Man! These blog things can be kinda dangerous.
I ate at a Mexican restaurant tonight and had two bathtubs of unsweetened iced tea. You have to specify unsweetened iced tea in the South. Sweet tea is par usual. Anyway, I drank my weight in iced tea at about 8:30 pm and now I'm awake. AWAKE.
I already went for a walk. I walked around the block trying to look into the windows of all my neighbors. Just from the street, mind you. It's not illegal if it's from the street.
I wasn't trying to do no peeping. I was spying. I got a ticket recently for making too much noise. No warning. Nothing. Cop just walks up and hands me a fucking ticket. $211.
Sure I was making noise, but how are you supposed to know that you're bothering someone if you have no warning? Sure, sure, a reasonable person might have assumed the noise was great enough to disturb a neighbor, but who on this earth ever said I was reasonable?! No one ever did.
So I was spying, trying to suss out the MthrFcker who called the cops on me.
The other day I went down to the court and took a gander at the noise ordinance. Two things jumped out at me: The words "Health and Safety" and "Inside" as in INSIDE the domicile, as in a person's health and safety must be threatened from within their home or it doesn't count.
This is where the Baptists come in. When I went to the pretrial thing to plead INNOCENT and schedule a trial, the judge looked at the ticket and said, "Mr. Rushing. It says here the officers issued this citation at two A. M. in the morning." He paused and looked at me. He kept looking at me. I realized that he was hoping the fact of the hour would sink in. He was trying to bore it into me. He was hoping for me to realize that Jesus would not have been out at 2:00 on a Saturday night because, technically, that's Sunday and Jesus is hung up on technicalities.
I live in Oxford, MS. This is the town in which it is illegal to sell cold beer at a gas station or grocery store. Did you get that? They can sell you beer, just not on Sunday, and never can they sell it to you cold. Ahem, ahem... THE LAW REQUIRES THAT IF YOU ARE GOING TO SELL BEER TO A PERSON, PRESUMABLY AN ADULT WITH ADULT CAPACITIES, YOU ARE NOT TO SELL IT TO THEM COLD.
When I first moved here, I walked around Walmart for an hour looking for the cold beer. I saw stacks of beer, warm, all over the place, I just couldn't find the coolers with the cold beer. So I left and went to a gas station, and again, I looked and looked and could not find the cold beer. So I asked and the lady behind the counter said in her Southern emphysema voice, "You're not from around here are you?"
Oxford is also the place where bars can be open until 1 am on Thursday and Friday, but not Saturday because that's technically Sunday, EXCEPT ON A GAME DAY. Jesus apparently likes Ole Miss football and reserves the witching hour of the Sabbath on home game days to have a little snort of the hooch.
Anyway, the reason I illustrate these bizarrities is to show that this place has no business charging me $211 for being a little noisy one night. This place is out of wack and needs readjustment. The Feds did it once, years ago and left a couple bodies behind. If it we'ren't for the Feds black people would still not be allowed to attend Ole Miss. Wack I tell you.
So, how in the shit am I going to threaten someone's health and safety inside their home with what is essencially a boombox? My tax dollars are being used to torture and kill people. Now I must suffer the indignity of a redneck cop smugly handing me a ticket that says I am making too much noise? I am poor. Like most poor people I live very close to other poor people. EXCEPT, right down at the end of my street, just within earshot of the interested, there are people who are not poor, who are Southern Baptists, one of which is himself a redneck cop. Inside those houses there is no way I was threatening anyone's health and safety with my boombox, but if a door were cracked and a pinched and bitter face were to hear the sinners regailing themselves with a celebration of music and sex and alcohol and DRUGS with Blacks and Mexicans and single women who should know better, then wouldn't it be a favor to those sinner's souls and to the baby Jesus to call the police and tell them just a little lie, that you were in your bed and stood it as long as you could, but finally you just had to get up and call because you didn't know what to do, instead of the truth which was that your acid reflux was kicking in and, as you usually do, you got out of bed to find some antacids which, strangely, took the form of two pieces of leftover fried chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, chocolate cake and (well why not) three bowls of icecream, and that's when you saw the headlights going toward where those sinners live, so you poked out your head and worried for the health and safety of my soul. God Bless You.
Monday, September 12, 2005
Today I experienced the Rapture!
On the University of Mississippi campus was a family of young Jesus Freaks holding enormous signs and passing out tracts. What made them truly wonderful is that their signs included such slogans as, "Go to God, Not to Church."
Now, I am not religious, and for God's sake not Christian, though I could have a good conversation with you about the "Man," so try and imagine my joy at seeing these young, rich, spoiled, white SUV driv'n Baptist (shithead) kids red-in-the-face hollaring at these other kids, quite plainly dressed, who's mission was only to point out the obvious hypocrisies of modern Christianity.
A Holy War!
I wish I'd known. I'd have made a killing on Molotov Cocktails. $2.00 a piece.
It was strange, the anger from the Baptist side. They were seeing red and looking positively MURDEROUS. The screaming was delicious. Their puny world was being challenged and without any wisdom they attacked the invaders without asking, "Well, am I perfect in my beliefs? Could I find room to be better?" No. Tradition was at stake.
Days like this I wish there was a hell for these hypocrites to fall into, and of course, I'd have to be there too, just to see the look on their faces. But this is nothing original.
But seriously, Witch trials contained less wrath that today's Christian vs. Xmas rally. There is limitless joy in seeing a Christian face twisted with hate.
Unless of course there is rope at hand.
I'm thinking about joining this merry band of Christian busting Christians for two reasons. I will go to any length to piss off a Baptist and, the girls were HOT! I mean, H-O-T hot. Tall, svelt, blonde, eager. They could teach me to pray. I mean REALLY pray. Pray till it hurts.
Posted by Grantley at 10:51 AM