Day 911

Day 911 Friday July 5, 2019

486 Days until the 2020 election and 564 days until the Inauguration

A Conversation with God and the Young Buck

I was down in the man cave the other day when the Young Buck came by. As per usual he was looking into his little phone and nearly tripped over the door sill.
“Are you looking moon faced at your girl friend?” I asked.
“What?” was his response, which is about the only word he knows.
I didn’t say anything for five seconds and he went back to vacantly staring at his phone.
“You know they’re giving away twenty dollar bills on the corner,” I said.
“What?”
“Yeah, first come, first serve, with pizza.”
“You have pizza?”
“No.”
“Oh.”
He was back looking at his screen.
“So the other day God stopped by he was humming ‘ Don’t Rain on My Parade.’ “
“You talked to God?” For some reason this got his temporary attention.
“I didn’t say that. I said he stopped by.”
“God was here?”
“Yeah, sitting in that over stuffed armchair next to you having a beer.”
“God drinks beer?”
“Are you listening? Yes, he likes a Hefeweizen. Nothing too heavy. He gets so much heaviness in his life.”
“You talked to God?”
“Are we back on that again? I said he stopped by. For a beer.”
“He drinks beer?”
“Oh God, here we go again.”
The Young Buck was staring in that dumb open mouth cow faced look he gets when he is trying to process a mental thought all the while looking and grunting into his phone. I heard a young woman’s voice through the phone’s speaker. “Where are you? What is going on?” she said.
I grabbed the Young Buck’s hand, the one holding the phone, and said, “He’s at the World Championship Masterbation Contest, if you’ll excuse him he has to compete right now.”
I heard a “What?” through the phone as I waved at the young pubescent female face and hung up the phone.
“That was not cool,” said the Young Buck.
“Yeah, well you know the rules: ‘No cell phones in the man cave.’ “
“Can I have a beer?”
“No, you’re too young to be drinking beer.”
He lit up a joint, took a drag, and passed it to me.
“Listen, you little piss ant,” I took a drag and started to cough. “How can you breath in that shit.”
“This is good Bohemian bud.”
“Yeah, well it dries out my throat and makes me cough.”
“Here have a beer,” said the Young Buck as he opened the frig grabbed two and handed me one.
“Thanks, now pay attention. As I was saying God stopped by the other day.” As he began to open his mouth, I pointed my finger at him, gave him a semi-stink eye and said, “Don’t.” I kept the finger and the stink eye on him until he closed his half-open oral orifice.
“You were about to say, ‘Did I talk to God?’ ”
I continued, “You’re a bad liar. If you’d listen instead of tuning me out …”
“If you’d say something interesting …”
“Little shit.”
“Old man.”
“As I was saying God stopped by. I didn’t so much talk to him as listen. Okay?”
“Okay. So God was really here?”
“Are you listening? Yes. He sat in the talk-to-God armchair over there.”
“Why do you call it that?”
“Because whenever God comes here that is where he sits. Is that so hard for you to wrap your head around?”
“Give me back my phone.”
“Shut up and listen, you might learn something.”
“I doubt it.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right. You want this back?” I held up his phone with both hands in such a manner that I could have snapped it in half.”
“Don’t break it!”
“You seem concerned. I’m glad to see you care about something. If you want your phone in one piece then you’ll have to wait until you are leaving here. Otherwise, one phone – two pieces. the decision is yours.”
“That’s no fair.”
“So? You came by here remember?”
“Yeah.” He slumped into his seat.
“Don’t pout.”
“Why not?”
“It makes me sad. I might get so torn up that I accidentally might snap this thing in half by accident.”
“Don’t!”
“On purpose.” I tossed the phone onto the bean bag chair. “As I was saying God was singing …”
“Don’t Rain on My Parade.”
“You were paying attention?”
“Yes, I hang on your every word.”
“Pretty funny.”
“That I hang on your every word?”
“No, that God was singing ‘Don’t Rain on My Parade.’ “
“Why?”
“Do I have to explain everything to you? The president of the United States wanted a big parade on the 4th of July. Not to honor our country, or what we stand for but to honor himself. And God pissed all over it.”
“Don’t you think it’s disrespectful to say you were talking to God?’
“Don’t you think it’s disrespectful that people all over the world say they talk to him every day?”
“Why?”
“Did it ever occur to you that they are lying?”
“Hum.”
“Or delusional, I’ll take that as a ‘No.’ Listen, there are all these folks who don’t have a legitimate argument, but want something magical to go their way so they tell everyone that it’s God’s wish, or God told them to do it. As long as they aren’t Son-of-Sam or someone like that then they are allowed to get away with that horse shit.”
“I don’t know.”
“Is that smoke coming off the top of your head? I know, this is hard to take in. It’s a thought that requires a conclusion and you can’t google it to find out because it is asking you to think for yourself.”
“What?”
“QED”
“Who’s that?”
“You’ve seen the James Bond movie where they refer to someone as Q?”
“Oh yeah, but what’s that got to do with God?”
“Oh geez, who do you think God is?”
“Q?”
“We are going nowhere fast. Let me just finish telling you about God’s stopping by.”
“God was here?”
“God? Beer? Armchair? Remember?”
“Yeah, you don’t have to sound so hostile.”
“You don’t have to act so stupid.”
“That’s mean.”
“Aw, I’m sorry. Did I hurt your feelings? “
“Shut up.”
“Oh no, I hurt your feelings. Are you offended too?”
“Shut up.”
“Does this mean you’re leaving?”
“Do you have anymore beer?”
“Yes, so I guess that means ‘No,’ which is good.”
“Why?”
“Because it give me a chance to try and cram some sense into you.”
“Good luck.”

“Yeah, I know. Low percentage and all that, but you gotta try.”
“Why did you say you talked to God?”
“Why? Because I’m sick and tired of the stupid claiming some moral high ground over this shit. That’s why. Look, you can’t reason with them because they BELIEVE. You gotta fight faith with faith.”
“Will that work?”
“Probably not, but then nothing else has worked either. What stuns me is how easily they are manipulated by the rich and powerful who claim all kinds of patriotic or religious stuff in an effort to get something over on them.”
“Like what?”
“Like ‘right to work’ or ’tax cut.’ The first means companies have the right to fire you and there’s nothing you can do about it. The idea of the rich when it comes to a tax cut is they don’t pay.”
“Oh.”
“Look, the list goes on and on. Can you think of one thing Trump has done to help you?”
“He’s president right?”
“Wow, you are spot on. How about McConnell? He’s been a senator for like 36 years. Can you name one thing he’s done to help people?”
“He’s in Congress or something, right?”
“Right? How did you get so smart? Were you awake during history? I can think of many things McConnell has done to screw up this country, but when it comes to ‘that vision thing,’ or simply helping people with some legislation I can’t think of a single thing. I do know he’s gotten rich. His wife keeps getting jobs in the Republican administrations, yet I never hear of her doing anything to help folks, just herself and her family.”
“Why is that?”
“Good question – ‘Why is that?’ Hey, I gotta go. I think the brownies need to come out of the oven.”
“Brownies?”
“Are you hungry?”
“I got the munchies.”
“Really?”
“Say, did you know I’d be stopping by?”
“Bright boy, there is hope for you.”

486 Days until the 2020 election and 564 days until the Inauguration

PS Not the Young Buck