BRAINPAN LEAKAGE

Or, Koran Burning For Dummies…

Both work, but I have a fondness for the word idiot.

And, for the record, Koran should actually be Qur’an, however since we here in the United States are so fond of dictating how others should act, believe, and otherwise exist, it stands to reason we would want to dictate how people should spell – even if they created the word and not us. Well, aren’t we special…

Hence, I have used Koran in the title of this post in order to make it easier for the illiterate hate mongers to find via search engines, because they are certainly the folks who will be looking for instructions of the sort.

That said…

Every day, unless I’m on a manuscript deadline, I try to give myself a bit of a break from the “Lackey Do” list E K has for me – not to mention the “Also Gotta Do” list I have for myself. During said break, I eat my lunch. However, instead of consuming it over the sink, I park myself in my rocking chair and watch 15 minutes of The 700 Club / CBN News. Why? Because it amuses me.

Why, just the other day I heard Pat Robertson tell everyone that the Muslims have taken over France, and are coming for us next. Then, they ran a special report on the blight of “gay marriage” and “judicial power grabbing.” You see, it seems that the courts have no business being involved in the laws of the land. Apparently they are just there for traffic tickets and the like, because by doing something as heinous as declaring a clearly unconstitutional law unconstitutional, they have overstepped their authority. In fact, simply by declaring a ban on gay marriage unconstitutional the courts have taken away one of your civil liberties. I’m not entirely sure which one that would be, unless it is now a civil liberty to deny someone else their civil liberties. Thinking about it sort of makes my head hurt, but then “God Logic” has always given me a headache. Doesn’t matter which God(dess) either. Not that I’m an atheist – but I’ve already stated my view on religion vs. spirituality, so I won’t go down that path.

Today, I tuned in Pat, ready for yet another laugh, and wasn’t disappointed. He and his Robertsonites prayed for folks and received divine messages from God – or possibly Jesus… I’m not really sure. You see, sometimes  he uses God/Jesus/Lord interchangeably, and other times he draws clear and distinct lines of delineation between them. Don’t ask me where the ghost comes in. I’m pretty sure he’s over in the corner playing craps with Satan or something. After all, you know they’ve got to talk sometime. But, back to the funny – Pat and his crew basically engaged in psychic divination, something they call the “work of the devil” if a Pagan does it – or anyone else for that matter.

So, see what I mean by amusing?

Anyway, a couple of hours later I jumped in my truck to run and pick up the o-spring from school.  NPR was doing a quick news blurb on a religious zealot. No, it wasn’t Pat Robertson, although, given the things that come out of that man’s mouth, it could just as easily be him. However, in this case it is some preacher out of Florida who has his congregation all fired up, and has announced that they are going to burn copies of the Qur’an (Quran, Koran) on September 11th.

Why?

Because the terrorists who crashed the planes into the World Trade Center Towers on 9/11 were Muslim.

Once again, we have a big ol’ nasty case of “God Logic” going on here, and it’s sitting in a big steaming pile of “God Envy.” By that, I mean, we have ourselves a bunch of people screaming “My God is better than your God.” I saw a quote on Facebook the other day that defined “Holy War” as people arguing over whose imaginary friend is better. I think that pretty much sums it up.

But let’s think about this for a minute. Why stop with burning the Qur’an (Quran, Koran)? I mean, if it’s all about associating terrorists and muderers with religion, we should be able to have ourselves a regular old down home book burning…

Timothy McVeigh – Killed 168, injured 450. 19 of those killed were children – He started out Catholic and claimed to maintain “core beliefs” but then also professed that “Science” was his “religion.”

Okay, then let’s put all books dealing with science on the bonfire too.

John Wayne Gacy – 33 victims – He was a Roman Catholic.

Okay, let’s toss the Catholic Bible on the fire. Oh… While you are at it, take all of your NIV’s, KJV’s, ad nauseum and rip out the New Testament, because – and you might be unaware of this but – it belongs to the Catholics too.

Theodore “Ted” Bundy – Confessed to 30 murders, but it is believed that he was responsible for more than 100 – He was a Mormon.

Toss the Book of Mormon on there… Stoke that baby up!

Albert Fish – Killed and ate children. Possibly 100 or more – Christian. Some would even say fanatical Christian. (But, don’t let a little word like fanatical deter you. After all, someone being a fanatic doesn’t matter, does it? Just their religion.)

Good old Uncle Albert was devout in his beliefs that were driven by the Old Testament.

Hmmm… Looks like we need to round up the rest of the Holy Bibles and chuck them onto the bonfire too…

Adolf Hitler – Let’s just say it was in the high millions and leave it at that. I’m not here to argue the exact numbers. – Depending upon who you ask, Catholic, Christian, Occultist.

Okee-Dokee, we’ve already covered Catholics and Christians, but this bolsters that a bit, don’t you think? But, just to be on the safe side, let’s burn any books dealing with the occult too.

Joel Rifkin – Killed 17 women – Jewish (David Berkowitz too, although he converted to Christianity of all things, right before he started killing.) Doesn’t matter that they were adopted. We’re talking religion here, not lineage.

Well, hmmm… We’ve already tossed the Old Testament onto the flames for all of the dyed-in-the-wool Christians out there, even though it was actually written by Jewish folk (fancy that)… So, guess we need to toss the Talmud, Torah… well… how about the whole shooting match… just toss the Tanakh on there too.

Okay, we haven’t quite cleaned out the religion section of the library just yet, but we’ve made a big dent. Obviously we need to burn any books that have anything to do with any of the aforementioned religious texts. Plus, we’ve cleared out all of the science books.

I’m sure it wouldn’t take much for us to connect all of the other world religions, big and small, to something that is worthy of hatred. That goes for Atheism and Agnosticism too. So why keep screwing around? Just throw all of those onto the fire as well.

There! Are we feeling better now? Turns out nobody’s imaginary friend – or even imaginary void – is all that cool after all.

You know, just the other day when folks were in the thick of the argument over the Islamic Cultural Center plans, I posted a Facebook status update that read something like, “I think everyone needs to get in touch with their inner Atticus Finch…”

If you don’t know who that is, or what that means, pick up a book and read it. Specifically, To Kill A Mockingbird, by Harper Lee. If you don’t like reading, then go to the library or video store and check out the movie. It’s about as close to the book as a movie can get and still be only two hours long.

A dear friend and mentor told me that the statement would make a good blog topic. I agreed, but by the same token offered it to her because normally I do funny. And, while I find Pat Robertson and his band of purse snatchers amusing in a sad way, there’s nothing at all funny about hatred.

Okay, so now you really need to pay attention, because here are the promised instructions:

Muslims are NOT terrorists/murderers…

Catholics are NOT terrorists/murderers…

Christians are NOT terrorists/murderers…

*Jews are NOT terrorists/murderers…

Pagans are NOT terrorists/murderers…

It’s simple. Don’t burn their book unless you are willing to burn your own. We are individuals and we define ourselves. We don’t define others.

Unfortunately, the people who need to get my point, won’t. And the people who don’t need to get the point already know it without need of this illustration.

Next time I’ll try to find something funny to write about.

More to come…

Murv

* The original version of this blog stated “Jewish” are not terrorists, an intentional grammatical error in order to avoid offending folks who seem to find the word “Jew” to be offensive in and of itself. Since the error has been pointed out I have elected to change it, and we’ll hope that no offense is taken.

Part 4 of 12

Continued from: Mahwage: Money I Don’t Have…

I am always fascinated by the Hallmark Channel™ movies, and even some of the bizarre shows on network TV, when some man spares no expense to have his marriage proposal scrawled across the blue by a skywriter in a biplane, or flashed up on the scoreboard at a major league baseball game, or plastered across a billboard along I-pick a number… Hell, I am even fascinated by the “froot loops” who “pop the question” in front of 137 1/2 people at a high society party with mom, dad, sister, brother, extended cousins, BFF’s, and old ex-boyfriends who aren’t yet over the breakup even though it happened 4 years ago, all in attendance. (I have no idea where that half-person came from… it’s just one of those things. Maybe it’s one of the ex-boyfriends who was emasculated by the Femme Fatale in question ala Dead Men blah blah Plaid… see previous blog or reference later in this entry.)

Every single time I see this depicted, whether in real life or in a fictional setting, I cringe. I mean, CRINGE. Portions of my anatomy actually retreat to safety just as they would in response to frigid water, if you get my meaning. The hairs on my neck prickle, my stomach churns,  butterflies race up and down my esophagus, and I just can’t even bring myself to look because I am so preemptively embarrassed for the idiot. The first coherent thing that goes through my mind is, “You friggin’ moron! What if she says no? Did you even bother to think this through before you opened your pie hole?”

In my way of thinking, it’s just like what Scout, the nine year old narrator of To Kill A Mockingbird, tells the reader with regard to her father, Addicus Finch’s dictum regarding the cross examination of a witness in court: Never ask a witness a question that you don’t already know how they will answer, because you are liable to get a response you don’t necessarily want. That isn’t a direct quote by any means, but it’s close enough. (BTW, if you’ve never read To Kill A Mockingbird by Harper Lee, I highly recommend that you do so, but, then, I am all about reading so…’nuff said, I suppose… Just be warned that the language is dated, regional, and is virtually guaranteed to be offensive if taken out of the context of the story and its time period…)

But, of course, I am diverging from the topic as I usually do. We were discussing this whole marriage proposal thing… So, anyway, I think I have established that I believe these “public proposers” are a half step the other side of being brain dead. Of course, that’s just my personal opinion, and we know the old adage that can be applied there.

Still, since that is my particular take on the subject, when those first few months together had gone by like a lazy stream beneath a bridge, well, to be honest there were a few rough patches of whitewater, but we managed to stay dry, and I decided to ask E K the “big question”, I was tickled to death with myself that I had elected to do so in our living room with no one in attendance save me, her, and three cats.

Why? Because she said, “No” of course.

You heard me. No music came up. No deep, passionate kiss. No I love you’s , (not that we didn’t pass those back and forth regularly, because we did.) There were no fireworks, no doves flying off into the sky,  no sparklies, no  gasps, no tears, no butterflies. Hell, there wasn’t even a housefly… Of course, it was the middle of Winter, so I guess I wasn’t all that surprised by the lack of houseflies… But, my point here is, she simply said, “No.”

Now, to be fair, I suppose I need to expand on this just a bit. While she said, “no”, it certainly wasn’t an unequivocal, resounding, “you gotta be freakin’ kiddin’ me… No way in hell you dipsh*t!” sort of no. She didn’t hit me, she didn’t run screaming from the room, she didn’t pack a bag and head for the state line. In fact, she didn’t even laugh at me, which was a good thing in my estimation. What she did was give me a “qualified no.”

By “qualified no” I mean it went something like, “No, not right now.”

Well, while it certainly wasn’t the happy-happy joy-joy moment I had been hoping for, at least it wasn’t the whole Dead Men Don’t Wear Plaid line about stiletto stomped roasted chopped man heart on toast… Not at all. In fact, it left the door open just a bit. Granted, it was just a crack, but as far as I was concerned, so long as the door wasn’t slammed and double bolted in my face, there was still a chance.

So, of course, trying to stay on honest, even ground with her, I told her of my intentions… “You know I’m going to ask again, correct?” I said.

“Yes,” was her simple response.

Now, I suppose I could have been a comedian and asked her again right then and there, but I already knew what the answer would be. And, more than that, I didn’t want to annoy her any more than I already was.

“Already was?” you ask…

Of course. We had only been living together for a few months, and dating for a few months before that, even though I had been head over heels  in love with her for better than a year. Truth be told, she was annoying me too. It’s all part of the game, and why I highly recommend… No, not another literary work, although there’s this Sellars guy who writes damn good paranormal thrillers if you are interested… No… What I recommend is living together a while before filing all that legal paperwork that causes courts and lawyers to get involved when it comes to divvying up stuff if things don’t work out.

What I am saying here is that, much to my chagrin, the love of my life had habits that got on my nerves. Nothing crazy and out there on a limb like giving hamsters Mohawks and leaving the hair laying about in the living room or  sleeping upside down in the bed with cottage cheese in her socks. No, nothing like that. Just little things. The normal everyday stuff.  The things a person does one way that another person does a different way… That sort of “thing”. And, I knew damn well I was doing the same to her. When you get two folks under the same roof there is a period of adjustment… It’s all part of life, love, and the pursuit of happiness. But,  as much as we were getting on one another’s nerves, we were also working through it and reaching a middle. Adjusting our patterns and coming to a relationship equilibrium. And, just so you know, that equilibrium is never fully reached… But, you do get closer with each passing year, and things just don’t bother you near as much any longer.

Hence, the reason I didn’t ask again just yet. I waited, bided my time, and about every thirty days when things were going well and happiness was in full bloom, I would “pop the question”. Now, don’t try to read anything into my timing. I wasn’t matching it up to her particular rhythm with the lunar cycle or anything like that. I didn’t base my selection of the day to ask on whether or not I saw a box of feminine hygiene products sitting on the counter in the bathroom… Go on, admit it, that’s what you were thinking, I would have. The reality is I simply figured once a month was frequent enough to keep it in her mind, but not so frequent as to be overly annoying. Just a little annoying.

At any rate, each time I asked I made sure it was in a private setting, and each time I asked I received the same answer – “No, not right now.”

“You know I’ll ask again, right?”

“Yes.”

And on we went… And as we went, I became complacent and jaded about the question. I would ask, but I always knew the answer before I even uttered the words.

Still, as the months rolled on I sucked it up and sallied forth each time. (no, not the comic strip)… As long as the answer contained, “not right now,” I figured I was still in the running, no matter how jaded I had become.

By now, we were looking at buying a house rather than continuing to waste money paying rent. Married or not, we were looking for an investment. Due to my credit situation at the time it was pretty much a matter of her buying a house, but with an eye toward jointly paying the mortgage and the plan of us both living there. We scrimped, saved, and I even borrowed a couple grand from my father, which I promptly repaid – well, promptly as in about two years later, but I added interest to the total, and I honestly believe he was tickled to receive the check. Even though he didn’t “need” it, nor had he even expected repayment, it proved to him that I was as good as my word, and to him, a man’s word was really all he had. But, as I’ve said before, that’s a different blog…

At any rate, we were sitting at work one Saturday… yeah, when you are building a company you tend to work long hours and have very few days off … and since no customers were going to be coming in one of the owners brought along a twelve pack of beer. I was configuring an old R L L (Run Length Limited) hard drive in a system – to put this in perspective, this was a large hard drive for it’s time…it was all of 30 Megabytes. Not Giga… Mega… So anyway, I was running an old debug command: g=c800:5, which is basically a call to a particular segment of ROM ,(read only memory), on the hard drive controller which would initiate a built in program that would allow the drive to be “low level formatted”… That being, setting up sectors before creating a partition and high level formatting to create the file allocation table (FAT) and such… But, you know, I am now digressing into ancient techie talk here so I am sure you are all glazing over…

Back to the story…

The point I’m trying to make is that I was plugging away at this system and E K was standing behind me, much like she did when we worked together at ComputerTrend. A bit close and a bit distracting… I honestly think she took great pleasure in being able to have that effect on me, even though she staunchly claims she never realized I was turning into Silly Putty at her very touch… Anyway, I took a swig of my beer and since no one else was in the tech center with us at the time, nonchalantly asked over my shoulder, “So, you wanna get married?”

I continued about my task on autopilot, (after all, I had formatted drives like this thousands of times before and could do it in my sleep), and was completely secure in my thoughts that I would hear, “No, not right now.”

But, no matter the answer, the calendar said I had to ask anyway. The prescribed number of days had passed and it was time to throw it out there to see who saluted, smoked, or otherwise kicked it around.

Imagine my utter surprise when Kathy leaned against me,  laid a hand on my shoulder, clucked her tongue, let out what might possibly have passed for a giggle, and  then said, “Yeah, okay… Sure… Why not…”

More to come…

Murv

… NEXT: Mahwage: Goin’ To The Chapel…