Sunday Sermonette Number 2 (maybe 3)

The Sundays which fall in a holiday weekend are a bit better than other Sundays. A typical Sunday is a quieter day when you step outside - the usual stench of the Rat Race which runs Monday thru Friday is dampened, lessened somewhat since humans sleeping a bit later, or as in the South, lowered anxieties accompany the Faithful Flocks who make their way to the Church of Their Choice. This particular September Sunday is caught in the midst of a the Labor Day Holiday, and here in East TN, the silence is sweetened by the satisfaction of football fans who saw Their Boys win and slumber on more deeply, or wake a bit more quietly.

I always welcome this Sunday morning silence.

Religious or not, most humans seem to take one day a week to drift a bit.

The blurred confusion which circulates in the news about the state o' the world is still there, yes, and I often think the planet would truly benefit if even the 24/7 television world were to simply shut up as well - say from about 5 a.m. til about 3 or 4 p.m. every Sunday. Voluntarily, I mean. Everyone gets forced into too much these days, and I refuse to advocate more forced behavior. I just think the planet would benefit from a touch of self-imposed silence.

Maybe that's why Sunday mornings are so pleasant - most humans take some down time, or ponder the Creator from pews and pulpits, or prep a leisurely plate of brunch, or roll over and dream for a few more moments.

For this Sunday, I do have a few thoughts on worldly matters and the manipulations and machinations from the Powers That Be. But those are all on a back burner, concepts are slowly stewing away, perhaps for a post later today or tomorrow.

Front and center today, though, are a few manifestations of the Oddness of early September 2006. And so I offer to share some of these stray bits of strangeness which I have found in the last day or so.

From West TN, the mighty Newscoma includes a report on Bigfoot sightings in Arizona. The headline for the latest news reads "Bigfoot Kept Lumberjack As Love Slave." What might that be like? Just how does Bigfoot enslave the love of a burly lumberjack? Just how does the mythic creature get his/her Love jones on? If there is just one Bigfoot, isn't there a tragic quality to the creature who has no mate, no peer, no equal, forced instead to hold captive an unsuspecting lumberjack?

The Bigfoot story, from Weekly World News, reminds me of the pics and stories they used to run about President Clinton meeting with our Alien Overlords. So I wonder, if maybe the current administration, itself alone and unloved in a hostile world, might should reach out to Bigfoot, co-mingle their alienations, and send the creature out into the diplomatic world. Maybe for example, a country like Iran or Lebanon could benefit from a visit from Bigfoot. A newer, gentler myth of monstrosity could behoove them.

On the topic of monstrosities, I can confirm I have never, ever, never wondered what might happen if someone made a line of perfumes and scents based on the fantastical creatures from the mind of writer H.P. Lovecraft. But these folks here have.

For the scent of the haunted city of Arkham, makers say it is:

" A shadowy, unapproachable forest of maple, birch, dogwood, cypress and pine softened by a garland of New England wildflowers: bergamot, columbine, rue anemone, blue violet, creeping phlox, bloodroot, toadflax, and pixie moss.

I was thinking of contacting them and offering to work writing ad copy for them for today's modern-now-a-go-go youth -- I think ad ad reading "Smells Like Teen Nyarlathotep" might capture the national attention. Imagine a reality show, "The Next Pickman's Model."

Since it is a Sunday, I was more than a little disturbed to discover the new craze among Southern Evangelical Christians is Christian Wrestling. I mean, 'Rasslin'!

I had thought at first glance this was a story about the North Carolina singer/comedian Rev. Billy C. Wirtz, who had a tune back in the early 1990s called "Sleeper Hold On Satan."

Nope.

Seems there are even two Christian Rassling Leagues.

"I'm not going to sit here and listen to a shirt-and-tie preacher. But I might listen to a guy in spandex because he's like me',” said Timothy "“T-Money"” Blackmon, who wears tight black shorts with a "T“"” on one buttocks and a dollar sign on the other."

Ooops. That story has ruptured my calm Sunday.

Time to sign off and go make some waffles, maybe some biscuits, while the dogs hover near my ankles hopping for dropped morsels. And then a nap.

POSTSCRIPT: I am not sure what the hell is going on in the United Kingdom right now, but for the last four or five days hundreds and hundreds of U.K readers have been arriving here on this Cup of Joe after Googling for that old "Cats That Look Like Hitler" post. That can't be a good sign if Europe is pondering that guy, even in cat form.

Besides, for all those folk who've been visiting - they have yet to leave a single comment. That's just rude.