Tuesday, July 31, 2012
Speaking of high school, did I ever mention how much I loathe that disgusting pervert Quique Simán? His family is incredibly wealthy but he was always nothing but obnoxious to me, always harassing me every time I had to walk near him in the hallways of school because he had some kind of obsession with my name, all because maybe someone near my locker made a joke about the movie Don Quijote, which featured the barmaid Dulcinea, whose name sounds sort of like "dulce," which could sort of mean sweet or candy, ha ha ha! which is really not the correct spelling of my name but this is the lifelong thorn in my flesh given to me by my parents, a name that seems to invites teasing of many people and not only from them. I was always teased about my name during childhood but in the ignoring of it these people really ought to be getting a clue that I don't want to hear any more of it from them. I did not encourage that but the more I ignore it the more determined they become to prolong the harrassement ad nauseum, still getting in my face hoping to get a reaction I suppose. That is how those crude street guys are. They harass white girls with what few English words they can muster which is why it is best to just continue to ignore them. If hey don't get the message that just proves how socially immature they really are. I am a Christian girl so I just ignore that.
Speaking of high school, I really have nothing to say about Jeanice Barton Lewis, whose face I might have seen about the halls. I imagine that she mostly hung out with the blond clique, those snooty arrogant blondes — Gwen, Judy, Kelly, etc. — who imagine that they alone represent the interests of the United States and its citizens. Not really. Sorry that you got got stuck in dummies track but anyway your attitude proves then and now proves that is where you belong.
Sunday, July 29, 2012
I am trying to imagine why I should feel some sort of pity or empathy for the obnoxious whiny Tinker family only because some little known author of the 19th century once used their name for a ship's dog. Do these whiny Tinkers have no sense of reality? I mean, really, nobody cares. I never even knew of this book's existence until recently so all these silly photos of dogs only give the impression that the Tinkerers are incredibly self-absorbed and taking things way out of proportion. I mean, what about me? Have they no sympathy for me? Do they not recall that the whiny San Giovanni family had named their dog Candy, which sounds like my name, and when Kathy was talking about her dog there was no reason for me to listen or respond in any way as obviously she was not talking about me. So? Making any stink at all about it would only make me seem that much dumber because often these dogs wind up with names that also may be used for humans and these are only a few minor examples of this insignificant phenomenon unworthy of commentary at least in my opinion.
Friday, July 27, 2012
If Jan Green was expelled for saying what she said, I can see where it would logically be fair to also expel Dareda Embry for what she said. After all, most of us Christian girls would not want everyone to think that Dareda's off-the-wall comments were in any representative of anything that we were even thinking about at the time. And anyway, was Dareda the only married woman on the planet that she alone should lay claim to sexual favors when actually she has no husband? Thus it seems logical that Dareda should be sent home to Illinois to ponder the error of her ways rather than inflict upon us this amoral swamp in which she appears to be wallowing. Life is complicated enough without these faithless friends hanging around to lead me astray. And why are those dogs, June and Dareda and Jan, still hanging around at my doorway when actually they are not invited? In fact, I don't remember inviting them in the first place. It was just one of those college things that you probably regretted later but refuse to admit, but anyway nobody made you say that.
Near the end of my year at Evangel there was a confrontation by some girls on the dorm floor at Spence Third North, something about how they did not like me, they would be monitoring my behavior in the future and if I ever make a tiny mistake then they would have me fried. In other words I would have to prove that my name is not Dareda. I looked upon their faces seething with hatred, especially that of grandstanding South Dakota dog Pam Hart and others who seized the opportunity to make their voices heard on what they thought might have been said by someone. I thought about the prospect of returning to Evangel burdened by this condition of probation, as if my mind had ever thought of these things that other people said. I thought about the prospect of being presumed guilty and of having to prove my innocence to these hideous dogs already seething with hatred, especially that loathsome and disgusting dog Pam Hart who figured so prominently in the inquisition of me, and I realized that I could not return to Evangel the following year and allow myself to be ruled over by this hideous herd of South Dakota swine, their faces straining and gnashing, eagerly awaiting the first opportunity to sink their fangs into my flesh and tear me into a thousand pieces. As if I ever did anything to these persons with whom I was barely acquainted and as if I need them to explain the Ten Comandments to me. No, it is better to send these South Dakota dogs packing at every opportunity or be eaten alive by that idiot jackal pack. If the United States had to lose one of its fifty states we could always pave over South Dakota at no great loss in my opinion.
Thursday, July 26, 2012
I seem to remember that Pam Hart was the roommate of June who was in the room during the talk. Of course, June was quite the wild woman so it is hard to imagine what kind of strange spin she might have put on the conversation of Dareda and others because the way it came out of Pam Hart made it sound totally weird, even weirder than the original. So anyway, I totally agree with what Pam was saying in the sense that I think that premarital sex is wrong. We are Christians and we just don't do that. I do not believe that desperately frizzled dog Dareda was suggesting that exactly but that is what Pam made it sound like. I really do not want to think about it that much. This actually would be a subject matter for analysis by someone with a Ph.D. in the appopriate discipline, namely Jennie Cerrullo. I would not want to claim the credentials of a Cerrullo and thus I discreetly avoid this subject unless it is thrown in my face in which case I try to be nice but anyway it is not something that I know anything about so I really would prefer to err on the side of caution when push comes to shove, not that I would ever have that problem. There are lots of nice Christian guys out there who are also somewhat risk averse for the right reasons, I would imagine, so there is no need for me to explain this to them. If the man cannot be a Christian leader to me then I would have to leave him behind in the dust because a true gentleman would not be so ungentlemanly as to try to force me to explain why Dareda said that. About the time that Jan Green disappeared I remember someone telling the story of someone else who was expelled years earlier on the first floor of the dorm because of a cigarette in the room and ladder outside the window but I really would not have any idea who that person was because that was several years earlier and anyway I do not remember why Ukrainian Sue or Marge Couch or someone was even telling this story about a total stranger's case totally unrelated to Jan Green's case except that these little stories get passed down the grapevine. Jan Green told us that her sister climbed out a window and eloped but that is a whole different story.
It is tempting to feel sorry for these ugly girls of Evangel thinking that they suffer from some sort of disadvantage. However, after hearing the rabid rantings of such hideous creatures as Pam Hart and Dareda Embry and Anna Bowen one realizes that actually these ugly girls are meaner and nastier than any other because they imagine themselves compensating for some sort of handicap, as if the pretty girls were the ones who made them stupid. They fall into the trap of thinking that it is someone else's fault. No, their own attitude is their problem. Oh, was Jan Green expelled from Evangel? I didn't remember much about her. Having no great assets to boast of, these dogs of Evangel have an irresistible impulse to continually chew on the furniture. For them, it is not enough for me to say that I heard what Dareda said. They want more. They want me to say things that I never thought of and do things that I never did. They want me to say that I passed the Camel around the room but there was none that I recall, just some people gathered on a very cold day overly pumped up and running off at the mouth. Thus, if Jan was expelled later it was because she probably earned the distinction in her own right, not because of anything that I said. I don't even remember saying anything much.
Tuesday, July 24, 2012
I vaguely remember that during the two years that I worked at Vida Publishers in Miami, almost every day of the week I would have lunch upstairs sitting usually with Pam Roberts and Sue Olin. Pam is a motormouth usually talking all about herself and her boyfriend, every detail of their relationship ad nauseum. Sue usually talks about theology, especially abundant life theology, the prosperity gospel, meaning the Copeland and Hagin idea of the Word of Faith theology in which whatever one says is whatever comes to reality. Thus if I say that I am duck I am a duck. What can I say? My Dad, an Assemblies of God missionary, is the one full of "blab it and grab it" jokes so we really don't fit very well into that circle of theological thought although we have to be nice to these people because they have a lot of money. Just because I used to have a little sign "Mental Ward" posted in my room as a joke, which I bought at the mall in Springfield, MO, maybe at the Spencer's store, during my first year of college, that does not mean that I actually inhabit a mental ward or deserve to go there in the "Word of Faith" sense of thing. Anyway, my mom made me get rid of that sign a long time ago because she was worried about the influence of it but anyway it was not about my needing psychiatric care. It was just that maybe nothing makes sense for me. Someone always seems to be pulling the rug out from under me or something like that so I was just sort of trying to make lemonade in a manner of speaking.
How long will the dirty dogs of Foursquaredom be allowed to trample upon us and perscute us and sneer and ridicule us? Uncle Sam's idiot children, as well as Key, have set a very lousy example for them. In reality, we have a very low opinion of those Foursquare swine, mostly snooty celebs whose season of popularity is long past, and this probably includes the horrible Hammonds, especially those hideous wicked witches Katherine and Betty. I often hear their voices cackling in the background. Someday when I have money, I will leave those horrible Hammonds far behind in the dust. My story has absolutely nothing do with the dreary Hammonds. In fact, I might even suggest that the horrid Hammonds emigrate to China if they are so interested because we are not. We would prefer to make America our home without being terrorized constantly by these dimwitted Hammonds and their "sick" in-law connections, the Roberts and the Muellers, etc. Just because our great-grandparents were acquainted, that does not mean that we care to continue this fruitless and unequitable relationship that is so burdensome to us. We don't remember hideous Katherine and have nothing nice to say about that hideous creature. Where did all the sane people go?
Which reminds me of the old joke. Our church's denominational headquarters is located in Springfield, Missouri. Sometimes when people were making the obligatory voyage to that city there was the little joke about having to make the pilgrimage to Mecca. For those in the know, and with a sense of humor, this joke is chuckle-worthy aside if not overused or too often repeated and also not used in the presence of a humorless sourpuss by the name of Sharon Turner, whose mental distortions are proof positive that one can have a college major in English and yet have never achieve writing success for lack of anything intelligent to say.
Saturday, July 21, 2012
Or maybe her name was Dareda Embry. I am fairly sure that it was her unless I have Dareda confused with some other blonde. So? Was I supposed to roast Dareda's butt? That could require also a roast of Cori Nipper's horrid butt also, obviously, so why do we suddenly have trashy stripper Cori strutting around as if she had something to be proud of? It doesn't make any sense.
Of course, we who were there in the dorm room at Evangel are pretty sure that it was Darlene who said that, blonde curly hair, or at least I am. I cannot believe that came out of her mouth. The thought would have never crossed my mind but obviously she is way ahead of me. Perhaps she is more experienced in these details so was able to get there before me. But I can only imagine.
Thursday, July 19, 2012
Perhaps Dr. George Wood has forgotten this, but we always thought that during his talk at my college graduation ceremonies that one of the things he said was, "Being is better than doing." I don't recall him saying, "Beeing is better than dueing," only that "being is better than doing." Even so, I am not sure what he meant by that exactly, except perhaps to ease the anxiety of college students who were about to be dumped into the melting pot of adult life without knowing exactly what they would be "doing" next. Their heads might be full of college learning so obviously had something to say about everything even if they lacked the years of job experience and accomplishments and public recognition needed to match their fledgling ambitions, not having earned themselves a place at the table of treaty negotiations or whatever it is. Still, actions speak volumes so I do not know what else to add to that.
Wednesday, July 18, 2012
I have never lived by the sword so I really cannot imagine why I am hearing all these ominous threats about being killed by the sword. Yes, we often had "sword drills" during Bible study hour at the Missionary Kid school. I usually did fairly well at this in my opinion but it was often the case that Paul Gibbard won because he was faster than anyone else. You have to hold your Bible over your head until given the citation and the signal to start. Then everyone quickly thumbs through their Bibles and the first person to stand up, having found the Bible verse, reads the verse aloud to everyone else. It is a necessary skill for any Christian to learn how to handle the sword, meaning the "Word of God," correctly. If this bothers you then obviously you are just a pagan busybody who does not know of what you are speaking. Enough said.
I never learned how to really sew. I am not saying that I could not make minor repairs if I really had to on my own clothing but anyway for one thing my mother is so much better at all of these things that I would just embarrass myself trying to lift a finger. It would be a ridiculous joke for me to think of offering my sewing services when obviously so many others are so much more skilled than myself, as for example sewing whiz choir member Kendra, as I was saying to choir member Dianne Faruqui, and only because Dianne was asking nosy questions about whether I sew and why don't I and how she hires Kendra to do her menial tasks in the sewing department. Obviously Dianne is really not interested in hiring me to do her sewing, not that I would ever offer to help with this job of heaping ridicule on my own head. Obviously, if I am not going to cooperate with these wicked scriptwriters, they will be rewriting the script without any help from me.
When we were in El Salvador, my Dad served a short time as the director of the Bible institute. During that time, he prided himself in being probably the only director who, in addition to administrative duties, was not too proud to lend a hand to assist with various repair jobs such as when the bathroom plumbing was broken and other odd jobs. This type of eagerness to step down from lofty mysterious heights of administration to perform menial tasks, unlike some other missionaries, actually seemed to clash with the upwardly mobile ambitions of the Bible school students who were looking forward to occupying positions of prestige from which they could delegate these menial tasks to the less fortunate servants hired to worry about these minor details, freeing them to worry about more important matters. Not that I would be able to comment on these matters given the fact that I am apparently considered not competent to administer anything and thus nobody wants to hear it from me.
Monday, July 16, 2012
I remember Pam Roberts always saying how she tries not to expect too much so that she will not be disappointed. Pam flatters herself as being the most humble and unassuming person on the planet even while dissing me on a continual basis, to my face as well as behind my back, as if I did not notice all those little digs. So if that tactic works for the Roberts clan, why does not the same tactic work for me? If I expect nothing and dis everyone I can think of, still nothing changes. Still I am dissed and insulted on a continual basis by the putrid whiny pretentious Roberts clan, as if I ever asked them for anything. Actually the Roberts never gave me anything. They are just grandstanding for their own self-aggrandizement purposes, basically, because otherwise there is no reason for us to be acquainted with those obnoxious whiners Pam and Craig who as we all know are right there on the grapevine with the worst offenders.
Of recreational books read during high school I remember very little. My mom bought some books at the grocery store or bookshop but the only titles I remember are something like "Evergreen," a depressing story set in Ireland, a "Thornbirds" book set in Australia, and also I might have read that novel set in Japan that is so awful about the European who lives there and learns the ways of the Samurai warrior although I don't remember if I read that one there or elsewhere. It was all fiction of course, but just thought of living such dreary immoral lives is quite depressing. So thanks mom for all those books. But anyway those Spanish people have no reason to get so uppity about literature when obviously their own national treasures are full of crude and vulgar inventions revealing the cesspool that is the human imagination when not renewed and redirected by the Holy Spirit.
Tuesday, July 10, 2012
What an odd way of reminding me of a conversation I once had during college with Cheryl Ganskey, who was talking about her recent missions trip to Amsterdam. I think it was co-sponsored by YWAM. Cheryl was talking about the terrible problem of prostitution and sex slavery that plagues the City of Amsterdam which from what she was saying sounded like a huge red-light district. I guess a lot of those Dutch milkmaids are quite wicked despite having a chicly dressed monarch. It sounded scary but I have never really been to Amsterdam so it is hard for me to imagine what that would be like. I was never called by God to minister in that terrible situation. You would really have to feel like it was God's calling because otherwise there would be no reason to go there.
Monday, July 9, 2012
I do not recall saying that I would not or should not pay my fair share under a given set of circumstances. It all depends. But Eric is wrong to imagine that I am Dutch. Am I my cousin's mother? No, obviously not. I imagine that those are the words you were trying to extract from me, but talk is cheap. You people ought to put the money where your mouth is. All these words have no value. It's just cheap chatter that occupies too much brain space. Now if I could just trade all this excess verbiage for dollars, then I would have to something to spend. Then I could really say, "Shopping mall, here I come." But anyway, talk is cheap.
Which reminds of a best forgotten episode of family history in which my Dad's cousin Suzanne, in voyaging around the world, was briefly engaged to some sort of Oriental prince she met somewhere in Asia, in Nepal or thereabouts. I was not in the country at the time and don't remember anything about that except maybe seeing a newspaper clipping. It was very embarrassing for all concerned when the Prince called to say he would not be attending the wedding and the wedding presents had to be returned. We do not want to hear another peep out of those people, obviously. They probably have a lot of money and political influence to make our lives miserable but we are not Suzanne and we are not impressed with their rotten attitude, obviously.
Saturday, July 7, 2012
Although I was never aware of the existence of the "Theosophical Outlook" until recently and as a general rule never have time for the "National Enquirer," there being so many more important things to read and think about in the whole scheme of things, still I believe that there is no reason to doubt the eyewitness accounts listed in the review of the book by Colonel Gardiner regarding "The Visions of Mons." Certainly, there were enough similarities in the stories to assume that possibly some supernatural phenomenon may have been manifested on the battlefields of World War I, an event now receded nearly one hundred years into the past, even if the evidence is purely anecdotal. The scary part is the idea that one gets that perhaps many of the persons who experienced these visions died there on the battlefield and only a handful survived to tell the tale. Thus, while I agree that there probably are spiritual forces at work on battlefields, I have not much desire to learn more about that. Internet sources indicate that I could drive several hundred miles to read this book available only in a library in another state, but why bother? It's just not that important to me. I am not unaware of the place of the "National Enquirer" at supermarket checkout stands, but why clutter my brain with all that irrelevant trivia? It's just not that important to me.
Friday, July 6, 2012
It is vaguely interesting to note that some distant cousins of ours, the grandchildren of Tim Barth in Northern California, have ended up with the surname Israel. I cannot imagine how that could have happened as no one in our family is Jewish and we are all Christians, completely sold out to Christ, with one or two exceptions. As far as we are concerned, this present age is the kingdom of God and of His Christ, and if you cannot accept Christ as your Messiah then you really have no place trying to order us around and telling us what to think when you really do not represent anything that we believe and hold dear. We feel sorry for you because you are spiritually blind and lack the true understanding of the light of Christ but we feel that if you cannot cooperate with us on the basis of polite society rules of the U.S.A. then, well, you could always emigrate to Israel, a place where you can play by Israeli rules. Here in the U.S.A. we have no establishment of government-sponsored religion and thus we do not want to be hearing from you through the podium of politicians and politically radicalized pastors who are not related to us and don't really understand who we are. We are not against you but if you are continually antagonizing us then you make it impossible for us to help you understand the stark reality that our family is actually not holding a secret pot of money. I don't understand where these jokes come form. There is always the mail if you really have something intelligent to say to us.
Tuesday, July 3, 2012
Of course we all know that Sherri Turnbull is the most horrid despicably obnoxious mentally retarded big mouth on the planet. She had to adopt mentally retarded children so that at last she could find someone actually dumber than herself to talk to. What a horrible excuse for missionary kid is the hideous Sherri of Panama, that land of pretentious nasty missionaries who take the cake for being too big for their own britches, to borrow a saying, as everyone else already knows about the worthless swamp known as Panama. Just returning the favor, not that I know what her problem is. I really couldn't care less what those drunken dogs thinks about anything.
Sunday, July 1, 2012
If you have done the genealogical research then you will know that my great-great-grandfather was born in Saxony, also called Sachsen, a province of Germany. He was maybe three years old when his family immigrated to America in 1850. His three sons were memorialized as church-going citizens.
- Elmer Barth: Trinity United Methodist Church.
- Jesse Louis Barth: Market Street Presbyterian Church.
- David Allen Barth (my great-grandfather): Christian and Missionary Alliance Church
I vaguely seem to remember having this conversation at some time in the past with someone whose identity I cannot quite recall, something about how we should not be too hard on those poor simple-minded Chinese Pentecostals whose views of the Trinity are not exactly Orthodox because lots of Christians are not exactly Orthodox for various reasons. Like, for example, anyone who is not Anglican is not an Orthodox Christian. Huh? Wrong! Actually, lots of Orthodox Christians are not Anglicans. Lots of Orthodox Christians are non-conforming in the Anglican sense of confirmation and yet wholeheartedly adhere to the basic Christian tenets set forth in the Nicean Creed. Anyway, the true invisible church, the Bride of Christ, is not synonymous with any particular human institution, much as we may pride ourselves in the achievements of our particular institutions. So there was no reason for you to try to dump me in the Anglican bucket. I have met people who were Anglicans back in school days, and they certainly are opinionated people as I recall, but anyway we all are entitled to our opinions and we all believe ourselves to be at the center of God's will and everyone else in non-conformity typically. The only Anglicans I ever met at SCC were my sister's roommates Jill Anderson and Linda Harrington. Other than that I really don't remember who was saying that, although Sherri Turnbull is certainly very opinionated as I recall. Maybe Sherri knows more about this Anglican stuff than I do.