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Which, as I discover, has attracted a wide body of worshippers. A full house. 200 people, easy. Now somehow I misunderstood "Social", the social, it will follow after the half hour of singing, the worst "hymns" - if that's what they could be called - that I've ever heard. I mean, get an AI on it, pronto, there's probably no more than 20 different words in each one, repeated over and over...
There's a helpful Karaoke display on a big TV at the end of the room, in case you can't remember the lyrics, but I'm pretty sure you could, only the mind rebels at this level of inanity.
I mean, Gospel at least rocks.
And the congregation, this congregation, they've got to be - on average 70+ years old.
There are the regulars, from the restaurant, one, 60+ years old, is doing a "flag dance" with different colored flags, it's all a bit WTF, the low rent rave, and I'm thinking this party would benefit a great deal from some MDMA laced Kool-Aid and edibles...
Another, younger pastor, good looking, fit, but - well, it doesn't take long to figure out that he's found a great beard in Jesus.
There's a couple of short sermons, and then we're all instructed to get down to the serious business of Prayer. Now being raised Catholic I'm a little unused to what follows.
They assemble themselves in groups of 6, I'm with 5 other 70+ ladies.
We're given the prayer agenda for the evening -first of all, it's come to the attention that while other local towns have godbothering ratio of up to 53%, this town, this infernal little hell hole, is coming in at less than half that.
Which, all things considered, still seems a bit high, I mean, there are so many more interesting paths - there's the crystals, there's yoga, there's Buddhism, I'm guessing that the practicing Christian base is dying off largely due to the fact that there are better parties, much better parties, but that's my opinion...
Topics for prayer are, in order today, to beg for more Churchgoers, Good God needs more people to enter the fold. The next topic is Doctors and hospital staff, like every city & town in Canada, and the solution proposed is to allow the unvaxxed doctors and nurses to resume working....
I know.
And the next, well, a group prayer for one another.
This takes - all of them together, forever, and the group prayer is the worst...
But I'll start with the first one. God and Jesus both need better ambassadors to bring people into the fold. The pastors, both that I know, work for, are kind, reasonable people, but they're not coming up with the solutions people need.
The second, more doctors? Blame the politicians who spent the pandemic driving them out of the hospitals. Blame lack of funding. And - instead of praying for more doctors, pray for better health.
Then get off your asses and go for a walk.
The final one, well, you sit in a prayer circle with a group of 70 year old women praying for one another in that passive-aggressive "Jesus you were great getting me that last car, but I need something better..." and "I knew you meant well when you took my husband..." and "Lord help her to bear her suffering...." and you get the idea.
Basically the Lord has to listen to the complaints of older ladies that have exhausted and worn out their caregivers and friends.
No shit, this was brutal.
So, finally at the end, the "Social" part, say hi to the people you need to say hi to, talk to Tats briefly, he's found a new friend, Tats Color, with even more Tats than Tat and his all in glorious color, and they're comparing the illustrated biblical scenes they've each covered themselves with...
Visit, visit and meet a few others, then - time, time to help put away the chairs, dishes, time to wrap this roadshow up and get the hell out of there...
Later, at home on my sofa, unpacking, as it were, and it makes sense - after a fashion, I've not went down this rabbit hole, not since the internet made research so damned easy (but I will, I will), and I'm reading my current book, a 1923 book titled "Primitive Mentality", and this, an excellent read on the mindset of primitive stone-aged peoples, picked up the other day, can be no coincidence...
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Out on Thursday, on my way to the Library, and, while standing and having a cigarette outside before entering whom should I encounter...
...but "Tat". I'll call him Tat because of his very obvious Tattoos. He's an old regular from the restaurant, super-nice guy, and we're talking briefly, he's working a job, just on his way to lunch, maybe I should come along? He'll buy...
...and I'm in the process of politely declining, don't care to be a bother, have work to do, bleah bleah bleah when he tells me it's at the Soup Kitchen. You know, the place above where I volunteer..
Now I'm in. Pride be damned, there's a reason it's a deadly sin, I'm in, like Flynn, I've never gone, I've never been, but - lets see where my labors are going...
So, first, a varied buffet of sorts, served up by volunteers, of whom there's a host upstairs I've never met.
It's busy, and I know quite a few of the people, it's busy, maybe 70, 100 people, there's the the Pastor that runs the Charity and another one that assists, and there's some of the street people and a host of other people that I know to see but not so much to speak to.
The "Church", if I can call it that, a large room that weekdays is the soup kitchen and on week-ends is home to the 'congregation', but - we'll come back to that.
So, catch up with Tat, move it from acquaintance into friendship, and I discover that his Tats are actually spiritual sigil's representing his belief in Christ...
OK.
OK.
The hook is set, and - clearly, I have my own interpretations, understandings of it all, remedial at best and certainly not worth sharing, it's far more interesting to hear what other people think...
And soon we're sitting with Pastor.... and Tat is catching me up and I'm asking about his ex and his kids and getting all this, and discovering a lot about JC that I never new, for example that Black Sabbath really weren't a bad band, I mean, read their lyrics (and here he's pulling some up on his phone) and wow- what do you know? I should pick up some of their records...
...and so forth, discovering that Tat knows various of the other customers from the restaurant, the Sunday Crowd, and that Tat has the gift of prophecy and can channel the Holy Ghost and that cute so and so is pretty good at speaking in tongues...
...and we're discovering a surprising number of people we have in common, mutual acquaintances, he knows Dan from the restaurant, Dan's been a good friend to him, and so on and so forth...
Meanwhile I'm trying to get a handle.
Discover that Tat knows so and so, great customer from the restaurant, and that - while I knew that So and So went to Church I'm discovering that Tat goes as well, and that - believe it or not...
...and wow, how long have I worked under this rabbit hole without ever suspecting it existed...
...it soon becomes apparent that the Pastor is the sanest one in all of Christendom....until he speaks, but for the moment he's largely silent, working off his charismatic reputation...
This is apparently one of the town's better kept secrets, although I've clearly known about it all along, it attracts a wide variety of the towns non-homeless and relatively normal people...I've heard from girls who've told me of guys wanting to take them there on a first or second date, and damn, I'm jealous, I've always prided myself on the low bar I've set for dating but apparently I can limbo down a little further, adapt a little better to the Kootenay life...
And so it goes, and I'm glad of the society, glad to know everyone a little bit better, and - "hey - there's a non-denominational worship tomorrow night are you going to come out?"..."of course, why would I miss it...." and this question will answer itself in another post...
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And for some reason I just remembered him. Someone I worked with 20 odd years ago.
An ass, really, tall - apparently good looking (the girls liked him) - and - well, the stories tell themselves.
Derren, spelled with 2 e's, I'm not certain it wasn't an affectation, or Derwood as I'd call him but you had to be careful he could be a bit "touchy". In your face sort-of touchy.
His story, his go-to story was about how he was on a midget hockey team *(he's in his 30's) and there was a guy there he didn't like. Cock of the Walk. A little too arrogant for Derren's taste. Nobody liked him.
This is a common thing in these stories, we justify our actions by saying "nobody liked him", and this, because there's no way anyone can check, it's a sphere of acquaintance we have no access to, we trust in the narrator.
I don't think I trusted Derren.
Anyways, they're going out of town to play at an overnight tournament and Derren had had enough of him. Was going to teach him a lesson, if you know what I mean.
So he took a shit in a zip-lock bag and froze it, and when they were getting on the bus dumped the frozen shit in his hockey bag.
By the time they got to the tournament and unpacked the shit was fully thawed. Messy.
Derren's laughing, boy, that sure shut him up!
And that's how Derren taught him a lesson.
***
Now Derren had grabbed the bus-boy, young, impressionable, nice kid. And too young to know any better and maybe, just maybe he was believing the stuff Derren was telling him.
Derren was telling him how Humble he was. I mean, laying it on thick; "You will never meet anyone humbler than I" sort of stuff, this after yet another "He Shoots - He Scores" saved the game sort of story, and he's repeating it over and over until - finally - I've had enough.
I interrupt. "I don't think 'humble' means what you think it means" I tell Derren, bus boy overhearing. "Humble people don't go around telling people how humble they are...".
Derren was unprepared for this. He was never prepared for any sort of battle of wits, and resented any correction. He drew himself up to full height, there was gonna be a hockey brawl, only another waiter - Dion, was nearby and laughing. And while he hated me he looked up to Dion and so my life was saved for another day...
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Personally, I've had enough of the guy, and it's small consolation that like Trump he's only a couple of years tops from imploding -
Here's Slates Take: Slate on Musk: https://slate.com/technology/2023/01/elon-musk-new-billionaire-rule.html?utm_source=digg
I'd just say he's a fucking idiot and a jackass and be done with it.
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And, the road to hell paved with good intentions and all of the people I didn't contact this holiday season.
You know who.
Dag, into the thrift shop, railing at M***, then me. Her daughter. It's not her daughter, it's merely the bringing of bad tidings, of which her daughter has the misfortune to be the bearer.
You see, Dag, being deprived of her drivers license due to crimes against humanity, is now house-bound in Procter.
Talking to her, now 10, 12 years younger than when I talked to her last, she's regressing, it's not obvious, she's plausible in all other respects, but this backwards-aging, and were I better acquainted with her I would notice the others, I'm not so and so it flies. Just this, her age, getting younger every time we meet.
And I still haven't made it up to see Stormy. Which I'd better see to quick or I'll be going to hell...