Reader Questions Answered; Rush and Rick Still In Closet

 

OK. Seems that now might be the time to answer a few questions from viewer mail. When I decided to make the commitment of time, and energy, and the attention span necessary to do a webber and bloggie, I set some rules for myself. Maybe if you see my rules, they will answer some questions off the top. Here they are:

  1. No subject is off limits.
  2. Nothing is too inappropriate to discuss.
  3. Be willing to discuss subject matter that has painful roots in personal experience.
  4. Maintain personal integrity- tell the truth even in the face of public ridicule.
  5. Do not take a stand on any issue without having a well thought-out position.
  6. State pertinent well thought-out positions.
  7. Listen to and contemplate other points of view.
  8. Admit when I am wrong.
  9. If there’s a hard road- take it.
  10. Give credit- talk about interesting or smart or courageous people.
  11. Don’t have more than ten rules.

 

Now, I admit that anyone who knows me will say there’s nothing new in these rules. As my Gram put it, she said, “Who gives a shit Mooner. These rules is what we taught cha. Tell me sumthin I don’t know.”

I would also hope that any person writing a blog would adopt the same spirit as I have here, but the Pollyanna in me was raped and killed when I was an adolescent boy. I know that almost everyone else out there cares only about their own, pointed views. That’s one of the reasons I decided to do this. I thought maybe there might be an audience for somebody willing to be brutally honest.

Anyway, I have gotten many interesting questions and comments and this seems like a good time to answer a few. The first- “How can you have ten ex-wives who still like you, and now have a girlfriend of the high caliber of a Special Agent in Charge of US Department of Homeland Security?”

Well, that’s a tough one. My critics will say the answer lies in the overly generous Mooner Johnson Ex-wives, LLC compensation package each of the ten enjoy. New houses of their choice, alimony, free psycho therapy sessions with ex number one (that’s Dr. Sam I. Am-Johnson), medical and life insurance are among the group benefits my exes enjoy.

Anna Johnson-Johnson-Johnson, that’s Anna the Amazon, is my ex-wife and is now Sister’s wife. That makes Anna family in a whole new way, so we have to get along. Sister is my actual sister, like Mother is my actual mother and Gram is my gram. Which brings up a very interesting point. Why am I not Brother, or Son or Sonny Boy? I’ve never been known by any names other than Butcher, Mooner or He’s A Disruptive Little Shit.

Several of my exes have been interviewed for print and TV, and basically what they say is that they took me with my flaws up front and weren’t surprised to be an ex in the end. That would be with the single exception of ex number one- Dr. Sam I. Am. She will tell you that I am her unshakable curse.

Personally, I credit my manly Johnson charm and pheromones.

Question Number Two. “You started life as a Republican. What happened?”

Well, that’s a tougher one than the first because I was raised Republican, but I have wiggle-waggled between major and minor political parties most of my mature, adult life. I was mostly Republican until maybe partway through President Reagan’s second term, when I started sensing the right-wing religious influences gaining power over that party. If memory serves me here, it was about the time that fuckball Rush Limbaugh was getting popular.

Rush Limbaugh the radio personality, not Rush Limbaugh the pig. The pig is one of my favorite people. And just to answer another question simply, yes, Rush and the ostrich Rick Perry are still hiding in the closet.

Since then, I have attempted to vote for the man/woman/dog based upon their platform. I voted for Kinky for Governor when he ran, and I voted for Reagan, and I voted for Dixie when she ran for Mayor. I voted against George W. Bush for Governor of Texas and for him as President the first time.

Yes, I did. Might have been the single stupidest thing I have ever done except for that one time I peed on a 220-Volt electric fence. I think maybe that’s why one of my balls hangs lower than the other.

But look, here was my flawed logic. In Texas, our Governor wields real power and I felt Georgie was dumb enough to screw things up. Plus, Ann Richards was a great Governor and I wouldn’t have voted against her anyway. However, since our President has limited power to start, and federal politics is so complicated to get things accomplished- I thought George W. was too stupid to screw-up our entire country.

So, I’m batting Zero-Point-Zero on George W. Bush voting.

Today, however, I will vote against any politician who presents clear evidence that he desires to insert his religious beliefs into my life using the power of political office. Here to Texas, that often requires me to seek a third party candidate to support, like Kinky Friedman.

Specifically, the Republican Party has become the political puppet of the Christian right. That is wrong. In my opinion it flies in the face of our Constitution. Again, I think Anne Rice got it spot on. The right-wing Christians have lost Christ.

Which is a perfect lead-in to Question Number Three. “What is it with you and the Baptist Church?”

Well…. this one is easier to answer, but more complicated to explain. Fact- I was born into a generations-old Baptist Family. Fact- I was raised with a minimum of two visits per week to a Baptist church until I was sixteen years old. Fact- Mother and Gram are Baptist tithers and supporters to this day. Fact- I have been Baptized twice in the Baptist church. Once when I was at age ten because I believed that baptism in the Baptist church was my only road to personal salvation. The second time was after I was molested by the Baptist Deacon Boy Scout Leader of my Baptist Church-sponsored troop. I sought the second baptizing in an effort to gain forgiveness for being such a bad person as to deserve getting molested by someone I trusted.

Fact.

At sixteen, I had been reading psychology writings about child molestation, gaining some sense as to why I felt responsible for another man’s horrible actions against me. Then, I had my first sexual experience with a female, the daughter of another Baptist Deacon. One night after an RA and GA meeting at church, this young girl showed me what her daddy had taught her to do for a man.

While we didn’t have actual sex, she performed other near-sex acts for me that I fully enjoyed. At least until she told me that her daddy had taught her, and then I felt even worse about myself.

But those things are background only, and in my mind allow me the authority to take my stand on the Southern Baptist Convention and its member churches.

It is the beliefs, as practiced by its followers, that I abhor. That entire, “I have the only way to heaven,” bullshit- the foundation of their church, that is what sets me off. Enough said?.

Question Number Four. Many have said, “You are crazy if you think I believe that you have dogs that can talk.”

Actually, this is not a question but like Gram always says, “Who gives a shit?”

According to Dixie, most dogs have language skills, but they lack an outlet for expression. She feels that I am so totally fucked up, with the ADHD and other stuff, that my brain provides a fertile environment into which she can push her thoughts.

Since Dixie herself is a language savant, we have made quite a team. Squirt, Dr. Sam I. Am’s adorable little puppy, is showing to be an able assistant and helper for Dixie. But the bottom line is this-

it’s OK if you think I’m delusional about the entire talking dog thingie.

To answer Part Two of Question Number Four, “Why does Dixie speak only with you?”, allow me to quote Dixie herownself.

“Mooner,” she’ll say patiently, “I have you.”

A simple yet eloquent answer. I wish I could express myself as simply as my dog.

I’m pooped with all of this explaining things for now. I need a cold Carta Blanca beer and it’s only ten-thirty. Which brings up the final question for today. I’ll start with the answer- No, Carta Blanca Beer does not sponsor my webber and bloggie. I wish they would, I encourage them to do so, and I feel that I would make a model spokesman for them.

It’s time for my first sitz bath of the day. Manana, y’all.

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