Friday, November 30, 2012

Which reminds me

While I was a reporter at the Haines City Herald covering the tiny town of Dundee I recall there was a controversy over the local creche which was displayed on public property owned by the town. The town received a letter from the ACLU requesting its removal. The other reporter Cherie Jacobs, who wrote for the bigger paper, the Lakeland Ledger, wrote a story which contained mainly the contents of the ACLU letter in addition to a description of the creche. My story, which appeared later, after the town meeting, included more of the comments of the mayor who expressed the town's defense of its opinion that there was no reason for them to remove the creche. I don't remember what happened later, if the town abandoned this idea of displaying the creche on public land or it was moved to private land or something. I really don't care that much personally. I was just doing my job. I only covered that town for a short town and, anyway, this is not an issue that will make or break my Christian beliefs. Whatever the decor may or may not be, Christmas is something I believe and know in the heart and is not dependent on the presence of these knick-knacks so beloved by simple-minded Catholics who don't seem to know any better. Christmas says something about what Christians believe in regards to the virgin birth of Jesus, an idea that is apparently not agreeable to Jewish people. They have no real understanding of Christmas, sad to say. More recently, it was disturbing to be receiving messages from this Cherie Jacobs or similar wicked witch sorceress, possibly even my own Wicked Witch Anita, who was saying that if I am putting all my faith in some object, that I will become myself just a baby doll of sorts, just a statue upon which other persons will project emotions and ideas of their choosing, myself not being anything but a piece of plastic, a reflector that they can use to accelerate their own particular personal agenda. I did not like hearing all of this garbage from trashy dog Stacy and her clueless sidekick Sue. I did not like not being able to control my life. I did not like my words falling into the air and dissipating like a tree that falls in the forest unheard, the sound waves bouncing back as if I were nothing but a transponder of sorts. I did not like this whole scenario with all of these people shoving my head in the sand. I did not like Green Eggs and Ham. I did not like you Sam I Am. So hopefully something of my message back to you will get out through the Internet even if I cannot really express these thought in polite society without getting cut off at the knees.

Which reminds me

The chocolate mousse was highly recommended whenever dining at The Monk's Cellar in Miami and it really was delicious. We all tried it and it was delicious. I had forgotten that point of truth. Yes, the chocolate mousse at The Monk's Cellar was very good. Perhaps Susie would remember that. As for the other contents of the cellar I really have no idea. We did not sample the rest of that so I really could not say what else was in there which is probably just as well. I really don't need that kind of baggage, thanks anyway.

Thursday, November 29, 2012

My Personal Life

I remember telling someone that sometimes God tells me things. I might be in the shower washing my hair or looking out the window and wondering about things and God explains it to me somehow and so I am not very worried about things most of the time. Apparently this conversation got twisted around and someone was accusing me of consulting horoscopes and Ouija boards which is ridiculous. That never happened. Maybe you are thinking of Barbara Miller of Mississippi. I started reading the Bible through every year even in high school although I got away from that in college and resumed later. I got that idea because of something that Mrs. Richardson said and I do feel better when I am doing that. It is just a personal thing, not a fortune telling kind of thing. You must have me confused with that wicked sorceress from hell Anita.

Wednesday, November 28, 2012


Yes, I received a message from someone stating that Vanessa had married a very wealthy man of high class family and was thus ushered into the upper echelons of high society where she no longer has to worry about being related to a bus driver and can stomp all over us with impunity. This explains why we see Vanessa and the Butterfields sneering down at their former cousins from their lofty perches paid for by the decadent glitterati of Hollywood arrogance. I did not know that until someone delivered this punch in the face. I was not much aware of Vanessa's existence or location on the planet, I have to admit. Having received that kind of arrogant message from crude and vulgar bitch Vanessa, the Warrens should not be surprised if they never see hide nor hair of me in this lifetime. Is it any wonder that I never go there/ I could not care less about what kind of trashy dog dogs might be produced but such an utterly rude and pathetically stupid cousin as Vanessa, trained this way no doubt but one of my wicked witch aunts. I really should not say this but then again everyone is waiting for me to say this.

Last year my parents visited Vanessa in her Dallas home. My mom said that Vanessa's husband is a Calvary Chapel pastor and has seven or eight children. Oh, I did not know that. I really don't care.

Calvin Sightings

There was an open house nite in the SCC dorms every month or so and I remember telling someone that during one of those nights Calvin showed up in my room and was sitting there chatting and he said that I have beautiful feet. Ha ha ha! Calvin is glib, obviously. Yes, I cannot pretend to be even half as good a pianist as Calvin so there was no reason to imagine myself arguing with him on these points. Like Calvin was saying at another time, I just don't seem to have the speed that some other pianists have, especially himself. He certainly can clickety-clack all over the keyboard. I used to think that I would improve with practice but there comes a time when you realize that more practicing just isn't worth it. Nowadays I would really rather do anything else than practice the piano. The joy of it totally evaporated one day and never came back. So I really have nothing else to say about that. I just can't compete in the digital robotics department so why bother rying? I just don't care.


Which reminds me that while I was living in California, I once went with Becky to her parents' house where her family was having a party. So in addition to meeting her sister, I also met at least two of her brothers. One of her brothers had a girlfriend there who looked somewhat mousy and everyone was saying all kinds of mean things about her behind her back. Apparently they were only living together so the family viewed her as some kind of dog, not exactly human, as if the brother was not to blame in that situation. Ha! I never saw those people again after that one time and that was a good reason to brush off the advances of Becky's other brother, all Mexicans as I would not want to get stuck with that family one way or another.

Tuesday, November 27, 2012

Nordic Idiots

It is fortunate that we are here functioning as the guardians of society to keep these Nordic idiots in check. If it were not for our brilliant and logical Anglo minds, there is no telling what pathetically stupid wickedness these Nordic idiots would be perpetrating upon modern society. When we Anglos are removed from society and caught up into the sky to be with Jesus, these Nordic idiots will have nothing left to warn against the folly of handling snakes just because. If the snake got in your face and you had no choice that is one thing, but just to handle snakes as some type of circus attraction is not something that we would recommend. A sign will not be given to you.

Monday, November 26, 2012

Birch Baptists

We are not fooled. We are aware that there was an Italian who was somehow involved in the murder of the Baptist John Birch, a missionary to China who also happened to be a spy of some sort. So? We have no connection to that incident which occurred in China during World War II, in August of 1945 to be more precise. We understand that the wicked Italians ought to feel ashamed of their murderous thoughts toward us but we do not understand why the Baptists are now in alliance with these Italian murders who are plotting against them. As if we ever knew anything about that. It took many years for that case to be examined by the authorities and the Italian man's guilt determined. Or else it was the Chinese who killed Birch. Why are these facts so murky and One would think that the Italians would be apologetic toward all Protestants over this, not only the Baptists, not that anyone is accusing John Birch of anything but we all know that Italians have no ability to discern Protestant and Pentecostal distinctives, as to the French also. It is all just one big hammer to them, all for their own benefit. But we do not really care about joining the John Birch Society, I am just saying. There is freedom of association in this country and if we choose not to pay our dues to the John Birch Society, well, it just means, perhaps, that we are not Italians or Baptists maybe, I don't know. I haven't really studied that very much because I really don't care. Murder investigation was never my plan, not my intention, although I am sure there is plenty to say about that for the persons who really did commit murder. I am just saying.

The Dangers of Verbal Reflection

Yes, it is so dangerous to express these thoughts of self-reflection in a spoken or written form, obviously. There is no telling why these strange and hare-brained people will use whatever I say or do against me in one way or another. Take for example the thoughts that I once expressed in conversation with someone in college, I don't remember, maybe Cori, about my feelings of guilt for not having witnessed more during high school. This was due to my not having been in a good position to be able to explain the Gospel to these heathen high school classmates who think they know everything and have no respect for poor people like me. Take, for example, those pagan witches Irene and Patricia who have no clue about anything relating to Protestant Christianity. These Catholics have a different canon and operate under different rules than we do, which means that we just are never going to agree on certain matters of religion and it is futile to try to do that. I remember getting into this argument with someone during high school so it was just not possible and I just dropped the subject. We Protestants labor under many expectations that we present a Christian witness at all times and yet often the opportunity does not present itself for whatever reason, as I was saying to someone. And if we try to present the Christian witness uninvited we risk the rebuttals from these godless persons of deficient understanding so after one failed attempt over lunch I did not try again there. I do feel somewhat guilty about not doing more to try to evangelize these high school classmates but it just was not to be. God works in mysterious ways that we cannot understand. God knows better and that is about all I said about that.

Sunday, November 25, 2012

Which reminds me

While I was rooming with Cori she was hanging around a lot with the twins, Marilyn and Marianne Brooks. They don't look identical to me. Maybe they are fraternal. Anyway, I remember Cori telling me that she was down the hall in their room and they were talking about something related to sex and they were apparently nude and using magic markers to paint pictures of flowers on their, well, I'll just say their naked bodies in their discussion of sex the details of which I did not hear. So Cori thought this was hysterically funny and was laughing. OK, so I am guessing that perhaps the Brooks girls won the "contest" to "train" Cori. I know I didn't.

Which reminds me

I remember years being at lunch talking to Pam and Sue and the subject of Joni came up. Sue especially expressed the concern that Joni seems to have no belief in healing. Of course, sometimes God heals and sometimes God expects people to make the most of disabilities working through the healthcare system. Who are you to say which is which, who is who? There are those who believe that Joni is actually against the idea of healing from God in this day and age which makes her extreme prominence problematic to Pentecostals who for obvious reasons don't want to get it from her. She was a great artist with brush in mouth but there are other things that she just would not understand.

Saturday, November 24, 2012

And What is More

Speaking of Barbara Wilder's fallen arches, that sounds like a joke that Susie would find very funny. Susie would remember Barbara from sixth grade as would her brother Sammy.

Which reminds me of that lame-brained song that Sammy taught us, "Be kind to your fine feathered friends for a duck may be somebody's mother. Be kind to your friends in the swamp where it's always dark and damp. Well, few think that this is the end. Well, it is."

Which reminds me that Pam Bowlingball gave me a little stuffed duck for a gift when I was in her wedding years ago. So whatever that means. I tried to think of a way to fend off all of the darts that doggie dike Pam was constantly slinging at me, all the insults and character assassinations and verbal slams, but I just don't know how to do that. I was trained to be nice to everybody as the way to make friends but all of these people are playing by some other rules. It just isn't fair.

Diary Bits

Which reminds me that we read about Laurie and Debbie in the diaries. It is all there about how Laurie and Debbie got together. Also, there was Susie and Polly, who I don't remember at all, and Sandra and Joanne and possibly some other odd arrangements for inquiring minds that want to know what that really meant. Or maybe we really don't want to know. I certainly wasn't there so I really would not.

Interesting News

A little bird told me that the Butterfields had recently aligned themselves with the evil Axis powers of Germany. I don't pretend to understand how the former Allies who in past times fought on the U.S. side are now serving in the U.S. armed forces on behalf of the German Axis Nazis and heaping aspersions on their own maiden name of Calkins with all of its English and Celtic roots. How convenient that Laurie found a German male prop to pay the rent and mask the lesbian affairs with Debbie. It sounds to me a lot like another one of Wicked Witch Anita's mental seizures, if you ask me. How does one respect an aunt of which there is nothing nice to say? Of course nobody asked. It was just some idiot bimbo, maybe Stacy, going through some pathetically stupid diatribe. We are accustomed to hearing through the grapevine of these mental flights of vacuity of the Butterfields and their assorted social contacts to which we have no interest in attaching ourselves. We do feel a certain degree of pity for these Long Beach people of which we have not much comprehension. To us San Pedro is just a port, just a dropping off point on the way to somewhere else. Without a Marine World theme park, Long Beach becomes just another Swedenborgian grotto fading slowly into meaningless obscurity. The Mile of Books was torn down and replaced with a fancy upscale urban core development, thus pricing the bus drivers out of the market. Things change. If you can't pretend to be related to me, then perhaps you don't really exist anyway so there is no reason to care what happened to the nastiest, meanest aunts and uncles a girl could ever have or at least wish did not have.

Friday, November 23, 2012

The Dogs

Yes, those doggie dike women certainly do have sharp fangs and vicious minds. Take that blond witch who is always yapping and jeering at my defeat, as if her entire existence is dedicated to hatred of me. I really don't even remember who she might be. She was probably just another blond dog. They all look alike from certain angles, especially when I cannot really see them stabbing me in the back. I only know this because I can feel the knife carving out my insides, not because I saw them coming.

Thursday, November 22, 2012

Short Stories

We do feel a certain degree of pity for these Pagan Holiness people. They try so hard to be holier than everybody else and yet they are only vain and somewhat affected in their fleshly conquests, like that ditzy wicked witch Heidi who I always just ignored at college because I never liked that type of arrogant snob anyway. That type of blabbermouth person has no inner thoughts and probably imagines that quiet persons such myself say nothing because we have nothing to say, no thoughts to express. This is not so. Quiet people have thoughts, too, but also more discretion as to what not to say and who is not worth talking to, as for example worthless Methodical Holiness bimbos named Heidi. The cup that appears clean on the outside may yet be filled with filth on the inside, as Jesus has said. Who is to say that Heidi is not a whitewashed tomb filled with dry bones despite the outward "Holiness" label? At age 10 I wrote a short story but it was too similar to the book "Heidi" to merit serious thought of publication. It was about a girl who was homesick. Maybe I was homesick too so that book sort of struck a chord with me. Thus it logically follows that Heidi does not get to be my supervisor, especially as my books, if I were ever to write some, would not be strictly of the Old Testament variety. The Old Testament has its place but Jesus came that we might have life and more abundantly, and so Heidi's lack of a New Testament gospel message that resounds is a serious deficiency in terms of my particular focus. Having a Ph.D. in Old Testament would be great for Middle East archaeological expeditions but I was not planning to go there. A vacation is nice but not does not a career make. Besides, Ugaritic is not spoken in China so you just don't get it, do you?

Wednesday, November 21, 2012

Which reminds me

While I was living in California I recall telling the Delesies about having attended a camp meeting with a church near where I lived and there was this guy whose name I do not recall on the bus who monopolized my time on the way there or on the way home. He talked a lot but oddly I don't remember anything of what he said. I think that later he called me at home. I cannot remember if I gave him my phone number. Anyway, when he called me at home and monologued in his boring way I guess I gave him the chill treatment, just saying "Uhuh uhuh," because he suddenly asked if I was knitting something. I was working on a craft although not exactly knitting. Finally, I can't remember if I asked him not to call me again or something. I don't remember. Anyway, I mentioned this later in a conversation, as if narrating my long list of meeting boring male duds in my humorously self-deprecating way is a good way to fill time with conversation as I really don't have any news to speak of when people ask me whether I have met someone or am in a relationship or have something romantic in the works or anything else interesting in my life to talk about. Not really. I wish people would just not ask or else I just won't be going there again because, anyway, I cannot have my idiot aunts and uncles running my life behind the scenes. I have the most clueless idiot relatives, you would not believe, but in the past it seemed not wise or diplomatic for me to really explain this to just everyone. Family is more complicated than that. But in other respects I really do not have any need of these idiot aunts and uncles anyway. Their ostentatious display of wealth and Lutheran lukewarmedness does not impress. We are not intimidated by their huffing and puffing. We would spew them out of our mouths but then they would have no Christian witness, no example of lowliness and humble godliness to learn from, which we provide, and we do feel a certain sense of obligation to be a Christian witness in some sense to these pathetically godless, crude and vulgar uppity-up Delesie dogs to the extent possible, if possible, because we are related to them. I am just saying.

Tuesday, November 20, 2012

speaking of birds

Oddly, I suddenly recall that at one time when I was living alone in California I bought myself a pair of finches and their cage which I hung in my apartment. Every day when I would get home from work the two birds would sing loudly in welcome probably because they knew I would soon feed them. When I was away on vacation for a week one of them died of sadness in my absence and the other lived a little while longer but without its partner was saddened and listless. So it was nice to have finches as pets for a small amount of money that I spent at a flea market the one time that I went shopping with my roommate who was of Mennonite background but I had no thought of Mr. and Mrs. Finch in that purchase. It might seem like a sign now to some persons looking back at old photographs that I don't remember anyway but actually not. It was only a coincidence.

Cousin David

I wonder what makes these doggie dikes think that I ever had the slightest respect for my Cousin David? He was constantly in pursuit of the anti-Christian angle at every turn so obviously he was always wrong about everything and his opinion of no value in all respects, at least in my opinion. Well, he might have been intelligent to start with but unfortunately his mind was consumed by those anti-Christian books that he was reading all the time, the Superman comic books, and all that other Yoga stuff which we did not experience with him because we did not run away from home and disappear into the lowlife underground of San Francisco for years at a time. Obviously, we do not have any respect for the idiot friends who dragged him into the gutter and left him there. So anyone claiming to be a friend of Cousin David's is a blithering idiot in our eyes. This will explain why anyone identifying themselves as allied with Cousin David will be shut down immediately, because we do not want to hear it from them. We know better.

Sunday, November 18, 2012

More Horror Stories

Which reminds me that at SCC one day during a party at which I was not in attendance two guys kissed. And then everyone was grossed out and puking with vomit splattering all over the walls. Or else they laughed and thought it was funny. I am not sure which, actually. I only know this happened because of something that Dauna said. Dauna was there so she would remember who those guys were, probably. Why don't you ask Dauna what happened? I can't be quite certain because I only heard Dauna's version of the event and the details are fuzzy in my mind. I am thinking maybe Rodger but then what if I am not remembering rightly and I name some innocent guy who wasn't even there? I don't even know what the purpose of this event was or who was there except maybe Dauna and Rodger. It would save a lot of time if you would ask Dauna what she remembers first before bugging me with questions that I can't answer.

Saturday, November 17, 2012

Three Selves

Which reminds me that there is a lot of controversy about China's Three-Self Movement, which is a Christian group that some believe to be heretical. And then there is the oneness movement also very entrenched in China. I get the idea that someone is making a rather sick joke about my three selves but I am not amused. I do not appreciate being the butt of someone's sick sense of humor. I do not think that it is even remotely funny and I am very very angry about that. I have to say I might even enjoy if I could knock their blocks and clean their clocks because this is ridiculous. Hopefully God will have mercy on me because I do not how to stop this ridiculous thing so that I can get off.

More memories

Which reminds me of the times at MK school when, after school programs at the radio station had concluded and we kids were running around in the parking lot waiting for the parents to finish socializing, we would sometimes march down the driveway in between the mission house and the Bible institute singing "Onward Christian Soldiers" and maybe another song, I don't remember. This was mostly Susie's idea. Of course, this was private property so there was no reason to need to discuss this with the neighbors. No one objected. It would have been maybe 8 or 9 o'clock at night and not really loud enough to make me believe that the neighbors ever heard this. Maybe Susie did but I did not. I doubt that there was any cause for concern. Thus, it is obvious that this turmoil regarding our song is purely manufactured by some unnamed activists who wrongly informed someone that we had gone marching up the driveway of the home of the Jewish family that lived on the other side of the mission house whom I never met. Only Susie ever met those people. And anyway, that never happened. That mistaken story reminds of something that someone else said about how not to witness to Jewish people but that never happened, obviously.


Which reminds me that I once roomed with Dauna for about three months and I am a firsthand witness that during that time Dauna was the most unbelievably filthy slob imaginable. Nothing was put away. All the clothes were just all over the floor, never washed. There were three of us in the room so it was more crowded and inconvenient than normal but still Dauna was horrible. It is fortunate for me that dykey dog Dauna dropped out of college and did not come back the next year so that was a relief. I will not be rooming with Dauna ever again in this lifetime, such an obnoxious roommate was she to me. I cannot speak for her dikey dog alter ego Lynda, obviously. Of course, if I hammer away at these dogs I will only make everyone feel more pity for them and less for me. Obviously. That is the whole point of this script, to make me look terrible even though I didn't do anything to them. I just want those dykey dogs to get out of my head, that's all.

Friday, November 16, 2012


I suddenly remembered something. It might have been Becky Stewart who said something about that being the reason that her parents chose not to send her to the American School in El Salvador when she was of high school age. I vaguely remember hearing the Stewarts saying they did not think the school was safe for their children some reason, too decadent and worldly and Catholic. Hmmm.... That would have been in the 1960s before we ever met them. My parents were the first of the missionaries to send their children to the American School, which was a matter of concern to some other missionaries. Still, there were not many choices, especially when it comes to high school. I can't say that I would agree with the Stewarts' angle on that but still it was not easy being a fish out of water in a manner of speaking. I could try to explain but I would just be sticking my foot in it. All this foot-in-mouth disease give me a big headache.

Ha ha ha!

Those unbelievably haughty and arrogant, nasty Italian Catholics would save themselves a lot of grief if they would show a little more humility else we will have to lock them all up in convents and monasteries to keep the streets safe for ordinary mortals such as myself. There is nothing special about wearing widow's black all the time, as if life were a funeral. Unless your husband really is dead in which case only one year is de rigeur in that type of social circle, I suppose. Like I have said before, I just don't think like other people for some reason. It is weird but I was always so bored at lunch listening to pukey Pam yapping about the Saltshaker book as if her stupid bimbo opinion matters to me. I really don't remember why I should care.

Ping Pong Service

If dykey dogs Dauna and Lynda really want to pick a fight with my Dad, they ought to be warned that my Dad has a ping pong spin that will leave them eating dirt, pushing up daisies, well, you know what I mean. They will be sitting there waiting for a chance to hit the ball back over the net but their opportunity will never arrive because the ball spins off in another direction they were not anticipating. So I suggest that dykey dogs Dauna and Lynda surrender themselves to the authorities if they want do not want to be dispatched to the netherworld on the early schedule.

Thursday, November 15, 2012

Be the Best

Which reminds me that during the one year I was at Evangel our college dean was Mr. Best and his daughter lived nearby or I somehow knew her from classes or something. In the course of his duties promoting the college he devised a clever slogan based on his own name, "Be the Best." He was not suggesting that we should all join his family, obviously. It was nice of the Best family to host some of us girls for a night at their house before taking us to the airport to go home. But Mr. Best was only encouraging all Evangel students to be the best they can be, similar to the slogan used by the army. I heard that Mr. Best was later fired for some ignominious reason so obviously Mr. Best was not the standard by which we are to model ourselves in every respect. Besides, I would be lying if I said that I was the best at everything, so obviously I never said that. I am uncomfortable with this idea that I have to be better all the time or die. I might be better at one thing and yet not better at another. In matters of indifference, there are times when good enough is good enough.


Naturally, I can cancel the book club membership immediately if I want to which is why I resent these persons telling me that I cannot order my affairs as I choose, that I cannot cancel the book club thing if I want to, that I have to continue to pay for these boring club books that I don't enjoy reading anyway and only attract too much attention from snoopy spies like Dauna. They want to drag me down to their level of dumpy dog, so that in my despair I will become just as fat and ugly as they are and thus understand how they feel, etc. etc. What kind of life is that? Even though I am judged by the company I keep, yet I am powerless to dispose of these obnoxious people by whom I would prefer not to be judged. They were just there at the time. Some things were just outside of our control. Whoever says that a car cannot be a deadly weapon, especially when steered by a dumpy dog? I never said that but these things seem to be written into the script.

College Memories

Yes, they really can be nasty there at SCC, especially the music majors. I remember that Rose Wilson sang very well but everyone was afraid to write letters because Rose Wilson worked in the mailroom which meant that your in-house mail would probably be read if not sealed and possibly even sealed letters were not safe. The contents of any student-to-student correspondence would likely be distributed to the four winds which was another reason to not write any notes or letters. One could not be sure about that. I remember that Cori belonged to a book club and received books every month by mail. She talked me into doing that as well. I signed up for the book club and the first package was personally delivered to my door by Sue McGartland of the mailroom along with some ominous mutterings about the dangers of reading too many books. I immediately canceled, needless to say. Sue McGartland was in the voice class for which I served as accompanist, playing such old vocal class standards as "The Holy City" and "I Walked Today Where Jesus Walked."

Which reminds me that Barbara Kraiss, Larry's mother, did an excellent job as my accompanist during my junior year. She was said to have learned piano later in life and yet was fairly advanced for being a late pianist. Most pianists think that piano has to be learned at age 4 or nothing but there are exceptions.

Which reminds me that one year there appeared at SCC a girl singer who had experience doing backup vocals for some rock band. I don't remember which one. I don't remember what her name was or why she was at our college when she could be out touring the world in glamorous style. I am reminded that Barbara Kraiss made some scathing comments about her, although I don't remember the details. I only know of this singer's presence at college because of scathing remarks from Barbara Kraiss and others, maybe Warren although I don't remember. Without hearing that I would not have any idea of her existence as I had no classes with her. But if you know how those people are, speaking of the Kraiss's and other higher-up district people, you would not be surprised to hear them criticize everyone on the planet. No one is good enough for them, basically. They will find an excuse to dump everyone eventually. That is just how they are.

Which reminds me

During the last couple of years that I was in college I had a part-time job accompanying some vocal students on the piano, maybe four or five in a semester. I also had the experience of playing for the voice class which is all beginner stuff anyway. For all of this musical work I was paid about $100 for the entire semester which seemed at least enough for pocket change for this college student but really not really enough to compensate for the hassle of trying to "help" those obnoxious whiny singers in certain cases. I also worked as a dishwasher in the cafeteria occasionally. I do not recall whether I reported this to the IRS. I seem to remember that at the time the amount earned did not seem to reach the threshold of needing to be reported to the IRS. I seem to think that I did not ever earn $1,000 for the whole year during college so the thought of taxes did not seem urgent at the time. I really don't remember.

Wednesday, November 14, 2012

Extreme Rudeness

I find it very rude of these people to be predatorily bombing my head when I did not do anything to them and was not even aware of their existence and/or any possible connection to myself and family although I can't speak for the other Strickland relatives on this point. My relatives, well, I could try to explain but, well, I really would not know where their heads are. Uncle Winfred's daughters were not discussed that I recall. We never talked about this at all. The U.S. Postal Service does an excellent job of delivering the gas checks to my mother's address so obviously they could find our addresses if they really wanted to. Anyway, we have to be so careful to try to be polite to these complete strangers who constantly prey upon us and lurk around every corner. We try to give them every opportunity without prejudice based on race, gender and/or ethnicity just like everybody else on the planet, as we are taught by society so we expect them to be fair and play by the rules as we do. When we see Larry Kraiss and Karen Klein always together as a couple we have no thought of caring one way or another because we never met Larry personally and Chicago people are so boring anyway, so full of themselves as the center of the universe. My first year at SCC Larry's two cousins, Beverly and Ann Kraiss, were on my dorm floor but they did not come back the next year and I don't remember anything about them. I only remember their names. The Old Testament says, "Do unto others as you would have them do unto you." I am not saying this in a threatening way as if I had any plans to do anything about Richard and Beverly. Are they divorced now?  I never knew they existed so it would be ridiculous to expect me to react to something of which I am not aware. My thought is, basically, that this means, "live and let live." I generally do not subscribe to the "live and let die," Paul McCartney's morbidly imperialistic theme that I find chillingly cold and unappealing, although war has its place on the battlefield. I never liked the idea of James Bond movies anyway. Brrrrr! What a creep he really is. I don't think I deserve to be targeted by persons I don't even know regarding whom I bear no personal malice or thought of harming. I suppose that if I racked my brain I could think of something that I don't like about you but I would really rather reserve my opinions to myself for my own benefit. These predators really should make themselves known to us and identify themselves as Richard's deadly missiles so that we know to get out of the way because Beverly left a long time ago and we don't know where she lives. That would be the fair thing to do, if there were any justice in this world.

Tuesday, November 13, 2012


I think that it is important for us American citizens to vote for president. I did this even in college. I remember walking over to the Costa Mesa City Hall building to vote in the 1980 presidential elections However, I do not imagine that either candidate was even remotely aware of my existence as a voter. I did not vote to get special favors from the president, whether Reagan for whom I voted or Carter for whom I did not vote in 1980 because, well, the Iran thing was getting ridiculous. But I was only doing my civic duty like so many other voters. There are many voters. Just look at the tiny little voters and non-voters crawling around on the globe of earth. Viewed from outer space these tiny little voters and non-voters look indistinguishable from each other. We are just the people, the human beings, the jars of clay so to speak. Which reminds that I don't recall participating in the student body elections. Who voted for Rusty anyway? I don't recall doing so. I do not imagine that either Reagan or Carter would have been aware of anything about my identity. In this regard I cannot speak for my well-connected relatives. Was not my Dad's Aunt Julia married to a colonel of whom I know almost nothing? Do great-grandmother's diaries not record that Uncle Ariel and family went to some camp meeting in San Clemente? Was not San Clemente the home of President Richard Nixon? Inquiring minds perhaps want to know what Uncle Ariel was doing in San Clemente and whether there was any connection there to Nixon. I have no idea. The diaries do not specify the exact location within San Clemente and purpose for which Uncle Ariel's family went there, not even whether any presidential thought was involved in their stopping by perhaps the San Clemente McDonald's restaurant on their drive north to Pasadena. I have no idea. You would have to ask them what exactly that meant.


Which reminds me that it was nice of Sue McGartland to come upstairs to help clean up the flooding even though it was only her job. Perhaps I should say thank you again but I don't know what happened to all of these people. Sue can be at times a very annoying person with a lot of mental problems which probably explains her intense interest in working her way into the mental hospital a few blocks down the street on Fairview. I really don't know anything else about that. I am kind of busy following other paths so I will not have to time to figure out what Sue said to Cori or what else happened at Fairview. These social workers have their places but I was never at Fairview so I really would not know anything about that.

Monday, November 12, 2012

Drill Sargeant Dykes

If truth be told, Cori/Lori is just another drill sargeant dyke, as are all of these hideous women who waste my time with their mindless chatter about nothing much. It wasn't supposed to be like this but I do understand how unbelievably sick their minds are. And then I am supposed to say that I don't need it. I can live without it. I was not taking it for granted in the first place. I don't quite remember what I said about it anyway. But it is true. I don't need it. I can live without it. I wasn't taking it for granted in the first place. Only in their sick minds. They don't really know what I was thinking. They are just guessing and they are almost always mostly wrong. I am just saying I would rather be alone that be stuck with your obnoxious dykey-dog company only, basically.

More memories

Which reminds me that during my first year at SCC that Priscilla Galatar was the choir conductor and one evening she took us in the choir to a concert at a Seventh Day Adventist church there in Costa Mesa. It was a nice concert but in retrospect it would seem a bit odd that Mrs. Galatar would be so well connected to the Seventh Day Adventists, a denomination with whom we have disagreements on various doctrinal issues. The music was great but it was not like I would ever congregate there for church. I would prefer a more Spirit-filled type of worship rather than the dry bones legalism of Seventh Day Adventism, personally speaking. Just legalizing things does not bring about the Spirit-filled worship of which I speak. Lots of dry bones legalists do not like being told what not to do. It is a Spirit thing. But I did enjoy the concert very much, in particular the dramatic soprano's excellent rendition of "I Wonder as I Wander," which was remarked upon later by Mrs. Galatar or someone. I agree that the music was great.

Sunday, November 11, 2012


Which reminds me that someone was talking about how the Foursquare people are mostly dismissive and contemptuous of us AG people, especially when it comes to the arts. They own the arts. Basically, if you are AG you have a handicap from the get-go and unless you are exceptional you will not get anywhere in terms of world renown outside of the denominational confines due to certain prejudices and preconceptions of the arts people and also due to the things that we won't do because we don't want them running our lives into the ground. This does not matter to me as I had no illusions of world renown and no interest in exposing myself to world ridicule. Just because some obnoxious person wrote this whole script about me only wanting to be famous, that does not mean that I was ever consulted on this point. They were only using me to enhance their own images because it is just all about them. That is just how things are in this cold cruel world. Yes I could have done things differently in the first place but there are some things that can't be changed now. It just doesn't matter. I could go on and on like this but still nothing would ever change because it just doesn't matter now.

The Book

I distinctly remembered having returned the book the week earlier even though Betty Evans White denied this and kept insisting that I had her book and still needed to return it. Later the washing machine malfunctioned and our entire house was flooded with an inch or so of water, the damp carpet soon mildewing and in need of replacement. I found myself forced to remove every single book that I own, which is quite a few books actually, from the bookcases so that the furniture could be carried outside so that the carpet cleaning people could do their job. Still, in all that upheaval I never once found the book that she had loaned me which I felt quite certain that I had returned earlier anyway. So these people are just putting us through the wringer for no reason, just for their own amusement perhaps, so we can experience their "Sham Pain" after we have refused to go out and buy it for ourselves. Or something like that. I am just saying. Not to be mean but I really don't need this.

Tackett Trash

I wonder what makes the Tackett Trash Cranfords & Kleins think that we are going to let them run our lives? We all know that if Uncle Winfred would greedily shortchange his own sisters in the matter of inheritance, he would have even less regard or concern for us more remote connections, his sisters' grandchildren. Thus, it will be necessary to send a clear signal to the Tackett Trash that we will be kicking their stupid Tackett trash butts out of the ballpark if we ever hear hide nor hair of those Tackett trash whiners ever again in this lifetime. We all know that Hazel might have had a more comfortable life if committed to a mental institution but it was not our place to say. Sorry about that. My mom said that Uncle Winfred had two daughters but I never knew anything about them.

Chicago Snobs

I have no reason to care what blithering idiot Larry Kraiss thinks about anything. Ok, so he is a highly skilled medical doctor who graduated a year later than I did from the same college. Hmmm...  I just remembered that he married Karen Klein, who graduated a year before me and of whom I remember absolutely nothing, just that she was there, a person of no interest to me. Come to think of it, Karen was perhaps one of Cori's friends although I don't really remember. Cori was at one time the president of the college's "social" committee so she knew a lot of those cliquey snooty arrogant haughty snob people who hang around in those social committees pretending to be better than everybody else. It is not like I would ever be included in Cori's "social" committee cliques so obviously there would be no reason for me to be accepting janitorial staff orders from those crude and vulgar people of whom I am so much not impressed. Enough said about that.

Friday, November 9, 2012

The Evans Wtich

It might be a coincidence and yet it might be worth noting that while Cori married a guy by the surname of Evans and there is also a wicked witch scam artist who lives in South Florida by the name of Betty Evans White. Betty is a total fraud. She puts a sign on her door purporting to be a psychologist and yet we all know she is just a wicked old biddy who might even be related to the Trailer Trash Evans clan of Dallas to whom I owe nothing. The only reason that Betty ever gets clients is probably that her office is somehow connected to Billy Graham's son-in-law Tchividjian because otherwise Betty fails to impress. Vickie recommended her to my mother and my mother paid for me to go there and I went and then all I got was this big runaround and I was accused of stealing a book. How ridiculous. When Billy Graham is finally dead and buried all these parasitical Graham hangers-on will have to find themselves a new reason to live because things are going to change around here, I dare to say. I do feel sorry for the Evans clan, stuck as they are with nasty bitch Cori in their family tree, but I really don't care. Jody is just a stupid janitor anyway and janitors are a dime a dozen. Any high school dropout can work as a janitor and even work his way up to head janitor. So? We did not go to college to get janitorial jobs. That is all we need say about that.

Klein Baggage

So we see in doing our genealogy that Uncle Winfred's daughter Beverley married some guy by the name of Richard E. Klein, of whom I know nothing and have never heard anything of. Did they ever have any children? I do not see any children in the records so far. Without children of Beverly the Klein family has not a legal leg to stand on in trying to extract Strickland money that does not belong to them Tackett connection or not. I do not think that the Kleins would appreciate my trying to extract Klein money from them so obviously it makes perfect sense that we will dump the Klein's stupid letters requesting money into the round file, which is the wastebasket, the garbage can, etc. So this explains why Sue will have to live in Tackett misery for the rest of her life perhaps, because the money does not belong to that greedy wicked bitch. Enough said about that.

Gas Gloom

I wonder what makes those Tackett trash Cranfords think that I care about the gas money? I could not care less what those Texas Tackett trash think of me and if they cut off the gas money to me I could not care less as it was never mine anyway without my mother dying which is hopefully postponed as long as possible. By the time my mother dies I would be myself near to the grave anyway, most likely, so it really would not matter as I would already have reached a normal retirement after a long working life and be collecting Social Security with my lifetime finances already arranged without any thought of gas money, obviously. Besides the gas money is very little. I suppose that it would be nice to eat out once a month with my half-portion of a half-portion occasionally dribbling in now and then but I could live without the gas money anyway and might even be better off without all the Tackett baggage that seems to come along with that. The only time I ever saw Texas we unfortunately had Susie "Gloom" Stewart along with us for the ride which is always a problem because everything that Susie ever heard us talking about or saying seem to be circulating in the ozone layer with added twists layered upon layers. So I suppose that these stupid Latina bitches imagine us being connected to some sort of J.R. Ewing oil and gas soap opera family loaded with cash but it is not so. I could go into more detail about us but you are only fishing anyway, obviously. Just because you staged a fishing expedition, that does not obligate me to hand over the family jewels, not that we have any. Sorry.

Thursday, November 8, 2012

Indiana Snobs

It is vaguely interesting to learn of the Calkins families of Indiana or was it Illinois but I seriously doubt that our families were in any way connected just because we have the same surname, not that I would know anything about that. Lots of people have the same or similar surnames and yet are not related. Lots of people have, for example, the surname of Boone and yet none of them are exact replicas of the cranky old coot who likely smelled like a skunk after spending most of the time scavenging around in the wilderness shooting at bears. Thus we see that having the last surname of the legend does not really compensate for having a voice that people of my generation are not so crazy about and only a mediocre string of lousy B-movies to boast about of so braggadociously. Too bad that Debbie married into some cabaret singer family so that her career fizzled into nothing much after that. We saw her face on some paid TV commercial hawking skin products for women of a certain age which only proves that we will all grow old eventually. Your "New Life" is looking a lot like old hat nowadays. Next thing you know you will have a Lock on the "Old Paths" book, I imagine. But just because you think you know everybody who ever lived in Indiana, that means nothing to us. We could not care less about Indiana and neither do we care what the wicked idiots of Hollywood studio land have to say about anything. We all know that the Hollywood people are only in it for the money. It is not surprising to learn that the wannabe stars of Hollywood are all stepping all over each other, and kicking anyone in sight, including us if we happen to be standing too close, just to get to the top of the ladder first and that if you do not have what it takes you just are not going to make it. Ho hum! We do not need you to explain these elementary facts of life to us. Ho hum!

Antonia the Thief

None of this changes the fact that Antonia the maid was a common thief and my mother fired her for that reason, which is about the only thing I ever said about her. Antonia the maid was a thief who was caught leaving the house with a suitcase full of our stuff. It is not that we were so attached to our stuff, or that we were not too demanding in the imposition of duties in some cases, but none of that justified the thievery. We could not just let that Latina bitch walk away with everything. If we had not fired that Latina bitch she would soon have been pulling all the furniture out from under us. We would wake up one morning to find ourselves sleeping on the floor in an empty house if we had not thrown Antonia out on her ear. We would have absolutely nothing at all if these imperiously nasty Latina bitches were allowed to run the show. That is why we have to keep them in their places, because if they want nice stuff they have to buy it for themselves just like everybody else on the planet. We do not owe them anything when they never did anything to "help" us anyway, only tried to trip us whenever they got a chance. That is all I would ever have to say about the thieving bitch Antonia and her gabby coffee clatch.

End of Story

There is no reason for me to continue to pretend to be friends with vile putrid Cori and her lowlife slob husband Jody who I never liked anyway. They prove only that a college degree does not necessarily guarantee that you will ever get out of the janitorial pool so to speak which is not what I wanted out of college. All of Stacy's jabbering about cleaning fluids and housekeeping jobs just leaves me cold. Some people have to do that for a living but I was expecting better than that, to tell the truth. I am not available for janitorial duties, thanks anyway.

Another Joke

Yes, how ridiculous to have this foul-mouthed crude and vulgar trashy strip dancer Cori Nipper daring to criticize me for any reason let alone for being a little bit depressed one day. I was just sitting in the bean bag chair listening to some music and feeling depressed and she comes in and starts screaming at me as usual. And why should I not be depressed with a horrible witch of a roommate named Cori ruining my life and conspiring against me all the time? I never want to hear another word from that piece of garbage named Cori. She always was a worthless friend to me. Sometimes we make mistakes in choice of friends and have to throw these hideous Cori bitches in the garbage where they belong. That is the way I see it.

Wednesday, November 7, 2012

Diary Tidbits

Which reminds me that in our recent reading of great-grandmother's diaries we learned that my Dad's Uncle Eugene and Aunt Mary Olive were at some time in the 1950s living in South Dakota or else North Dakota, one of those Dakota states. I only know of the Hunts as living in Venezuela so I was not aware of any other place that they ever lived previous to Venezuela. Thus it is surprising to see references to the Hunts living in the icy cold hinterlands of the Dakota wilderness where it is presumed that the Hunts were serving as ministers and pastors to the wickedly decadent denizens of the Dakotas. I can only imagine because I never heard them tell of anything about themselves or their ministry except that they were in Venezuela under the auspices of the Christian Missionary Alliance which is a denomination that used to be Pentecostal but later turned sort of Baptist so obviously they would have a different view of doctrinal matters than we would. We are not unaware of these differences of opinion in regards to the signs of the Baptism, etc. etc. etc. We are grateful to the Hunts for staying with Grandma Calkins during her last dying months which is almost the only time I ever saw them. We heard that they went to England later but it is very expensive there. Other than that we do not understand what their problem is other than having no money as retired missionaries but that is not unusual for those who were not independently wealthy in the first place. So?

Monday, November 5, 2012

A Fox Story

Which reminds me that when we were in El Salvador the famous healing evangelist Charles Fox, under whose ministry my Mom was saved in Modesto, decided to hold revival services in a town in the eastern part of El Salvador, Sensuntepeque. My Dad was enlisted to help organize it so he secured the permission to hold open air meetings in the town plaza and got the platform and sound equipment set up did some promotions and advertising of the imminent arrival of the illustrious Charles Fox. As it turned out Mr. Fox took ill in Mexico and never arrived in El Salvador at the agreed upon time. My Dad said in his humorously self-deprecating way that the poor people of Sensuntepeque had to make do with "your truly." In other words, my Dad had to serve as the healing evangelist for the crusade because Mr. Fox was a no-show and there were healings and salvations anyway so all is well that ends well one might say. So?

Sunday, November 4, 2012

Stupid People

Never underestimate the cruel stupidity of certain music majors, whether before or after my class, especially persons with names like, for example, shrieky witch Charlotte Rosser and creepy weirdo Rusty Wycoff, so garrulous and petulant. Take for example all these stupid people trying to picture me as Athaliah, the wicked queen who was willing to kill all her grandchildren just to have the throne all to herself. It is obvious they have me confused with Althea Holdcroft, the flutist who taught music history classes at SCC when I was there. Yes, she was a little boring and still single when she was just trying to get enough teaching credits for her master's degree at SCC, but these Athaliah jokes are too ridiculous and not worthy of being dignified and regaled with so much undeserved attention. I only halfway heard this but this pathetically stupid joke did not exist when I was in Althea's class so obviously I missed out on some things that came later. I don't know anything about that, as I was saying. Althea eventually got married so they had to find someone else for the role of Athalia, I suppose would be their excuse. As if all the world were a stage. That's just Shakespeare's cynical take on the vagaries of sinful human nature, not really how things are supposed to be if we all had our heads screwed on straight. Unfortunately, some people's heads at SCC were not.

Thursday, November 1, 2012

Clueless Me

I vaguely recall that a lot of people at Editorial Vida got really worked up about Bob Hoskins' goofy accounting practices but I really don't anything about that. I heard people talking via the grapevine about storming the ramparts and then a deal was worked out in which I was murdered in exchange for peace. This makes no sense to me as I was not even there and anyway I did not steal any money or know anything about that. As far as I can see, the only person who should be roasting in hell is THEM. THEY did something that I don't understand and then THEY blamed me for everything for no reason whatever other than to distract from their own goofy accounting practices even though I was not the person who was making a fuss. It is the higher-ups job to dump the Hoskins into their isolation tank, not mine. That is the way I see it. Thus, I have no sympathy whatsoever for the Hoskins family pretending to be the missionaries who worked in India in the Cawnpore district alongside Methodist missionary Harvey Calkins who is not related to me that I know of, at least not closely. My Dad's name is Harold, not Harvey, so obviously my Dad is not the author of the books about money management and stewardship principles. Neither are we Methodists, only AG, so this whole thing just gets more and more ridiculous all the time. I think that if Robbie Hoskins wants to ensure his own good luck he should get himself a rabbit's foot to put under his pillow at night. Those people ought to know that I am just not available to be used for these ridiculous purposes. It logically follows that Hazel Hoskins obviously did not write the book about Clara A. Swain, M.D., the Presbyterian doctor in India or the book about Dr. Mary E. Carleton, the Methodist doctor in China, so it is obvious that Hazel's pretensions of being a bestselling author are kaput. Well, tudalu to you, too!


In the interests of being picayune, let us point out that Robert "Dimon" Hoskins died in 1946 in Bismarck, North Dakota, so there is nothing else to say about him. His oaths of office are expired. Besides, he was only the clerk of the North Dakota State Supreme Court, not really a judge or lawyer. All he does is record what the important people say, those who are duly elected judges, whose opinions are based on what the lawyers said in their presentations. Mr. Hoskins' opinions are not those recorded in the court record of judicial opinions. The lowly clerk's job is to faithfully record what the judge is saying without twisting the facts and thus thwarting justice, a task important enough to have the clerk's name included in the book but still with only the title "clerk," placed below and not equal to the names of the judges, and only if he is not caught devising fictional accounts. Mr. Dimon probably never went to law school anyway so he would not really understand what is to be done in these cases. Thus, we see that while Mr. Dimon apparently was accurate in his accounting of the facts in North Dakota in the early 1900s, Mr. Demon's name does not appear or get any credits in the book.

Yes, I always wondered why we have all these North Dakota whiners milling around here, all these Dollar dogs from North Carolina. They ought to go back to Igloo City, North Dakota, where they belong in my opinion, but things always change. People are always moving around and different generations have different goals and educational aspirations. I think that they would not appreciate me telling them where to go so I think that they ought to practice the Golden Rule as well: "Do unto others as you would have them do unto you." If it was good enough for the Bible, the Golden Rule ought to be good enough to serve as warning to stop trying to ruin everything with their pathetically horrible North Dakota garbage. I could not be less impressed. Sometimes the Hoskins clerks have to be dropped off the front page and never heard from again in the interests of justice. After all, it's not about them.