Wednesday, September 2, 2015

274. Scriptures

What’s this all about over in Kentucky.” C.W. looked up at me when I walked into the room and found him in one of his rare moments of watching TV, looking a lot like his Grandpa Amos McCoy character.

“What, over in Kentucky?” I said.

“This county employee that won’t do her job. She’s a pill, by golly.” He cackled.

“Oh the woman who doesn’t like gay couples and won’t give them marriage licenses?”

“That’s the one. She says it’s not because she don’t like gays.”

“Yes.” I said, “and Robert E. Lee said he didn’t wage war against his own country four years because he didn’t like black people.”

He looked at me funny. “He always said that violating his oath had nothing to do with slavery,” he said. “In fact, he was agin’ it.”

“Yes,” I said, “and I suppose that’s why, when his army marched into Pennsylvania, they rounded up all the free African-Americans they could find and sent them South to be sold, according to the scriptures.”

“Hmmm,” he said. “But about this sister in Kentucky.”

“What about her?”

“She says it ain’t Biblical for a person to marry gays.”

“Well,” I said. “It ain’t Biblical for one person to judge another person, either.”

“She thinks she’s acting on higher authority.”

“So did the World Trade Center bombers.”

“You don’t like her much, do you?”

“I don’t know her,” I said.

 “But you don’t thinks she would pass the pass ‘The Trip To the Calvinasian Galaxy Test,’ I reckon.”

“The Trip To the Calvinasian Galaxy Test?”

“To take a long trip confined in a spaceship with a nutcase.”

“We call it,” I said, “The Trip To California Test.’ And no, I hardly think I would like to make it with her. Besides, she’s breaking the law and violating her duty to observe it.”

“But she cites a scripture to support herself.”

“So do parents who beat their children to death.”

“Are you telling me,” he said, “that your species is free to cite any scripture that supports their insanity and ignore those that don’t?”

“That’s pretty much it,”

“That’s Kopapilakrapuhdae,” he said.

Making sense of things in Kentucky is
as hard as making sense of banjo music. - C.W.
“No doubt,” I said.

“So, say I … uh … say a woman was to bust up all her husband’s guitars and banjoes, based on the scripture that says ‘Make a joyful noise,’ and the sounds y…, uh, the man was making wasn’t very joyful, there would be spiritual absolution?”

“Not at all,” I said, “any scholar of the scriptures knows that a woman exists solely to serve her husband, and that would hardly be serving him, now would it?”

“Have you explained that to Mrs. Big Dope?”’

“She doesn’t need to understand it. As Job said, ‘Can anyone understand the spreading of the clouds, the thunderings of his pavilion?.’”

He started to cackle and said, “That’s purty good, so …” he stopped and turned toward the TV. “Wait,” he said, “they’re going live to Kentucky. Hey … can you hear that banjo music playing?”

Please click some ads. I need to repair some instruments.
Finally, buy Big Dope's book so he'll shut up about it.
- C.W.

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