Admit it, you missed me. As usual, I have to come and rescue this waste of a URL. Honestly, after such a long hiatus, I am surprised sappy-slug still has readers.
HofSnark is back and nobody is safe.
I archived Hof and got caught up. Was it just me, or did I see a post about a cat? Has he no shame? After reading all of his useless posts I went through his blogroll and got caught up with all of the crap he reads. The only thing worse than this blog is your blog. Christ.
I then ventured to the NEXT BLOG button and, after losing my lunch, found the glory-hole of the blogosphere. Below is the post from a blog that will remain unnamed. Get a fork for your eyes, kids, this one is a gem. My comments are in red.
Wednesday, January 18, 2006
An unusual, unexpected evening
Tonight, I did something I have never in my life done before. [ah, you took a shower... not as bad as you expected, was it?] I participated in a literal hands on prayer for healing. [Why, is healing having a tough day? Did healing need you and your friends to speed-dial God? If I was God and someone prayed for someone I would be a tad ticked. Do you think I was not paying attention? Isn't praying basically telling God he's been sleeping on the job? Isn't praying the celestial post-it saying, "hey, get your shit together, God." If I was God I would strike down the praying fool and burn into her stomach, "BITCH, I am all-fucking-knowing. I don't need you to remind me of what the FUCK is going on. I run this joint!] A few years ago, I couldn't imagine myself doing such a thing. Though I have sat with friends, holding their hands or my arm around their shoulder, praying for health, this was different. [I smell a Penthouse Forum Letter coming....] This was a group united in their concern for me and a recurrent, chronic health issue. [Now I get it... it was different because it was for you. Could not imagine yourself doing this before UNTIL you realized it was going to be all about you. Die bitch.] There was no one there who claimed to have the power of healing. [yet] No one was asking for money. [yet] There were no claims that if healing didn't happen, it was because of lack of faith. [don't even get me started] There was no pressure to participate. [riiiight, your zealots never pressure others] These were people who have chosen to believe that God/dess has never stopped miracles. [This fucking pisses me off. We are talking about God. Do you think he really has either a penis or a vagina? He's God, pick a pronoun and go with it.] Some of these miracles are in the incredible design of the world in which we live. [Pretty cool... if the sentence actually made any sense] A miracle might be the peace one finds when life is falling apart, and there is no logical reason for the mind and spirit to be calm. [Its called pot, not a miracle] A miracle might be finding how much we are loved when we are lost and trapped in loneliness and despair. [THAT would be a miracle. Anyone that might love you only needs to read this crap. God called last night and mentioned you are unloved. I meant to call you this morning and tell you... then I remembered I don't love you either and gave not a shit] A miracle could be the parting of a sea or a return of health for no apparent reason. These were people who have opened themselves to the miraculous in the ordinary, the rare and the unexplained. [no, these are people that feel the fucking need to take the lucky shit that just happens and need to take partial credit for it. "I prayed and prayed and look what happened". Shit happens. Sometimes it is good shit, sometimes its bad shit. If there is a God and he made it happen, its not because you underlined it on his to-do list.]
I've always associated healing by faith with either television hucksters or religious charismatics overwhelmed by emotion and peer pressure. [...gee, I wonder why] I've imagined wailing women with hair that hasn't been cut in years swooped into overdone piles on their heads, no makeup and overly long skirts, men in bad suits and worse toupees talking loudly and smacking people. [please please please let this be the beginning of the Forum Letter. "The man in the bad suit came over and asked me if I wanted a massage...."] That has been some snobbery on my part, some natural and understandable skepticism, and unfamiliarity. ["That has been some"... great way to start a sentence. What is that, the past present perfect tense. Jesus on a chain, read a book] My religious life has been to approach things from the head first and let it soak in from there. [that doesn't even make sense. Are you approaching the head first? Whose head are you approaching. Read another book.] Some of these people were executives and professionals still in the business casual attire which is the norm for this area. I know of multiple advanced degrees among the educational credentials in the room. [What the FUCK is an "advanced degree"? Are there intermediate and beginner degrees? When you register at the college can you set the difficulty level higher like a video game?] The conversation preceding this prayer could just have easily been about the impact of St. Augustine's confessions or the Councils of Nicea as it was about healing. [Can your tense be any harder to read? "could just have easily"-FUUUUUCK!]The ability to approach faith mind first was there, but another direction was chosen. [what the hell are you talking about? Did you proof this crap?]
Still, this was still faith healing, something which has always triggered my BS meter. [You owe me $4,276.23 for that second "still". "Still this was still..." I take cashier's check.] Healing was something that happened in the days of Jesus, in the days of the prophets. [These are the days of our Jesus...] As someone who believes the Bible from a non-literal perspective, I've been able to accept that Jesus, both divine and human could heal miraculously. [Are you being charged per punctuation? I'll loan you the money for a period and another comma. You hurt my head. I am still not sure what "believed the Bible from a non-literal perspective" is supposed to mean] I could believe that He gave this gift to His followers with whom He lived. As a relatively intelligent and well read woman in the 21st century, I believed that gifts for healing were now what motivated people to go into medical professions and that would be where I would find what I sought for my health. [OMG, are you serious with this sentence? The best part... this horrible sentence includes the factoid that you are well read. Talk about BS meters.] I've felt that God/dess didn't have to be showy and often worked in everyday activities.
Tonight though, I sat in a chair, and people laid their hands on me and quietly prayed out loud, one by one, followed by a period of silence. [...then the woman with the stacked hair moved her hand up my thigh. At first I was shocked... FUCK this better be the start of the Forum Letter] I'm normally very particular about being touched. [Here we GO! WOOOT"] My intimacy and personal space boundaries are large, but this didn't feel intrusive. [Is it large baby? Say its large. Give me your big boundaries, baby. Give it. Large, baby, LARGE] Physically, during the prayer and for about an hour afterwards, I felt unusually warm. [That was your big flappy pussy, sweetie.] It's difficult to describe, but the level of heat was comparable to that of a hot flash without the sweats and the discomfort. [...oh boy, here comes the punchline. Get ready for it] My illness didn't instantly disappear, and I didn't jump up shouting like one would see on some TV show. I am more comfortable, and I know that this could be due to some chemical release that comes from stepping into a new and somewhat scary experience (that every day presence of the miraculous thing). [um... so you are healed or not?] I don't expect to wake up tomorrow morning [we hope you don't wake up tomorrow morning] with my symptoms all gone, but I'm not going to eliminate that from possibility either.
What I do know for sure was that this was a step of faith. I opened a door of possibility and feel like I could open more. [how many doors of possibility are there? Where is the door of me possibly winning the lottery. You win the "Worst use of Figurative Language" award. Get the fuck over yourself and your unspecified illness. God doesn't give a shit about you and tell your looney friends he checks the Caller ID so quit praying.]