I’m still sick. Every time I honk lately it’s because I’m trying to blow three inches of solid mucus from my nasal cavity. I’m laid up in bed. My back is killing me. My head feels like it’s going to explode. But I’m not complaining.
Honk.
Thankfully, regular reader and avid writer / blogger Renee Hendricks tweeted a blog post from someone called, “The Redheaded Skeptic” this morning. I clicked the link and that familiar train whistle honked its tremendous horn.
What a trainwreck. You should read it.
Redhead details her thoughts on going fundamentalist Baptist Pastor’s wife to atheist.
I have been moved by a few of the posts. It’s great to read about someone so young who realized her faith was bunk, and is able to write about it like she does. I don’t imagine that she’s all that old. Her musings are inspirational to read, though.
Apparently, christian troll and posterboy for everything that’s ridiculously wrong with Christian proselytization zdenny reads her blog too and tells her she’s just confused and really still is a Christian. The more I see of him, it’s becoming excruciatingly clear that his education level is low. And that he is self beguiled enough to think that his efforts are smiled upon by a higher being and that he is doing positive work for faith. I’m quite sure he accomplishes the opposite.
I learned yesterday that my dad has edged his way away from reading my blog, explaining that it’s too “loud”. I didn’t wait for an explanation as to what that meant. He called yesterday for computer help, and I was so groggy and then disappointed by the phone call’s purpose, that I just waved my hand and said, “That’s okay, dad. There’s nothing for you to read anyway.”
But that’s not true. I just didn’t care to argue with him. It’s his choice to read or not to read. But I imagine utopia would be a world in which families long to know the deeper inner secrets of their loved ones, regardless what they are or how much it would offend them. Matthew Arnold was so wrong.
At the same time, it’s good to know. Because I really had been feeling guilty about some self editing since the whole shit hit the fan. I guess self-editing didn’t keep him here, so I might as well pull out all the stops. It doesn’t appear my sister in law reads here either anymore that I can tell.
It’s neither here nor there.
What matters is you’re still here. Reading like the gorgeously handsome and/or stunning beauty that you are. Thanks again.
Now I’m going to go back to being sick while wallowing in a sea of yellow-snotted Kleenexes and painful self-tormenting sorrow.
Honk.
Le Café Wittypoots 