Saturday, March 31, 2007


'And then depression set in'

Dr. ER is somewhere here!

Sigh. I fed Dr. ER a famous ER Pan-Fried Ribeye and a baked tater last night, with the store-bought "gourmet" apple pie she likes for dessert -- while we watched the weather, and the hardest and longest-lasting rain either of us had ever seen.

I had to bring the dogs in, so I could open a front side gate to the backyard, to let the water flow out! It was 6 inches deep in the back yard, and was coming into the garage. I used two of the four sand tubes I still had in the back of my truck from snowy and icy weather to put in front of the side door to the garage to keep the water out.

Bird and YankeeBeau were here yesterday afternoon and late evening -- they went to see Larry the Cable Guy in between -- and are here still, which is nice. They brought Lizzie and Gracie, my new gramsters (grand-hamsters!) *and* the grand-dogs, Fenway and Apollo, the Boston terriers.

The ER household abounds with domestic livestock today: Riker, my stepdog; Bailey, the semisweet, semiretarded weinie dog who needs a short yellow doghouse; Fenway, the younger stepgrand-dog; Apollo, the older and more mature stepgrand-dog; Lizzie and Gracie, the gramsters; Jambalaya and Etouffe, the hermit crabs -- and Ice-T, my cat (he *is* daddy's boy), who is NOT AMUSED.

Well. We are fixing to dye Easter eggs. We are all 5-year-olds around here. I always fix up one Redneck Easter Egg that says: "He has done rose!" And one of us still usually makes a Dale Earnhardt (Sr.) memorial egg.

And Bird is going to make deviled eggs, too, which are about my second-favorite thing to do with eggs, behind scrambling 'em and ladling white gravy on 'em, with salt and pepper.

Not a bad day, I guess, considering that my wife has left me!


(One Vintage Early '80s ER Point for whoever names the movie that produced the quote in the headline.)

Friday, March 30, 2007


'What we call "the news" '

From JibJab. -- ER


Focus on the Bulls--t

Focus on Everything But the Family Strikes Again.

I hate no man. But I utterly despise Focus on the Family and what it represents in James Dobson's name, pretending to be in Jesus's name.

Read some bullshit.



True story: 'Who's F--k Johnson?'

By The Erudite Redneck

It was 1972 or '73, which means I was 8 or 9, and I was ridin' around with my Big Brudder, who was 20 or 21 or so.

We were in one of the cool cars he had just out of high school in the early '70s -- maybe the metallic golden-brown '72 Chevelle, maybe the red '68(?) Chevelle, or it could've been the '71 Ford pickup, one of the farm trucks, colored like a Dreamsicle, white-over-orange. Not sure.

We were in what passes for my hometown, two miles west of the house down a two-lane, bepastured and becowed state highway, and were circling the carwash. It was back when there was only one car wash, a four-holer at most, just thin aluminum walls and a roof over drains set in concrete and high-power hoses. Nothin' fancy. Seems like it had wide horizontal stripes, white and light blue, or teal, or something like that.

Big Brudder whipped into the car wash, and drove around back and I looked out the window and on one of those wide-striped outside walls I saw -- new to eyeglasses, I was still new to seeing and reading words on signs and billboards and buildings and such -- I saw and read a name I'd never heard of.

"Big Brudder," I said, "Who's F--k Johnson?"

Sounded it right out. I'd had phonics.

Big Brudder slammed on the brake, I bounced off the dash in those freedom-loving days before seatbelts were such a Big Deal, he turned to me and said, "WHAT DID YOU SAY?"

"I, I said 'Who's F-f-f--k Johnson? I know Jim Johnson, your friend. And I know he has a big brother, John -- John Johnson. Who's F--k? Who's F--ck Johnson??' "

Mirth ensued, on Big Brudder's part anyway. I don't remember exactly when I understood the rest of the story myself.

The deal was: Big Brudder's friend Jim Johnson (not his real last name) was a cop in our little town and he apparently had pissed somebody off, so in big block letters somebody spray-painted:

"F--k Johnson."

Isn't that a fun story? It's the Gospel truth -- and the Gospel is partly why I bring it up. Some eyeballs got scalded around here the other day when I quoted Dr. ER F-bombing the president, so now's the time to talk about it.

Me and the F-word go way back, OK? I learned it that day at the car wash.

I learned what it meant later, sometime after My Little Nephew, who is three or four years older than me, like to seriously injured himself flying across the house to pull Harry Nilsson's notorious "Son of Schmilsson" album, in 8-track form, out of my Loud Mouth when the bawdy and fun "You're Breakin' My Heart" was just about to spill out the immortal lines, "You're Breakin' my heart, you're tearin' it apart, so f--k you" with Mama ER and others all sitting around unawares.

My Little Nephew got there in the nick of time; the soft "F" sound had started but he yanked the tape just as the "uh" sound started, so it made for a fading "fuh ... " kind of sound.

But the word stuck back at the car wash. Been using it ever since. That and just about every other "bad" word you can think of.

I was raised on Matthew, Mark, Luke, John, Cheech y Chong, et al. As the former atheist in the great but now disgraced Christian comedian Mike Warnke's story said after serving in Nam for a couple of weeks, then donning a Cross, a Star of David and a small Buddha around his neck, "I, I, I believe!" (Correction: Mike Warnke has officially been regraced! Click on "Tribunal Board Hearing." Cool. -- ER)

I'm a Christian -- although I prefer the term "Jesusian" nowadays because of the direction most of what passes for Christianity has gone in this country in my lifetime, rewriting American history to depict this secular republic as a Christian nation in some other sense besides rhetorical, stooping to the lowest lows of the worst of the worst of two-bit retail politics, yet claiming to have the high moral ground, all along leaving the poor and marginalized to waste away in their poverty and disaffection, yet getting bent out of shape about stupid s--t like cussing.

They can keep that kind of Christianity.

"F--k" that kind of religion, I might say, because it's not the faith of our Christian fathers, not the earliest, earliest ones anyway. I don't want to be associated with it.

From time to time, I see people in the Real World who I know read this blog, and I drop an F-bomb or something, all casual like, and I always think, "Boy, I keep the language clean on Erudite Redneck on purpose, because I know there are some sensitive eyes out there. I hope I didn't just singe their ears." I sense the disconnect.

I cuss. Sometimes creatively. Between being raised on the bawdy humor of George Carlin, Richard Pryor, Cheech & Chong and Redd Foxx (who Mama ER even liked, bawdiness and all), and spending 20 years in newspaper newsrooms, which are nothing like "normal" office environments and where, since we work with words every day, we tend to use every damn one of them once in awhile, I can't help it. Nor do I especially want to, any more, as long as I retain the ability to judge the ears, and sensibilities, of those around me.

Out of respect for others, I'll continue to try to keep the language under control on this blog, more or less -- for the same reason I didn't cuss in front of Mama ER, or Mama Jim (Dr. ER's mama), or others.

But I'm relaxing the hard, fast ban on the use of "bad" words.

Sometimes nothing says it like "F--k." I will retain the quaint use of dashes. Maybe that'll help keep me from scalding some eyeballs.


Thursday, March 29, 2007


Arrrgggghhhh! Lord, save me

... from this kind of insanity.

I. Just. Can't. Stay. Away.

God. Help. Me.

Ignorance gone to seed. Dangerous ignorance!



OMG, somebody in this town has a 1970 Dodge Charger for sale just like the one I had when I was 16 and I must have it to fully complete my midlife ...


Man. The one in the pic is almost like mine, but my blue was a little lighter. We called it "DX blue." The one for sale here is black-over-brown. But what the hey.

So, what car makes you slobber all over yourself?


Wednesday, March 28, 2007


Behold: PoliTits

Gotta love it.


Motto: "Sex and politics. Two obsessions with a lot in common. Someone always gets f-----."

(Tip o' the cowboy hat to Red State Blues, at BlondeSense.)



An average morning in the ER household

Dr. ER, in the living room, watching news: "Mumble mumble, F--- you! Mumble mumble!"

ER, overhearing, walking in from bedroom: "Did you just F-bomb my cat?" (Not an unusual occurence, since Ice-T knows who his daddy is, and it ain't Dr. ER, which he reminds her sometimes by biting her calf.)

Dr. ER: "No, the president."

ER: "Oh, that's perfectly acceptable."

A few minutes later ...

ER, keeping an ear on the TV as he pours coffee in the kitchen: "Don't talk to ME about 'pork,' you lying hypocritical sack of monkey s---t!"

Dr. ER, in the living room: "What? Are you talking to me?"

ER: "No, the president."

Dr. ER: "Oh, that's perfectly acceptable."

Mirth ensues. Gonna be lonesome after Saturday, when she jumps a stagecoach for Boulder.

Then, there's this:

More Sin as Spin from Focus on the Family Action, which focuses on everything BUT the family.

One: There is NO SUCH THING, and CAN BE NO SUCH THING, as "permanent" tax "relief." And calling the suspension of ill-advised and cold-hearted tax cuts "tax increases" is playing with words to the point of dishonesty.

Maybe both sides do it. But only one side presents itself as a moral alternative. What a joke.


Tuesday, March 27, 2007


Working for a living meme

Since I'm facing the prospect of a new job, I've been thinking about the ones I've had in the past. What an odd mix of things I've done! What's your job history?

Below are the jobs I've had and approximate age:

Age 12-13 -- burger flipper and cashier.

Age 14-15 -- convenience store stock boy-janitor

Age 16 -- cafeteria dishwasher-pot scrubber.

Age 16 -- watermelon hoer and hauler.

Age 17-21 -- truck stop attendant.

Age 18-22 -- radio announcer (Gospel, Top 40-AOR, country, adult contemporary).

Age 18-23 -- student newspaper reporter, news editor, opinion editor, editor-in-chief.

Age 21-24 -- student assistant, residence hall (called resident assistant now).

Age 24 -- student assistant instructor of American government.

Age 25 -- book store cashier.

Age 25-26 -- crime reporter.

Age 26-27 -- regional general assignment reporter.

Age 27-31 -- farm-ranch editor.

Age 29 -- dancehall bouncer.

Age 31-34 -- regional editor.

Age 34-35 -- city editor.

Age 35-present -- section editor/reporter.

I shoulda been writin' country songs at the time -- and I did, for awhile. Ronholio knows; he was there.


Monday, March 26, 2007


(Farther) Into the West

26 March, 1875
Caddo, I.T.

Hard to believe this, but the missus heads out in about a week. I'm putting her on a stagecoach to Denver City. I'll follow with our worldly possessions loaded onto a Prairie Schooner, going slow, herding our few head of livestock.

Denver City, they say, is coming along after seven years, and this new settlement of Boulder, to the northwest of there, has lots of promise -- of gold!

The whole country up there must be golden! Gen. Custer's trip through the Black Hills last year proved that. I read about it in the Oklahoma Star. The Army will get the Indians under control, like the civilized tribes here in Indian Territory. Gen. Custer will see to that.



Not your usual plastic Jesus

By Barbara Brown Taylor

Jesus is terrible at meeting people's expectations of him. He engages the sorts of people he should ignore and ignores the sorts of people he should engage. He accepts the wrong dinner invitations. He is rude to respected religious leaders. He scolds his own disciples, while he praises the faith of a Roman soldier. All in all, this is not a man you want teaching the first-grade Sunday school class (although he is crazy about children). He is impossible to manage. He will not stay in role. Every time his handlers think they have him handled, he vanishes from their midst. ...

Read all about it from The Christian Century.

(Original lyrics to "Plastic Jesus" here.)


Sunday, March 25, 2007


'Grace By Which I Stand' &c.

Man. I had an emotional microburst between church and home today. Sort of an I-miss-my-mama-slash-this-whole-moving-to-Colorado-thing-has-me-scared-to-death kind of a thing.

Mr. D at church, who always has kind words for me, let me bend his ears. I confessed to my brother that I am, in fact, scared to death. And whiney. And mopey. About this Colorado thing. And I want my mama.

I know it's a "failure of imagination." But still. I know the Scripture reading this morning was Matthew 6: 25-34. But still ...

The fact is I'm content and comfortable where I am, doing what I do. I can't imagine where the energy to make this transition is going to come from.

I confess that my worry is robbing Dr. ER of some of the joy she should be experiencing, because this move makes her happy after a long period of unhappiness.

Confessional songs like these from the late Keith Green are helpful.

"Grace By Which I Stand"

Lord, the feelings are not the same,

I guess I'm older, I guess I've changed.

And how I wish it had been explained,

that as you're growing you must remember,

That nothing lasts, except the grace of God, by which I stand, in Jesus.

I know that I would surely fall away, except for grace, by which I'm saved.

Lord, I remember that special way,

I vowed to serve you, when it was brand new.

But like Peter, I can't even watch and pray one hour with you,

And I bet I could deny you too.

But nothing lasts, except the grace of God, by which I stand, in Jesus.

I'm sure that my whole life would waste away,

except for grace, by which I'm saved.

But nothing lasts, except the grace of God, by which I stand, in Jesus.

I know that I would surely fall away, except for grace, by which I'm saved.

"My Eyes are Dry"

My eyes are dry, my faith is old,

My heart is hard, my prayers are cold,

And I know how I ought to be,

Alive to you, and dead to me.

Oh what can be done, for an old heart like mine,

Soften it up, with oil and wine.

The oil is You, Your Spirit of love,

Please wash me anew, in the wine of Your blood.

(Get all Keith Green lyrics here.)


Saturday, March 24, 2007


Oklaxoma is OK

What the heck is this? It looks like a Wikipedia from Uzbekistan, and it looks like they have Oklahoma Statehood listed as 21 August 1959, which is actually when Hawaii became a state. Not that I can read Uzbek, or whatever it's called.

Two words: Do what?



An erudite redneck must-have!

How cool is this?

Notes ...

Coonskin cap.

Fess Parker.

Fess Parker Winery.


Friday, March 23, 2007


Episcopals side with Copernicus

The Episcopal Church has rejected a demand from the worldwide Anglican Communion that they provide conservative leaders for parishes that disagree with the U.S. church's liberal stance on homosexuality.

Read all about it, with a certain earth-centric spin, from Focus on the Family.

Sometimes churches grow by splitting. Ask any Amercian Baptist.

Godspeed to the Episcopal Church, member of the Worldwide Anglican Communion -- for now.

If I can't find a good UCC church close by in Colorado, I'll join the Episcopal Church.



Blue Dogs howl when tails caught

OK, I almost missed this. Thanks to my friend, and lurker, K. Kat, for bringing it to my attention.

House Republicans derailed efforts yesterday (Thursday) to give the District congressional representation when they injected the city's gun ban into the debate and turned an expected vote into a tumult.

Read all about it from The Washington Times.

Two things.

Uno. There is one right and honorable -- and constitutional -- way to give people living in the District of Columbia full representation in Congress: Make the District of Columbia into a state. The Dem leadership is being sneaky here.

Two-o. The Repubs successed in playing the Blue Dogs off against liberal Democrats. It wasn't the first time, and it won't be the last. Libs ignore the Dogs at their own peril.


Thursday, March 22, 2007


How spoiled am I with my drive to work?

I live 9.7 miles from where I work. This morning, I pulled out of my driveway at 9:14 a.m. and killed the engine in the parking lot at work at 9:31 a.m. -- 17 minutes. During the morning rush, it would've taken about 25 minutes max.

Tell me, how far do you live from where you work, and how long does it take you to make the drive?

Looks like my easy-drivin' days are numbered. The Denver area has REAL traffic issues, unlike the Oklahoma City area, which does not.

So, how far is your drive? How long does it take? How do you cope?


Wednesday, March 21, 2007


Name droppin'

The other evening, I had a Coors at the Buffalo Rose, a tavern in downtown Golden, Colo.

This morning I had a Denver omelet (of sorts) at the Denver airport.

And last night, I met Famous Historian, who signed my copy of the book that put Famous Historian on the national stage. A very thoughtful inscription. Very, very cool.

Living large on the Front Range, I was. :-) Back in the saddle back home now.

And the turbulence this mornin' while landing (it feels stormy in Central Oklahoma at the moment, 3:45 p.m. Wednesday) didn't even freak me out!


Tuesday, March 20, 2007


Ha ha ha ha ha housing ha ha ha ha ha

The current ER house has four bedrooms, two baths, a sun room, a two-and-a-half-car garage, 2001 square feet, built in 1987. In a suburb of Oklahoma City.

It's worth about $150,000.

This is what that'll getcha where we're looking in the Denver metro area:

Not very dang much.

Ha ha ha ha ha!


Monday, March 19, 2007


Barry and bangers and odds and ends

BARRY: Oh, Barry Switzer was on the plane. Of course, I was wearing an Oklahoma State ballcap.

An older woman asked me as we were deplaning: "Excuse me, young man, did you tip your hat to Barry Switzer?" I said: "Yes ma'am, I sure did. He's bigger than OU." And he is.

BANGERS: Hey, Liam! This fancy-ass hotel has Britis bangers on the menu. Havin' never met a meat I didn't like, I'm trying them here in a bit for breakfast. I am aware that bangers have more filler than the sausages I'm used to. We;ll see.

ODD: We are thinking about going to supper tonight at The Fort, in Morrison, west of Denver. The Fort history here. The place is a replica of Bent's Fort, which Dr. ER and I explored a few years ago. Specifically for me to try the roast bison marrow bones ("a crown of bones simply roasted and served with a port-bison reduction, Hawaiian red salt and sourdough crostinis), which comes highly recommended by Drlobojo.

END: The bangers are here, along with an omelet with avocado, dried tomato, cheddar bacon, and the coffee, thank God for the coffee. Didn't sleep worth a damn last night: Wrong bed, wrong altitude, wrong, etc.


Sunday, March 18, 2007


'Mork calling Orson'

Dr. ER was not amused awhallago when, as we drove into the Boulder city limits, I uttered the immortal phrase in the headline -- after uttering, at least a half-dozen times, "Bussssccccchhhh," as in the old "Head for the mountains, head for Busch beer" commercials.


I, on the other hand was not amused on the plane when, from my window seat, I thought, "That window goes, there go my glasses and I'm screwed," blind as a bat as I am, and when I wondered, "Dang that window's small. How am I gonna fit through that sumbuck if I need to get outta here?"

But here we are. :-)



I'll fly away!

Dr. ER and I are gettin on a "tall bus"" in a couple of hours to fly to Colorado.

Gulp. First time I've flown since 9/09/01.

Recall what happened *that* time:







So, I am a little uneasy ...


Saturday, March 17, 2007


For taking His name in vain ...

As seen at God is Not An Asshole (a blog linked to Blondesense), and hunted down at Seeds of Doubt -- here's the art.



Welcome, Ronholio!

Jine me, y'all, in welcoming my good RW friend (although I haven't laid eyes on him in about seven years), Ronholio!

He has jined the world of blogdom! Hip, hip, hooray!

Ronholio is a gentleman, and a scholar -- and he is capable of head-buttin' a 260-pound man onto the cement floor of a Texas beer joint, sendin' beer mug one way and cowboy hat the other, so fast you won't know what hit ya. I hear.

He loves Jesus and his fellow man, but, like myself, he is far removed from the tight-assed kinda socio-cultural fundaMENTALism that turns people off of so many people of faith.

I'm pretty sure he's considerably more conservative than I am, doctrinally. He probably believes in some, in other words. Which matters not a whit to me, because he is my brother in Christ.

I'm pretty sure he, in some ways, ins more conservative than I am politically. But we share a certain kind of libertarian bent.

We have cleaned barns together, handled kids and cattle at livestock shows, drank beer together, picked guitars together, sang together and a lot of other things, although not in a long time. He's a heck of a guy, and he is my friend.

Go see him and his cute (yet manly), almost brand-spankin' new baby boy. And check out a poem Ronholio wrote that shows that becomin' a daddy has renewed his sense that God really is our daddy, "Abba" (not the band).

Tell him ER sent ya.


Friday, March 16, 2007


'Shadow Wolves'

This KICKS. I've always thought the best way to fight the Taliban was to look to the Indian Wars in this country for clues as to how to do it. Finally!


AN elite group of Native American trackers is joining the hunt for terrorists crossing Afghanistan's borders.

The unit, the Shadow Wolves, was recruited from several tribes, including the Navajo, Sioux, Lakota and Apache. It is being sent to Tajikistan and Uzbekistan to pass on ancestral sign-reading skills to local border units.

Read all about it.

(Hat tip to Drlobojo)

Thursday, March 15, 2007


'God,' ER said, praying, 'DAMN this war!'

Jesus. Support the troops. Bring. Them. Home.

Read and weep:

Col. Ted Westhusing, a West Point scholar, put a bullet in his head in Iraq after reporting widespread corruption. His suicide note -- complaining about human rights abuses and other crimes -- was addressed to his two commanders, including Gen. David Petraeus, now leader of the U.S. "surge" effort in Iraq. It urged them to "Reevaluate yourselves. ... You are not what you think you are and I know it."

Read all about it, from Editor & Publisher.

(Hat tip to Jersey Cynic at Blondesense.)

Also -- Message to Hillary: You can't "triangulate" the "war" in Iraq!



'Bong hits 4 Jesus' -- at Oklahoma State!

This is great! Bird, who, recall, is a junior at Oklahoma State, said students awoke this morning to find "Bong hits 4 Jesus" scrawled in chalk on every sidewalk, everywhere.

It was a free-speech demonstration pointing to a case to be heard before SCOTUS on Monday.

ROCK ON, young dudes.


By Daniel Burke
Religion News Service

It's not every legal conflict that brings together the American Civil Liberties Union, a gay rights group and conservative Christian law firms -- on the same side.

But Morse v. Frederick, the free speech case to be heard by the Supreme Court next Monday (March 19), is not your average litigation.

Christian lawyers say they disdain the speech in question -- a banner proclaiming "Bong Hits 4 Jesus" displayed by an Alaskan high school student in 2002 as the Olympic torch passed through his town.

Read all about it.

Wednesday, March 14, 2007


Gay babies can't take thingth off the shelvth

OK, this is IT. This is the single most outrageous -- and outrageously FUNNY, and pathetic, and sad -- thing I have heard YET on the topic of gayness, orientation and the Church.

Grab a box of Kleenex to wipe your eyes, hold your sides and read on.

AP National Writer

NEW YORK- The president of the leading Southern Baptist seminary has incurred sharp attacks from both the left and right by suggesting that a biological basis for homosexuality may be proven, and that prenatal treatment to reverse gay orientation would be biblically justified.

Read all about it from The Denver Post.



Gonzales: 'What was missing: "I resign" '

An editorial by the Fort Worth (Texas!) Star-Telegram

Attorney General Alberto Gonzales' strong words during a Tuesday news conference were glaringly different from the clueless tap dance he has been stomping out since assuming the office of the people's lawyer.

"I am responsible for what happens in the Department of Justice," Gonzales said, in what was billed as his chance to douse the flames that erupted over the firings of eight federal prosecutors. "I acknowledge mistakes were made. I accept responsibility."

Too bad this comes months late and falls light-years short of repairing the damage Gonzales has done to his own credibility.

Read all about it from the Fort Worth Star-Telegram

Go-go Gonzales need to go-go!



Tuesday, March 13, 2007


Alberto Gonzales: White House ho

Man, if every member of this administration who deserved to be shitcanned GOT shitcanned, the only person left standing to be acting president would be, like, an agriculture under secretary.

President Dorr!

Read all about Go-Go-Gonzalez.



Apologies are overrated

General says homosexual acts are "immoral."

Gay group says he should apologize.

Bullsnot. He should NOT.

I expect people engaged in this theater of the Culture War, on either side, to stick to their guns.

Read all about it.


Monday, March 12, 2007


Nationalize Halliburton; Hey, hey, ho, ho Dick Cheney has got to go!

Seize Halliburton! Dismantle it! Sell it off! And string it's un-American corporate carcass up on the corner post of a fence erected on Wall Street for the purpose, with a furled American flag shoved up its ass upside down.

To hell with Halliburton.

Dick Cheney is out of control. Impeach Cheney!


Hey. If any of you are looking for any last-minute gift ideas for me, I have one. I'd like Dick Cheney, the vice president, on the steps of the U.S. Capitol tonight. I want him brought from his happy holiday slumber over there in Georgetown with all the other rich people and I want him brought to the Capitol, with a big ribbon on his head, and I want Congress to look him straight in the eye and I want them to tell him what a cheap, lying, no-good, rotten, four-flushing, low-life, snake-licking, dirt-eating, inbred, overstuffed, ignorant, blood-sucking, dog-kissing, brainless, dickless, hopeless, heartless, fat-ass, bug-eyed, stiff-legged, spotty-lipped, worm-headed sack of monkey shit he is. Hallelujah. Holy shit. Where's the Tylenol?



Another day, another 3 hours in another &$^*^%$# emergency room ...

Dr. ER's turn.

Whatever she has, it ain't what I had. Mine was bacterial. Hers is viral. She got so dehydrated she was passin' out and seeing things, and her heart rate was 120-plus.

At least I thought to take my night meds before we left and grabbed a book. Sigh.

She's OK now, full of fluids and resting more or less comfortably.


Sunday, March 11, 2007


'The End of Striving' -- salvation

Poor Dr. ER! She has caught my bug! It's worse for her. All I know to do is check in on her once in awhile.

I asked her if she wanted me to stay home from church and she said yes, so I did -- and so, as usual, comes a "God thing" along an unexpected turn in the road ...

On Feb. 11, I was in Stillwater, OK, and missed services at my church. So, this morning I listened to the preaching from that day.

The God thing is I was ready to hear this sermon this morning, and would not have had ears to hear it the day it was preached:

"The End of Striving," (audio) preached by Dr. Robin Meyers, senior minister of Mayflower Congregational-UCC Church.

I've been striving almost blindly since November -- striving to be there for Mama ER, to do my job well, to not get too far behind on several history research-writing projects, and more recently striving not to freak out totally over the prospect of giving up the comfortable existence I have here, while striving to conjure up the desire and energy to embrace the excitement and uncertainty of unimagined possibilities in Colorado.

And it's wearing me out. Being sick this week forced me to slow down, thanks be to God: I slept 13 hours last night, which is basically unheard of, after, like, 11 or 12 hours the night before.

"The End of Striving" -- I don't think I strive to accomplish things these days as much as I strive to protect that which I have accomplished, and that which has been given to me. But that's just as bad.

Lord help me to chill. Help me see the truth behind the joke: His eye is on the sparrow when it falls -- but it still falls! Help me see the humor in this modern interpretation of Peter's attempt to walk on the water: Sink or swim, Jesus loves us!

"The End of Striving" -- therein lies salvation.

Jeremiah 17: 5-8.


Saturday, March 10, 2007


Gun ruling on target

Holy gunsmoke!

Washington - A federal appeals court overturned the District of Columbia's long- standing handgun ban Friday, rejecting the city's argument that the Second Amendment right to bear arms applied only to militias.

In a 2-1 decision, the judges held that the activities protected by the Second Amendment "are not limited to militia service, nor is an individual's enjoyment of the right contingent" on enrollment in a militia.

Read all about it, from The AP via the Cleveland Plain Dealer.

Read the Washington Post's editorial lambasting the decision.

It will come as a complete surprise to most people in this part of the country that the District of Columbia banned the personal possession of handguns in one's own home in the first place -- a revelation that will cause most people, myself included, to declare of the ruling: It's about damn time.

One other thing: Cold dead fingers and all that.


Friday, March 09, 2007



Well, if this just don't beat all!

"Catproof your computer," it says. "A software utility that helps protect your computer from cats. It quickly detects and blocks cat typing."

Ice-T would be a-pawed if he thought I was tryin' to outsmart him like that. Heck, he types better than I do.

(As seen at Miss Cellania.)


Thursday, March 08, 2007


Dr. ER is leaving me to take a job in Colorado!

She starts April 1 -- no foolin'.

I will follow when practical, which means when I get a &*^$% job, after we deal with our house, and ... and ... a million other things.

I don't see me going anywhere before this fall, if then -- because there's something of a possibility that we might just have two homes for awhile.

For one whose motto is "Change = bad," this is quite a challenge. I am trying not to freak out constantly, just several times a day. :-)

It's a great opportunity for her. I await something comparable! Here's hoping!

And, I might apply to grad school -- how would that be for a radical departure? I'd have to go full time.

What the heck? The cost of living there, compared to where we are now, is so much more it makes my head hurt, gives me hives and takes my breath away.

Holy crap. She kept chasin' a dang dream until she caught one -- and it's dang near giving me nightmares.

ER's Trauma Train just keeps on chuggin' ...


Labels: , , ,


Dr. ER is leaving me*

True statement.

(Fill in the asterisk.)


Wednesday, March 07, 2007


Diversity comes to Peepdom

Multicultural Peeps!

(HT to 3 Desks Down)



I'm 7 percent StoOpid!

As seen at Trixie's. Alas, *she* is 12 percent StoOpid! Hee hee.

--ER says I'm 7% Stupid! How stupid are you? Click Here!


Good drugs, man

H-C Tussive


Guaphen forte




Tuesday, March 06, 2007


Snot-slinging, spit-spewing, head-aching, ears-ringing, nose-burning, tummy-roiling SICK.

Day 2. It hit Sunday evening. Dr. ER said my system, which held out remarkably well throughout Mama ER's hospitalization and decline, finally turned loose because now *I* can be sick. Makes sense to me.

EXACERBATED by George W. Bush's speech today before the American Legion. To hear him try to spin Walter Reed is not helping my stomach.


Sunday, March 04, 2007


'Found tomb,' lost faith?

It being Lent, Easter is on the entertainment-industrial-complex's radar, which means it's time for the annual supposed assault on some supposed fundamental of the Church.

Seems like it happens every year. Somebody comes up with a discovery, or a hypothesis, or something, that is supposed to "change history" and render all followers of Christ who do not immediately throw their hands up and abandon their faith as simple-minded rubes.

This year it's "The Lost Tomb of Jesus," which you've surely heard about, but if not, go here to the Discovery Channel and here to the official site to catch up.


If someone indisputably discovered the bodily remains of Jesus Christ, it would wreck my faith. True or false? Discuss.

But first ...

Prayer of Confession today at this church, where the pastor declared that he wished someone *would* discover the bones of Jesus -- the whole skeleton, no less -- so maybe the annual assault on faith, and our senses, might come to an end:

Lord of Life, we often confuse belief with superstition, and faith with certainty. While we have been given the power to reason, and should use it to the fullest, it is arrogant to assume that our minds can fully grasp the mystery of the universe, or plumb the depths of love and creativity. Let us stand back in awe and wonder, and see where "radical amazement" takes us. In Christ's name we pray, who amazes us still. Amen.

Reading from NPR's "This I Believe" -- How is it Possible to Believe in God?, by William F. Buckley Jr. (yes! Buckley! Do not adjust your sets. I love my crazy liberal church!)

Scripture reading: Job 38: 1-7.

If someone indisputably discovered the bodily remains of Jesus Christ, it would wreck my faith. True or false? Discuss.


Saturday, March 03, 2007


Mercy drops round me are falling

By The Erudite Redneck

Last Sunday night, an hour or so before Mama passed, I asked Big Brudder, Little Big Sister and Big Big Sister, who were all in her room, to give me a few minutes alone with her. They all graciously jumped up and gave me the room.

What follows is a very close paraphrase of what I told her. I'm sharing it here because I think it's a good coda for all this -- not that y'all will never see Mama ER mentioned here again! I just need to bring this long story to a close.

Mama, I love you. I want to tell you some things.

I'm so proud of you, and so proud that you're my mama. Thank you for being you and for loving me and for being such an example of love.

Thank you for taking me to church. You brought me up in the way I should go, and, like the Bible says, I did not depart from it. You know that after 20 years of going to church once in awhile, here and there, I joined a church last July. It's because you took me to church when I was little.

Mama, Jesus is real. He rode with me from the city getting here today. It's no parlor trick. It's not just words. Jesus is real, and he loves us. He loves you. He's here right now.

Mama, you are so blessed. I know you are blessed because you're a blessing to me, and to everyone you've ever met. God loves you vertically, and you take it and love everybody around you horizontally. Isn't that exactly the way it's supposed to be!

And Mama, I'm sorry. If we kept you and held onto you too long, we're so sorry. We didn't know what else to do. We love you. I love you.

x x x

You know, we all know we did everything possible for Mama. And, although we wondered at times if we did hold on too long, when it came down to it, we reached consensus that it was time to let her go.

A few things over the past few days made me tear up:

The kindness of my best high school friend, K.Kat, who still lives in the old stomping grounds and stuck as close to me as a brother all week.

The kindness of my best non-high school friend, GP, who drove up from the Dallas area for the funeral and came out to the cemetery.

The unexpected appearance of Tom Kat, old high school friend, who I hadn't seen in years and years and years. His own mama's headstone is close to Mama ER and Daddy ER's, and I know it was hard for him to be there. His mama, unlike Mama ER, just up and died on him when we were about 18 or 19. It sent him into a real spin. To see him there for me and Mama ER was a blessing.

Jeanie Diane: Bless your heart. For everything.

Y'all! I have been sustained by bloggy prayers, happy-happy thoughts, hopes and good karma. It blows me away to know that people I've never met, who know Mama only as "Mama ER," have been praying for her, for me, for us, all over the country. Wow. Bless you all.

x x x

For the record, here are the Scriptures read at the funeral:

Who can find a virtuous woman? for her price is far above rubies. ... Her children arise up, and call her blessed ... -- Proverbs 31: 10, 28.

Train up a child in the way he should go: and when he is old, he will not depart from it. -- Proverbs 22: 6.

Let not your heart be troubled: ye believe in God, believe also in me. In my Father's house are many mansions: if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again, and receive you unto myself; that where I am, there ye may be also. And whither I go ye know, and the way ye know. Thomas saith unto him, Lord, we know not whither thou goest; and how can we know the way? Jesus saith unto him, I am the way, the truth, and the life: no man cometh unto the Father, but by me. -- John 14: 1-6.

The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me. Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the LORD for ever. -- Psalm 23


About the headline: It's a line from "There Shall Be Showers of Blessing." Y'all have been that much of a blessing to me. Thank you.

Thursday, March 01, 2007


'Safe and secure from all alarms'

Thanks, y'all and all.

My selection for the service, which I rememember Mama ER singing at church back in the day, one of my favorite hymns:

"Leaning on the Everlasting Arms" (sound; I had the singer slow it down)

What a fellowship, what a joy divine,
leaning on the everlasting arms;
what a blessedness, what a peace is mine,
leaning on the everlasting arms.

Leaning, leaning,
safe and secure from all alarms;
leaning, leaning,
leaning on the everlasting arms.

O how sweet to walk in this pilgrim way,
leaning on the everlasting arms;
O how bright the path grows from day to day,
leaning on the everlasting arms.

Leaning, leaning,
safe and secure from all alarms;
leaning, leaning,
leaning on the everlasting arms.

What have I to dread, what have I to fear,
leaning on the everlasting arms?
I have blessed peace with my Lord so near,
leaning on the everlasting arms.

Leaning, leaning,
safe and secure from all alarms;
leaning, leaning,
leaning on the everlasting arms.

Other selections:

"The Old Rugged Cross" (sound)

"Sweet Beulah Land" (lyrics)


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