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
Powerful and Continuing Nationalism
Disdain for Human Rights
Identification of Enemies as a Unifying Cause
Supremacy of the Military
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
OK, first, please allow me to say a “Thanks” to Larry Britt. Second, I would like to say,
“Wake the fuck up, America!!!”