Let The Church Say Amen!

There is an inspiration for all things, blog rants included. Allow me to set the stage for this one. I had to regulate on a thirteen-year-old regarding her my.space.page. First and foremost I must say I don't understand my.space. I mean I understand it for kids, and young adults. I get that. I am clueless when it comes to grown folks. Each time I have asked, "why does a grown person need a my.space.page?" I'm told it is great for networking and business. Okay. I'll buy that. Granted there are many artists and entrepreneurs on the site, I would venture to say they represent a small percentage of the grown folk membership.

I am new to blogging and have found that I get a lot of enjoyment from it, so perhaps it's a similar experience on that site. Again, I don't know because for the most part I've only seen grown folks with photographs and music playing. Not the way I would choose to network with colleagues or potential clients. I digress.

So I began checking the profiles of her friends to see if they were truly children. Like blogging, I found myself looking at a profile and seeing a profile of interest there and checking that one out, and so on and so on. Kind of the whole six degrees of separation thing, right? Well about three degrees in I happen upon a pastor's page. Excuse me, not a mere pastor but a bishop. Trust me when I tell you we will deal with that foolishness in a minute.

Wanna guess what Bishop's wallpaper was???

Bentleys and Benjamins.

For real. For real, for real. I wish I was lying.

Now I don't know about you but I would be looking sideways if my pastor had a my space page. Let me find out he had one with bentleys and benjamins as a back drop and I would seriously need to consider moving my membership. Now I know a tiny bit of the Word and realize the man of God is due a double portion. I'm for that. We are supposed to support our pastor. The way I figure it that means if the average car price for your membership is say 25K, then the man of God should be driving something in the 50K range. I'm not sure, but I don't think I can get a Bentley for that.

I know I'm going to say somethings folks may frown at, but that's the beauty of blogging. This is my shit and I say what I want! It's a whole bunch of bullshit going on in some of these churches, y'all. I'm all for the separation of church and state, but somebody needs to regulate some of this foolishness.

Let me explain my position. When in the hell did folks begin to wake up one morning, accept the call, start a church, and declare themselves bishops? What is that foolishness all about? My understanding is a bishop is a spiritual overseer, supervisor and leader--of several churches. How can you be a bishop when you have a membership of ten and eight of them are your kinfolk? Let me clean that up because it really has nothing to do with numbers, I'm not the Mega Church kind of girl myself. It has everything to do with experience and training!

Stay with me now (I know the lingo too!) I may be very skilled, gifted even in any number of ways. As much potential and natural talent as I may have, I cannot wake up one morning, declare myself a physician, teacher, engineer, CPA, or cosmetologist and begin practicing as one. All that shit is regulated!

To all the self-proclaimed bishops, prophets, prophetess, and the like, please sit down! I'm not denying what may be your calling, but there is some prep time you need to put in. There is certainly much prestige and sadly financial gain to be had, but keep one thing in mind. Just as the man or woman of God is due a double portion, there is surely a very high price to be paid for [mis]leading God's people.

Dumb Asses Gone Wild!

Do you remember the story The Three Billy Goats Gruff? Remember the evil, gnarly, one-eyed troll who lived beneath the bridge and threatened anyone who attempted to cross the bridge? Yeah? Well that troll is me.

I used to wonder exactly when this transformation took place. I mean there was a time when I was pleasant baby--a real human baby, not a troll baby--who loved the company of people. This cute and cuddly baby grew into a cute and cuddly young woman who ripped and ran and fast as she could on a mission to see all the world had to offer.

Surely you remember what it was like. As a child I lamented my position, a child who depended solely on mother and father to take her on excursions outside the home. When my requests for new adventures were met with the "I'm tired" or "Maybe this weekend" responses I made a solemn promise to myself: When I grow up and have my own car I'm going to be gone all the time!

And so it was, for a while at any rate. But slowly, perhaps without me even being aware of it, my desire to spend as much time outside of my home as possible began to wane. My circle of friends grew smaller and smaller. I began to enjoy going to the mall, clubs, even movies with far less frequency.

Was it a traumatic event that forever changed the course of my life? Yes, but it's probably not as tragic as you may imagine. The more I lived, the more I experienced, the wiser I became I found myself confronted by an incontrovertible truth:

Stupid Muthafuckas Rule The World

I'm not talking standard issue stupid either. I mean these assholes wallow and frolic in their stupidity. And they are everywhere. Let me be a bit more specific, they WORK everywhere. If I only had to deal with them marginally, if I could somehow escape them I think I would be fine.

Why does this bother me so, you may ask? I had a great childhood with a wonderful, loving family. There is absolutely nothing I would change when it comes to my early years. I've learned as an adult some really ugly things go on in some families. Kinfolks cuss each other out, grown folks and children alike argue and fight one another, all sorts of shameful acts.

Don't get it twisted however, my family has their own brand of craziness. There were a few unorthodox child rearing practices going on to be certain. Your ass definitely got talked about, teased to the extreme. There were no insults for being too fat, too skinny, too dark, too loud. There were two major offenses my family would not tolerate: not keeping your ass clean and being an idiot. Sadly these are not things all hold dear.

So I stand in the year 2008 an evil, gnarly, one-eyed troll ever ready to kick the asses of the ignorant masses I encounter daily. I simply cannot deal with stank assed idiots, but it is not my fault. I come from a long line of like minded individuals. In the words of Juvenile, I get it from my mama...and my dadddy...and my grand mama...