Which Reminds Me

Obviously I don't need to remind anyone that I did not write this horrible script in the first place, but that it was thrust upon me later by all of those people who wish to pretend that they did not write it in the first place, but would like a scapegoat to take the fall in their places, or something like that.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, why all this yapping about Barbara Miller of Mississippi? Barbara was a schoolteacher at the missionary kid school for a year when I was in eleventh grade. Barbara was very talkative and always yapping about something. I remember that Stevie Bueno was always complaining about Barbara as his teacher because every morning during school she would be crying off and on because she was so depressed. Yes, well, Barbara was sort of dingy. She would come over to our house and complain about the son who lived in the house where she was living at the time, the house of the Navarrete family I seem to remember. Barbara would say that he was so mean to her. Yes, well, teenage guys are sometimes sort of mean to older single women, definitely. I don't actually recall the specifics of what she said about how he was being mean to her, just that she did complain about him. Perhaps my mother would remember something. She talked more to my mother than to us. But anyway, the Navarrettes are not exactly warm and friendly people as I recall. The patriarch of the Navarrete family was the church organist and he was very good at that even though sometimes some people seemed to recognize secular tunes such as "Glow Worm" that he was playing during offertories and interludes which might have seemed a little weird in church but, anyway, it was not my place to say anything about that. I don't remember very much about them so why is his mother complaining about me? I am not Barbara and don't even remember anything else about him.

Barbara would come over to our house and talk about the book of Job and other unanswerable dilemmas, also the so-called supremacy of Ole Miss, a Mississippi university of no interest to me.

Yes, and segueing directly to the point of oil well drilling, what was I supposed to do with this worthless hole in the ground? I am just a girl with no oil rig crew available to pump the money out of the ground.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, it is somewhat awkward for me, these horribly wicked chainy political people trying to surreptitiously attach themselves to me, as if I were some sort of talisman they would need to promote their own good luck. They don't care about my life and what happens to me. It is only their own political fortunes that consume their interests. I am nothing to them, just a cog in a wheel or something like that. I could say something very similar about those horrible Hollywood people. I never had any thought of learning more "behind the scenes" trivia on such shows as "Charlie's Angels" and other TV fluff that comes and goes in its seasons. I don't need their chains.

Which Reminds Me

When I was 8 years old we were playing the game of Sorry and I lost a game so I threw a temper tantrum and threw a yellow piece on the ground and it broke. I always play with blue pieces so to my 8-year-old mind I was supposed to win but didn't win that one. And it so happens that the Thompson girls were there to witness my little temper tantrum at eight years old, something they have forgotten. Oh, did I forget to say that I was sorry? Well, the name of game speaks for itself I suppose.

Which Reminds Me

About now someone really ought to be turning off the faucet, or rather I should perhaps say the Fawcett, Fawcett being the mother's maiden name of Samuel Longwell, the shady character who absconded with the money, for whom my great-grandfather took the fall, a thankless thing to do. We don't have time to match wits with your dogs Mary and Heather and anyway we couldn't care less. The dikes of Holland are overflowing. If only more of the facts were forthcoming we could sort out what our problem actually is but we really don't know enough about it, can't get a handle on it, just treading water here

Which Reminds Me

Yes, they are denying me any aspiration to motherhood, as if bossiness can only be allowed if you have already changed diapers and toilet trained toddlers. Not that I was ever that much bossy. Well, it is true that these skills are essential for motherhood but anyway not everyone can have children. What about childless wives like Susie? Never mind about them. It is really just all about me. The whole funnel is designed to leave me at the bottom of the pile. So? Perhaps I will die soon and then they will have to find some other victim to oppress because really nothing they do or say matters to me. I really can't say that I care about the opinions of persons who only hate me hate me hate me.

Which Reminds Me

It is sort of awkward for us, these Green people pretending to represent all of us when actually they represent business interests. If I ever chose a hobby it wouldn't be lobbying just for the lobby's sake. If I were lobbying it would not necessarily be the Green place to say how things should be. In the end the Greens will have to abide by the laws of the land just like everyone else, whatever those laws may be. One wants to hear some humility from even business leaders. It was sort of horrifying to hear Jan Green joking about how she would just as soon have a stick for a husband. Or maybe it was Karen who first said that. I can't quite remember. Maybe I really didn't get it at the time, so shocking was pretty much everything that Jan ever said, but later I thought about it and realized that Jan had been an evil influence on my thinking. Even though I was not the person whose report got Jan Green expelled from college, it was a relief to not have wicked witch Jan around anymore to muddy the waters. I would prefer to eschew all things that came out of Jan's mouth, and even mine in relation to that, if I could remember what was said, if I did say anything connected to that. But really, I would really rather forget about that. Personally speaking, I did not have a good impression of Jan Green. Jan was the one who dyed her hair a phony shade of auburn whereas my hair is naturally auburn.

Which Reminds Me

I think that it is ludicrous and pretentious for these dancers to claim that dancing is a necessary requisite of mating and courtship. Many of us in existence were born into this world without benefit of dancing. I doubt that my parents ever went dancing and certainly plenty of people can say the same thing. Really, social dancing is not necessary. There are those who want it and there are those who don't. Others don't really care one way or another. Dancing is just not that important to me in relation to some other values and principles. Lots of people get married and have families never having gone dancing so I fail to see the logic involved in this artificial mechanism that really is not necessary. If it is just all about dancing you can count me out because I just don't care that much. There is a lot more to life than just dancing. Someone was making a joke about artificial mechanisms of this type but I don't quite remember the context. I can't really say that I understood. Sometimes people say stupid things without thinking about what they are really saying.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, who could forget the spectacle of Silla Cheney dancing in chapel? There she was, clad in leotards, coming down the center aisle doing somersaults or cartwheels or handstands or something like that, moving on up to the platform where she performed her strenuous gymnastic routine. I do not recall myself offering any commentary on the occasion. We had already heard via the grapevine that she was trained in dance and gymnastics and wanted to use that to make her personal statement in the world. Thus it is safe to asssume that if you are a trained ballerina perhaps the powers-that-be who schedule chapel events will make an exception in your case, never mind that social dancing is against the rules of our college. Lots of people wanted to perform in chapel. Whatever. Anyway, I cannot say that I ever cared what Silla does. After all, I would not want to be dumped in the same bucket with Michal. One dares not vocalize any protest of dancing of any sort lest one's reproductive rights be stolen, even though it was not so much David's dancing that bothered Michal but the fact that he was running down Main Street clad only in his underwear. Perhaps that was sort of like appearing at a formal dinner wearing nothing but swim trunks, a faux pas of the etiquette variety that everyone else was willing to overlook given the nature of the occasion. Guys at the beach in their swimsuits can get sort of rowdy so it is best for girls not to say anything about that lest we find ourselves forced to make the Devil's choice. So yes, we had heard from Lynda of people at college taking tap dancing lessons but we dare not comment.

Oh, was Silla related to the vice president? I really wouldn't know anything about that. I seem to remember that Jimmy Carter was president at the time. Interestingly, Silla married Loren Wyrick who is a cousin of Susie Stewart (MK-El Salvador), who I have known since age 10. We had met Loren's mother, who was a woman minister of the old-line variety, but she is dead now. Susie did say a few things about Silla when I called her in California at the phone number she had given me, which as it turned out was Loren and Silla's house. Susie said something about Silla having gotten her master's degree and was writing TV screenplays. Susie said that Silla and Loren had agreed that after she got her master's, that she would support him in getting his but that was not happening. He was faced with a boring career of police officer and disappointed with his foul-mouthed wife and her bunch of obnoxious friends who included Sharon and Debbie traipsing in and out all of the time to use their washing machine. Oh, I had not known before calling that those people were all so connected. OK, so perhaps it is better that I not call California. I really would not want to be a party to their divorce. Those people were never really my problem.

Which Reminds Me

Why all this yapping about Dawn of whom I have heard almost nothing since the end of 10th grade? Dawn is Canadian so it seems logical to assume that you also are Canadian. Canadians are somewhat cold and brutal people so obviously you are the same.

Which Reminds Me

It's very simple. There is no "e" at the end of a singular potato. The plural potato attaches an "es" ending. Yes, perhaps someone was trying to explain to me something about the misspelling of the potato but I cannot say that I could follow the logic of what they were saying or understand why their defensive tirade was being dumped upon me, a person entirely unconnected to those events of which I was only vaguely aware having heard about that on television just like everyone else. I always was blessed with good spelling so perhaps I do feel a certain degree of pity for those persons who would so blithely attach an "e" where it obviously didn't belong, never mind about some obscure type or other anomalous occurrence out of circulation. Good spelling is a very important habit to cultivate in our lives and work. It's very simple. There is no "e" at the end of a singular potato.

Which Reminds Me

It does make me a bit angry to be so savagely attacked by the nasty Mouradians, boring and uninteresting persons of whom I was only vaguely aware, but at least now they moved up north somewhere so I don't have to worry about their back-stabbing ways affecting me that much anymore. We do feel a certain degree of pity for hateful nasty Lisa, always trying so hard to uppity-up herself with games of respectability. Life must be so unbearably hard for those clueless jailbird high school dropouts but anyway life goes on. They will survive even if poorly. I am not worried about them. I really was not interested in commenting on the drearily dull and boring Mouradians because really I don't know them and I really don't care that much. They always treated me like an outsider, as if being jailbirds were something that they could be proud of, which only makes me think that I never knew them at all.

Which Reminds Me

I am such a nice person that I was not even going to say anything about the prison records of Jack and Lisa. After all, they later got saved and then started attending our church regularly and stopped dealing drugs and whatever else they were doing that had gotten them into trouble with the law. Everyone was intending to be kind to Jack and Lisa and give them a little grace given that they did reform their wicked ways eventually, or so we had thought. So then why is it that these criminal elements are trying to paint themselves as martyrs in comparison to me, a person who never spent even a minute in jail. At one time I was doing a prison ministry thing with Sue Olen and Pastor David What's-His-Name but it was very depressing to see those dreary women convicts filing reluctantly into the chapel to listen to our ministry thing I must say. I sang. David spoke. Sue prayed. So maybe people got saved. Maybe in heaven we will meet some people who got saved there at the women's prison out on U.S. 27. We were not allowed to speak to the prisoners individually during our short time there in and out so I really would not remember anything specific about that.

Which Reminds Me

Shortly after John and Michelle Cote's wedding I remember that myself and I don't remember who else were at their apartment and Michelle was showing us John's paintings that were hanging on the wall and going on about how lucky she is to have an artist for a husband. This way she does not have to go out and buy stuff to hang on her walls. She can just tell her husband to paint something for this or that corner or whatever. Ok, so we are glad that Michelle is happy with she got but personally I would rather pick my own art. Personally I would not want to see Johnny's pathetically mediocre doodles hanging on the walls of my own house. Yes, I always was too nice to explain how not impressed I ever was with the boring Cote family. One is not supposed to say what one really thinks about one's artistically mediocre friends from church even when they seem to have no scruples about stabbing one in the back given the chance and opportunity.

Which Reminds Me

This is the place in the script where I am supposed to say something in protest of Cubanity. You just can't put a square in a round hole. It just doesn't work. We don't have really have much time to figure out where they are, floating on some raft at sea or possibly even deep underwater. How can we can blame them for leaving a place known for its vices, rum and cigars? Ick!

Which Reminds Me

I am not interested in talking money with some obnoxious person unknown to me. If you have a job to offer or to deny me that would be one thing. But just to go around behind the scenes sputtering about how you are not going to bankroll my life, well, it makes me wonder about your mental condition. You are not going to pay me and also I am not going to work for you, and there is nothing else to add to that formula. I never asked you for money. And anyway, I would not want to feel that I "owed" you something. When I was in college my Dad gave me a car even though I had not thought to ask for one. Was I supposed to turn it down? No, it was just a gift from my Dad. So?

Which Reminds Me

Yes, it is true that my first car was a Mustang, but that is not a reason to dialogue with some obnoxious little twerp who is a complete stranger to me, a person of no interest. We have no place here for the Guantanamera hash you are peddling. Guajira Guacal Guano Guayaba. Whatever that is, we wouldn't want it here.

Which Reminds Me

If there is no forgiveness for me, only condemnation forever and ever, then why do you pretend to preach forgiveness of sins? Is Christianity only a matter of making yourselves feel better than others for not having yourself sinned quite as badly as another? You have expected the worst from me, even worse then I could have imagined myself, and cursed me so harshly, and so at times I have despaired of anything better and succumbed to the temptation to accommodate your ill-will expressed towards me in the temptations that you pushed under my nose. Do you not want me to succeed? Do you really want me to fail so miserably? You really don't care what happens to me, do you? I am a private person so my forgiveness from Jesus is unconditional. But of society's approval I have no pretensions to aspire, nor did I ever have much. People are generally mean and nasty and selfish. An unruly mob is easily turned of its opinion to one direction or another. There is no virtue in being loved by the masses who will just as easily hate you the next for no offense whatsoever. Society is corrupt. Max is just as much a lying thief as anyone for to have one's reputation stolen is to be robbed of something valuable. So there is no remedy for me. I will just die without accomplishing much in this life because, anyway, my failure was highly anticipated.

Which Reminds Me

Greg is a slobbering idiot who was a friend of my sister's. Greg's obnoxious face often appeared at church functions even though he really never belonged here and never had anything intelligent to say. It so happens that Greg married a Renee which sounds exactly like my sister's name although not spelled the same way. My parents did not know that René is actually a man's name in French so that explains why she was often wrongly assigned to boys' P.E. class in high school and often spent the first day of school in the principal's office getting her class schedule changed.

Which Reminds Me

I remember sitting at a large round table, perhaps it was my sister's wedding, and there was my sister's friend Nelsa verbally sparring with her ex-boyfriend whose name was Eric. That is about the only thing that I remember about him. I have no comment. Later Nelsa married Craig so whatever. I do not recall saying more than "Hello" to that Eric. I really don't remember him.

Which Reminds Me

Needless to say, we are not interested in delving into the internal squabbles of the Kelly family. I really have nothing new to say to or about them. The Irish tend to be contentious over much, which is the only clue I would suspect, but we are really not all that Irish so the Kellys are not our problem.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, perhaps there was some wisdom in the "New Times" article exposing the problem of these crude and vulgar French Canadian people who come down here elbowing themselves rudely and loudly to the top of the ladder when actually we are thinking that they already have socialized medical care back home and we don't need their problems here so why don't they all just go home to Montreal or Quebec where they belong and leave us be in peace. These French services really are not needed here so perhaps they should get a clue that we are really not interested in more of that. Perhaps they French should show a little more respect for American cooking because, really, snails and frog legs are not appetizing.

Which Reminds Me

Obviously I have nothing of significance to say about Holly MacGowan, a person who I talked to maybe a couple of times in my entire life and of whom I remember almost nothing, just that she was a flaky psych major whose idiotic mutterings are of dubious quality at best. She was on the science field trip in Mexico but we only talked once or twice even then. She expressed her pity for me being relegated to the other van but I did not encourage further conversation along that vein because anyway I really did not care to be in the so-called "cool" van with Cori and her obnoxious friends. I was getting really tired of their boring behavior. I really did not mind riding in the other van with the other "un-cool" people because it was more quiet there and could hear the teacher explaining things. So I got an A-minus 91 or 92 on the test which infuriated Cori because she, having gotten a 98, was certain that I would have at least gotten a B if not lower, as she said to me. She imagined herself and Marilyn the only A's in the whole class, as she said. However, I said in response to that, no, I think that I will get an A because my A- will average out to 4.0 also and I was right on that point. This statement of mine infuriated her and she stormed out of the room and marched over to the science department to protest my test grades. So whatever. Anyway, I got an A in desert science. Needless to say I got sick and tired of Cori arguing vociferously on the most ridiculous points.

Which Reminds Me

Dr. Kelly was a professor in our journalism program. I don't suppose that he would have any distant cousins in the TV anchorage business. No one ever mentioned this to me. Kelly is a very common name. Anyway, I cannot imagine that the extended Kelly family would be calling on Dr. Kelly's students to comment on their cousin or something. That would seem so inappropriate. And anyway how could I comment on events that have never been clearly explained to me, just that the whole program was revamped. But that was maybe three or four years after I was already gone so I really don't know much. It is hard for me to understand how my name gets thrown around so prominently in connection to events to which I am really not connected. Just the fact that I drove through the state of Louisiana once or twice was enough to stir up all kinds of false rumors about me. It is just ridiculous.

Which Reminds Me

How many times do I have to explain that there were three redheads in my high school class? There was Ronit who was Jewish. There was Libby Penders, who belonged to the Jehovah Witness cult. Libby is opposed to pledges of allegiance to one's country and flags and so forth as are all Jehovah Witness people. And then there was me, the sole Christian of the evangelical born-again variety. So if you are going to address remarks to Libby please remember that she lives somewhere up north, possibly Connecticut, so spare me the trouble of having to forward Libby's mail to her because I really don't care that much. I don't know anything about it.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, I knew you would say that. It is not mine to be scheduled, but I still have a choice not to schedule you anywhere at all on my plate. Due to your obstinance, I will need to flush you out of my life entirely because you are worthless to me. I must shake the dust off of my sandals and move on to the next thing because you are just never going to be available, obviously. There was no need to chew on that point. Goodbye.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, it was sort of awkward during college having the Cederblom boys' mother there also performing at some of the student recitals. It is always awkward to have older people in college pretending to be your peer group when actually they are not really your friends. Some people were saying some things critical of her but I don't remember anything specific. Marty Lestarjette was very critical of Mrs. Cederblom but if I were to repeat that I would just get myself into more trouble. So I actually did repeat that and to Dauna K. who is the worst kind of gossip. Dauna is a worse parrot than I ever was. But anyway that was just something that Marty Lestarjette said. I really wouldn't know about her parenting skills in raising the obnoxious whiner Terry because I was never really there. The idea was that Dorothy's imperial attiude perhaps contributed to Terry being such an obnoxious whiner which is why I really don't care to continue this pointless conversation. I really don't care to reestablish any relationships with the Cederbloms at this point in time because they are so utterly selfish and self-absorbed. It is just all about them. They just don't care about anyone but themselves.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, who knew that these Italian women had such a huge chip on their shoulder, imagining themselves the adversaries of white people, concocting this stupid dialogue which, when read by me, just makes me sound like an idiot? Oh, I had not thought about them at all, had not realized that they will be using their ambiguous brown-noses to triangulate politically against white people in alliance with brown people whenever it is politically convenient for them. So basically this means that Italians are not really my friends. I may or may not be there next time. There are no guarantees in this transitory life. It is hard for me to understand, being completely unacquainted with them, that these Italians had already cooked up some huge grudge against me for reasons that are so insignificant and out of proportion to the original sin, based perhaps on something my grandparents did or perhaps did not say. Italian dogs really ought to get over themselves. Guess what, we are really not so impressed that we would spend that much time thinking about you at all, much less in concocting some nefarious plot to steal your wimpy loser husband. Yes, it must be troublesome for the Johnson brothers whose mother was actually Italian, or so we heard via the grapevine. I really don't know them. Mark Johnson married Carol Garlit (MK-Ecuador). Yes, who knew that the South America MKs were such wortheless trash? And then there was Tim Johnson, a 500-pound blob of boring nothingness. It is nice that those two sons are so defensively loyal to their Italian mother but I really don't understand why I should care. All sons are loyal to their mothers or ought to be regardless of her nationality. There is nothing uniquely better about Italian mothers. My mother is not Italian and yet is a much better mother than any trashy Italian dog could ever hope to be. So there. So I don't want to hear another word from the criminally stupid Johnson gang.

Which Reminds Me

Someone was trying to make jokes possibly about aspirin, Johnson & Johnson vs. Bayer. Um, well, I have to admit that I don't really get it. An apple a day keeps the doctor away so whatever. Aspirin is not something that I would use every day, thins your blood too much, or so I heard somewhere, and anyway hopefully myself am never sick enough to require visiting the similarly named Houston hospital complex. Besides which I really don't know the Johnsons very well at all. My parents voted for Nixon anyway. There was a Johnson family at our church at one time but they no longer live around here. I really can't say that I know them. The Johnsons are rich so they prefer to politic by lending their protection to the Italian elements, advocating the preference of Italians and browns over regular white people such as myself, so obviously I am not interested in learning more about that.

Which Reminds Me

Why am I being held hostage by this obnoxious little twerp? Certainly I am not guilty of holding anyone hostage. I never had any role in Alan Skogerbo's life. I only heard about this via the grapevine. Hi Alan! That's about the extent of conversation I ever had with Alan at MK Retreat, where he was dating Debbie Bowman at the time. He was an MK in Peru who later became a magician. He wanted to go as a single missionary to Latin America, and he even did that partway as a MAPS worker, and had a girlfriend there in Costa Rica, a native girl, and then dumped her because he apparently decided that he did not want to get married, and then her family made a big stink about that and accused him of being gay, and then the missions director, I think John Bueno was his name, counseled Alan about the advisability of missionaries being married and how a good wife is a good thing and a blessing for a man in his work and life. And then Alan made a big fuss, saying that he was being forced to get married before he could get his  missionary appointment. He only wanted to be a single unmarried missionary, not a married one, apparently, and he felt that her family was being unreasonable. So then he was forced to quit the mission field, by then having become a persona non grata in Costa Rica, and moved back to the U.S. and did children's church work at some church up north somewhere and became an activist for the cause of single missionaries until finally later he quit church work and disappeared from visibility. Alan's argument that he should not be forced to get married in order to get missionary appointment was a sort of red herring, detracting attention from the fact that there is actually no law against single missionaries, whether male or female. For example, Harvey Vail was a single unmarried missionary man for many years in Yucatan, Mexico. There are many more examples of women single unmarried missionaries because, obviously, there are more women than men. So obviously there is per se no law against single missionaries. However, perhaps Alan's possibly immature behavior somehow ran afoul of church authorities and thus his services as a missionary were no longer needed for some reason. I really don't know all of the details on that. Like I said, I only heard about this third-hand. I just think that probably Alan was being too demanding in trying to pose himself a martyr for the cause of bachelordom. I would not want to comment beyond that point because I really have no idea. Susie knows Alan better than I do. Perhaps you could get more details on this by asking Susie. I really don't know very much about anything, only a little of this and that.

Which Reminds Me

I don't think that I have any real friends in San Jose, California, only perhaps a few distant cousins not known to me, so why are all of these stupid people of California, especially San Jose, so eager to take shots at me? I really don't care if I never see the Stupid People of California ever again in this lifetime. Dolly was a worthless piece of garbage, pathetically shrill Kim Coffaro similarly. There was really nothing cool about Lori Way who married that tobacco-chewing twerp Al Moore. Similarly, Heather Stewart married that tobacco-chewing twerp Dwight McConnell and Heather's roommate what's-her-name married that tobacco-chewing twerp Mark Godfrey. Well, it is true that my own grandfather was addicted to that vice but it is not like he ever attended church, let alone a Christian college studying Bible, and that is not to say that the family approved. There was no money wasted on a fancy spittoon when an empty coffee can does the job just as well. Anyway, we were not expecting to find the world as usual when we went to a Christian college to learn about Christian ministry and life. Our college years were not particularly the good years but life goes on.

Which Remind Me

Yes, I do vaguely recall that there was a blond lady at our college who was a married student. Her worthless husband, deciding that she had gotten too fat, solved the issue by running off with another student, possibly some skinnier but trashy Italian dog. What were their names? Yes, Italian women are so shameless in this regard, always dressed in the most provocative outfits of the hooker variety. The devil himself would tempt male eyes to peek but do we really have to tell these people that underwear should be undercover lest they be mistaken for the devil? Obviously the sales racks of department stores nowadays are chock full of inappropriate outfits just waiting to be bought by these clueless teenage girls. Girls with brains are smarter than that, more selective about what they do and do not wear.