BRAINPAN LEAKAGE

Eighteen year old girls can be a lot of fun.

Okay… Let me stop you right there you dirty minded monkeys. That is NOT what I am talking about. I am talking about being an uncle to a niece who just turned eighteen and the hilarity that can ensue at a family gathering… Especially when said uncle makes his living with words, and moreover, he’s me. (Hey, nobody else was patting me on the back, so I have to do it myself…)

At any rate, we just had a family gathering to celebrate the “fourth quarter birthdays.” We used to do a separate party for each, but as the family grew – and aged – it became hard to schedule multiple gatherings each month and still have time for things such as, oh, I dunno… Work. Sleep. Grocery shopping… you know. Extracurricular activities of a sort. I know that makes us a bit selfish, but it’s just one of those things…

But, back to the story. Among the fourth quarter birthdays is that of one of my nieces, and as we have already established, she recently hit the “Big One Eight.” Of age to vote, sign legal documents, etc.

How did she celebrate this milestone? I mean, besides the family gathering, of course.

She went out and had a hole poked into the side of her nose.

Now, for the record, I don’t give a flying rat’s arse about that. I see more folks with metal in their faces than you can shake a stick at – and I mean a really big stick. Seriously.

Now, to be honest, I don’t find it attractive at all. In fact, I find it more than just a bit silly and a whole lot stupid. But by the same token, it ain’t my face, so whatever trips your trigger. I’m not about to think any less of you for it, because truth is we all have our moments of stupid.

Let me repeat – if you want to impale yourself with ornamental finials and tie tacks, go right ahead. Whether or not I think it is stupid has no bearing whatsoever on whether or not I like you, will hang out with you, or will perform CPR if you are in distress. What I’m saying here is keep your hate mail to yourself. I am not discriminating against you, nor am I being intolerant of you, nor am I repressing you because I think it is stupid to poke holes in your face. I am simply expressing my feelings on the subject, just as you are doing the same by walking around with a diaper pin through your lip and a key fob sticking out of your eyebrow.

However… If you happen to be my niece and you show up at a family gathering with a hunk of metal sticking out of the side of your face, you should expect repercussions. I cite the following –

Merpizm 11/21/10: “If you say something stupid, I’m going to make fun of you. I expect no less when the roles are reversed.”

~ M. R. Sellars

The above quote also applies to DOING as well as saying…

And so, my dear niece arrived at the party. I had already heard that she experienced much disappointment in the fact that her Grandparents – and even her parents – had eschewed comment on her proboscis bauble. Since she, like all of my other nieces and nephews, is a pretty cool kid, I felt bad for her, in a sarcastic uncle sort of way, of course.

Merp – Hey… Niece… C’mere for a sec.

Niece – What?

Merp – [cocking head to the side for a better view] You set off metal detectors with that thing?

Niece – Yeah… Right… Very funny, uncle Murv.

Merp – So… How’d it happen?

Niece – What do you mean?

Merp – Horrible explosion at the jewelry counter and you didn’t duck soon enough? Or did you just fall on it or something?

Niece – It didn’t “happen.”

Merp – You mean you did it on purpose?

Niece – Yeah. It’s how I celebrated my birthday.

Merp – Really? I ate lasagna and cake to celebrate my eighteenth. I didn’t poke holes in my face.

Niece – I didn’t poke holes in my face.

Merp – Ummm… I hate to tell you this but you have a hole in the side of your nose. That’s part of your face.

Niece – I mean I didn’t do it myself. I had a professional do it.

Merp – A professional… You mean you paid someone to poke a hole in your face?

Niece – Yes.

Merp – Seriously? How much it cost you?

Niece – [pulling back hair to show something akin to Trigger’s horseshoe sticking out of the top of her ear] Well, for the cartilage piercing and the nose  piercing it was fifty bucks.

Merp – Wait… You willingly had TWO holes poked in your head in order to celebrate your birthday?

Niece – Yeah.

Merp – And you paid someone fifty bucks to do it?

Niece – Yeah.

Merp – I wish you’d called me first. I’ve got a hole punch at home and I would’ve done it for free.

Niece – [Laughs]

Merp – Really. In fact, I’ve got a three hole punch. I would’ve done three all at once, no charge. I even would’ve sterilized it first.

Niece – Yeah… right. These holes are smaller.

Merp – [Shrugs] No problem. I’ve got a stapler too. Next time you want to put a hole in your face let me know. I’ll bring it along.

Niece – Funny. Right now I’m thinking about getting a tattoo.

Merp – Really. Now you want someone to draw on you with a motorized needle?

Niece – Maybe.

Niece’s Mom – Where are you wanting to get this tattoo?

Niece – On my foot.

Merp – What’re you gonna get?

Niece – I don’t know yet.

Merp – Well, if you’re gonna get it on your foot, have ’em put Rue Britannia on the bottom of your foot and call it good.

Niece – Why?

Merp – So you can be just like Bullwinkle.

Niece – Bull who?

Merp – Bullwinkle. You know, Rocky. Bullwinkle. Moose and squirrel. Watch me pull a rabbit outta my hat…

Niece – What?

Merp – You don’t know who Rocky and Bullwinkle are?

Niece – I’m only eighteen.

Merp – If you’re old enough to go out and have a hole poked in your face, you’re old enough to know who Rocky and Bullwinkle are.

Niece – [Redirecting] It would hurt to get a tattoo on the bottom of your foot.

Merp – Sugar, I’m here to tell you it’s gonna hurt no matter where you get it…

Niece – [Sigh] You know, it’s just an earring.

Merp – What is?

Niece – [pointing at gas cap on the side of her nose] This.

Merp – Oh… Honey… You must’ve missed a biology class. That’s your nose, not your ear.

Niece – You know what I mean…

Merp – I think maybe your stupid hasn’t worn off yet.

Niece – What stupid?

Merp – The one that overtook your brain when you willingly paid someone  to stab holes in your face.

Niece – They didn’t stab holes in my face. They used a needle.

Merp – Okay. So did you have to shove a cork up your nose for them to push it into?

Niece – They didn’t use a cork.

Merp – Well how in the world did you fit an apple up there?

Niece – [Attempting to remain indignantly eighteen but her  “OMG Uncle Murv” sigh is overcome by her own laughter]

Merp – Did they give you an instruction guide booklet with that thing?

Niece – No.

Merp – No? Well what happens if you get a booger caught up in there? How do you know what to do?

Niece – I sneeze.

Merp – Then I guess if someone is sitting on your right they should duck so you don’t shoot their eye out if that thing flies outta the side of your nose, huh?

Niece – The post is at a right angle.

Merp – Pointing up or down?

Niece – Up.

Merp – Well there you go. That just makes it easier for boogers to get caught on it.

Niece – I have a friend who has one. I’ll just ask her.

Merp – A booger?

Niece – A nose ring.

Merp – I really think you should go back and ask for the instruction guide booklet. I mean, you paid fifty bucks and all…

I could go on, but I’m already over one-thousand on the word count, and I’ve heard that shorter blogs are “in” these days. Suffice it to say, the razzing went on for better than an hour while her younger sister sat and listened. After all that I’m pretty sure we won’t have to worry about her setting off any metal detectors when she hits eighteen. Not at any family gatherings where Uncle Murv is present, anyway…

More to come…

Murv

The other day a friend of mine (yes, I have friends) told me that a mutual friend had asked him “what had happened to me?” By this she apparently meant, “What life altering experience had slapped me in the back of the head with a 2 by 4 and made me eschew my spiritual path.”

I’ll be honest. This came as a shock to me because I was entirely unaware that I had done so. My spiritual path has grown immensely over the years, but it has never been abandoned. It has been right there with me all along.

Now, granted, I have not “self-identified” as Pagan for quite a long time now. There are numerous reasons for this, none of which we will go into here because my blog is generally a fun place – although, I will admit to soapboxing every now and again. And, as it happens, I will be doing so here today… But, I really don’t want to create too many suds, if you know what I mean, therefore we will stick to one brand of detergent for this missive.

So, anyway, back to “what happened to me”… To be perfectly honest, at the outset I didn’t really think too much about the “question.” After all, it had been years since I’d seen the particular individual who was making the actual query, so I had to assume she was mistaking growth for a “negative change” (in her eyes, at least). But, as it turns out I wasn’t able to keep it on the back burner for long, because soon afterward I started receiving the annual “what’s wrong with you?” emails from other folks…

Yes, I said annual…

You see, not a year goes by that I don’t receive at least a dozen or so queries from folks out there who cannot seem to understand why a guy who writes books about Witches, and who portrays Paganism in general – as well as various specific alternative religious practices – in a positive, and moreover accurate light, would stoop so low as to celebrate *GaSp!* Christmas… After all, anyone with any sense whatsoever can tell you that the historical probability that Jesus – if he even existed – couldn’t possibly have been born on December 25th. But, even more importantly, how dare me, a “Pagan Author,” celebrate a *GaSp!* Christian Holiday. Everyone knows they co-opted our celebration, so why am I choosing to observe it and lend credence to them? Have I *GaSp!* turned into a Christian?

Oh noes… Say it ain’t so!

I’ll be truthful here – At all of this nonsense I would expel a hearty laugh were it not so utterly sad and ridiculous. Instead, I find that I must expel a hearty and saddened sigh, complete with a shake of my head.

You see, what always seems to prompt these emails is the fact that E K, the O-Spring, and I exchange gifts on Christmas morning instead of Yule proper – that being the Winter Solstice. The complaint is, if we were “proper Pagans” we would exchange our gifts on the 21st of the month – or for the truly fundamental, 0 degrees Capricorn – instead of observing a *GaSp!* Christian Holiday.

Yes… Believe it or not, that is the basis of the “what’s wrong with you?” emails I receive each year… Some of them are actually flat out scathing, accusing me of undermining Paganism. Apparently I am a spy sent to infiltrate the ranks of Pagandom and infect it with Christmas Cheer… Who knew? Hell, I’ve even had people tell me they are never going to read my novels again, because obviously I am “not Pagan enough” to warrant their attention.

True story. Really. Even I couldn’t make this sh*t up.

So, allow me to point out a couple of things that might have some bearing on what is wrong with me…

1. My family and I celebrate Christmas as a secular holiday. This means the Coca-Cola Santa Claus and all that jazz, even though the O-Spring hasn’t believed in the jolly elf for many a year now.
2. We also celebrate Yule as a spiritual holiday. For us, this means a fire, a feast, and good friends present at both to help us usher in the light.

So, what does all this mean?  Well, depending on who you ask it apparently means that “I ain’t Pagan enough,” all because we wait an extra 4 days to open our presents.

Oh well… Guess I’d better turn in my broom…

More to come…

Murv