Sunday, December 26, 2010

BluesFaith Traveler


For those folks who may find the holiday season inspiring a reassessment of their life and faith, I bring tidings of great joy. WO'C Spiritual Advisor J. Grant Swank, as you may have noticed, has been writing less about politics these days, but only because he's busy getting back to his core competency of spreading the Gospels like mayonnaise on white bread.

Christmas: Faith Traveling

Pastor Swank points out that faith is a journey, much like the traditional Muslim Hajj expedition undertaken by the Three Magi, Zoroastrian astrologers who traveled all the way from Persia to Judea because they were guided by a star, and because their weak negotiating skills allowed Priceline to really screw them.  However...
[I]n this faith traveling, there are numerous Herods who would stand in the way, attempting to wreck the faith project. They are bloodthirsty, agents of hell, mean to the pits. 
I knew a guy who was mean to the sternum once, and that was bad enough; but if you're mean all the way up to your pits, then you should seriously consider getting help.  Just not from Robin of Berkeley.
Such should never surprise the faith child. Jesus promised as much. That is why He told His own to be as wise as snakes and harmless as doves. Wise as snakes!
Harmless as doves!  Your turn, Pastor.   (I assume this is the ecclesiastical version of that "Tastes Great! Less Filling!" debate.)
How interesting that every time heaven breaks through with some marvelous holy extravaganza of love and mercy, hell gets as angry as angry can be. So it is that while God implanted Himself into human history, Herod became furious with envy. He stalked. He balked. 
He caulked.  But he had to, because his winter palace, Herodium, was poorly insulated, and as extravagant as Herod was, he wasn't trying to heat the whole West Bank
He strung out his nerves to dry.
This is a bit off-topic, but did you know sun-dried nerves are a cannibal delicacy?  When I lived in New York I often saw savages with a taste for human flesh paying up to $17.99 a pound for the stuff at Balducci's.
In our faith journeys we come upon the outrageous counterfeits. How they wear their masks tightly.
Has this ever happened to you?  You're walking along, minding your own business, when you suddenly stumble over a counterfeit who obviously smothered to death in his tight-fitting Nixon mask or overly-snug leather bondage hood, and think to yourself, "Not so outrageous now, are you?"
 Again, Jesus warns His genuine grace children to be wary of the snakes.



The Apostle Arch Hall, Sr. spreads the Good News and Reptile Advisory.
How sad that the chief priests and teachers of the law could inform Herod of the prophetic piece and yet be so utterly far from its personal truth. It would be these very religious play actors who would some day plot the murder of the infant-grown-adult.
While it's true that most victims of murder plots are infant-grown-adults, there is one known case of chief priests and teachers planning the death an adult-grown-infant: 1982, when members of the Sanhedrin conspired to murder the Jonathan Winters character on Mork and Mindy.
Eventually the magi reached Bethlehem. The Jewish shepherds had preceded them in the cave stall.
The magi were grateful there was a cave stall, because Melchior had a shy bladder.
The Christmas account then happily relates that the magi's hearts were overjoyed with their sight discovery. Their faith had led them to the visible God in the cow's trough. There he was, for certain!
You never really appreciate the majesty of a Bible story until you hear Pastor Swank tell it.
But they did not renege. They remained true to the close. Their faith yielded its own reward--sight!
And so it is with each of us--we make the journey to the close, then we see. We come upon heaven's own reward--sight!
And Pastor Swank wrote a thoughtful, incisive piece without a single flummoxing grammatical deformity--psyche!
It was then with such utter ecstasy that these grown men bent their knees before the child. They flung their gold, frankincense, and myrrh--gushing forth with praise and worship. They were beside themselves, no doubt tears streaming down their cheeks. The hot sands were behind them. The babe was before them.
They realized they'd wandered onto the set of Baywatch.
We find out that as we make the faith journey, there are days when we wonder what is going on.
This is beginning to feel like one of those days...
If the magi had turned back somewhere along the westward trail, Jesus would still have been waiting in the Bethlehem cow stall. But they would have missed Him--totally.
Then they would've had to come up with some lame excuse about how they'd gotten a migraine, or had to pick their aunt up at the airport.
Thank heaven the magi remained constant and so came upon The Constant. No wonder their hearts were pounding for joy abounding!
I didn't realize cow troughs could induce tachycardia and excessive rhyming.  Someone should put a trigger warning on the cave stall.

29 comments:

preznit said...

(I assume this is the ecclesiastical version of that "Tastes Great! Less Filling!" debate.)

knowing the sWankster it's more the desert topping/floor wax debate

who would some day plot the murder of the infant-grown-adult.

at least they're not going after teh womb babies

The Jewish shepherds had preceded them in the cave stall.

little known fact, it wasn't a star in teh east tehy were following, it was a cave stall of the blue angel that resulted in a flaming crash

D. Sidhe said...

Wow. Someone's been into the eggnog.

D. Sidhe said...

Hot damn! I can post! OMG, my partner is owed serious, serious gratitude. Well, it's a bit late, but Merry Christmas and assorted yeardark holidays to you all. I've been trying to comment here since you moved and it wouldn't let me *sob*.

It's like waking up and not existing anymore, except that you still exist enough to think it sucks.


Man, that was worth the wait & the effort, huh?

heydave said...

Ya, sure, you betch'a DS!

And although the Swankster has given up on the face glasses in his person photo, you always know it's his stuff writing by the glorious and varied noun words that he manages to bring together in his word sentences. All is right!

Doghouse Riley said...

Face glasses. heydave wins the internets.

(I assume this is the ecclesiastical version of that "Tastes Great! Less Filling!" debate.)

I thought it was an offer to play Assign the Random Adjective to an Animal Species. Nosy as turtles! Lithe as shoats! Winsome as rhinoceroseses!

heydave said...

All anthropomorphizing apart, it was on my to-do list to contact you, Mr. Riley, among others to inform them, as needed, of the new WoC spot.

Ahem, glad you found it anyway!

Scott said...

Yay, D. made it! How'd your partner do it? Annti wrote me to say she's still having trouble commenting.

Anonymous said...

I feel the need for a certain actor.

Scott said...

Thanks, heydave. Sheri and I would really appreciate it if you guys could spread to the word to any other members of the Wo'C Diaspora you may know about our new clubhouse.

And Anon: Actor has, happily, already found us. He posted in the Babes in Toyland thread, but using his super secret codename of "Carl."

D. Sidhe said...

I'm too paranoid. Tell Annti to tell her browser to accept cookies, and to accept cookies from 3rd parties, and to not ask her first but to just accept them and keep them until they expire. (Options or tools, should be in a privacy tab somewhere, depending on browser.)

Hopefully she has the same problem I did, and that'll fix it.

Larkspur said...

When I was little, no one had the vaguest most remotest far-out idea what the terms "browser" and "cookies" would come to mean. No fucking idea. Spaceships, yes, FTL travel, yes, mini-Cooper-type vehicles that you could fly, like the Jetsons, oh yes. But browsers were ruminants out in the field, or shoppers without money. Cookies were delicious. Tab was what you washed the cookies down with. It's a funny old world.

OMG, wait: I have to tell somebody about my horrifying pet-sitting day with the happy ending! Me, two toy poodles, the last day of my current stay. I'd noticed that the boy toy poodle was ever so slightly lethargic yesterday afternoon and this morning, but everything else seemed normal - appetite, poop, pee - so I just said, "Hmmm", and I left, as scheduled. Their mom came home about two hours later, and in the interim, the boy toy poodle had come down with a monstrous case of priapism, most of which was turning blue.

Holy baby jeebus. She took him to the vet. I spent part of the afternoon looking up information about canine penile disorders. She just called me to tell me that he's all better. What had happened (and I read about this possibility online) is that he hasn't been groomed lately, and his netherbits were extra-furry, and some of the dangling strands had wrapped around his little penie like a noose.

Thank you, holy baby jeebus. It's not a disease, and it wasn't my fault, and it happened fast and I couldn't have known. I swear that from now on, I will wash and trim the hair around dog penii whether they like it or not. Because I am the boss of them. Also, my nerves can't take it that I might be the cause of anyone's owie.

This is probably too long.

Scott said...

Not too long at all, Larkspur. I can't speak for the rest of the boys in the audience, but I know I wanted to hear how this particular story turned out.

Larkspur said...

Thanks, Scott. The moral? Manscaping saves lives.

heydave said...

Careful, too much effort may back fire.
While shaved dogs may be more aerodynamic, it seems to piss them off.

heydave said...

The Festivus miracles continue to forth spring!
I like to icon.

M. Bouffant said...

I think I've heard about that before. Curly poodle hair probably doesn't help any.

And it was a perfect segue into what I came by to mention, that Pastor Fuzz up there's curly 'do is no doubt a Trump-style comb-over.

Five'll get you ten (No idea what that means, but it sounds good.) you could just lift the whole mess up & check for lice.

P.S.: Larkspur, don't be all apologetic when you have more than two or three sentences to share. Your always impeccable spelling & grammar alone would make it worthwhile, & the content's always good too.

scripto said...

Oh, here you are. Thank God. My auto blog rejuvenator hadn't moved a lick for awhile. I thought you were out shopping. Or something.

Larkspur said...

Thank you, M.Bouffant.

I was so focused on dog penii that I neglected to compliment you, Scott, on a Swanktastic post. Really, it is beautiful. He will be horrified to learn of his sacrilege (he neglected to capitalize an instance of "Child" and "Babe"). Also, why does he hate the word "manger"? It is a perfectly perfect word, and it doesn't mind being strung out to dry with other nouns.

And I wonder if he knows that the Holy Child's Mom and Pop sacrificed doves at His bris. Doves! Perhaps sacrificing snakes would have seemed vulgar.

But the key part of the Swankpocrypha can be found here: "...We come upon heaven's own reward--sight!...." He is trying to tell us his glad tidings: Lasik surgery! Our Pastor parson has the style fashion! He is...Swank.

preznit said...

Perhaps sacrificing snakes would have seemed vulgar.

but I thought that was the whole purpose of a bris

Scott said...

Remind me not to get the number of your mohel.

D. Sidhe said...

Oh, you people. Started out a shitty day here, but at least I'm laughing. I know I have a reputation as an easy lol, but thanks.

preznit said...

aw, Scott, there you go making a mountain out of a mohel. I was talking 'bout robe snakes

Scott said...

If Robe Snakes isn't already the title of a Harry Potter porn parody, it needs to be.

But here's something I've always wondered: is it considered impolite to serve brisket at a bris? It just seems like the sort of word association that could put your guests off their feed.

Carl said...

there are numerous Herods who would stand in the way, attempting to wreck the faith project.

Hill's younger, not sexier, sister...

Such should never surprise the faith child.

The faith child is Nomad. The Faith Child sees all. The Faith Child will eradicate the human infestation.

How interesting that every time heaven breaks through with some marvelous holy extravaganza of love and mercy, hell gets as angry as angry can be.

My suspicion is, hell sort of sits back and laughs, knowing that humans will find a way to fuck it up.

He strung out his nerves to dry.

I saw this movie by Sergio Leone: Entrails In The Dust

In our faith journeys we come upon the outrageous counterfeits. How they wear their masks tightly.

And their jeans down around their butts, gangsta-style.

It would be these very religious play actors who would some day plot the murder of the infant-grown-adult.

Did he just call the Jews "Christ-killers"? Dayum, even the Pope stopped that!

Eventually the magi reached Bethlehem.

If only they had TomTom...

The Jewish shepherds had preceded them in the cave stall.

The place still stinks of urine.

If the magi had turned back somewhere along the westward trail, Jesus would still have been waiting in the Bethlehem cow stall.

And we'd have a slab of ribs at Easter instead of lamb.

Carl said...

But here's something I've always wondered: is it considered impolite to serve brisket at a bris?

Just no calamari.

Anonymous said...

I've often wondered how Persians following a star in the east wound up in Palestine instead of Afghanistan. One story has it that they actually saw a new star in the part of the sky associated with Judea and interpreted it as the birth of a great new king. Still doesn't explain how they found that manger in Bethlehem.

parsec

Scott said...

Somebody's feeling better. Or you've gotten into the good drugs.

In our faith journeys we come upon the outrageous counterfeits. How they wear their masks tightly.

And their jeans down around their butts, gangsta-style.


Damn, I wish I'd thought of that one.

Scott said...

Still doesn't explain how they found that manger in Bethlehem.

Maybe the manger had spotlights and one of those huge inflatable gorillas on the roof like a used car dealership.

preznit said...

And although the Swankster has given up on the face glasses in his person photo

maybe the order restraining had expired on his lenses contact