Lift a Prayer

Although our boss has another name for her, we call her Nancy. And though she isn't even dead yet, our boss built and maintains a shrine to her. At least we don't think she's dead yet; she walks around snarling and snapping at everyone. Our boss believes that Nancy holds great mystical power that will propell people to high office and public adoration, and unlimited godlike powers. Our boss hangs on Nancy's snarlings as though they are sacred words. And, through this worship and following of her mystical snarlings and growls, someday hopes to attain the dream of becoming a great, powerful, black woman.

There are a couple of problems with this as I see it. First of all, idolitry is just wrong. Secondly, those who attain the highest levels of respect for self and others, also attain the highest levels of humility. So the whole self agrandizement thing just fails as a workable venue for happiness.

Thirdly, although I understand the sex change operation is legal in certain states, still I have sincere doubts that even with the operation, and as much of a bitch as he is, that my boss's lilly, pasty, white, face is gonna turn black.

The south is already full of strange eccentric people. We grow our own, thank you very much, and this guy didn't come from here. We really don't need him to fill our local quota of harmless, colorful, eccentrics. And, we're pretty sure that he's not harmless. So, if there are any towns our there, north of the Mason - Dixon line and west of the Mississippi, that could use a spare kook, let us know. We'll pay the shipping. Maybe your local eccentric has passed on, been cured, or left town, and you're looking for another "colorful character" to give flavor to your small town. I think this guy could fill the bill for you very nicely, and we are willing to negotiate very reasonable terms.

Please don't send donations of food or clothing. We are not interested in maintenance, we're interested in relocation.

It seems every morning I get up with a mindset to be positive and optimistic, and to go out into the world to spread some cheer, goodwill, and hope. Then I get to my place of employment and I find only more wrongs against the innocent, the good, and the beloved. I tell you, working in a funeral home would offer more reasons for joy each day, and far less sorrow than working where I do. I am sick of struggling to maintain a healthy outlook on life, while being battered daily by acts and attitudes of barbarism. And this is supposed to be a public charity!

I feel like I'm in a surrealistic dreamscape. Either I've been eating bad mushrooms in the marinara sauce or the moon and pluto are aligned astrologically, because right now, the world is goofy beneath the Carolina moon. My prayers have taken to starting out with phrases like, "God! I'm struggling with understanding a few things here!" Meanwhile, starting Monday, it's my week to feed Nancy. I don't know that I can do that. Somehow, something has to give! Someone has to go!

I could go old school Dread under these circumstances really easy. Lift a prayer where it's needed. Lift a prayer.

Dread