Existential Ennui

~ Searching for Meaning Amid the Chaos

Existential Ennui

Category Archives: Overlooking the Fields

Marriage 101

20 Friday May 2011

Posted by Sherry in Inspirational, LifeStyle, Overlooking the Fields, Psychology, Sociology

≈ 12 Comments

Tags

emotions, growth, inspiration, lifestyle, marriage, psychology, relationships

First, let’s get this straight. I am not a marriage counselor, and I don’t play one on TV. Still, I think I’ve learned a thing or two in 61 years of which nearly twelve have been lived in fair wedded bliss.

We’ve been watching a show most of you probably haven’t heard of. It’s called Addicted to Food. It revolves around a treatment center and the work of around eight men and women who suffer from extreme eating disorders, ranging from compulsive eaters, bulimics, and purgers. I don’t suffer from any of these, but I do flirt with compulsive eating. Eating emotionally. So I figured I might get a tip or two.

As one might suspect,emotional eating usually stems from issues one has from early childhood, or some other traumatic event in youth or young adulthood. One eats to keep from feeling and then dealing with the underlying issues.

Let’s face it. Most of us come from dysfunctional families to one degree or another. That is the key, here, the degree. For the degree and our personal psychological “givens” determine whether we will suppress our pain through addiction (be in food, alcohol, drugs, gambling, sex, or anything that we can dream up), or whether we will grow up, take control and responsibility and build healthy lives. 

We bring  our unresolved issues to the marriage, and whether we believe it or not, realize it or not, we expect the other person, this love of our lives, to fill the hole, making everything all better. They cannot of course, for they come with the same hole, caused by something very different, and expect the same of us.

That is the child we are. Most of us are in fact children no matter our age. Some of us, thankfully are adult about parts of our lives, and those parts allow us to function fairly normally most of the time. Some of us are fully adult and they are our models. We are lucky indeed if we have someone who can model adulthood to us.

We are children, mostly because we, most of us, most of the time, are ego driven. We are out for ourselves, out to protect ourselves at every cost. Taken to an extreme, such narcissism causes us a great deal of trouble. But even if we are empathetic and compassionate to a degree, we still look out for number one most of the time.

As babies, we cried and screamed if we were wet, hungry, or uncomfortable. As young children we began to learn boundaries–that the entire world didn’t revolve around us all of the time. As teens and young adults, we perfected and fine tuned the art of manipulation. We learned to “do for others” to get a reward. We learned to bat our eyes, we learned to laugh at the bosses jokes. We learned how to read the emotional needs of others and use them to get what we wanted.

And mostly we never saw ourselves in this way. We saw ourselves as successfully negotiating the social world. Give and take, befriend and be befriended.

Marriage, because it is based first and foremost on emotion, presents a person with a whole new animal. In the first months and perhaps years, we are all directed to the other person in our lives. We put them first, we think of their needs, we do for them, often without any real conscious thought for ourselves.

But passion fades, and one day one wakes up and finds a very ordinary person beside oneself. This person has bad breath, snores, scratches and burps, and well the list goes on. They vomit and have dirty underwear. They have bad habits, they say the “wrong thing” sometimes. They are all too normal.

This is where one’s level of adulthood becomes important.

For if we are still children, still into blaming others for past events, still victims, still looking and expecting someone to fix us and everything, we are headed for a disaster. For now, we will return to the manipulation game we have come to know so well.

Except now we are manipulating the beloved. We are doing things for them, but now we expect reward. We are choosing the right moment–their time of weakness–to get our way on some issue of the moment. We are “keeping score”.

Unless we have some measure of adulthood. If we have come to this marriage, or during it, arrived at the place where we are responsible for ourselves, then we never get to “keeping score.” We do for the beloved because we still wish to, without expectation of repayment. We take delight in the doing of it.

More especially , we don’t look to play upon our beloved vulnerabilities, rather, we approach serious issues when they are in most control, so they have the ability to make good decisions, negotiate fairly, and arrive at a mutual decision that will stand the test of time. We don’t take advantage, we don’t want to.

We don’t use the other person to shore up our own shortcomings. We can know that we are right on issue A and never have to beat a discussion into the ground until our spouse agrees that we are right. We can let them think they have won, because we know that it’s “not worth a fight”.

We don’t care about clothes on the floor, toothpaste squeezed wrongly, or toilet paper placed incorrectly. If there are pliers on the kitchen counter, or the wrappings of a candy bar on the bedroom dresser, we smile, place things where they belong and thank our lucky stars that we have someone who is otherwise so good to wake up next to.

We don’t sweat the small stuff. We work on our own failings and missteps. We know that as we mature, our ability to bring a mature attitude to the partnership of marriage increases. We can ask for help, we can ask for opinion, but in the end, the work is ours. And if we are very lucky, we married someone who pretty much does the same.

If the benefits were only to ourselves, that would be enough. But they redound to the marriage itself, making it stronger, more flexible, more compassionate.

And that is what makes a marriage something to be prized as a most precious possession.

Related articles
  • ‘Til Death Do Americans Part: What Makes Marriages Last Longer? (abcnews.go.com)
  • Divorce rates falling, report finds (cnn.com)

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Rummaging in the Attic

19 Thursday May 2011

Posted by Sherry in Life in the Meadow, LifeStyle, Non-fiction, Overlooking the Fields, Psychology

≈ 12 Comments

Tags

hobbies, life in the meadow, lifestyle, passion, psychology

That’s quite a trick, since I don’t have one. Attic that is. As in formal upper room amid the rafters, wherein various bits and pieces of nostalgia are stored reminding us of times and peoples past.

But I do have a head, and I can rummage in that endlessly, wherein is stored all of the above, plus a rather eclectic array of other items of interest.

If there is to be a key word in today’s exercise in wordery, eclectic would be the word. It is the word that perhaps best defines me. And, even at my greying age, I can still astound myself with feats of introspection that well, cause me to see myself in a whole new light.

Heady? 

You bet.

Nothing is more fun than to poke around in the old braincase and turn up a new theory of “who the hell are you?”

I’ve often spoken, (typespoke?) about my eclectic nature when it comes to hobbies. I have no hobby, singularly speaking. I have hobbies. The reason is that no single one ever captured my attention for long periods of time. For a few weeks or months perhaps, but then I grew bored.

I came to see eventually, that I liked to do many things, just not exclusively. I became adequate at many things like quilting, sewing, crocheting, knitting, beading, and so forth, but master of none. I came to rather think myself the better for all that.

But in rummaging, I realized something. Eclectic shadows me in most other endeavors. I became a lawyer, but never had a love for law. I was perfectly adequate but there was no passion.

I found a passion for biblical studies and theology, and I still enjoy it, but the passion waned, over time. Like the wave that works it way to shore, it has no choice but to slide back quickly into the sea once there.

I garden, but I only like parts of it. I love cooking, but I have no desire to spend hours working out unique combinations until I find just the right blend of something. I will never create the prize-winning recipe, any more than I will the perfect rose or day lily.

I seem to have made a career out of being slightly above mediocre. A journeywoman I might call it. I can make an acceptable whatever, but not quite to the level of being truly a masterpiece. I don’t have the drive for that.

I am similarly captivated by no decor or style of clothing. I’m not an “American Colonial” or a “French Provincial” kinda person. I blend art deco with a Chinese screen with country distressed.

I am not a Christian Dior or a Ralph Lauren. I don’t die for Gucci or Cargo pants. I don’t care to stand out as fashionista or as freak.

Nothing would be more interesting than to throw all this as a psychologist and ask: who the hell is this person?

I rather suspect that there is a deep-seated, barely acknowledged sense of insecurity some where lurking. To do much well, but nothing spectacularly is the hallmark of one who doesn’t want to draw attention to the possible limits of one’s own abilities.

You can see as much here. Blogging is the platform for those who don’t want to test their writing in the cold creative light of actual publication. That calls for polishing and editing, finding the exact right word, not just a good enough one at the moment. Don’t criticize my writing for heaven’s sake, I’m just trying to get thoughts down on paper that are reasonably coherent so we can converse.

Yes, blogging is perfect for the insecure. A million excuses why that post garnered no comments, why traffic is slow this month, blah blah blah.

Still, when I think hard on it, I’m not displeased with my ordinariness. I like the fact that one day I may be reading Thomas Merton and the next an article on string theory. Tomorrow, who knows, I may be exploring the wonders of basket weaving, all the while toying with the idea of rereading Thucydides and the Peloponnesian Wars.

I don’t have to be an expert at anything. I am safe in my dabbling. I know a little bit about a lot of things. It makes me a renaissance woman! Perhaps a little renaissance woman, but one none the less–even if only in my own mind.

**

Tomorrow: What it takes to have a successful marriage (from a non-expert)

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Hugging the World

12 Tuesday Apr 2011

Posted by Sherry in Essays, Inspirational, Iowa, Life in the Meadow, Overlooking the Fields

≈ 11 Comments

Tags

Iowa, life in the meadow

Do you ever get up and just know it’s going to be a perfect day? The sun bursts through the window, dancing over the table, while birds cast whistles from disparate parts of the meadow, echoing through still naked trees.

I sat upon the back steps, facing into the fiery rays, reciting the Rosary, as cats bounded back and forth, jumping and twisting, exalting in the warmth and the smells. Both dogs, nose to the ground, wove hither and yon, heads jerking up when a rooster pheasant pierces the clear blue air with an impatient call–“Good sex here! Let me fertilize your eggs!”

I drag a kitchen chair out to the porch and close my eyes, offering myself to God’s will. The birds recede to background, a plane goes overhead, a breeze intermittent brushes my cheek.

I survey the lay of the land, eyes pausing on tree after tree. And I am pierced to the heart with a sudden sadness. These trees, hundreds, no, thousands, have been mine for nearly twelve years. I could touch them, hug them, feel their rough bark. We breathed together, each tree and I, I offered it carbon dioxide, it gifted me with oxygen.

I note the crocuses are up and the snowdrops, and plenty of daffodils long ago planted. I will harvest a bunch in a day or two. And the lilacs are budding out, the leaves will be here in a day or two. And the house will be filled with their perfume, to later be replaced by hundreds of multiflora roses, wafting on the air, making one nearly drunk, sating the senses.

I’ve been down this path so many times, I know the pattern, what comes next and then next again.

This will be the last turn through these pages. Like a favorite novel that is read again and again, I am on the final reading. The pages are worn from use, stained with memories good and bad, but someone only the good ones are remembered.

My heart aches as I watch my redwing blackbirds, harbingers of spring. I will see them next year, but I will leave them here, as I will leave our favorite woodpeckers, our coyotes, our raccoons. I will walk one last time down the tree-lined drive  and around the corner and up the hill.

I will  see one last run of the seasons, gasp in delight as I look absently out the bedroom window and spy a doe munching a plant, or hear the snort of a buck as he crashes through the underbrush, shaking his antlered head in proud arrogance.

All these images flash by in an instant. All that this meadow has been, is, and has not been. I realize I have felt rich beyond measure, “owning” all this. But of course, the world may consider me an owner, the meadow barely notices me. A piece of paper will transfer from hand to hand, and someone else will own this meadow. The animals, I suspect, will not realize that they have a new landlord. They may only notice that things are a little quieter.

I shake my head, and let a smile return. For a new adventure awaits me, awaits us. A new climate, with its own aching beauty prepares itself for my admiration. And somehow, I know, just know, that within a few weeks, a month or two, I will love it as dearly as I have this meadow.

Life is saying goodbye, and hello, over and over again.

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Another One Bites the Snow

31 Friday Dec 2010

Posted by Sherry in Essays, Iowa, Life in the Meadow, LifeStyle, Overlooking the Fields

≈ 14 Comments

Tags

blogging, Iowa, life in the meadow, lifestyle, New Years

Well, and a Happy New Year to you too!

It occurred to me, after looking at the stats for this week, that people apparently have a lot to do during this week. Not complaining of course, but I figured today people are particularly busy. Either you are preparing to host a party, or you are primping to go to one. Or both.

I have primped already. Clean long underwear! I’ve done a bit of cooking for tomorrow. We are having “finger” food tomorrow. A nice dip called spinach, artichoke, chipolte dip is blending in the fridge even as we speak.

I made some blue cheese dressing to alternate with barbecue sauce for some chicken tenders I’ll bread and pop into the oven tomorrow to bake.

The most time consuming is a pizza. I’m making it early and then cutting it into nice small pieces. The chicken and pizza will be arrayed over an aluminum casserole on the wood stove to keep just warm. The dip and its accompanying veggies and crackers on a tray by the windows to stay cool.

The point is to graze. During the day. While watching parades and football and otherwise lazing.

We lost somewhere close to ten inches of snow during yesterday’s thaw. We were scheduled to get up to 48 today with rain, but so far nary a drop and the temp can’t seem to get past 29. That’s disappointing, but the Contrarian has headed out, and apparently has cleared the top of the hill. If we can get through there, usually we can make the rest.

He’s off to get eggs and cat food.

We are heading for a freeze down tonight. I might make it out to Church on Sunday if we don’t get freezing rain. Hopefully we will get out to grocery shop on Monday. All in all, I’m fairly pleased with things.

MauiGirl wrote a post about SAD and how she had been on Realtor.com looking at houses in San Francisco. I tried the site and found a pleasing array of homes in our price range in Las Cruces, NM. It’s a good thing to do when the gloomy days are making you feel decidedly  unhappy with your present location. The site is slow as crap for me, but I do get to see some of the interiors and, like I said, I’m pretty happy with what we can get.

I hope you have a great evening tonight. We are gonna watch a bunch of Marx Brothers movies, I think. We watch the hoopla from bed usually. LOL. We are soooo boring!

Anyway, I’ll be back on Monday. Have a good one as I said, and we’ll get back to reality then. Here’s hoping 2011 is a bit better than 2010 turned out to be.

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Could You Do This?

27 Monday Dec 2010

Posted by Sherry in Essays, LifeStyle, Overlooking the Fields, Psychology

≈ 21 Comments

Tags

Alaska, Arctic Circle, Kavic River Camp, lifestyle, psychology

Meet Susan Aikens. Don’t know her? Shame on you. You haven’t been watching Sarah Palin’s Alaska.

Now, I’ve already stated that Sarah’s reality (which is really no reality at all) is as much fun as an awful “C” level sci-fi movie. Replete with all the just visible wires upon which hang the saucers from outer space.

But on Sarah’s pretend “goin’ a caribou huntin’ show” we met a woman who simply sticks in the synapses of our mind. Susan, you see, lives at 69.4N x 146.54W. That, to you urbanites is NORTH of the Arctic Circle. She lives there in a camp called the Kavik River Camp.

The closest city is Fairbanks, only 500 miles to the South. The nearest road is EIGHTY miles to the East. The runway is 1.5 miles long. The camp looks like a series of storage containers like they lift onto cargo ships.

People go there to hunt and fish and observe wildlife. Susan makes a living “hosting” such groups, with hot showers and grub. She has WiFi, which she “hauled in” some time back. She heats with fuel oil, and has some to spare for hunting groups. She has a vein of coal that she mines for additional fuel.

She carries a rifle wherever she goes, since bears abound. She would know. One attacked her, biting her up badly enough that she had to stitch her own head back together. She got another weapon and went out and killed the bear. Then she made her way to shelter and waited ten days for a pilot to come in and get her the rest of medical help she needed.

When her hip was displaced, she somehow managed to tie a rope around her ankle, and tie it off on a beam and haul herself upside down, and then hang from the bad leg until it dropped back into its socket.

Did I mention she lives alone? Did I mention that for six months out of the year, she lives ALONE, without a single soul for company. EVER. Except for the occasional radio contact with a passing plane.

Did I mention she is a grandmother?

Did I mention she lives alone?

People like Sue dumbfound me. They really do. I ponder them, and I can’t, in the end, ever come to understand.

What kind of person finds this a joyous way of life? Who choses this?

The easy answer is no doubt that such a person, somehow psychologically, doesn’t “fit” in normal social society. They are the extreme trappers, intrepid wanderers. But they are also the utterly consumed-by-their-subject, butterfly enthusiasts, or blue-footed boobie world experts.

Folks like this are  capable of sustained interest,  bordering on the shocking, on one subject. They are people who never much stop to think about being alone, isolated, or one-dimensional. They don’t have any use for malls, parties, friends, fashion, or much of anything outside their passion.

They can eat the same drab food weeks on end. Possessions are accounted as valuable only if useful. No figurines, no art work, no comforts of home. They are not impressed with “snuggies” or “heart” pendants, or Prius.

They are not like us in hardly any way.

Sue, spends I would guess, a goodly portion of her day, surviving. I have no idea if she gets mail drops or food drops.

We are all too familiar with a type of man who does this. Hermits. In the “olden” days, they were the trappers who only came into “town” to sell their pelts before going back out to their isolated worlds. Perhaps the adventurer, the explorer might be added, but they seldom went off alone. But women doing this? I can’t think of one, other than that woman, who used to win the Iditarod, Karen I believe. But even she got married and had kids and lived with her family.

Imagine such a life–if you can. I can, to a point, and then, well, it soon loses it idyllic tones. You remember that in a medical emergency, the simplest of problems could be life-threatening. Beautiful landscapes cannot be shared.

Sue now has Internet access. I’d dearly love to see her write a blog. How interesting would that be? I’m going to e-mail her and ask her to consider it.

I admire her. I couldn’t do what she does. Even in my younger, as the Contrarian would say, ‘greener” days, I could not have done it. I can stand a fair amount of isolation, but eventually the loneliness would have gotten me.

How ’bout you? Would this intrigue you? Or get you racing for the mall for safety?

Related Articles
  • Palin And The Caribou (andrewsullivan.theatlantic.com)

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The World According to Me

02 Tuesday Nov 2010

Posted by Sherry in Essays, Humor, Iowa, Life in the Meadow, LifeStyle, Overlooking the Fields, The Contrarian

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

Contrarian, hunting, Iowa, life in the meadow, lifestyle, venison

                                                                                                                                                                                                    *Yawn* Oh hello there. We really must stop meeting like this doncha think? I truly appreciate the company, but oh, my head is hurtin’ today.

It’s election day. You remember? Good. Get out there and vote early and vote often. Don’t I wish. I’m just way too skittish to attempt a crime. Conscious and all that. Good cause or no, I’m not ready to spend my life (or any part of it) on a hard narrow bed, afraid to sleep for fear of a shiv in the ribs.

Perhaps, on second thought, I watched too many episodes of OZ. Ever notice how many of the actors on that show pop up regularly on other shows? No? Well, I noticed, so I felt obligated to tell you.

I lied today. I don’t do it frequently, but I figured admitting to you was a public thing, and makes my repentance even stronger. Let me explain.

I was making out my super-duper grocery list for tomorrow, when the girlie dog started to bark. Now the Contrarian was still asleep, so I was hot to shut her up. Nothing works by the way, so don’t bother trying if you stop by and she begins. Anyway, I ultimately discovered someone at the door. This is earth shattering most of the time, since getting back here takes the will and courage of a gladiator or the stupidity and dullness of a mentally defective sloth.

Anyway, it was Bill. Bill is our hunter. I say our, since Bill has been huntin’ our land for many a year, and gifting us with the proceeds. I am not sure how we met up with Bill, but anyway, it’s been a fruitful relationship. He gets to hunt on land that is otherwise sans hunters, and we get mucho meat.

Bill was at the door, standing with arrow broken and bloody. This signified even to my non-hunting eyes, that either I had to call the sheriff because Bill had shot another hunter, or the hunt had been successful. It was, thankfully, the latter.

He beamed, “Got a huge deer, do you want the meat?” “Sure, we do,” I nodded.

“I need a license.”

“We’ll get ya one today. We are going up by Troy to go vote, and we’ll pick one up.”

I could see almost immediately that this was not good enough. “I really need it before I go to work. . . second shift remember?”

“Yep, I sure do. I”ll go talk to Parker” (who was still abed but no doubt awake from all the ruckus).

The upshot of which that about ten minutes late MOI was heading up the hill in the bronco. How that came to be, is well the usual husband ploy: “Would you go?” This said with whiny, plaintive, moany, kinda whimpering voice.

So I was going. With his billfold ’cause he had the dough, and I arrived at the Troy Store. “I need a hunting license, bow license,” I announced. “Okay,” she responded and moved to the computer.

Even in the outback here of Iowa, we now get our license issued via a computer and printer set up. It takes the baby a bit to warm up and load itself. Then we swipe the Contrarian’s license and off we go.

So I now lie twice. First I’m not Parker, and second, the deer is dead, and shot by someone not the licensee. I’m a violator of the law. I’m subject to fines and perhaps even some time in the slammer. I do not like the slammer as I’ve indicated. Not just because of OZ, mind ya. Remember I’m a retired attorney and have spent total about two years and four months in various jails and prisons, so I know the life.

But, the lie is now off my conscience. The deer didn’t really care who shot him. He’s dead, and no doubt romping through fields of daisies in a universe far far away with dozens of doe-eyed (literally) damsels of succulent shape.

Bill will be back for more hunting–there is muzzle-loading and shotgun still to come. Usually we get one deer, but I think there has been a time or two that we got two. In any case, he gets the “fun” of killing and we get the savings of a hundred bucks or more (bucks as in dollars, not deer–this is getting complicated) in meat expenses saved.

The buck, for he was one, was an old guy. Very large. He, by the size of his neck, had probably fought off a lot of young studs. Time to let the gene pool expand. So it’s probably a good thing. Better to die old before you suffer through a bad winter and die a lingering death and freeze to death. Least that’s how I ease my conscience.

Oh, and when we go vote? We are going to town to eat! Wow, now that is some elegant meal! You go to the Troy Store, walk to the back along the corridor and into a small room with a few tables. We always sit at the window, overlooking the bird feeder and bean field. It’s a mighty fine skyline I tell ya. You should be so lucky.

***

There is a new post over at Walking in the Shadows, should you care.

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Just Some Observations

27 Tuesday Jul 2010

Posted by Sherry in Catholicism, Essays, GOP, Humor, Media, Michelle Backmann, Overlooking the Fields, religion, Sarah Palin, Satire

≈ 12 Comments

I’m oddly euphoric today. I have no idea why. It could be that I have dinner already done. A big tuna pasta salad and rolls. Gonna be a scorcher today. Cold food. No oven.

So I feel light and airy. But it could be that I’ve released the last of my “obligations” today. No more obsessing about weather for me.

I was obsessing you know. And I don’t like that feeling one bit. I have better things to do with my brains.

Spooky serendipity kinda stuff keeps happening. I’m reading Albert Camus’s “ The Rebel.” It’s kinda a tough read for me, but it makes me think a lot. So, I’m also reading some old Anglican Theological Journals, and I’m currently reading an article on James Cone, black theologian and black liberation theology writer. He mentioned that Camus’s Rebel figured in his thinking. How weird is that. One now informs the other.

I keep thinking that the Republicans are definitely fruitcake nutty. I mean if they wanna write a book called “How to influence everybody to hate your guts” I’m thinking nobody could do it better.

Some years ago, you see, I realized a very important fact. Most of the world ain’t white. By a long shot. Sooner or later, I figured, all those disparate groups, yellow, brown and black, will join forces and well, you can see the troubles ahead. I figured it was time to tread softly and throw away the stick. Time to TALK and make nice?

No Republican seems to have thought of that. They have managed to alienate black folk, brown folk, the majority of women, working people everywhere. They no doubt will say something nasty about slant eyes and write off a few billion more. So far they only like Jews and that seems more because the Jews must stand in the breach at the End Times. Most of them will die as unconverted. So I figure Jews mostly don’t think too highly of them either.

Ben Stein is a Republican. And he pissed off all the working folks in this nation by telling them that from his lofty point of view, most of the chronically unemployed are so because they are lousy workers or have crappy personalities.

It won’t be long though before the GOP will have done us all a great service. All we need do is collect their GOP registration lists and we know who needs psychiatric commitments. Truly, they are nuts.

I know that a lot of Republicans now call themselves independents. But that’s just cover. Ever have somebody sanctimoniously tell you that “I don’t vote for a party but for the person.” Yeah, I’ve heard that a lot. The truth is, that once in a blue moon they vote for someone from the “other” party. I do too, once in a blue moon. That makes me a Democrat who won’t vote for a slug who carries the D when there is someone better who just happens to be an R.

But, I might have to rethink that. Given the spinning head syndrome that is now the GOP. No sane person, as I said would admit to being one. How does one explain being in a party with the likes of Michelle (Spinner eye) Bachmann, Sarah (that woman is an idiot) Palin, Glenn (weepy) Beck, and all the rest?

I don’t know if I mentioned this, but the pope has written a children’s book. Odd, doncha think? On it’s face? Creepy kinda, given the “troubles”? Well, worse than creepy is that it’s something called, Jesus and His Friends. Don’t quote me exactly but, and here’s the rub, JESUS HAD NO WOMEN FRIENDS.  Yep. It appears that the pope and his boy’s club pretty much hate women.

They equate them with pedophiles when it comes to sinfulness, if they should attempt ordination. They are conducting witch hunts throughout Merika of all the women’s religious orders. Not the men’s mind you, just the women.  Yep, they pretty much hate women.

They must have the same disease as the GOP. What we have here son, is a failure to see REALITY.

I wonder if the Vatican has a clue why people leave it? Beyond being theologically still locked in medieval Europe that is? I mean they don’t think much of women, nor gays, nor respectful dissent. Where do they think those people are going? Not in the pews on Sunday.

Perhaps they are also affiliated with Madison Avenue. They are another group of moronic other reality dwellers. Always spinning out commercials that make me hate the product they are pushing. Always. Except for a few. A very few. And those are mostly funny. The really eco-friendly ones are always offered by manufacturing polluters. Ever notice that? Pretty pictures. Like we don’t get that they are the POLLUTERS.

Just some observations.

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