FUNDRAISERS & OTHER NATURAL DISASTERS

Periwinkle Chronicles, tales of the citizens of Periwinkle [because all the other colors were already taken] County:

 

[Blogspot has begun to double underline random words in my blogs. When you click on them, you get advertisements. I did not ask for this, I do not approve of it, and I have nothing to do with it.]

 

The Rev. Dr. Randall Nathan, (Retard), which is how they pronounce retired in Periwinkle County, or at least that’s what they tell him, was in his usual booth at The Good to the Last Plop Coffee Shop and Fertilizer Emporium, with a pair of free tickets for a Carnival cruise to the Gulf of Mexico on the table in front of him, to keep anyone from sitting with him, lest he lose points in the Hermudgeon of the Year competition, hermudgeon being a conflation of hermit and curmudgeon, when May Bassket, the Director of Fund Raising for the Periwinkle Media System, slipped into the booth across from him.

 
“Apparently May Bassket is not deterred by the thought of a Carnival cruise,” observed Dr. Nathan.
 
“Netherworld, no,” said May. “Even a crap-in-a-bag cruise would have gotten us more money from Fund Raiser Karl than…”
 
“Fund Raiser Karl?” Pastor Nathan broke in.
 
“Yes. We’ve decided to name our public broadcasting fundraising weeks the way they do other natural disasters, like hurricanes and winter storms. We name them after famous fund raisers, like FR Melissa. That Melissa Gates got a billion not only out of her husband but off of Warren Buffett, too. Now that’s fund-raising!”
 
“I would think that FR Melissa would be very successful.”
 
“Well, we haven’t named one for Melissa yet. The first one was FR Bernie. Bernie Madoff was a great fundraiser, but there seem to be negative connotations about his name. Then FR George W. didn’t go very well, because it turned out that he didn’t actually raise funds, he just borrowed from the Chinese and said it wasn’t part of the budget. When we tried to borrow from the Chinese they told us to go to Tiananmen Square and wait.”
 
“Maybe you need some of those catchy gifts to give folks who donate,” suggested The Rev. Dr. Nathan.
 
“I thought we had a real winner with our Periwinkle Media System tote bags, but no one seemed to want to carry a bag that said PMS on the side. Now we’ve developed a video game that combines the best elements of NASCAR, bowling, and whack-a-mole. We’ll give DVDs of it.”
 
“What’s it called, CrashBoomBang?”
 
“Hey, how did you know that?”
 
“Sixth sense,” said Randall. “I’ve got ESP…N. But wasn’t there a band by that name?”
 
“Yeah,” said May Bassket, “ but they’re too stoned to know we’re using their name.”
 
“Well,” said Randall, “speaking of names, at least you have a nice name for this time of year, when we’re ready for spring.”
 
“Yes, my mother said they wanted to give me a short name like May, so that in case I turned out stupid, I could at least spell my own name.”
 
“Your mother must have been clairvoyant,” said Dr. Nathan.
 
“Why, yes, my mother’s name was Clair. But how did you know my maiden name was Voyant?”
 
 ***
A Golden Persimmon is awarded posthumously to Georgia Karr, who gave her daughters short names for the above mentioned reason, because the similarity between the activities in Periwinkle County and events in other places is rarely coincidental.
 
[“Christ in Winter,” Reflections On Faith For People In The Winter Of Their Years, can be found at http://christinwinter.blogspot.com/]
 
{If you would like to receive PC or CIW by email, let me know at jmcfarland1721@charter.net, and I’ll put you on the list.}

 

 

The Surest Sign of The Holy Spirit

Periwinkle Chronicles, tales of the citizens of Periwinkle [because all the other colors were already taken] County:

 
THE SUREST SIGN OF THE HOLY SPIRIT
 
The Rev. Dr. Randall Nathan, (Retard), which is how they pronounce retired in Periwinkle County, or at least that’s what they tell him, was approaching his usual booth at The Good to the Last Glop Coffee Shop and Gravy Bistro, with a copy of a red-letter New Testament under his arm, to put on the table in front of him to keep any Bible-believers from sitting with him, since Bible-believers think that the black words are as good as the red words, because there are ways to exclude others in the black words and there aren’t any in the red words, which is why they claim to be Bible-believers instead of Christ-believers, lest he lose points in the Hermudgeon of the Year competition, hermudgeon being a conflation of hermit and curmudgeon, when he noticed that four-year-old Clara Wembley was already sitting in the booth across from his spot.
 
“At least I won’t have to worry about anyone else wanting to sit with me,” he muttered. “How come you’re in my booth, Clara?”
 
"Just waiting for you, Randy preacher. Mommy said I could hang out with you while I get the Holy Spirit.”
 
“How nice of her,” said The Rev. Nathan, “but if you must refer to me by my first name, I prefer Preacher Randy, as you well know.”
 
“Well no, to you, too,” said Clara. “Do you have two dimes?”
 
Randall pulled out his change purse and pressured the top into opening. “Why, yes, I do,” he said.
 
“Good,” said Clara. “Give ‘em to me. Pastor Polly said yesterday during the children’s sermon that we have to learn to accept the pair of dimes shift. I’m going to accept the shifting of your pair of dimes to me.”
 
“Sounds like a good children’s sermon,” said Randall, shifting the pair of dimes into Clara’s brown-stained hand. “But I thought Pastor Polly was at the Methodist.”
 
“No, that’s Pastor Patty. Pastor Polly is temporary at the Luteran. At least I don’t think she’ll be back. When she was handing out the wafers yesterday for communion, when she took one herself, I yelled ‘Polly wants a cracker.’ No loss. I don’t know why they call her a Luteran, anyway. She never plays the lute.”
 
“What’s that brown stain on your hands, Clara?”
 
“Oh, I’m getting the Holy Spirit.”
 
“Yes, I remember you mentioning that you were here for that purpose, but I don’t think I understand…”
 
“Not to worry,” said Clara. “I don’t mind explaining. Yesterday when Pastor Polly read the Bible, she said that when Jesus was talking to that Baptist guy while they were swimming in the river, that Baptist splashed some water on Jesus, the way guys do when they’re horsing around in the water, and the Holy Spirit clanged down on Jesus’ head like a dove bar.
 
“Are you sure there was a bar after the dove, Clara?”
 
“Sure. Bars are always after doves. That’s what they do in the woods. That’s why doves don’t go in the woods anymore. But I figure it doesn’t have to be just a dove bar. Any chocolate will give you the Holy Spirit. So I’m drinking hot chocolate while I eat my dove.”
 
Rev. Nathan beckoned to Abby Rhodes, the waitress. He pointed at Clara. “I’ll have what she’s having,” he said.
 
***
The similarity between the activities in Periwinkle County and events in other places is rarely coincidental.
 
[“Christ in Winter,” Reflections On Faith For People In The Winter Of Their Years, can be found at http://christinwinter.blogspot.com/]
 
{If you would like to receive PC or CIW by email, let me know at jmcfarland1721@charter.net, and I’ll put you on the list.}