BRAINPAN LEAKAGE

Several weeks back I was doing some work around the house. It was a warm, sunny afternoon in early October as a matter of fact. I happened to be in the back yard when I heard someone at my gate calling out to me.

I turned to discover a video crew. At first I was a bit taken aback, but then I was also taken aback by a lady in the parking lot of the Home Depot awhile back when she jumped out of her vehicle, pointed at me, and started squealing “You’re… You’re HIM! You’re HIM!” So much so in her case that I dropped the lumber I was loading into the back of my truck and gave myself a nasty gash on my arm.

I still don’t know which “HIM” she was talking about, but since no police showed up to arrest me I have to assume she didn’t mistake me for someone who had snatched her purse or taken the last jelly donut at the local Krispy Kreme.

But that’s another story…

So, back to early October… As it turns out these folks with video equipment in tow had traveled to Saint Louis for the express purpose of interviewing me on their show. Why they hadn’t contacted my publicist first to schedule it remains a bit of a mystery. All I know is that what ensued was a bit weird, disconcerting, made me very uncomfortable, and might not have even been entirely legal. At any rate, after chasing them off my property while  I was wielding an axe handle and screaming obscenities, I thought I’d seen the last of them.

Apparently I was wrong…

Even under the threat of legal action, this production company elected to release the footage of that bizarro interview, and to add insult to injury they have done so in several places around the web – from PUF TV to Youtube and beyond. At first I was livid. Then I was pissed. Then I was livid pissed since dividing my energies between the two seemed a bit wasteful. I started making phone calls and planning my revenge, on many levels.

However… The Amazing Wendy, my publicist, tends to see silver linings where I do not. She has now urged me to give up on my quest to eviscerate these wingnuts, telling me that I should embrace this as a promotional opportunity instead. Wendy can be very convincing. So… Since not everyone is on Facebook, not to mention the state of obscure flux in which the FB news feed dwells, I am taking her advice and posting it here.

You know, the more I think about it, the more I’m beginning to wonder if  maybe she was in on this the whole time…

More to come…

Murv

I used to wonder if my family had ties to Mexico. We’ll get to why in just a bit…

If you happen to follow me on Facebook you probably saw a status update last week lamenting the fact that I had a fairly obnoxious Christian witnessing to me. She’s actually a nice lady, but she’s a little too passionate about her beliefs – literally to the point of being outright disrespectful about anything that doesn’t match her way of thinking – which, as she tells it, it God’s way of thinking. But, I’m not here to get into that… Suffice it to say, I received just as much advice on how to handle her from my FB friends as I did advice from her in the first place. My bad. I probably should have kept the whole thing to myself. But, again, I’m not here to get into that…

You see, on the heels of all that, I attended a family reunion – EKay’s side. This portion of the family, much as I love them, are also deeply ingrained in their religious beliefs. All good. However, some of them take the same approach as the young lady I dealt with the previous week – that being that even the simplest of conversations must be turned into a witnessing and/or sermon. At past gatherings this has forced me to excuse myself and go hide. This go around, fortunately, I was spared such, and had a great time. But, again, this has little to do with my suspicion of a Mexican heritage – or does it?

Here’s the thing: Being at odds about religion is nothing new to me. Portions of my own family were just as ingrained in their beliefs, especially on my Dad’s side. In fact, my grandfather literally “ran the pews” at his church. Whenever I would spend summers back in Kentucky, working on the farm, Wednesday and Sunday always involved Church. A lot of it. And there were other Church events – suppers, picnics, etc – where I would end up as well.

Again – where does this south of the border heritage thing come in?

Well, my grandfather would say grace at every meal. Now, while I may have been at odds with them about religion, by the same token I was respectful about it as long as I wasn’t being beat over the head too badly. So, when grace would come around I would bow my head, remain silent, and listen. My grandfather, Joe Sellars, would invoke Jesus, request blessings upon the food, the land, the family, and anyone else sitting at the table. If someone else needed to be included in the prayers they were, and then he would wind down to the end. As he approached the final “amen,” his mumble would become less intelligible – at least, to me. For years I struggled to understand what he was saying but never could quite put a finger on it, other than to the best of my hearing he was saying: Fiesta now and then, uh-huh…

Given that Joe Sellars ran the pews at the church, I think maybe there’s something to that. Apparently he was more of a “partier” than I ever knew.

I had it in my head that I was going to save this story for the magnum opus autobiography I would write in coming years, but since I really doubt anyone much cares to read about how I got up, went to work, then came home, over and over again for 400 pages, I thought maybe I’d just put it here.

But, who knows? Maybe something interesting will happen before I kick off, and I WILL write that autobiography anyway. If I do I think I’ll go ahead and call it, Fiesta Now And Then…

Just for fun I’ll have the release party in Water Valley, Kentucky and hold it on Cinco de Mayo…

More to come…

Murv