored lights. I absolutely abhor multi-colored lights. What purpose is served in making your yard look like a Tijuana brothel? The only thing worse than multi-colored lights are lights that blink. They're on. No. They're off. Wait. They're back on. Now they're off again. What's really sad is I can imagine dim-witted families sitting around making a game out of when the lights are going to come back on again. Listen, if you can't decide whether you want your lights on or off, then your Christmas light displaying privileges will be taken away - as well as all of your Bee Gee records. Because, I happen to know that the only people who are amused by the blinking lights phenomenon are disco people.

And, disco people are evil.

And, they wear polyester.








If they were any younger, we'd be eating pea embryos.










Church Sign O' the Week

"Aspire to Inspire Before you Expire"

And, if you're on fire, you might perspire - unless it's just your pants on fire, then you're a liar. I wonder if church sign guy's a friar, or maybe has a spare tire, or wears funny attire. Do you think his last name is Meyer or Pryor? Are his clothes hung on a line or placed in a dryer? What do you think would transpire should church sign guy step on a briar? Do you think he sings in the choir? Does the entire church worship this sign-posting plier? Do they really admire this word-spewing sire? If I were to make a church sign guy flyer, I'd write that being a church sign guy doesn't require a higher IQ than a bird on a wire.

And now, I think I'll conspire to retire.

Take Care,

The Bablatrice - who probably read too much Dr. Seuss as a child.

I May Be Weird, but I Don't Pee in Public

I'm Weirder Than You Think

Here are a few little tidbits about me that will make you realize just how strange I am. By the way, doesn't the word "tidbit" sound like it should be dirty?

1. I always get the third newspaper from the top, 2 paper towels when drying my hands and 5 ice cubes to a glass. I don't think anything horrific is going to happen if I don't do these things. They're just what I do. Quirks, if you will.

2. I sometimes get strange urges.

• When I'm on a business call, I always write down the name of the person I'm talking to so I can say, "thank you, Whoever" when we're ending the conversation. For instance, if the person's name was Michelle, I'd say, "Thank you, Michelle". But, once in awhile I get the urge to say, "Thank you, Michelle...if that's your real name".
• When I pull up to the speaker at a drive-thru and the ever-friendly, fast-food employee asks, "May I take your order?", sometimes I want to answer with, "No thank you. Can I take yours?"

3. I have to have the toilet paper go over the roll. And, if I wanted to make a bad pun about it, I'd say I was anal about it. That was so not funny. Anyway, I've even been known to change the toilet paper in public restrooms if it's not on correctly. I think this is kind of a psychopathic, "laces out" thing.

4. I like to smell clean laundry while I'm folding it. Um, yeah. My name is Rachel and I huff clean clothes.

We Will Play Dirty to Get Your Money

I received a letter from Arkansas Children's Hospital wanting a donation. At the top of the letter this is written: "I want to make sick kids smile". And, it's in cute little kid font. The only thing that was missing was the backwards "s". You people have this thing nailed, don't you? I mean, only a total bastard would deny making sick kids smile. Yep. I'm sending a check.

The Indignities of Voting

Thomas told me that when he went to vote, there were two guys in the parking lot standing by a truck. One was leaning over the bed and the other one was taking a piss. You read right. Dude was taking a piss in the voting place parking lot. At what point do you lose so much of your mind that you piss where people can see you? Voting people, at that. I guess his excuse was that he'd had too much beer and he's a fucking moron.

Take Care,
The Bablatrice - If that's my real name.

Blue Skies and Bilious Outpourings

Rock the Vote

So, do you think the Republicans bent over and grabbed their ankles when they got spanked yesterday? The Democrats have control of the House, possibly the Senate, we have a Democratic governor AND Rumsfeld is out. This almost makes me re-think the god concept.

Not really.

But it does make me think that there may be a small glimmer of hope for the American people.

I'm wondering how long it's going to take before all of the election signs are down. I think they should have been down by midnight last night. I had the urge to vandalize the non-winner's signs today by writing "Way to go, loser" on them. But, I didn't have a marker in the car.

Curse You! Curse You All!

You know the people who are holding a conversation with someone else, and then inject something "witty" into the conversation but look at you while they're saying it to make sure you noticed them being witty? I've come to the following conclusions about these people: 1. What they're saying is never even close to being witty, and 2. I hate them.

You know who else I hate? People who tailgate even when I'm going 5 mph over the speed limit. Listen you tailgating swine, there's just no reason for you to be 2 feet from the back end of my car. I could understand it if I had an ingeniously clever bumper sticker that was written in teeny-tiny letters, or a picture of Johnny Depp in the buff in my back window, but I don't. So, for fuck's sake, back off!

Church Sign O' the Week

"Be an organ donor. Give your heart to Jesus."

Okay, church sign guy...this is just creepy. Really. I get this image of preachers in bloodied lab coats, laughing maniacally while pulling hearts out of church members. And then these de-hearted church members become zombies and hunt down us heathens and eat our spleens while telling us the plan of salvation. But, then they realize that even though we're spleenless, we're still alive so they have to kill us by making us listen to tapes of Jerry Falwell and James Dobson. Oh, disillusioned church sign guy. Do you really expect to get people into your church with this kind of advertising?!?!? Besides, I'd bet Jesus would much rather have skin grafts.

Take Care,
The Bablatrice - who is good to the last drop.

Diverse Confessions

Well, well, well, Ted Haggard confessed to sexually immoral conduct. Which to me translates as: "I really dig me some man-on-man butt-fuckin' ". Here's part of what he said about it:

"... from time to time, the dirt that I thought was gone would resurface, and I would find myself thinking thoughts and experiencing desires that were contrary to everything I believe and teach,"

News flash for you, Teddy. You're gay. Gay. G-A-Y. You are a homosexual. And, since you're pretty much out of the closet now, run with your gaydom. Be free, Teddy! Be FREE! Go buy yourself a Judy Garland CD, and by golly, you sing along at the top of your lungs, girlfriend. You grab that great big shiny rainbow and you hang on to it with everything you're worth. (Can't you just hear Richard Simmons saying that last part?)

You know how I predicted that the church members would say that Satan had been tempting Ted because he was such a go-getter for their g to the o to the d? ? Here's a quote from one of the members:

Church member Christine Rayes, 47, said the congregation had hoped the allegations "were all lies."
"We all have to move forward now," she said. "This doesn't make what Ted accomplished here any less. The farther up you are, the more you are a target for Satan."

I shoulda made bets on that one. I could have probably made about five bucks or somethin'.

Since I'm on a church vein, here's the Church Sign O' the Week.

"Satan pushes, Jesus guides."

Satan also cuts in line, bullies you out of your lunch money and gives wedgies to all the nerdy kids.

Alright, enough church and god stuff, already.

Here are a few of the phrases that people have googled which led them to my blog:

• "my husband's penis" - which is quite popular, actually.
• "skoal ring Wranglers"
• "redneck list skoal ring"
• "high school girls pee" and
• "church sign holy ghost halloween"

All of the above is definitive proof of how diverse I really am.

Take Care,
The Bablatrice - who isn't at all well behaved.

The Devil's Music is in 4/4 Time.

Look who made it onto foundmagazine.com That's right. I submitted this a long time ago, and had forgotten about it. Sigh. The things that bring me joy are so simplistic.

In other breaking news, I was organizing my favorites file, and I came across this website. I have no idea how this got to be in my favorites file. I don't remember ever reading this, nor saving it. It is a Christian fundamentalist's take on good music vs. evil music.

Here's a quote from this website: "The devil is our adversary. He is against us, because he is against God. This is the basis of march music. God has given us wonderful march music, so the devil says, "If that is what God is for, then I’m against it," and the devil puts the accent on a beat opposite from that of march music. Dance music and march music are direct opposites, because their basic beat is the opposite."

So, see people, when I slam Christians, THIS is who I'm slamming. The fundamentalists who have to make everything evil. I think that they're all a bunch of deviants who pop boners whenever they get to think about how "dirty" something is. And, then after masturbating while reading the story of Sodom and Gomorrah, they punish themselves by reading Chick Tracts and setting themselves on fire, just so they're reminded of just how uncomfortable hell will be.

Speaking of fundamentalists. Who didn't giggle while reading about Ted Haggard, who has been outspoken on the gay-marriage ban, but ironically (and allegedly) likes either taking it or giving it up the ass while hopped up on meth? Now that he's admitted to buying drugs and getting a massage from a gay man, what are his minions going to say?

Oh! I know what they'll say. That Satan must have had a hold on poor, closet-gay Ted because the devil knew that he was doing important work for the Lord. So, he had to tempt Ted with the allure of men's hairy asses and methamphetamine. Which is always a volatile combination.

My prediction is that Ted will be superficially contrite and will beg forgiveness from the church, and the memebers will just stare glassy-eyed at him and agree with everything that he says, because they don't have the balls to think for themselves.

And, for the rest of you who have yet to realize that homosexuality is as natural as heterosexuality - C'mon. Don't you think it's time you let go of the archaic notion that gayness is a sin? That's just one more example of the Christians making something dirty, when it's really perfectly natural.

Take Care,
The Bablatrice - who puts the fun in fundamentalist slammer.