Lenny Bruce is not afraid
A Scream to Eat the Sky

A Hundred Years


Wheat fields in Kansas. The Heartland. The Breadbasket. The thing we broke our backs to bring back to life, one hundred years ago.

I was doing something I should never do. I was reading and responding to my own Facebook posts. I try to keep them to a minimum, but lately my upset, grief, rage, terror - not fear, terror, have gotten the better of me. The least I can do is buckle my seatbelt and breathe.

I was thinking about the Ark. It's the one of a handful of stories that stuck with me when I brute forced myself through the King James version of the Old Testament. This is the one I think of as the, first testament and the other as the second testament and this drives my father batshit.

What did you expect? You handed me a big ass book when I was still in single digits, told me to be respectful of peoples beliefs because people go to war over this shit, and then walked away. You weren't expecting me to read it, were you? Yeah, probably you were, of my own accord. Well, Dad, you were right. I did read it. However, having left me to my own devices, you can't actually have a legitimate opinion of my interpretation, can you? If you'd tutored, and I am NOT suggesting that you should have, if you'd sent me to Sunday School, oh good lord, I think my mother did the summer I was four (but that was it, ok? that was IT), then you might have an expectation. But you didn't. You just handed me that big ass book with the pretty white leather cover, said a few words and never looked back.

I love you more than you will ever know for that.

Where was I? Noah, the guy who walked with God, his wife, his three sons, and all of their wives.

Question: in your translation of The First Testament (you do have one, right? not just the second book?) who is Noah, how old is Noah, how many sons, and what are their names? Asking for a friend.

Cough. Quote scripture in my comment section and it'll be gone so fast your head will spin. Refer to it in a scholarly way without any sort of attachment and we'll be OK. 

The Old Testament is undoubtably, the greatest book ever... Ever what? Ever read, I think. That book is so full of metaphor I nearly wet my pants first time I picked it up again (this morning). The New Book is still a bit of a mystery to me. I seem to do better when I'm dealing with Yahweh direct. Yahweh is startlingly direct. Also, please note your translation. If it occurred during the twentieth century or later, try to find something a little closer to the Aramaic (not that my edition of the King James can identify Aramaic, but maybe you're following me).  

When I read Genesis 6 through wherever it ended (actually, it was sort of hard to pin down), I didn't even blink about 500 year old Noah and never mind Methuselah (that dude had staying power). I accepted it as a fact within the context of the book.

Who's brain is sizzling? Or who didn't actually process that last paragraph? Try again.

When I read Genesis 6 forward, I processed a really pissed off entity that, in a VERY human way, realized he'd made an egregious error. I heard an architect looking at his work and saying to himself, ah, crap, that's just not going to work. It's gross, actually. I'm offended (at my work) and I'm just going to have to start over. At the cosmic whiteboard, Yahweh posed with the cosmic eraser and yelled:

Yahweh:    Uh, NOAH?! You following me?

Noah:        Yes, Yahweh, copy that.

Yahweh:    OK, so listen. I'm about to reboot this last batch of shit I concocted because it's focacta. 

Noah:        Well that sucks.

Yahweh:    Why? I should leave this stinking rathole and move on? I'd rather just do something else.

Noah:        Well, I'm kind of attached to the oxygen in my lungs plus I'm sort of fond of those boys and I think those might be my grandchildren. At least some of them.

Yahweh:    My point.

Noah:        Yah, OK, so thanks for the heads up? I should bang seventy virgins now and be done with it? I don't think we actually have that many in the village.

Yahweh:    Jesus (and THAT is where that came from). You're an idiot sometimes.

Noah:        You've recently had coffee with my wife, I see.

Yahweh:    Not relevant.

Noah:        Well fuck both of you to hell then?

Yahweh:    To what?

Noah:        Never mind. Your Point? You inferred a point.

Yahweh:    Ah, Yah, that. I feel kind of bad about this. Don't misunderstand, this shit is epic and I am about to go ALL BIBLICAL ON YOUR ASSES (Yahweh had the script to Pulp Fiction?!) but I'd like to hold a little back. Just in case. In case I might not have gotten it ALL wrong. 

Noah:        You want seeds? I fail to see why I would collect seeds for YOU when you're intention is to go ALL BIBLICAL ON MY ASS. 

Yahweh:    You misunderstand.

And Yahweh gave Noah a set of really interesting, crazy specific instructions.

Forty Days and Forty Nights and something like One Hundred and Fifty Days afloat (I can't even imagine the conditions in that hold. how many species do you think we lost?) and then it was all over and the repopulation began.

Yahweh said:    Never again. Never, ever, ever again (sounds distressingly like my third husband). It broke my heart to do it and it shattered me to watch the aftermath. I'm not doing this shit again. 

Yahweh:    Hey! Guys! PEEEEEPPPPSSS! Anybody out there?

Noah:        Yes, Lord, I am here.

Yahweh:    Lord?

Noah:        Never mind, go on.

Yahweh:    Listen. I'm not exactly washing my hands of you people but I'm washing my hands of you people. I'm hoping you're smart enough to read between the lines when I say: I'm not going through this shit EVER AGAIN.

Noah:        Not following. Sorry.

Yahweh:    {passive aggressive asshole}

Noah:        What was that?

Yahweh:    Clearing my through. cough. OK, check this out. I made you a sign; put this on at least sixty billboards (work it out, Man, work it out):


Noah:        What's that?

Yahweh:    That's you. That's you with your head up your ass but at least you're running the show. You all are going to fuck up in more ways than I can possibly imagine but, HEAR THIS, NOAH AND HEAR THIS WELL:

I'm not getting you out of any of it. I'm not responsible for any of it. I'm not responsible for war, rape, murder, SIDs, suicide, whatever sexual or gender issues you get yourselves in a twist over. I'm not responsible for the beauty, the grandeur, the kindness, the love, the children who live, the people who grow old and die peacefully in their sleep, the Grand Canyon (wait, no, mine), the music, the sex, the restoration of natural and manmade disasters and mostly, Noah? Are you paying attention?

I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR WAR, CLIMATE CHANGE, STARVATION, OR PLAGUE. That's how you beautiful assholes are most likely going to wipe out this mess I've made once and for all. 

Noah:        Um.

Yahweh:    And later on you're going to start begging and it will be gussied up begging called prayer. I'm telling you now, don't do it. It's going to be distracting and it's going to piss me off.

Noah:        Um. What if we're asking for a friend?

Yahweh:    I'll think about it, but for now, you are on your own.

Noah:        Does this mean you don't love me anymore?

Yahweh:    At what point did it become all about you?

Noah:        Sorry. When you're right, you're right.


Noah:        Crap. Sorry. Sir. Yahweh. Father. Oh FML!

Yahweh:    Just kidding. You don't see the mess I made of this in the first place? I am most assuredly NOT always right and quite honestly I want nothing to do with this shit. BUT. I love you so I'm going to hang out for a a couple thousand years - AND BY THE WAY, a year is when, of fuck it, you'll figure it out eventually - and I'm going to be hanging out loving you people but I am NOT, I repeat, NOT saving you from yourselves. That's on you. Spread the word, K?

Noah:        FML. Consider it done. Uh, billboards?

Yahweh:    Bermashave! Never mind.


At no point in time, in that First Book did Yahweh say one word about saving anybody. Did he get pissed off? You bet he did. Did he ask the sons of Abraham to do some fucked up shit? Apparently. But he did not, at any point, save us. 

We did, however, save ourselves on a couple of occasions but those times are biblical. 


I was thinking about who we are (back to the 21st Century of the Current Era, folks) yesterday and I described in two separate responses what I was seeing in our country today. I realize that's a little small minded of me but we are SO big and we have SO many dead bodies and there are going to be SO MANY MORE dead bodies and I just hate that shit. Add that to my feelings about what we've done to the Midwest - HEY! YOU! ASSHOLE! I MEAN YOU TOO WHEN I SAY 'WE' - I've been thinking for a very long time about this fence post to fence post shit and the concept of crop rotation and fixing nitrates that has literally VANISHED from our tribal lexicon (even if you're old enough to have learned it, you're behavior may very well say you've forgotten it) and my nineteen year old daughter informs me, when I ask, that yes, they read excerpts from The Grapes of Wrath and I literally want to kill myself for about fourteen seconds. 

OK. So it's a 100 year do-over. I get that. Except it feel different this time. There are more of us. We are significantly meaner than we've ever been (it's an overpopulation too many rats in a box thing, pretty sure) and Good Lord are we ever entitled! I'm no longer waiting for the MiddleEast to wipe us off the map and I'm not particularly concerned about North Korea either.

Pogo Quote. Insert here.

And this is what I saw:

A tsunami of bleach from the West Coast and a tsunami of bleach from the East, an epic, BIBLICAL crash in the middle of the country right over the sixth Great Lake (no, not the Palouse, that's too far Northwest).

Beneath the backyard gardens (they're too small to grow much else, pop = 200~ and about 25% below the poverty line) of Lebanon, Kansas, the geographic dead center of the 48 Contiguous United States, lies Lake Ammonia.  

Lake Ammonia

I have second, third, forth, and fifth interviews with the company I interviewed with for 2 hours on Friday. The only thing keeping the hard on going is how much and how badly I love and need to do my job. The fifty pound sack of flour will run out way before I die.

Dark, huh?

I'd like to think saying:


Would make the least bit of difference, but I don't. I think Yahweh was right. 

I think Yahweh was right and Jesus Christ was the best we could come up with. Epic. Fail.

No awful pictures.

This song has never been so beautiful as it is today.

I love you, clearly full of hope, or I surely would not be contributing to the Book of Man, otherwise known as The Bible, Part III.