One World

We’ve gotten so polarized and paranoid that I have trouble listening to this song. It’s informed by the only strain of Christianity that I was at all comfortable with when I was growing up. Now I find myself looking for hidden agendas just because it’s religious at all. I don’t know any more if that’s good or bad.

Chris DeBurgh’s ‘One World’:




I generally avert from soft rock anyhow, but it’s knowing that he also cut ‘Spaceman‘ that influences my reaction to ‘One World’.

I suspect that most of us here could get along fine with him, as long as we didn’t talk directly about religion. But maybe not anymore.

There’s an article in today’s Washington Post on a related subject that you might find interesting.

EDIT #1: I just followed a few other links, and found his song ‘Patricia the Stripper‘. DeBurgh is my guy now. We’re buds.

EDIT #2: I also just encountered another version of ‘Patricia the Stripper’. There is something soooo wrong about sock puppets with nipples.

Put them all together, they spell Mother…

baby-caroline-scan.jpgSo, I had planned on doing a post about this, but there wasn’t a lot I could add without being really obnoxious and a wee bit unfair.

Before you go any further – there is kinda gross talk in the rest of the post, so if you’re of a squeamish bent, please stop reading now…

My Mom’s birthday is today.  It’s also, as she likes to remind us, Mexican Independence Day.  (Mom’s big on combining education and helpful reminders.) And in honor of her Mom-ness, I’d like to tell a true story:

A number of years ago, we went to my folks’ house for some holiday.  I can’t remember which.  It may have been Arbor Day.  Maybe Christmas. One of those.

So I’m in the kitchen helping out.  And Mom says to me, all casual like, “Be careful if you open the freezer in the garage.”

This is suspicious.

Warily, I say, “And why is that?”

She doesn’t look up from the onions she’s chopping. “There’s a deer in there.”

I’m perplexed.  Neither of my parents are hunters, despite the fact that they live in Texas.

“Why is there a deer in there?”  I ask.

“Oh, it hung itself on the fence.”

“Was it depressed?” I ask.

“I don’t think so,” she replies.  “I think it just didn’t make the jump.”

I stir the gravy.  “And why is the deer in the freezer?”

“Well,” she says cheerfully, “it was really pretty and I thought I’d have it stuffed.”

At this point, I taste the gravy and decide it needs some salt and pepper.  Maybe a little sherry.

“And how long has the deer been in the freezer?” I ask after attending to the gravy.

“Oh, about six months.”

“Ah,” I say.  “I think it may be past its expiration date.”

“Oh, well, hmmm.”

She starts cutting up celery.

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