Bill's Corner watch for trolls.: Childhood and Family Matters

Showing posts with label Childhood and Family Matters. Show all posts

Helping out again about Christmas and etcs.

Readers have requested: Would you tell us a "Christmas Story" for children of non-theist families? Thanks, your loyal fans.

I sense your need! Will the following help?

Now children settle down with your blankets and stuffed bunnies and GranFrogger will tell you all about Chrispness.

You know that most of your little friends believe in Slanty Claws and in Cheeses too. That is because their parents are sillies and have lied to them. That is sad of course but GranFrogger tells the truth because it is better for you and will make you happier and not feel cheated when you later will learn the truth anyway. You have already noticed that Slanty in his fake whiskers, red suit and whiskey breath appears in scads of stores at the same time. Miracle? No, Trickery! And any one that corpulent (that means sloppy fat) can’t get down any chimneys and not get roasted and all sooty. Yes, it is make believe like the Ether Egg Bunny and Tooth Fairy. It all can be a fun story and Chrispness can be fun too if we know the difference between pretend and truth. We all enjoy presents, milk and cookies for Slanty on the mantle and pretty lights and music.

But now to the most silly part of Chrispness. Lots of groan up people claim to believe that Chrispness is all about Cheeses and a virgin mommy (never mind the virgin part; I’ll explain that later when I tell you about fucking and the real way babies get started). The virgin part is fako anyway so just ignore it for now. The story is that one of the gods came down from the clouds and knocked up (that means got her belly full of a baby) a young woman named Mary. At least that was Mary’s story and she has stuck with it. It probably saved her life because in those days the gods (they are imaginary too) commanded that girls that got preggers before they were married (or after marriage by some sly devil they were not married to) must be squashed by having plenty of bolders dropped on them. Of course that would be unpleasant for Mary so she lied.

So yes, she became famous and so did her son, Maurice. For effect Maurice changed his name to Cheesie Crispy and manufactured crackers for a living. He figured he would sell more crackers if he made them out of his body parts, foreskin, dandruff and stuff like that which he didn't need any more. Then he declared he was part god yet fully god and people should eat his crackers with a nice glass of cabernet or zinfandel. But the people were disgusted with him and decided to fix him for good, crucifix that is! That means they hung him out to dry and think about what he should do otherwise next time only he got dead before next time. But that gets into the estrus story which I will tell about later. Chrispness is the big whoopee about how he was born to be a manager, no, born in a manger. There is all kind of forgery about the story which was stolen from the stories of many other imaginary gods before the Cheeses god was invented.

So what you need to know about it all is just to shut up for now and enjoy the fun parts and ignore the other children’s baloney. Later when you are groan and cram full of wisdom like GranFrogger you can tease the sillies about------- Hey, wake up you little shits: I’m not here just to jabber into the fireplace. And Oh! Look down the chimbley in a plop, its fricassee of reindeer!

WHATEVER HAPPENED TO EILEEN FARLEY? (ANOTHER TRUE STORY FROM MY CHILDHOOD)

We were pre-pre-teens playing in our neighborhood in San Francisco, Jacqueline, Joan, Eileen, Jim, Marlene, Janice, and my brother Don. Sometimes Donald Stone came from the next block. He tried out for the role of group bully and he got the part. But he tired of us and went back to his own territory. There was nothing special about us and not worth telling about except to ask you, “Have you seen Eileen Farley recently?”

We invented a game called Find The Rabbit. One of us, the Rabbit, hid and the rest of us competed to find the Rabbit. Nice invention don’t you think? No fences could exclude us because we were super-heroes then and could leap high gates in one or two bounds. Damage to shrubbery or a flowerbed was not a goal of the game but it did not deter swift pursuit either. We simply presumed that everyone’s front, back or side yard was our rightful play area. And we were unhindered by adult direction. The first to find the rabbit got the trophy and a clever new hiding place was greatly admired too.

You probably invented the same game yourself and I only tell you about it to set the scene for the important part which is that play came to an abrupt end for one of us. Fresh home from Catholic Church one Sunday came Eileen and she brought alarming news. We were all going to an dreadful place later, all except Eileen. And our parents were going there too. It was a horrid place and bad, bad things would happen to us and forever. It was because we were nasty and unsaved. Eileen was saved. She didn’t say how but we were definitely not!

Eileen played with us once or twice more. Her cheerful smile and pretty face became squinched up; she looked frightened. Then we saw her no more even though she lived directly across the street for years. And we never saw her parents either.

I was very puzzled. This was in the days before I learned not to ask my parents or any big people how or why things worked. My parents only shrugged and said, “Some people believe that.” Evidently they did not feel in any danger and that was some relief to me. But we did miss Eileen. And I had a lot of pondering to do. Was Eileen locked up at home or at church? What did getting saved mean? What things are true and what are not? How does the world work? Did anyone know any of these things and if so why wouldn’t they tell me? Why the secrecy?

Eileen never reappeared. Now I know what happened. She had fallen into the Catholic Cult and some criminal in a black suit had poisoned her mind! And her family had let it happen! And now I know how vile it is to load up a vulnerable child’s mind with superstitious fears, passing it off as known truth. I still think of her and I hope she escaped. So I ask you,

DO YOU KNOW WHAT HAS BECOME OF EILEEN FARLEY?

REVELATIONS 9-12 (Years old that is)

Cub Scout Pack One met every month. We had blue uniforms with short pants and a gold neckerchief; nice I guess except in San Francisco's cold fog. Having a little fun from time to time was ok but being good militaristic scouts was paramount. And in pursuit of good character we were exposed to religion. I had heard rumors about gods and stuff but it was not discussed in my family so I was ignorant of it and neutral about it. About once a month we cubs were herded to this church and next month over to that church; never to a synagogue or mosque because they had not been invented yet evidently. Mostly we sat numbly through the rituals and stuff with minds adrift and bodies wiggling.

But occasionally I listened and was startled to notice that the big chief or this church was entirely contradicting the big chief of the others. Very curious! Because I was innocent and had not yet learned not to try and get meaningful information from adults, I asked our scout leaders and my parents about it. I learned. Their answers were different but all the same basically that I wouldn't understand and don't ask such foolish questions.

So there I was, one skinny boy against the High Pondoos of the Church and the Big Scout Chiefs and the Parents. There was so much fog! But I listened even more carefully to sermons, songs and all the praying. I learned about heaven and the multiple incompatible ways to get in. And about hell and all the fun ways to get in.

At night falling asleep I considered it all and my lonely conclusion was that church business smelled funny, like bad fish. Later when the fog lifted I realized it was all lies.

JOAN'S MOTHER REDIRECTED OUR PLAY GROUP

My father was a doctor and he thought I should be one as well. And that was fine with me. Mother was a nurse until her graduation from RN to MRS. Our family had all the medical advantages. We had cough syrups and mustard plasters and little liver pills. And for accuracy, fevers were calibrated by rectal thermometer.

My playmates had other life goals. Jacquelyn thought about being a librarian and Joan a teacher. I suggested they consider nursing and doctoring; they were just as happy with that. Eager to prepare for life, we set out for nurse, doctor and patient. Authenticity was important but equipment was a problem. For rectal thermoneter we had to make do with popsicle sticks lubricated with spit.

I made fascination discoveries. For one thing both Joan and Jacquelyn were curiously constructed and I was in some doubt as to where the "thermometer" should be poked. The girls giggled and corrected my aim. Science went marching on.

Then Joan's mother made a discovery too when she came into the yard to see what the giggling was about. She was kindly about it all but suggested we consider other occupations. So we did after Joan and her mother had some private words. Joan said her mother didn't want her to be a patient any more. Whether she wanted Joan to be the doctor or if she was worried about splinters, Joan did not say.

Whoa, Granfar Learns a Lesson

People have complained, "Bill, you only write essays on the folly of religious superstition: don't you have anything else to tell us?" Well, yes, I do, and that brings me to make the following true report.
The grandchildren burst our whoopee cushion recently. They brought it to me insisting they were only using in the proper manner; they had not abused it in any way. They showed me that the rupture had occurred at a defective spot in the rubber.
And they were right. I couldn't be harsh with them, which was all the more annoying because my temper was worked up and I couldn't use it. I held up pretty well though I am sure it weakened me internally. Anyway, when I was calm again I assured them we would find a replacement as soon as possible. No one wants to be without a functioning whoopee cushion for very long.
I bring this to your attention not to brag about my self-control, although it was pretty good, but rather so you can avoid my mistakes. Don't be too quick to punish the young people. And when you purchase a whoopee cushion, don't go for the cheaper product as I did. Look for the best quality available.