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World's Most…

June 27th, 2010

World’s most beautiful cat.

Sorry – but she is.

World’s most tuckered out eight year old.

(After a day of partying with his brother’s friends.)

World’s most destroyed English garden.

Damn those twelve year olds and their water balloon fights!

Although they probably put this struggling patch mercifully out of it’s misery.

Dear Charles

June 24th, 2010

When the design for the new blog is finished it is going to feature a section called ‘Dear Charles’.  Dear Charles will be an advice column written by my dear friend, Dear Charles.

And just who is Dear Charles, you might ask?

I must admit that I asked myself this question just a few weeks ago when Dear Charles friended me on Facebook.  Except that back then, he wasn’t Dear Charles.  He was just Plain Old, Regular Charles.  And to be honest, I wasn’t quite sure who Plain Old, Regular Charles was and I had to reach far back into my memories to figure it out and well, due to the four holes in my head where the babies came out, that was a lot more work than it should have been.


Do I even know a Charles…????






Once it dawned on me just who Charles was, I hastily friended him back hoping that my hesitation did not come across as some sort of a back handed insult or stony disregard.  But Charles graciously ignored my hesitation and so began a series of letters that have kept me entertained for weeks.  In fact, I became so addicted to Charles’s letters, that if a day went by without getting one, I lost my will to live and the Country Doctor had to hook me up to a respirator and pump me full of steroids.  Charles’s letters became a beacon for me, a lamp unto my feet and a light unto my path.  They shone into the darkness and the darkness did not comprehend them.  But I comprehended them!  And I was having so much fun catching up with Charles and reading his letters that I almost forgot I had a blog.  And that is REALLY SAYING SOMETHING!

But then!

One night!

There occurred a near fatal point in our communication!

Charles ran across a comment on my Facebook page that alluded to my blog.

“You have a blog?” Charles asked.  “Where can I find it?”  he inquired.

And that’s when I abruptly laid down my pen and stopped writing to Charles.

And no, it wasn’t really a pen, but surely you can see how saying ‘laid down my pen’ is much better suited to a post entitled ‘Dear Charles’ than the cold, blunt and thoroughly modern expression ‘closed my laptop’.  But I did close my laptop because I couldn’t write Charles back.

Because I didn’t know how to tell Charles about the blog.

I thought if I told Charles about the blog… somehow… someway…I was worried that… well… that maybe the magic letters from Charles would stop.

I was also just a tad nervous that Charles would hate my blog (as it certainly isn’t unusual for people to hate this blog).  I didn’t think Charles would hate the content… well… yes… maybe he would hate the content… but also he just might hate the uh… well…  sometimes… the occasional um… teensy… weensy… typo shows up in a post and and these typos have the annoying habit of … uh… multiplying whenever I turn my back.  It’s almost like they are breeding.  I guess I have devout Catholic typos… or maybe I have polygamous typos, because they seem to spawn a hundred-fold from the time I finish a post and the time I push the publish button and if I know one thing about Charles (other than that he is the best letter writer ever) it’s that he is an intolerable raging lunatic when it comes to typos.  It is somewhat amazing that he even managed to get through my letters at all without his brain exploding into bloody bits.  But he did.  And I owe him much for this.

And you dear reader, (even the dear readers who hate my guts) will also enjoy ‘Dear Charles’.  I know you will.  Not only because he is a typo Nazi and his writing will be stitched together so perfectly that you won’t even be able to see the stitches, but also because his writing will leave you in stitches.

But why should I try and convince you when I can just SHOW YOU!


I give you…

The first few letters that Charles and I exchanged after Charles friended me on Facebook and then I hesitated and finally friended him back.


Please note – the letters may start off a bit slow, but if you give them time, they will slow down even more, at which point they will slowly swerve to a grinding halt and then begin to move backwards in imperceptible increments.  But they hugely entertained me.  I hope they will entertain you too.

If after reading the letters that I received from Dear Charles, you feel that you have finally come into contact with someone who is qualified to tackle a few prickly metaphysical issues in your own life,  please consider sending him a letter yourself.  I can only promise you this – should you receive a response from Charles, it is like being wrapped in a warm chocolatey blanket of care and concern with a decidedly nutty center.  You can reach ‘Dear Charles’ at ‘dear charles at live dot com’.

There are hundreds of reasons, mountains of evidence, ark-fulls of facts that instantly discredit the Noah’s Ark story from actually happening.  The neighboring Egyptians lived happily before, during and after the flood, writing their history uninterrupted by any forty day thunderstorm.  There are pyramids that pre-date the time that Noah would have been constructing his ark, and these structures show absolutely no water marks or other damage that would have been consistent with significant time under water.  The fossil record does not show a mixture of human remains with animal remains as if there were a sudden world wide catastrophe during which all life came to an end.  You can click here for many more reasons why a global flood that occurred somewhere between six and ten thousand years ago is complete lunacy.

But my reasons for rejecting the idea of Noah and his ark are much more inclined towards the human side of the story and all those babies who died in the alleged flood.  Why did Noah’s god feel the need to kill all those people again?  Oh yeah… because they were sleeping with angels.   They were having sex with angels and producing gigantic sized offspring!  Because that little detail only makes the story SO MUCH MORE BELIEVABLE DOESN’T IT!!!!

I have to tell you that according to the utterly ridiculous interpretation of the ‘Noah Show’ that we watched in Branson, Noah and his three sons were definitely NOT having sex with angels or with anything else, not even their wives! There was no sex going on there at all.  I think that Shem, Ham and Japeth were conceived in yet another instance of a god paying a visit to an undefiled girl and shooting his god seed into her through magic!  Because there was absolutely NO SEX going on in that show.

According to the Branson version of Noah, over the one hundred years that it took Noah’s family to build that ark, there was not one single infant born to any of the sons of Noah.  Not one!  Also, Mrs. Noah felt perfectly at ease to wake her sons and their sleeping wives in the morning with a motherly shake of their shoulders, singing to them in a Cinderella voice while bluebirds flew around her head.  She seemed very certain that she was not going to encounter anyone in… uh… compromised positions (missionary or otherwise).

At one point Noah and his sons visit the ‘evil city’ where all the sin is supposed to be going down.  The only way that ‘sin’ is depicted in the show was through the depraved medium of scarf swirling.  Female actresses draped in layers of robes covered from neck to ankle twirled scarves in front of the men throughout the city.  This scarf swirling was not accompanied by hip swirling, eye batting, boob thrusting, bottom shaking, pole dancing, nor even the horrifying removal of the bun pin and shaking of the hair loose.  Only scarf swirling and one mildly aggressive leader who kicked Noah and his sons out of the city when Noah went all ‘my god is the best god’ on him.  And for this, all of those people (and their babies) were drowned.

Oh!  And I guess they were also sleeping with angels too.

But they sure didn’t show us any of that.

It reminded me of a book I am reading right now called Crazy for God by Frank Schaeffer.  There is a story in that book when Frank is directing a film that gives an evangelical christian version of historical events including art history and they shoot some footage of Michaelangelo’s David for the film.  But due to David’s massive ‘man parts’, all of the scenes that show ‘David’ are cut.  The Christian producer of the film said something like, “Christians might tolerate one of Mary’s holy tits (in a Madonna and child painting) but they won’t be able to stand the sight of David’s massive cock.”  So David was castrated and film footage was used that showed him only from the waist up.  Because back in Bible times, men didn’t have cocks.  Which actually explains a lot doesn’t it?  And Noah’s evil city was filled with horrible women who spent their days swirling scarves.  And this angered Noah’s god so much that he decided to kill them all.

The babies, the toddlers, the five year olds, the six year olds, the seven year olds and the eight year olds and I am sure that there were a bunch of scarf swirling pregnant women that drowned too, making God responsible for the death of lots of unborn babies and we are supposed to believe that this same god, this same tyrant who drowns babies and toddlers and even the unborn – loves us SO MUCH that he DIED ON A CROSS to save us from the sin that he cursed us with to begin with?

Could there not possibly have been a different way to change things more to your liking oh omnipotent creator of the universe?

Maybe instead of having a man build a boat to save only his own family, you could have paid the people a visit yourself god!  Walked around!  Got to know them!  Swirled a few scarves!  Taught them that slave owing is a really bad idea!  Shown them how to prevent disease and maybe opened a really good birthing center!  Started a good school!  Introduced the idea of wind-power!  Told them that the world is round and that they shouldn’t ever kill anyone for having new ideas that might seem to invalidate holy writ.  Informed them that holy writ is a pile of beans and that what really matters is making sure that everyone has enough to eat, access to decent health care and education.

But Noah’s god didn’t do that did he?


Instead he put a bunch of animals on a boat.

And those animals filled that boat with shit.

Piles and piles of shit.

Mountains of shit.

An entire ark that was full of shit.

Just like the whole Noah and the Ark story.

Just like Noah’s god.

Thank goodness I don’t have to believe in that particular boat load of shit anymore.

Okay version of David for evangelical Christians.

Not okay version of David for evangelicals.

Really, really, REALLY not okay version of David for evangelical Christians.