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Archive for July, 2009

Look! Over There!

Posted by scott on July 31st, 2009

I’m struggling (as usual) with a deadline, but was still planning to take a break and do a little something with Jonah Goldberg’s latest ejecta, until I saw that both Roy and Doghouse Riley had gotten there first, which kinda made me feel like the guy from the County Roads Department who comes upon a skunk after its been run over twice, and whose only role in the tragedy is to dismount with a grumble and scrape up the collapsed corpse with a snow shovel.  So click forth and enjoy.  Here’s a taste of the Hoosier Sage:

American “conservatives” have been driven to regard even the suggestion that unfettered rapine in pursuit of profits may have any deleterious effect whatsoever as The Drumbeat of Global Commie Fascism, though, oddly for percussion, only they can hear it. Again, this is filtered through Goldberg, and thus is presented as a sort of culmination of everything from Anti-Fluoridationialism through Dirty Hippies Are Having Miscegenated Sex At Lunch-Counter Sit-Ins, to Jimmy Carter Gave Away Our Canal, which wisdom he received from his parents and never bothered to check on.

I’ll be back shortly.

Anti-Blog Dog

Posted by scott on July 30th, 2009

Well, I tried to update World o’ Crap, but Bailey the Anti-Idiotarian Cocker objected to my using her ad hoc pillow to summon up Townhall and Memeorandum.


So now it looks like normal blogging won’t resume until after nap time.

We Really Move Our Tails For You

Posted by scott on July 29th, 2009

Service update:


Today is a travel day, and judging by past experience, blogging will be either logorrheic (trapped in the airport) or spare (peacefully zonked on airline vodka).  Normal blogging (or normal for this place) should resume tomorrow.

Top 10 Google Search Strings

Posted by scott on July 26th, 2009

Welcome to our occasional series in which we attempt to answer the burning Google (and one Bing) queries bringing the inquisitive to World O’ Crap.

1.  is “jesus fucking christ” blasphemy

That’s a good question, Billy, I’m glad you asked.  If “fucking” is used merely as an intensifier to attract Jesus’ attention (he is, after all, a busy Christ), then you’re on safe theological ground, according to the First Ecumenical Council of Nicea.  If, however, the word is used as a verb (i.e., you’re accusing Jesus of fucking Christ), such statements have been considered blasphemous since the Council of Chalcedon, which outlawed this form of ecclesiastical slash fiction and urged its adherents to get into something a little more wholesome, like a lesbian nun fetish.

2.  medieval society Pageboy

As you may know, before I got into the business of poking gentle fun at internet wingnuts, I was the country’s leading scholar of feudal hairdos; and while that is not the raison of World o’ Crap, this site naturally reflects my academic expertise, just as Protein Wisdom is informed by the proprietor’s interest in semiotics, and martial arts in which the penis is used as a blunt object.

3.  boy boner

We’d like to welcome a couple of celebrity guests here today:  Former Representative Mark Foley, of Florida, and radio personality Rush Limbaugh, who very kindly took the time to visit World o’ Crap’s referrer stats while busily preparing for his next trip to the Dominican Republic.

4.  Love not the world

Believe you me, dude…It gets easier every day.

5.  Douche bags Attack.  This actually sounds more like an order than a query.  Something Cobra Commander might say, if he were the editor-in-chief of Townhall.com, or a producer on Fox and Friends.

6.  roark titanium bicycle comments

When John Galt’s static electric engine is combined with Howard Roark’s titanium bicycle, America’s Captains of Industry will be able to Go Green as they Go Galt.

7.  Diaphanous nightgowns

We’re actually the number one search result for this on Google, which just goes to show these last six years of our lives haven’t been wasted.

8.  How to get a boner.  Not quite sure how we became the go-to boner experts (can a summons to appear on FoxNews and discuss Bill Clinton be far behind?), but yes, to answer your query, O Seeker of Internet Knowledge, How to get a boner is a remake of Richard Lester’s classic look at the Sexual Revolution in Britain, The Knack…and How to Get it.  In this version, the social competition between mods and rockers is replaced by the tension between Viagra users and impotent men who prefer the more homeopathic Enzyte.

9.  British woollen underpants

Because nothing goes better with a diaphanous nightgown and Wellington boots to complete the perfect sexy ensemble.  Who needs Viagra?

10.  “I was a lug”

Pilgrims in quest of the truth who type this string are rewarded with my Koufax Award-winning 9-part series, detailing my personal journey from LUG, or “Lesbian Until Graduation,” to my present status as a well-adjusted, heterosexual man with a happy marriage and a lesbian nun fetish.

Well, as you’ve probably noticed by now, explaining these search strings only begets more search strings, but hey, you can’t blame a guy for trying to drum up traffic.

Torture Isn’t Torture. Health Care Is Torture!

Posted by scott on July 25th, 2009

Welcome friends, to the Carnival of Pat Boone’s Mind, and it’s many midway-like amusements and oddities.  Today we’ll be visiting the Museum of Metaphors for Negro Sexual Potency.

Now, let’s pay the man our 25¢ and see what’s inside this first tent…

The waterboarding of America

I was kind of hoping he’d bite the head off a chicken, but you pays your money, you takes your chances.  Anyway, Pat is a patriot, and believes that before 9/11, we as a nation never tortured, except when we did, and even then it was “always within humane limits – never the torture racks, lashings, beatings, burnings, nail-pullings, starvation, or sadistic mutilation practiced by so many other cultures and adversaries.  We’ve expected our military to extract and obtain essential information through intelligent, often covert, sometimes even psychological means.”

In other words, we weren’t like the Viet Cong in The Deer Hunter, we were more like the Nazis in Where Eagles Dare, with their monocles and cigarette holders, who tut-tutted about those uncouth beer hall louts in the Gestapo and sipped snifters of Napoleon brandy as they suavely interrogated their foes.

What happened? Something almost unprecedented. We were completely blindsided, attacked on our own soil, in our own airplanes and towers, and even in the Pentagon, in broad daylight. It was devastating, and after the first shock, it was obvious that if we did not act quickly and with almost no thought of normal restraint, it would happen again, and even more violently, and with even more catastrophic results.

While ordinary Americans responded to the attack by helping complete strangers find their friends and loved ones, standing in line for hours to give blood, and bringing food and water to rescue workers, our leaders met in the citadels of power, assessed the situation, and made the cool, calculated decision to panic.

We were at war, against an enemy with absolutely no moral compunction and with a demonic bloodlust to destroy us, our homes and families and way of life – and with even a religious desire to die while destroying us! It was a relentless waking nightmare, and it was real.

Well, it was actually a few thousand suicidal malcontents who’d pretty much popped their wad, but it was also a Willy Wonka Golden Ticket to do whatever the hell you want without being questioned by Congress, the opposition party, or the press, as long as you could keep the country thinking it was real.

Pat goes on to concede that yes, “in some instances some interrogators” tortured prisoners, but torture isn’t a crime unless you talk about it.  That’s the real crime.  It’s like Fight Club.

It came to be known worldwide because liberal media, abetted by a few political and military figures who didn’t seem to grasp the urgency of stopping the maniacal plots against innocent civilians, revealed classified information and screamed “TORTURE!” Having no clue about how to get to the essential information some other way, but perhaps imagining themselves in the position of the captive, they just condemned those who were actually getting the job done at least in part.

Anti-torture activists would have considerably greater moral authority if they’d stop imagining the effects of having water forced into your lungs, and instead put themselves in the shoes of a harried, frustrated torturer who hasn’t gotten a good confession all day, and it’s already 4:35 on a Friday.

Almost ignored in all the anti-American clamor was the fact that Khalid Sheikh Mohammed, confessed mastermind of the World Trade Center carnage, as a result of being “waterboarded” 130 times

– give or take 53 times.

– with no lasting damage at all – finally divulged information that thwarted the destruction of the Brooklyn Bridge

– by morons who planned to melt the suspension cables with blow torches.  Not exactly the kind of terrorist plot you’d need Batman to foil.

and saved an estimated 10,000 innocent lives! So the technique, harsh as it is, proved effective.

And success — measured a certain way — is its own reward, so waterboarding our enemies, while illegal and unAmerican, is morally just.  However, if Pat decides that your individual health insurance is metaphorically torturing him, then you’re a war criminal.

And now, whether expressly intended or not, America is being waterboarded!

The nation – its economy and political body – has been strapped down, blindfolded and hosed. A new administration, empowered by control of both houses of Congress and the most liberal president in history, is immersing us all in a torrent of debt. While we gasp for breath and try to cry “Time out!” we continue to be flooded with staggering commitments…

But Pat, you already said if it works, it’s okay.  No tag-backs!

The American people have long opposed abortion, same sex “marriage,” universal, socialistic health care and a host of other ultraliberal causes; current polls confirm we still do.

These same polls also show that Reagan is certain to beat Mondale in the upcoming election.

But the waterboarding began, literally, within the first three days of this new administration. With no instigation from Congress, the freshman president picked up his new hose of authority

That sound you hear is Pat’s testicles reascending.   Anyway, let’s see what’s in the next tent on the midway…

And now, while we’re strapped down by the Democrat-controlled Congress, gasping and gulping beneath a flood of strong-arm tactics

Ah, Pat’s Secret Fantasies!

the “health reform” bill taking shape outlines a “minimum-benefits package” that will be universal – that is, required of every American’s insurance plan, whether provided by a private firm or by the government.

You know, the CIA could have saved a lot of time if they’d forgone the stress positions, the “walling,” the waterboarding, the sleep deprivation, and just sat Khalid Sheikh Mohammed down and calmly informed him that if he didn’t talk — right this fucking minute! — the U.S. government would pass a health insurance mandate and he’d be forced to buy a comprehensive policy with a low deductible.

But we’re not helpless yet, folks. We’re drenched and near-drowned and gasping for breath, but there’s a growing coalition of staunch Republican and “blue dog” Democrats in both houses of Congress digging in their heels and saying, “Wait! This is all too much, too fast! We need time to read and digest and consider this torrent of legislation. Mr. President, hold off!”

It apparently worked for KSM the 183rd time he asked.

And that gives us debt-soaked citizens a chance to rise up and gasp and spit and shout: “MR. PRESIDENT, AND YOU, TOO, CONGRESS! YOU WORK FOR US! NOT THE OTHER WAY AROUND! WE VOTED YOU IN! AND WE CAN TAKE YOU OUT!

Remember kids:  Torture is a crime and a moral abomination, but only so long as it’s figurative.  In the real world, it’s still safe, legal, and effective.


Pat Boone is President of the Imaginary Human Rights Campaign Against Metaphorical Torture.

Cleaning The Catbox

Posted by scott on July 23rd, 2009

I’m on deadline again, so I thought I’d just scoop a couple of the larger clumps of Wingnut Opinion, then spray Febreze around the place and worry about changing the litter tomorrow…

First stop:  Townhall, where prostitute phalange fellator Dick Morris asks: Are the Dems Suicidal?

If the Democrats obey Obama’s commands and pass health-care reform legislation by the August recess, they will be committing partisan suicide, akin to lemmings going over the cliff en masse…It smacks of the same kind of overreaching as doomed FDR’s second term in 1937 after his landslide victory in 1936.

Heed Dick’s words, Obama, for it was surely FDR’s excess of ambition which ensured Wendell Willkie’s election as the 33rd President of the United States.

Next, Dr. Professor Mike Adams, Ph.D offers a Master Class in Irony with this week’s column, You Aren’t Bipolar, You’re Just a Jerk!

It’s getting old, isn’t it? Everyone these days is bipolar or has some other chic mental disorder that he feels excuses his self-centered conduct.

Whereas Dr. Professor Mike can act like an insufferable twat and never offer any excuse whatsoever, somehow remaining convinced that he enjoys a moral and spiritual advantage over everyone he meets.  Whether these delusions represent a form of mental illness I am not, of course, competent to say, because I don’t have a Ph.D in criminology.

Having a mental disorder used to be a source of embarrassment.

We didn’t need anti-depressants, we had shame.  And we liked it that way!

But, now, it’s often a request for special treatment, which, when granted, fuels self-centered conduct. That’s why a pastor friend of mine now hears the claim “But, I’m bipolar!” in approximately 80 percent of his marital counseling sessions. This means that approximately 40 percent of the people he counsels are claiming to be “bipolar.”

Assuming his “pastor friend” is Doug Giles, I believe I can shed some light on this improbable statistic.  After listening to ten minutes of Giles’ increasingly high-pitched exhortations to “sack up for your savior!” and “bitch-slap your inner Barney Frank!” and “I’m a goddamn shark master!” and “Have you seen my painting of Jesus’s penis?  I made the pubes extra bushy ’cause I’m into that…” you naturally begin to suspect you’ve gone crazy.

Is there something in the water that is causing a massive outbreak in manic-depression and other mental disorders?

Nope, just some hormone-mimicking chemicals that cause cancer and sterility.

Just about everyone who really suffers from some form of depression (manic or otherwise) has something in common: He is engaged in self-centered conduct, which either a) actually caused the disorder (real or perceived), or b) greatly exacerbates the disorder (real or perceived).

Professor Dr. Mike is an evangelical Christian and a non-medical doctor, so I believe what he’s actually saying here is that depression does not have a psychological or physical origin, but is simply the result of lingering guilt over unexpiated sin.  This clinical insight means that the mentally ill are not entitled to receive the alms and pity that Christ commanded his followers to offer the sick, and it also allows Dr. Mike to hate both the sin and the sinner, since the latter is not only staining his immortal soul, but inconveniencing an Associate Professor at a minor university.

People who suffer from, or claim to suffer from, some form of depression usually respond in one of two ways:

1) They seek psychological counseling, which focuses largely on “talk therapy.” During these talk therapy sessions the patient pays a doctor to listen to him talk at length about himself and his problems. Since this is just another exercise in self-absorption, it rarely works.

As Dr. Mike (who isn’t really a doctor, but apparently likes to play one on the internet) tells his imaginary patients, the “talking cure” went out with Freud and frigidity, so forget what sources like the National Institute of Mental Health says about the effectiveness of psychotherapies, alone or in conjunction with medication.  After all, Dr. Mike has a Master’s in Psychology, and “turned down a chance to pursue a PhD in psychology from the University of Georgia, opting instead to remain at Mississippi State to study Sociology/Criminology. This decision was made entirely on the basis of his reluctance to quit his night job as member of a musical duo. Playing music in bars and at fraternity parties and weddings financed his education. Mike Adams also played for free beer.”

2) They seek psychiatric care, which usually results in a drug prescription. Paying someone to give you mood altering drugs, rather than addressing your behavior, involves a degree of self-absorption that simply cannot be ignored. But it usually is ignored. And that’s why the drugs usually don’t do the trick. In fact, they often lead people to suicide.

Depressed?  Ask your doctor if doing jack-shit is right for you.

Behind the two generally misguided approaches to curing depression is the common fallacy that our emotions are usually the causes, not the effects, of our behavior. But, in reality, it is our behavior that usually shapes our attitudes and our emotions.

Yes, it makes no sense that emotions would motivate behavior, when the science of Sociology/Criminology has proven that we only experience emotions as the result of our actions.  For example, nobody is going to listen to some smarmy douchebag belittle the problems of people struggling with mental illness, get angry, and then punch him.  It’s much more likely that someone would punch another person suddenly, out of the blue, then get angry at them.

If you don’t believe what I’m saying I want you to try a little exercise the next time you wake up in a bad mood. All it involves is simply forcing yourself to smile and exchange simple pleasantries with every stranger you see during the morning hours. That simple act of saying something nice and seeing a return smile will kill any bad mood in less than half a day. It has a success rate of about 100 percent.

Bad mood > clinical depression.  So there you go — Dr. Mike can diagnosis your character flaws (what those witch doctors at the NIMH call “depression”), and in a fraction of the time he can achieve the exact same results as medication or years of psychotherapy: an urge to commit suicide.

The Science Is Settled: Humans Are Making The Earth Stupider

Posted by scott on July 22nd, 2009

After declaring Dr. Regina Benjamin, the nominee for Surgeon General too fat to survive a confirmation hearing, the Astute Bloggers have turned their attention to  debunking Anthropogenic Global Warming:


They quote a story noting that a cold snap has hit Buenos Aires, then declare:


Two or three things we should probably mention.  According to the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA):

Global surface temperatures have increased about 0.74°C (plus or minus 0.18°C) since the late-19th century, and the linear trend for the past 50 years of 0.13°C (plus or minus 0.03°C) per decade is nearly twice that for the past 100 years. The warming has not been globally uniform. Some areas (including parts of the southeastern U.S. and parts of the North Atlantic) have, in fact, cooled slightly over the last century. The recent warmth has been greatest over North America and Eurasia between 40 and 70°N. Lastly, seven of the eight warmest years on record have occurred since 2001 and the 10 warmest years have all occurred since 1995.

“Climate” is not the same as “weather.”

It’s currently winter in the Southern Hemisphere.

Fat People Got No Reason To Live

Posted by scott on July 21st, 2009

Over at FoxNews, the sylph-like Neil Cavuto explored whether Surgeon General nominee Dr. Regina Benjamin was too fat to serve her country, by interviewing a former gym owner sporting a “No Chubbies” t-shirt.  The segment aroused a considerable amount of public ire, which the network attempted to assuage by issuing an apology to Dr. Benjamin, and extending an offer for her and her family to winter in Bill O’Reilly’s dewlap.  ABC News then picked up the scent, exposing the nominee as “full-figured,” suggesting that photos of her “round cheeks” send “the wrong message as the public face of America’s health initiatives,” and concluding that the only worse possible choice for the post would have been Dizzy Gillespie.

Bloggers at Salon.com speculated that Benjamin is 40 pounds overweight, perhaps a size 18.  The nominee didn’t return calls from ABCNews.com, so there is no information about how much she weighs or her eating and exercise habits.

That’s it?  Whatever happened to hard-nosed investigative journalism in this country?  Why, if Woodward and Bernstein had taken “no comment” for an answer, we might never have discovered the criminal excesses of the Nixon White House, or worse, never learned that the President himself wore a girdle and secretly shopped at Lane Bryant.


So, as usual, the task of sniffing out the harsh truths that the MSM covers up like a cat kicking Fresh Step over its steaming ejecta falls to the relentless bloodhounds of the right blogosphere.  Take it away, Astute Bloggers!

Should We Really Have a Morbidly Obese Surgeon General?

Cavuto raises a good point. Maybe someone who obviously downs sticks of butter all day shouldn’t be telling us how to be healthy and what’s good for us. I would sooner approve of Joe Camel as Surgeon General. He might actually live to see 70. This chick will not. Another seemingly inexplicable Obama appointment.

Yeah, who could gin up an ounce of respect for an undisciplined loser like this:

In 1990, she founded the Bayou La Batre Rural Health Clinic to serve the Gulf Coast fishing community of Bayou La Batre, Alabama, a village of approximately 2,500 residents devastated twice in the past decade by Hurricanes Georges, in 1998, and Katrina, in 2005. Despite scarce resources, Benjamin has painstakingly rebuilt her clinic after each disaster and set up networks to maintain contact with patients scattered across multiple evacuation sites. She has established a family practice that allows her to treat all incoming patients, many of whom are uninsured, and frequently travels by pickup truck to care for the most isolated and immobile in her region…[S]he also plays key roles statewide and nationally, helping others establish clinics in remote areas of the country and serving in leadership positions in such health-related organizations as the American Medical Association and the American Academy of Family Physicians. With a deep, firsthand knowledge of the pressing needs and health disparities afflicting rural, high-poverty communities, Benjamin is ensuring that the most vulnerable among us have access to high-quality care.

At a time when 47 million Americans are without health insurance, and many people are being bankrupted by medical expenses, what can this woman possibly bring to the issue, besides a love of drawstring sweat pants?  Anyway, back to the Astute Ones:

Somebody who looks like this has absolutely no right to tell me how to live my life. None. He clearly picked her because she’s a pseudo-socialist:

Benjamin, 52, is founder of the Bayou La Batre Rural Health Clinic, which serves the poor, uninsured and other underserved patients in Mobile County, Ala.

Benjamin gained acclaim for her determination to rebuild her clinic after hurricanes George in 1998 and Katrina in 2005 shuttered the building. In 2006, a fire destroyed Benjamin’s clinic just after flood damage was repaired. During this period, Benjamin, who often administers medical services to her patients for free, and her staff operated the clinic from a Federal Emergency Management Agency trailer.

Hers is the ultimate commie-shovel story. Followed to its logical conclusion, there will not be a single doctor left in America. This lardass is the only doctor in America who would advocate Obamacare. That’s why he picked her.

“Caring for the poor and sick again, Comrade Jesus?  Well maybe your healing touch can do something for my stomach, because your bolshevism makes me want to puke!”

But hey, she won an award named for a terrorist who married a cannibal.

That would be the Nelson Mandela Award for Health and Human Rights, given by the Henry J. Kaiser Family Foundation (AKA the Comintern), and named after a man who spent his life resisting apartheid, thus proving that he was yet another Sonia Sotomayor-style “racialist” with a fixation on identity politics and a determination to keep the White Man down.  And what sort of subversive organization would honor a woman tainted by association with a Nobel Peace Prize-winning terrorist?  Catholic Healing East (“A Transforming, Healing Presence”) which goes by the flagrantly seditious acronym CHE.  Figures.

Now ordinarily, you’d think wingnuts would approve of an organization that describes itself thusly:  “The Hope Ministries is a public juridic person, an entity recognized by the Roman Catholic Church that allows for and facilities the sponsorship of ministries in the name of the Church.”  But according to the Astute Bloggers’ standards, Mother Teresa was also a Red, and the article they link to (“Two New Members Join Catholic Health East’s Hope Ministries”), actually compares Dr. Benjamin to the Blessed Nun of Calcutta:  “Dr. Benjamin…received the National Caring Award, which was inspired by Mother Teresa.”

So if we’re ever going to stop socialized medicine in this country, the first thing we’ve got to do is eliminate Christian charity, because it’s making the poor uppity and interfering with Natural Selection.  Second, beat up some nuns.  Third, sneak into the Department of Health and Human Services and plaster the Surgeon General’s office door with a bunch of No Fat Chicks bumperstickers.

Good Job, Internet! Take The Rest Of The Day Off

Posted by scott on July 20th, 2009

Our friend David E kindly points us to what is, in his words, “surely the greatest headline ever created by man.”


Both my iPod and my old PC died this weekend, and as I murmured a few obscene words over their smoldering corpses, I realized it had been awhile since we last sought comfort and counsel from World O’ Crap Spiritual Adviser, J. Grant Swank.  So it came as both joy and relief to see that Pastor Swank has hoisted himself back into the pulpit, and in today’s homily, he tells us to let Jesus into our hearts, our Xerox copiers, and our fax machines.


There are times when your thoughts jam together so much that there’s nothing but mush.

That’s the universal sign that it’s time to submit this week’s column.

Or they pile on top of one another all at once. Thoughts start but don’t finish. Then another intrudes so as to threaten to take over. Then a third takes a swing at your head.

Pastor Swank was beaten up by his own brain.

Sometimes these jams take place in the middle of the night—dark dark dark and nowhere to go but couch and no one to talk to, obviously.

Because your wife has asked you to stop confiding in the furniture.

The devil can use these jams to get you confused to the nth degree. Also, that’s the time doubt sets in. Is Jesus really there? Are the promises really true? Am I believing in a mist?

Well, I believe in Primatene Mist, but that’s it.

Finances. Marital problems. Children disappointing. Lost job. Ill health. Friends let you down. And so forth.

Sometimes these all jam at once in the cranium. Where is Jesus?

I called the Help Desk like two hours ago!

Jesus is right there. He never leaves us. He has dealt with jams before. Then let Him deal with your jam.

Also, he really loves your peaches.  Let him shake your tree.

Surrender every thought to Jesus when it’s in the good time…Let Jesus talk to you. When He is not forming your thoughts, then it’s time for you to rest. Jesus orchestrates rest stops in the rhythm of thought pattern construction and silence.

Although, judging by that last sentence, he’s on a smoke break at the moment.

We need the silence. We need the quiet. We need to shut down until Jesus plants another thought.

We’re like the ventriloquist dummy in Magic, except with less personality and free will.

I mean being very practical here. Jesus will tell you to make the bed, wash the dishes, vacuum the carpet and empty the garbage. Do whatever He tells you when He tells you.

Great.  My cosmic puppeteer has Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder.

That’s learning how to surrender your thought patterns to Jesus, not just the pious ones but the practical ones.

I offer up my thoughts on how to gap spark plugs to Jesus!

Jesus will tell you to spend that money for this or that. Jesus will tell you not to spend that money for this or that.

Jesus is why I’m $11,000 in debt!

Jesus will tell you it’s time to turn off the television and go to bed. Jesus will direct you to a book to read, a movie to watch, an outdoor scene to take in, a phone call to make.

Jesus is the micromanaging messiah.

Jesus will tell you it’s time to praise Him, thank Him, tell Him that you love Him.

Jesus makes you feel like Julia Roberts in Sleeping With The Enemy.

So when you learn how to surrender your thoughts to Jesus, taking no thought for the future but letting Jesus hold your future’s security, you will be ready for the jam.

In fact, you’ll be ready for Seattle’s New Hot Jamz!

It’s the same with jammed thoughts. Surrender the confusion. Jesus can handle confusion. He is up to it. Then don’t wrestle with the jam. Don’t try to fight it on your own. Don’t try to straighten it out.

Start slow.  Try some basic judo holds on pudding, then work your way up to jam wrestling.

Instead, surrender the jam to Jesus. Say, “Jesus, my head is going round and round. I’m scared. I cannot control my thoughts. I now surrender my head jam to You.”

But keep your toe jam to yourself.  Jesus has a hair-trigger gag reflex.

I would suggest then that you go to the Psalms. I have found that by going at random to the Psalms, Jesus directs me to the verses needed. My experience has been that in time the jam unloosens by way of the Psalms’ comfort and direction.

Or you could just dig it out with a Q-tip and some peroxide.

Again: don’t try to unwind the jam intertwining. Don’t work at making thoughts orderly. Let Jesus take the jam just as it is. He knows what to do with it.

He turns it into a crappy folk song?

Now here is another recommendation that I hope you will understand so as not to think I am diminishing the Jesus power.

I recommend that you see your family doctor if the jam is too often and too messed up. If it goes on and on, see your doctor.

Ask your doctor if head jam is right for you.

If your doctor is like mine, he’s wise. He will give you medicine to aid you in calming down the thought stress.

Yeah, Jesus?  You can keep the jam.  I’ll take the Xanax.

But why should you do this when Jesus is all-powerful, all-knowing, all-sufficient? Why not? Jesus creates medicines.

Like those guys who cook up batches up meth in motel rooms in San Bernardino.

They are heaven’s gifts when we need them.

Praise the Lord and Pass the Prozac.

Therefore, Jesus may work through medicines to correct the jam clog.

Or he might just recommend a fiber supplement.

Again, I don’t consider this thinking less of Jesus’ input. I think it as Jesus guiding me to a doctor for the medicine gift.

The Son of Man wants you to doctor shop and snort Oxycontin.

That’s what I have experienced. My own life has directed me at times to rely on prescriptions to assist in leveling out the thought jams that pile up. They cut through depression. They help clarify my head. They work to build up my strength to carry on.

So where was Jesus in all that? Jesus was in the medicine, in the doctor’s skill to provide me with what I needed and in my logic to do what was necessary.

Yep.  I’d be a devout Catholic by now if the communion wafer was laced with barbiturates.  I think I’m gonna drop that in the Vatican Suggestion Box.