Monday, April 24, 2006

Wait! It'll come to me.

Hmmm...Nope. Nothing yet.

Today was something the MSM would refer to as a Slow News Day. Though I don't really consider this blog a great source of news. I don't consider most MSM outlets a great source for news, either. But I'm more aiming for infotainment.

Sometimes when I'm out of ideas, I turn to The Mrs. for inspiration. Today, she provided me with two, not one, but two different funny little stories to tell. One of them was provided intentially, the other not so much. Both, oddly enough, were inspired by the long post I rolled out yesterday to much fanfare. Thus, really I am inpiring myself through The Mrs., and thus I deserve most of the credit, I imagine.

After all, I'm The Funny One.

To get right to the point, The Mrs. this morning, after reading my post from last night that went up long after she had drifted happily off to sleep, said, "You forgot to tell the story of HannieC and The Children's Sermon." Why yes, I did. I talked about the Season of Non-Violence, but I didn't really cover how it touched our fambly. So, without further ado, here is the story of HannieC and The Children's Sermon.

For those of you who are regular readers, you know that we often head off to the local UCC church on Sundays. Now, if you were to judge the church just by the cars in the parking lot, you'd say, "Hmmm...there is a high density of Toyota Priuses, an exceptionally high density of pure electric cars (I consider 2 in a lot of 60 cars exceptionally high density for electric cars, since there are fewer than 1000 in the entire state), and an awful lot of cars with War is not the Answer, No Blood for Oil, and Codepink bumper stickers on them. I wonder if this is a church where liberals go?"

But then, of course, you'd slap your forehead and say, "Doh! Liberals don't believe in church! They're all a bunch of godless communists," and you'd head right in.

But you'd be wrong. Liberals do go to church. And not just any church. They go to my church. Though I suppose it was really their church first, so really I go to their church. But, hey, they make a lot of noise about welcoming everybody with all different viewpoints. So I am still welcome there. But I digress once again.

Like all UCC churches, there is a children's sermon near the beginning of the service where all the kiddies get to go up front and get a special audience with the pastor while he or she delivers a special sermon just for them. This week's topic was "How can you help to choose peace and spread non-violence?" HannieC's hand shot right up.

Oh no.

The Mrs. turns to me with a look of panic. What is this little cherub of ours going to say? I'm thinking to myself, "Self, statistically speaking, the very best way to spread peace and non-violence within this country is to push for shall-issue concealed carry permit laws. But I don't think I've covered that with little HannieC yet. What could it be that she's going to say? Is she going to talk about getting rid of Democrats? Canadians? Oh Dear God, please don't let her say we should get rid of all the Democrats."

Well, see right there I was inspired into prayer by the children's sermon. Church is working magnificently.

HannieC, however, did the best possible thing she could do at this moment.

She lied.

"When I want to be violent with my brother, I choose to hug him instead, and if he doen't feel like being hugged, then I go play in my room by myself for a while."

The congregation chuckles a bit - whenever HannieC answers a question during the children's sermon she elicits a chuckle. When she's older and I lose my touch, she'll be The Funny One.

The Mrs. turns to me again, only this time with a great look of relief, and she says, "She didn't mention that the going to the room part isn't voluntary." Yeah. Or that when she "hugs" MaxieC she does it by pinning him to the ground and squeezing him until he screams. But these are details that don't really add to the theme of non-violence, and so HannieC editted to make the story fit the circumstance better. A genius I tell you. A chip off the old block.

Which brings me to the second story inspired by The Mrs. This one was inadvertant, unlike the children's sermon one. This morning, right before I leave for work, The Mrs. is quizzing me about what happened to StinkyJ. She had just read last night's post. Now, pretty much all the details I have already included, so I just said the words again. "He was playing soccer, and he broke his shinbone. Now he'll miss work for a couple days."

Then she gets this great look of concern on her face and says something that was utterly priceless:
I bet his wife is furious.
Not, "Poor guy, I hope he's feeling better." Not, "Wow, that must be rough with the new twins and all." Not even, "So, if he's home sick, why do you have to go to work?" I'd check the basement for pods, except I don't have a basement, and I'm pretty sure women don't come from pods. Apparently, they come from Venus. Strange thing about Venus is that there are no accidents there. Instead, everything is somehow a conspiracy to annoy women. That's why the women all left Venus and came to earth, where life is much better. Primarily because there are so many more men here on which everything can be blamed.

"I bet his wife is furious." Hah! It still kills me.

Maybe The Mrs. is The Funny One.

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