Clarity Of Thought; A God Story

 

So. It’s Friday and this Friday has started on happy notes. My good buddy BJ from over to Dumb Perignon has posted a pleasing summer ditty, it’s not too hot this am to spend time outside, and God came to see me again last night.

Having said all of that, I’m set to wondering why decent Austin weather and blog posts from Beej are happening less frequently than my visits from God. Visits by God? My deity has been coming around so often I’m starting to think I might be imagining things.

When we were conversing last night, I asked the big Him—He was a him when I asked this question—if maybe it was my ADHD that attracted him to me. It has seemed that I’m more distracted with rampaging thoughts these last few months when God has been stopping by, so I asked him, I asked, “It seems that both the levels of my deficited attentions and the frequencies of your visitations are connected in some way, Big Guy. Have I scratched a scab of truth here or am I delusional?”

“Yes,” was all the response I got and all I needed to gain the requested insight.

To some folks, having their God tell them that they are delusional would be unsettling, but to me it’s merely conformational. Hell, I know I’m crazy, for shitsakes, a fact that I admit, and often. But like a blind boar in an oak forest, I do occasionally trip over an acorn, or two. I do stumble and bumble through the smoldering swill that is my ADHD-addled thoughts and hit a thick vein of Truth.

And here I do mean capital “T” Truth. Truth as in God confirms that both the essence of the thought is spot on, and that it’s importance makes it worth repeating. Now you might be thinking at this particular point—a mere 280 words into this missive—that I’ve lost control of my faculties. But hang tight because first, I’ve never had control of said faculties and, second, what I’m about to tell you was sanctioned by God.

Unh-huh, that’s right, God Her Veryownself authorized that I disseminate this information to the Inet-mosphere. Here I say “Her” as He had morphed from a Western Biblical image of God into the spitting image of Jane Fonda as Barbarella.

God came to see me yesterday evening as I lay on the fishing dock dangling my legs, from the knees down, in the water and a fat doobie stuck in my face. I was maybe eight Carta Blancas into my day and I was alone on the wooden planked structure. I needed some time to myself to sort a few things out so I went down to the lake for some solitude.

Like I said, I was laying on my back and swinging my dangled feet back-and-forth as I tried to grab a single thread of thought from the jumbled mess inside my head. Something has been nibbling at my soul for a week or so and I couldn’t put my hands on it. Some something was bugging me and I just couldn’t figure it out. I had lay long enough to get fully relaxed and I was just stoned enough to have a fully opened mind.

“Are you ready to talk about it or are you too fucked-up to deal with me?”

“Whaaa?” I barked, as I almost leaped into the lake from the flat of my back. “Who the fuuu… Oh, it’s you, God. How’s it hanging, Sir?”

God laughed deeply, heartily. “It’s hanging deep and wide, dude, deep… And wide.” God told me with more laughter.

“You scared the bejesus out of me again, Big Guy. You’re not quite as funny as You think.”

More deep rumbles of almost demonic laughter and then, “Yes, I am that funny, Mooner. As a matter of fact, I invented funny.”

Hard to argue with God’s logic.

“I stopped by to help you out a little bit here. You’ve had your thoughts all pantie-twisted so tight that its tugging your mind’s pubic hairs into those painful little knots. I’m going to take them panties off your brain and shave you down to clear your head,” God informed me.

And that’s when he morphed into Barbarella. I had to try hard to look in God’s eyes and not at her stuff. “This is somewhat unsettling, Ma’am. As you are well aware, I masturbated to Barbarella for months after watching that movie.”

God looked at me like I had said something funny. “You saw that movie eleven-and-a-half times, sonny boy, and you still masturbate to Jane Fonda.”

OK, guys, right is right and God was right.

“So what’s this big advice dealio you’ve got for me. I’m sort of busy now trying to be alone. Can you yippy-Skippy things for me so I can return to my solitude.”

“Don’t be boorish, shithead, I’m pretty busy myself. Look, think back on your trip to Santa Fe and a specific moment of clarity. If you think it, it will come.”

And with that, God flashed me a dazzling smile, flipped Her hair off her shoulder, and vanished. I was left with nothing but God’s memory and a faint scent of Summer’s Eve.

Clarity in Santa Fe,” I thought, “clarity, in Santa Fe?”. And it hit me. I was in a store on The Plaza called Santa Fe Hemp—a nifty place with hemp clothing and clever political statements. I stopped by to see if they are a customer of our factory but I never even checked their clothes. I was so enamored by the progressive message bumper stickers and cards and stuff that I never looked. I had spent at least an hour reading and commenting to the guys when I came across a postcard with a statement by Laurence W. Britt.

Mr. Britt has studied fascist governments, including Hitler’s Germany and Benito’s Italy, and he determined that there are specific early warning signs when a government or society are turning towards fascism. I was so impressed with this list that I bought the postcard for all of my friends. Here is what the card says:

 

Early Warning Signs Of

FASCISM:

  • Powerful and Continuing Nationalism

  • Disdain for Human Rights

  • Identification of Enemies as a Unifying Cause

  • Supremacy of the Military

  • Rampant Sexism

  • Controlled Mass Media

  • Obsession with National Security

  • Religion and Government Intertwined

  • Corporate Power Protected

  • Labor Power Suppressed

  • Disdain for Intellectuals and the Arts

  • Obsession with Crime and Punishment

  • Rampant Cronyism and Corruption

  • Fraudulent Elections”

 

OK, first, please allow me to say a “Thanks” to Larry Britt. Second, I would like to say,

Wake the fuck up, America!!!”

Manana, y’all.

 

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6 Responses to “Clarity Of Thought; A God Story”

  1. squatlo says:

    I can’t comment much on your recent religious revelations via your conversations with the gods, Mooner, but I do know this: it didn’t end well for most of the folks throughout history who claimed direct conversations with God. Take Moses, for instance. Forty years of wandering around in the dessert being hectored by Jewish mothers who kept telling him to pull over and ask for directions. And what about Noah’s wife Joan? You’d think after a boat ride with two of every species Ms. Ark would have been content to retire in the south of France, but no… she got all uppity after a conversation with god and ended up being burned at the stake. Jim Jones was pretty sure he was taking his followers on a trip to paradise too, until they had to mix up a batch of Kool-Aid to calm everybody down. And David Koresh down in your part of the country had his own direct hotline with the lord. Shit, the Big Guy even told Pat Robertson to run for fucking president!
    Watch your ass… that’s all I’m sayin’.

    I do agree with you that it’s nice to have BJ putting up a new post every once in a while again. Same can be said of this site, by the way. You take more time off than Jon Stewart and the Daily Show.

  2. Parttime Texan, Mooner Johnson says:

    Squat. I’ve always wondered about that whole Ark business and its relevance to realities. Especially if the Earth is only 2,000 years old.

    I’m neither botanist nor mathmatician, but that shit just don’t add up.

    But even a die hard athiest has had a proverbial “come to Jesus” moment or two. Again, according to my God it’s what you do that makes your religion and your God is your own fucking business.

    Which remind me. Why did you feel the need to go over to Melanie’s place and fuck with my fans?

  3. Man have I been out of the loop or what? What went on in Santa Fe??? (Not that I’m surprised you’d want to spend MORE time away from TX, but I still need to go back and catch up on my reading to see when this all started)

    As for the anthropomorphic visualization of God…funny how we all have our own interpretation. I didn’t really know what to say when the hooligan asked me one day, “Mom, what does God look like?” And yes, Squat…we believe in God over here at the Reckmonster’s crib…just a VERY different version of Him (or Her, in Mooner’s eyes) that you and I grew up with in the almighty Roman Catholic Church. And certainly not a God that exists in the halls of all of the Bible Belt Nut Bins they call churches in these parts. So, all I could tell him was, “I don’t know. Nobody knows. Nobody’s seen Him. You don’t get to “see” Him until it’s time. But you can talk to Him whenever you want.” Luckily, that kind of answer works for an 8 year old. And luckily, Mooner wasn’t around to tell him what God looks like…or else I’d be screwed!!!

  4. squatlo says:

    Reck, you didn’t know of Mooner’s attempts to divorce the state of Texas? Shame on you, especially since you’re already scheduled to become his next wife when he’s abandoned by the current one. Sheesh… don’t you even care to know where you’re going to be living?

    And I’m happy you were able to satisfy the Hooligan’s question. When I asked that question at his age I was told something about Holy Spirits and Holy Ghosts and all I could think of was an episode of Scooby Doo… ruined the whole thing for me. I wanted to know if He had a navel, and no one could give me an answer. I mean, if you’re not born of a natural woman, were you ever tethered to an umbilical cord? See? My questions were stranger than your son’s, which is why a nun threw a Bible at me in summer vacation Bible School one morning. Nuns and their bad habits. (rimshot!)

    Mooner, I read your post at Mel’s Diner and have to commend you for keeping it halfway sane for those who don’t know you well enough to have understood the full depth of your depravity.

    I thought you had to post a recipe if you guest post at Mel’s… expected some kind of Carta Blanca cocktail.

  5. Katy Anders says:

    You sort of touch on something here when considering your conversations with God.

    Could it be that aliens and elves and deities purposely choose to talk to people of questionable mental capacity so as to create an aura of deniability? If only crazy folks see them, then… You see where I’m going with that.

  6. Parttime Texan, Mooner Johnson says:

    Squat. I did post a semi-recipe and also a culinary hint. The hint was to use Punjab curry in your pork dry rubs and to then deep fry slabs of leftover roasted piggy for a terrific second meal.

    To mangle a quote by the great Salvador Dali’, “The only difference between Joan of Arc and me is that I’m not crazy!”

    As for God, I’ve been informed that God is what you wish God to be. Or not, to be.

    Katy. I can always count on you to add the touch of feminine rationality missing from my own DNA. Then again, as my idol Dali’ says, “The only difference between a crazy man and me is that I’m not crazy!”

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