Wednesday, May 29, 2013


Yes, there is really nothing for us to be so proud of when it comes to boasting about our crazy relatives. Thanks for rubbing it in, uh, NOT. Selfish greedy Cindy does not seem to realize that when she is running around acting like an idiot all over Southern California that her bad behavior is affecting all of us, even the distant relatives, reflectively speaking. Everything is not just all about Cindy. Cindy's bad behavior reflects badly upon all of us and we do sort of feel the aftershocks of her pathetically bad decisions throughout life even if we were not aware of the exact sequence of events over there. We sort of heard the gist of what happened but we obviously do not have to explain that we did not make her do that. Cindy did that all by herself without any help from us. Anyway, it is not like Cindy ever had any respect for the opinions of square pegs like me. I am not exactly sure where she got that snarky little attitude but, anyway, they probalby wouldn't be able to handle the truth even if we actually tried to explain it to them because they are too proud to admit we might know better. So we just try to be nice to them regardless of how badly they treat us and try to pretend that we did not actually hear them saying all those snarky things about me behind my back. We carry on as usual because, anyway, we really can't help people who just won't communicate and, anyway, I just want to get to heaven someday. Whether my relatives will join us there I really can't say. That is up to them.

Which Reminds Me

Barbara Wilder is the person who had D-size feet. She was also flat-footed due to fallen arches. This is possibly the only thing that everyone can remember about our 6th grade classmate. She had a brother in 8th grade, Jeff Wilder, and they were from a different mission, maybe the Central America Mission although I am not sure. The CAMers were many in number even though their work was smaller than ours, not that that means everything. The AG kept 4 or 5 missionaries in the country while the CAMers had maybe 20 or 30 missionaries but the AG was less missionary oriented and spent a lot of energy training the local people to run their own show. My Dad always said that he was working himself out of a job, which was the indigenous church idea. The day would come when they would no longer need foreign missionaries to help them with that so perhaps the day has arrived and we are indeed out of a job. Anyway, we live in the U.S. now so apparently we will need to find other occupations with which to occupy until He comes since obviously the missionary career is not what it used to be. Tent-makers at least can pay their way by making tents but if you are expecting to do full-time missions work nowadays then you almost need to be independently wealthy because the money just doesn't flow the way it did a hundred years ago. Gigantic parachurch ministries function as giant vacuum machines, funneling away lots of church dollars to pay for their gigantic operations. Nowadays there is nothing for poor people to do but mail the check to the rich people. If the rich people get their missions money to play with then perhaps they will go away and not harass poor nobodies like me.

Saturday, May 25, 2013

Barth Clues

Among the prominent Barth names floating around in the public domain, two names have recently been brought to our attention:
1. Joseph Barth, the Maltese oculist (1746-1818) who practiced eye surgery at hospitals in Malta and Rome.
2. Christian Gottlob Barth (1799-1862), a German pastor who was a lifelong bachelor and ministered at Effingen, in the Black Forest, and other parts of Germany and is known for the Bible story book that he wrote and other ministry activities.

I seriously doubt that I am directly related to either one of these people.

In fact, my great-great-great-grandfather Henry Barth was born 1796 in Saxony, which is a province of Germany, and immigrated to America in 1850 at the age of 53. There is no other information available to me on this person other than that which is available to everyone in the public records of and I only found this in the last few years. Before that I really had no idea. As to which village of Saxony our Barth relatives came from the record is not clear. One source says Baden but most sources say Saxony.

Ok, that's nice. We have many roots in Europe. There is just not enough time to review all of my 32 great-great-great-grandparents, and then there would be the 64 great-great-great-great-grandparents and the 128 greatX5grandparents and the 256 greatX6grandparents, some of whose names may be lost to history.

I don't have time for this. I need a job and paycheck, obviously. I shouldn't have to explain this. Go away and leave me alone.

Anyway I have always been a loyal U.S. citizen, unlike Nazi trash Linda Crawley. Those vile Canadian wharf rats have a lot of explaining to do.

Friday, May 24, 2013

Poor vs. Rich

Yes, in high school I was a poor person attending a rich people's school. Yes, if only I had lots of money and power, then I would be able use all of these nasty rich people's tricks to make all of my enemies look like traitors of the U.S.A. mainly because I don't like them. But alas, I was just a poor missionary kid with no political power or money to speak of. I have no strings to pull, no way to defend myself against the relentless onslaught unleashed by these vile nasty spoiled rotten rich people. I really would be hard pressed to think of anything nice to say about certain of these nasty rich utterly conceited extremely affluent high school classmates whose sole concern is their own glory so maybe I did say something to that effect. I don't remember now exactly how I said that. Obviously, with all of their money and power connections they can get away with murder and nobody even blinks an eye. But I have to be so careful not to offend them in the most minute way, even inadvertently and unintentionally, or they will crush and kill me with no twinge of guilt or regret, which is a good reason to just not say anything. They are just rich and powerful people and they just don't care. I always thought there was something around about this hypocritical situation but, as I always knew, poor people like me just never get a break.

Thursday, May 23, 2013

Book Ends

Which reminds me that someone, maybe Dina Knox or Barbara Miller or one of those people, talked about her penchant for reading the end of the book first and then starting back at the beginning already knowing what would happen. That idea seemed wrong to me at the time. I mean, if you already know the end of the story you might not be properly surprised at plot turns and twists. On the other hand, some books are not worth reading all the way through if I don't have to. It takes too much time to read some books and I don't really need all of that stuff installed in my head anyway. A simple plot synopsis online is all I may need to know about that. Some things are just obviously true without further ado about nothing.

Monday, May 20, 2013

Which Reminds Me

I seem to vaguely recall someone, either a teacher or a student giving a report in a high school class, talking about the capture of various Nazi war criminals in South America and the problem of finding them there as so many Germans live there anyway. It is easy for them to blend in down there and I do not know how we could be expected to know that. Anyway, they know who they are. If I happened to be talking to or sitting next to someone you don't like at high school lunch hour, that would not entitle you to mount a lawsuit against me regardless. That just wouldn't be fair or just or right.

Which Reminds Me

So we are caput. Without a son to head the next generation we are just a bunch of silly women with all of the mineral rights and none of the money to do anything with that, and they already knew that, obviously. That is what they trying to say in their prickly and annoying Catholic way. We are Protestants because we may know better but without the money and the mettle for action we are adrift and will easily be consumed by the Catholic majority to come. Yes, we are hearing this message telegraphed on the wires but never mind. Anyway, we would rather die than be ruled by the dull French mediocrity. We are not interested in being drawn into a battle that we cannot win on their terms. We prefer to draw up our own terms and even so the outcome is not clear but no one really knows how the future will unfold. The future is out of our hands. We shall see....

Friday, May 17, 2013

Which Reminds Me

Years ago while Jennie was visiting her relatives here in Florida I called the phone number that she had given me and the person who answered the telephone was, I am assuming, her brother-in-law who immediately started quoting some surreal lines from E.E. Cummings, the famous American poet whose name sort of sounds like "Comings," not to be confused with Leisa Goins, who was a college classmate of ours at SCC, whose name sort of sounds like "Goings" and married Herbert Cierley. Oh, I did not know that. I was not aware of all of these insider connections. I don't recall the specific lines from Cummings, maybe something telephone-related although I would only be guessing. I mean, how would I know? It could have been anything. Which only proves that Jennie's family are sort of weird and her presence here is a nuisance to me. I never really cared that much about this type of insider joke. So just winning the Teen Challenge Contest only gets you so far in the music world, until you have to actually open your mouth and prove that your reading habits were limited to a certain textbook. Which only proves that I always was out of the cheerleader loop which is no surprise to me. I never really liked those people that much anyway.

Thursday, May 16, 2013


Anyway, there is no reason that I know of for everyone to be talking so much about Jennifer. Ok, so she went and got her Ph.D. in sex and now works with Africans in Africa on various educational initiatives. That is nice for her but that does not make her a friend of mine. I am tired of hearing about Jennie Jennie Jennie. I only remember Jennie as just another Italian Drama Queen cheerleader who has nothing of significance to say to me. I don't need a Ph.D. to explain the facts of life to me. My mother already told me everything I would ever need to know about the facts of life so I don't want to hear another word from those lowlife idiots over there. I can just turn them off whenever I want to. I saw with my own eyes the drama of Jennie and Rusty so I have a clue that she may be having social problems but since she never did me any favors I cannot help her now.

Which Reminds Me

I am surprised that college cheerleaders fail to realize how utterly indifferent many of us actually were to the existence of Jennie. If I were truly honest I would have to say that I really could not care less what Jennie thinks about anything. Jennie is just another stupid boring Italian Drama Queen and as we all know Italians are to be avoided at all costs. Italians will kill your firstborn child just for the thrill of watching the melodrama of you raging and fuming and otherwise creating a huge scene for their own entertainment. The only way to really cure the Italian Cheerleader problem is to cut the drama. Deprive these stupid rah-rah-raging Italian Drama Queens of the entertainment value and maybe they will have to act like rational human beings once again and stop their wicked scheming ways.

Which Reminds Me

I recently read somewhere online that the Getty Museum has purchased Dr. Yoakum's old campground in the mountains north of L.A. I do not see how that would affect me and my life in any way. I have no idea what plans the Getty might have for that supposedly haunted place formerly owned by a character who had no connection whatever to me and my family that I know of. I suppose that it could be interesting to visit yet another historical museum even though they already have a huge museum complex already in the L.A. area.

The article about Dr. Yoakum tells the story of a certain working man who came to the free store asking for a certain set of clothing and donating a 20-dollar gold piece. The doctor urged him to accept a more shabby set of working clothes saying that these were more fitting for him. What the working man did not know was that the doctor had placed the gold piece in the pocked of the clothing he was given so that when he got home he would find his money returned to his pocket. The doctor explained to Boddy, the narrator, that the money is always returned to the customer if they make a fuss about the cost.

Tuesday, May 14, 2013

Speaking of Ninth Grade

Yes, who could forget Lance Starin's scandalous report on the misdeeds of Greek semi-gods during Miss Marken's honors English class in ninth grade at the Escuela American in El Salvador? For some reason that is almost only the report that I actually can connect to its author in memory so shocking was Lance's disdain for the idea of the Virgin Birth of Jesus. Or was that Yasushi Takeda? Did I get those two confused? It was shocking. He speculated that perhaps Mary was not an honest person. However, there is religious freedom in this world and Lance or Yasushi was merely expressing his obviously atheistic ideas in his unique way for class credit and it really did not matter whether or not we individually agree with his religious point of view because we respect his right so say whatever he wants. Miss Marken is the teacher, not me. Miss Marken will grade his paper and decide what grade it deserves. We just have to sit there and listen to whatever each of these people chooses to say in their oral report on Greek mythology. I might have mentioned this more than once but I do not recall anyone else's Greek mythology report all that clearly. I just remember that one for that reason. Someone else talked about Narcissus. Etc. etc. etc. There are so many choices of topics on the subject of Greek mythology. It is all on Wikipedia if you really want to refresh your memory so I do not need to explain that again.

Why Me?

Why does everyone imagine that I am responsible for everything? There is much water under the bridge and I cannot quite recall the entire conversation surrounding the "it" question. It did not seem that important to me at the time, and anyway I never had classes with those people so I really would not know. I only recall that Dauna was also present and I cannot guarantee that Dauna would not post everything you said all over the Internet just as she did everything anyone else ever said in her presence and make other connections to that of which I would not be aware. Why don't you ask Dauna what she did with that?

Monday, May 13, 2013

Creepy Messages

Yes, that was a puzzlingly wicked and creepy message I received from the whiners. It seems that Uncle Ariel's five children imagine themselves the noble descendants of a distinct and superior race. They are going to be trampling us Calkins into the dust. This has something to do with the fact that their mother Evelyn was Scandinavian and their father sort of Germanic whereas we of the Calkins line have too much English blood flowing in our veins to suit their Nordic tastes. That was so creepy the way the genocidal Californianos pretend to be so much better than us and yet are quite racist in their own peculiarly pseudo-Nordic way. This is because they are in conquering Conquistador modus operandi and are not interested in integrating and submitting themselves in any way to the U.S. Bill of Rights. In order to complete their conquest of white America they must have "UP" at all times. They are wanting us to talk first so they can later counteract everything we say, not because they like us and want to be our friends but only because they want to use us in the role of slaves they can use in their ongoing conquest of the U.S. or else they will crush and kill us because it is just all about them. Umm, what nice people they are? Am I exaggerating? Uh... Well, ... anyway, I really should not say what I really think about that. Who am I to say what should be?

Saturday, May 11, 2013

Which Reminds Me

During my first year at SCC, Kelly Noonan lived across the hall and became very close friends with my roommate, Barbara Demers. I remember one day Kelly telling us that her real father was a famous and wealthy Hollywood star. I think I did ask what his name was but she did not want to say so I did not ask that question again. Maybe she told Barbara but I don't know. Anyway, it wasn't that important to me. She did say that he was a very mean and nasty person and she felt abused or something sort of along that line, so this helps us understand why Kelly has problems. We sympathize with the victimized rich girl but we really don't understand. That is about all I would be able to recall about that. Sorry but if you are looking for a source of information on Kelly, Barbara would be a much better choice for you.

Kelly played guitar and sang duets or backup vocals for Karen Lafferty so she probably has an "in" over at Maranatha Music but I would not know very much about that. Kelly did not come back the next semester. I don't know what happened to her. I never heard.

Deep Dialogue

Person 1: "Well..."
Person 2: "That's a deep subject for a shallow mind."
Person 1: "Uh, yes..."

Friday, May 10, 2013

Which Reminds Me

I am suddenly reminded of the nicely bound volume containing two books by Mark Twain, "Tom Sawyer" and "Huckleberry Finn," contained in a slipcover for protection, sitting on our bookshelf when we were children. And how could a household spy miss that? My mother recommended that we read these books and why not? Did mother not once take a college class on children's literature? Ok, so I did read these books containing a somewhat humorous account of the outlandish pranks pulled by Tom Sawyer even on his own parents who thought him dead while he was actually out spelunking with the town's worst rascals, those ne'er-do-wells with whom they probably would have preferred him not to associate. And of that juvenile delinquent Huckleberry Finn traveling along the Mississippi River on a flimsy raft with runaway slave Jim and a couple of strange characters. Yes, I did read these books, and also "Pudd'nhead Wilson" which was required reading in high school English class. Beyond that I cannot say that I am widely read in Mark Twain literature, just some bits and pieces here and there, some seen on television, enough to know something of the controversies surrounding Samuel Clemens.

Yes, I vaguely recall someone asking me about this but I cannot claim to have read Twain's Life on the Mississippi, although I do believe one of our high school teachers lectured on Twain in class in connection with our assignments, explaining how he took his pseudonym from the terminology of steamboat navigators to measure the depth of the water. The term "mark twain" meant two fathoms or somewhere around 12 feet deep.

Even so, you are not entitled to pose as the prim and proper New Englander  Louisa May Alcott who severely criticized Twain. You are an imposter. We all have our opinions about books and Alcott might have a good point in some respects. You cannot take Mark Twain's example too seriously without suffering ill consequences, especially if you are poor like me. Yet you would find it very difficult to study American literature without at some time or another touching on the subject of Mark Twain and his many books and huge influence on 19th century life and literature. At the same time, there are many modern authors who would be doing life in prison if they actually did the things they write about. I mean, book titles with the word "Killing" have a certain edgy sound and yet if you really did that you would be very sorry.


Which Reminds Me

Years ago when we lived in El Salvador the only place to play miniature golf was at the Intercontinental Hotel. Our family might have gone there two or three times to play miniature golf but that is very dim in my mind. Maybe I did see high school classmates there at the time but my mind draws a blank on that point. If one of them had said hello to me, now that would have been something to remember, but I do not recall them having acknowledged my existence on the planet at the time and thus it probably would have seemed wiser to me to say nothing and leave them to do their thing. After all, their appearance when viewed on campus during the ninth grade was as like unto druggies out of Woodstock. I am not accusing anyone of drugs. It would not be right for me to say that anything about drugs. I am just saying their appearance in my eyes resembled that of hippies right off a commune doing their own thing, which after all was the '70s mantra. At the time I considered myself too conservative to associate with that sort of radical element. I did not even own a pair of jeans until much later. Probably I was a little too square at the time for my own good but that is how it was in the ninth grade.

Wednesday, May 8, 2013

Which Reminds Me

My family is composed mostly of conservative Republicans, at least most of the ones of whom I am aware. Thus it is puzzling to see the bumbling gold-diggers of Arkansas imagining that we would be impressed with their posturing in this Clintonesque fashion, as if we would appreciate them serving us up on a platter for the delectation of the Democratic Party machine. That is not what we are here on this planet to do in case they forgot their missionary values for the sake of political currency, which does sometimes happen. Democrat or Republican, all political parties in creation are supposed to function for the glory of God, even if they at times grope erratically in their blindfolded way. Do they have an actual point or do they just like to hear themselves talk? This is a valid and appropriate question that they should be asking themselves.

Tuesday, May 7, 2013

Which Reminds Me

During the year that we were on furlough in 1970 I recall that my Dad got permission to use a song track that was used by a professional singer on his album. My Dad sang this song at our itinerary services. I think it was called "Millions Dying" and it was talking about the millions of people who are dying without Christ while we minions squabble about nothing much. I recall us visiting the Yeary's church in Fullerton and my Dad had the song track and was explaining about how he got permission to use it and so on and I don't know if I am imagining this or if I really do recall that Max Yeary was making some snarky jokes about the track and about my Dad only being an imitator of the professional singer, and how melodramatic the song sounded to him, all that exaggerated bellowing about millions of people dying without Christ when obviously God does not need us to help him, or at least that was Max's opinion. Yes, and like Max's sermons are not full of bits and pieces gleaned from the Professional Preacher's Encyclopedia of Sermon Anecdotes? Yes, I tend to think so.

Which Reminds Me

I do not recall anyone caring very much about the idiotic babblings of high school classmate Maria Younes Smith, or at least I never did. Just because her last name was Smith, that would have meant nothing to me in high school as I was not aware of the existence of any Smiths in my family tree. It is only in the last 10 years or so that I have become aware of the existence of the Smiths in my family tree who lived in Pennsylvania. And yet Smith is the most common surname on the planet so even with that knowledge I still doubt that Maria Smith had any family connection to me or any distant cousins of mine. I seriously doubt that Maria Smith could have had any connection to me whatsoever. So just seeing her horrible snarky face around high school campus meant nothing to me. I really don't care what happened to Maria Smith. I never really care that much about those people. I mean there is a limit. We pay tuition for schooling, not for lifelong harassment by that hideous Younes dog. Maria Smith is just a horrible and disgusting person and I would punch her lights out immediately if I could ever figure out how to do that.

Monday, May 6, 2013

Which Reminds Me

Our friend Alexandra, from when I was in fifth grade at the American School in El Salvador, had this toy on her bedroom shelf as I recall. Although her monkeys were not metallic as in this example, there were three monkey dolls representing the "Hear no evil, See no evil, Speak no evil." At first glance this might seem to be a pithy-sounding proverb. It sounds sort of good. I mean, how fortunate that some people's lives afford them no opportunity to see or hear evil any time in the future, nor can they speak of any evil as obviously they have not seen or heard of anything. Perhaps they live in isolation tanks. I don't know. However, I tend to think this is not a Christian code for living. I tend to think of this Oriental saying rather as a code of conduct for thieves and liars and the devil's accomplices. Don't tell, Look the other other way, that sort of clever and evasive techniquey wisdom.

However, when Jesus says to not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, he is talking about doing good and giving to the poor. When you are giving to the poor, do not stand on the street corner and trumpet your good deeds to everyone within earshot because if men's applause is all that you want, men's applause is all that you will get.

We are not doing good deeds for the approval of men. God sees in secret and rewards in secret.

I guess this means that just because some idiot upstairs is hammering me because I do not qualify for Pharisee status, that does not mean that I have cause to fear. God hears prayer, God sees all, God rewards. And are you God? No, obviously not. My Dad has that book about Pharisees, but there is a sort of tongue in cheeky aspect of that.

Anyway, I don't see how some dimwitted Episcopalian need explain this minor point to me. I might even have read the Bible more times than yappy Susan ever did. I mean, who knows? Don't be so sure you know better than I do. Blah blah blah.

Sunday, May 5, 2013

Tribal Structures

It is hard to understand why everyone is so interested in the building of a tribal structure to incorporate all of the distant branches of the Barth family, as if there were anything but a few old photographs to bring us all together. I really never know any of my Dad's four uncles well, and I never met Ben or Sam in person at all so I really don't feel any sense of belonging to the family per se. Some of those people I am only aware of through reading the diaries. Other than that, there is no reason for me to imagine that Uncle Ariel's family was ever any more important than ours. And anyway, does not the Bible tell us that we must be willing to forsake all family ties in order to accomplish the Kingdom of God? Not that we don't have family responsibilities but if they are only going to constantly hammer on me and try to interfere with my spiritual life then I will gladly dump all of those worthless relatives in the dumpster of forgetfulness. There is no reason for me to feel intimidated by those empty-headed people who never really met me anyway and never cared if I lived or died. I am not interested in applying for membership into some tribal structure whose composition does not inspire respect or admiration let's just say. Although the leadership of David might seem somewhat benign right now, I would not want to have to worry about someone's fifth cousin-in-law out in California later using that structure to heap curses on my head because I don't fit their definition of Sharon's Law. And who is Sharon anyway but just another useless member of the Walking Dead? We are not Arab dogs that we should need a tribal crutch to lean on. We are fine without tribal idiots to run everything into the ground, thanks anyway.

Saturday, May 4, 2013

The Freemason Question

I wonder what makes these horrible Freemason dogs imagine that I would ever even think of applying for membership in their horrible back-stabbing club, especially now? I mean, the constitution gives us freedom of association so you can join that club if you really want to, if you really want to be in the know and in the power, but I really believe that I would be so miserable joined together with those obnoxious people, powerful though they may be. The whole point of coming to America was for the pioneers to be free of that decadent European garbage, to shake off the girp of the vile European elitists, and I still feel that way even now. I have no need of a Hospitaller at this point my life, not having any health problems that I know of. And what is Malta but a colony of inbred Italian whiners? And what is a Knight nowadays but a pretentious fop who probably has no practice with the bow and arrow. It is all just so much showiness. The Knights of Malta have plotted nothing but misery for my life so obviously they cannot expect me to care about what happens to them.

Thursday, May 2, 2013

Minor Facts

Yes, it is mildly interesting to learn of the existence of Paul T. Barth, a native of Atlanta, Ga., who with his wife Hattie founded in 1921 the Association of Pentecostal Assemblies. He died in 1941 and was not in any way related to my great-grandfather, David A. Barth, who was born in Ohio, at least not that I know of. Maybe if you could track all the Barths in the USA back to Germany of the Middle Ages you could find some connection but it is not available here in the U.S., at least not that we know of. Barth founded a Bible college in Atlanta that at one time merged with Southeastern, which was founded in Alabama, but later moved to Lakeland, Florida. Oh, I didn't know that. Anyway, not being a Southeastern grad I nevertheless never set foot in the Beulah Heights school either. We really are not very interested in all these Deep South connections, having gladly delivered or heard that obnoxious Barbara Miller went to the airport, inspiring great relief at the thought of never having to listen to her nonsensical babbling ever again in this lifetime.

Wednesday, May 1, 2013

Which Reminds Me

Yes, I wonder whatever happened to Patty Dog from San Jose who married Ed the VP at Editorial Vida? I have no idea. I really don't want to know anything more about that. I imagine that it is just a very complicated story with a sad ending and who wants to hear another tragic tale? I know I don't.

Which Reminds Me

During the desert biology field trip in college we stopped at the Tropic of Cancer monument there along the highway in Baja California. I have some photos of people posing at the monument, including one of Marty Robertson clowning around as usual. I cannot say that I ever really knew Marty, just vaguely recall that he was from San Diego but later was said to be working at Westmont College. These people seem so important during college but later the waters flow to the ocean and we may never see people like Marty ever again in this lifetime or even care to. Marty is just another small fish in a bigger ocean. Aren't we all?

Ole Miss

Yes, thanks Mom for being so nice to all those single women living temporarily in El Salvador. Thus we often had Barbara Miller over at our house yapping about Ole Miss as if that were the only university on the planet, and as if Mississippi were the source of all humanity. Obviously not. Mississippi was only a guest at our house on a few occasions, let Barbara not forget that important point. Barbara does not even qualify as the Lamb children's stepmother so just being from Mississippi is not enough to claim motherhood of the entire human race obviously. And what horrid Lamb trash concocted this horrible exercise anyway? It does make you wonder who is running this country anyway.