Skeptical Sally

I hate to be a skeptical Sally, but when I heard on a commercial that the fee for Morris Cerullo's 38th annual World Eveangelism Conference was drastically reduced, I didn't believe him when he told me that it was because of a "miracle breakthrough" price reduction.

Sounds more like a product of a crappy economy paired with low interest. But that's just me.

Also, the mug shot shown here of John Hagee has to be at least 15 years and 50 pounds ago. I don't remember him ever looking that young.

And I know Steve Munsey doesn't have quite that much hair anymore.

Not a pretty prayer

Actual prayer prayed today:

Dear God,

I know you've taken a look at my bank account vs. bills vs. upcoming holidays, so you know as well I as I do that I can't afford to have a hole in my tooth.

Just wanted to put out a reminder that I've been brushing and flossing. I don't think I really deserve this.

Amen.

My favorite song of the week

There is a river whose streams make glad the city of our God
There is a river whose streams make glad the city of our God
So I will rejoice
I will rejoice
And be glad
So I will rejoice
I will rejoice
And be glad

There is a fountain full of grace and it flows from Emanuel’s veins
It came and it healed me
It came and refreshed me
It came and washed my sins away!
So I will rejoice
I will rejoice
And be glad.
So I will rejoice
I will rejoice
And be glad.



(Good stuff.)

Everything you ever wanted to know about my funeral before it happens.

Note: This was recently edited to include more changes, thanks to the realization that I absolutely cannot have Freebird played for 9 minutes at my funeral. The recent changes are in bold. Also, the entire list of songs at the bottom are new, because I figured I should be a little more helpful with the song selection and do more than just ban certain songs.

An official (obviously not legally binding) record of things I want and do not want at my funeral or any memorial services upon my death:

• I do not want the following musicians or songs played or performed: Celine Dion, The Eagles (thanks to Christy...), "Wind Beneath My Wings," "I Can Only Imagine" (too cliche), "Precious Memories," Pink Floyd, "Freebird," "Stairway to Heaven," "Beulah Land" (unless it is the updated rap version I'm writing), any song you'd hear in a Southern Baptist church about being tired of life and longing for a mansion in heaven, Sarah McLachlan's "Angel" and "I Will Remember You," "In the Garden," that "Thank You" song by Ray Boltz, "When the Roll is called up Yonder."
  
• I want to be buried in the following outfit: I have a white t-shirt with a picture of two cartoon people and a cartoon dog. One of the people has one eye, and it says "It's all fun and games until someone loses an eye." This shirt suits me for obvious reasons and exhibits my monocular pride. However, the shirt is kinda short, so it should be worn with either the my light blue Mossimo jeans or my khaki Old Navy pants, because those are two of the only pairs of pants I have that sit high enough on my waist for the shirt to not show off any of my belly. Or, someone can put a belt on any other pair of jeans that I have. I have some adorable pairs of socks. Find a pair of cute ones that aren't too dirty on the bottom. I may as well show off a pair of them. Also, please make sure I'm wearing clean underwear.
  
• My funeral/memorial service should start with a few pre-selected people saying whatever they want about me or my life, but please do not let anyone lie. I wasn't the reincarnation of Mother Theresa. But don't let anyone say anything bad about me, either, because that will make my mom cry, and she's probably already sad, because I'm dead at that point. If my family isn't at the service, I suppose it's OK to say bad things about me. I won't care. People who speak at my service are required to have known me personally when I was alive. Do not let any disgruntled readers of the newspaper for which I write stand up and speak ill about my employer or some lame article I wrote. Tell them to write a letter to the editor.
  
• Someone needs to say something generic and hopeful about how I'm in heaven and I'm not in any pain because I knew Jesus. This person could be a pastor, but does not have to be one. He or she does not have to know me personally, because it's generic and hopeful. Just find someone who doesn't suck at being hopeful.
  
  (Note: If this person ends up being the pastor at the church I currently attend, he is not allowed to wear a suit. I think it's creepy every time I see him in a suit, and I bet I'm not the only one. However, I would encourage my pastor to try to avoid having to speak at anything memorializing me and go play a round of golf instead.)
  
• After the speakers, someone can perform or play a few songs. I hope I know a musician well enough that he or she will perform at my service, but, if not, there's a CD player and some CDs in my bedroom. Have fun picking songs. (NEW! List of songs I like at the bottom! Not too many of them are funeral-appropriate, though...)
  
• Then, it's time for karaoke! The songs previously listed that are banned from being played or performed are allowed ONLY in the karaoke section.
  
  Also, this cannot be drunken karaoke. I used to indulge in drunken karaoke in a previous life, but it would tempt my alcoholic/recovering alcoholic friends too much if I had it at my funeral/memorial service, and I want everyone who wants to sing to have that opportunity. I hope everyone understands.
  
• Guests should be served a drink and a light snack, preferrably Goldfish crackers or cinnamon Teddy Grahams, before the service starts. After the service, there should be more food and drinks (but *good* food--not snacks), because I've always believed in free food.
  
• Because I look "special," I'm banning any slideshow presentations with pictures of me. In fact, there shouldn't be a picture of me anywhere, unless my family really wants a color photo of me surrounded by candles sitting on a table up front. If you don't remember what I looked like, trust me, you didn't know me.
  
• Please donate money to Operation Smile in lieu of flowers. Children in third-world countries with easily treated craniofacial disfigurements are more important than flowers. No flowers!
  
  

Thank you for reading. I'm not planning on dying soon, but wouldn't it be tragic if I did and "My Heart Will Go On" was played at the funeral? Ugh!

Here is a list of songs that I like. I'm not going to require any of them, but they're good suggestions. A lot of them are completely inappropriate for mourning, but it's not my job to pick out the songs. That's someone else's job. I'm just listing songs that are awesome.

Classic Hymns:

• There is a Fountain (one of my favorites!)
• Come, Thou Fount of Every Blessing
• How Great Thou Art (but let's put it in a key the average person can sing, mmkay? Thanks.)
• I Have Decided (OK, not really much of a funeral song...but it's good!)
• Love Lifted Me
• Crown Him with Many Crowns
• Holy, Holy, Holy
  

"Contemporary" Christian songs:

• Blessed Be Your Name (song changed my life. I should really mandate this one)
• Mighty to Save
• How Great is our God
• Vision of You (that's a Shane and Shane one, y'all!)
• Hope
• Made Me Glad
• Oceans Will Part
• Remember Your Chains (I think Steven Curtis Chapman popularized this one, but I've never heard his version)
• When I Think About the Lord (another Shane and Shane one, y'all!)
• I'm in love with Nichole Nordeman (I know--I'm totally showing the fact that I was a youth in the late 1990s, early 2000s) -- just find all of her CDs in my room. My favorites are Healed, Holy, This Mystery, Gratitude, To Know You, You Are Good. (OK. That's good.)
• I *heart* me some Derek Webb, too, although none of it is great for a funeral.
  "Wedding Dress" is a great song...but not a funeral song. (It says the word "whore," which apparently is naughty). "This Too Shall Be Made Right" would fit if I were killed by some senseless tragedy. "A King and a Kingdom" is great if you want to see people freak out at the line that says Jesus Christ wasn't a "white middle-class Republican," but otherwise not much of a funeral song either, I guess.
  
  

Also, if I'm dead and you're reading this to help you deal with the devastation of losing me (Ha ha...yeah right!) here's a clip of Big Bird dealing with the death of Mr. Hooper. It makes me cry.

Fasting: The opposite of slowing (and other thoughts about fasting)

I won't outline the spiritual benefits of fasting, because that's been done elsewhere on the Interweb, but I'll just point out some things I've thought of in the past couple of days..

• God bless those people who fast from certain foods or food groups, as opposed to certain meals or days. I mean, if I'm fasting from one meal per day for 40 days, at least I can eat whatever I want during the other two meals. But, if you're cutting, say, sugar out of your diet for 40 days...that's a long time! And you know you crave whatever it is you're cutting out within the first 10 seconds of that fast.
  
  One of my friends is giving up pork and beef for 40 days. I could live with that until I had to pass up a really *good* cheeseburger, and then I'd be a little cranky. I can give up fast food burgers all day long, but I have a weakness for the homemade grilled kind.
  


• Fasting is a really great excuse to get out of eating lunch/dinner with co-workers/friends/family members that you really don't like. You can say you have a "prior appointment." Well, sure you do! With JESUS!
  


• I looked for "fasting jokes" online, to see if I'm the only one talking off the cuff about this important Christian practice, and the following is the only joke I found (and I laughed at it): The biggest drawback to fasting for seven days is that it makes one weak.
  


• Someone has found a way to make fasting super-complicated AND marketable! The Daniel Fast--It's not just a plate of veggies and some water! I'd be too busy reading labels and making sure my salad dressing was Daniel Fast-approved that I wouldn't have time to pray, read my Bible and all that other fasting goodness...
  
• I should probably fast from biting my nails, but I've almost given up hope on that dream. I was wearing the mittens for awhile, but then I became too confident in myself, and then I bit my long thumbnails off. Right now, my right thumb is in more pain than usual because I've bitten it so low.
  
• If you're doing a good old-fashioned normal fast (no food and all the water you could ever want), it really does get better after about the third day. Don't ask how I know this--I'll try anything once.
  
• Random story about me: When I was in college, I did this modified version of Ramadan for about two weeks, even though I'm not Muslim. I "modified" it only so I wouldn't have to get up at 5 a.m. to beat the sun when I was getting off of work every morning at 1 a.m. I basically gave myself half an hour to one hour after I woke up--whatever time that was--for breakfast and then didn't eat or drink for 12 hours after that. It was usually a 7 a.m. to 7 p.m. sort of thing. If I slipped up and woke up late, it would end up being like 10 a.m. to midnight or 1 a.m. thing, because I'd still be working at 10 p.m. Inevitably, I wanted to drink water about one hour into the fast every single day. I'm such a weenie.
  
  I can only explain this by saying that I have this weird desire to put myself in other people's shoes, so I'll set up these experiences for myself to see what it's like to be another kind of person or come from another kind of culture.
  
  But, yeah, I pretty much had the picture after about two weeks. By the way, if you ever meet my mom, don't tell her about that.
  
• I went to the doctor for an annual physical required by my health insurance company. When I arrived, the nurse asked me if I'd fasted for at least 12 hours (for accurate blood sugar readings). I responded in the affirmative. She said, "I couldn't do that," as if she was surprised I'd actually done it.
  
  It was 9:30 a.m. All I had to do was not eat or drink anything besides water past 9:30 p.m. the night before and delay/skip breakfast that morning. Barring any medical conditions, that shouldn't be that hard to do. People are funny.

Internet Monk reads my brain and turns it into a blog

I could go on and on about how I think Contemporary Christian Music as a whole is rapidly becoming a wasteland, and Internet Monk, in a blog from earlier this week, explains part of the reason why.

I don’t hear the kids of voices that shined the light of God on the darkness of racism, that opposed the Vietnam war with a Christian conscience or that awoke to the realities of poverty and corruption in America. Evangelical art seems to reflect the concerns of the status quo, and the easy acceptance of a world where how we feel is the great crisis of our time.

...

My students will hear a hundred voices telling them to march against gays for every one they hear saying they should befriend the oppressed and the rejected. (One friend told me that when his church volunteered to help with a fund raiser for the local AIDS hospice, the directors were so stunned that they thought it was a joke.)

My students will hear that Martin Luther King, Jr was an adulterer 25 times for every time I point to his model of sacrificial non-violence. Few of them will ever read any of his sermons, but many will be told of his moral failings. (And the same is true for many activist Christians. Some evangelicals make it a point to morally impugn anyone who pursues that they label as the “social” Gospel.)

I should kick people in the face as soon as the idea comes to me.

(The following is a true story.)

So about a month ago I’m walking down the bread aisle of the grocery one Wednesday night, and this lady walking down the bread aisle gets all bummed out that I'm facially deformed, and she asks me what’s up with that.

I think to myself, "Ugh, I meet the weirdest people!"

Instead of kicking her in her own face, I answer her question, hoping that not kicking people in the face is grounds for eternal reward in heaven. Otherwise, I see no reason NOT to kick some people in the face.

And then she tells me if I had enough faith in Jesus, then I’d be healed. Now, in 25 years of medical ugliness, that particular unsolicited statement doesn't make me angry anymore, but I’ve never come up with a sarcastic, witty comeback. So I just kinda stood there, looking longingly at the loaves of bread that were waiting for me.

And THEN she asks me if I go to church and which one I go to. I tell her–I don’t know why, probably because I was hungry and my brain was deprived of nutrients–and she tells me that I need to go to a "real Bible-believing church" for a faith healing. Like the church she goes to–Lamb of God True Vine Prophetic Word Ministries of the Lord Jesus Christ our Savior Tabernacle of Holy Ghost Freedom Praise on Frontage Road. Or something.

So, anyway, then I realized I should have kicked her in the face four paragraphs ago like I wanted to. And then I blurted out that "if my church prayed for divine healing for every ugly person that walked in the door, we wouldn’t have time for anything else."

Then I found a loaf of 100 percent whole wheat bread for $2, which is a steal at this non-Wal-Mart grocery store.

And then I felt a little bad, because most people at my church are at least average-looking, if not good-looking. Not that I’m checking people out at church.

The End.

I'm alive. Isn't that nuts?

It's kind of weird to think that I would have been a good candidate to be aborted.

http://inthelifeofachild.com/index.php/jacquis-story/

"The first perinatologist involved in Jacqui’s pre-natal care suggested among other things, that we should carefully consider all of our options, including abortion. He was of the opinion that an abortion might be in Jacqui’s best interest, and in ours as well....He also stated that if we were to lose “it” (our baby) through miscarriage, that it may be for the best and that since we were young, we could always just “have another."

Oatmeal and the economic crisis

Every time I read another story about the dire economic situation, I think about instant oatmeal and then throw up a little inside my mouth.

(cue transition music going into hilarious personal story)

Some months ago, I found myself in my own economic downfall. Not a crisis--there was never a danger that I wouldn't be able to pay my bills (as long as there weren't any expensive emergencies in my life)--but I was trying to save up money for a couple of things important to me. But the saving was going slowly. Awfully slowly.

So one night I was shopping for food at Wal-Mart, which I believe is the grocery store of Satan, and saw these boxes of "Great Value" brand instant oatmeal in a shopping cart. A box of 10 (assorted flavors) for $1!

"You know," I told myself, "if I ate this oatmeal instead of a regular lunch or dinner, I could save a lot of money!"

(In my mind, because I'm tiny, food is obviously where I should be cutting back on spending. I mean, I'm not eating that much anyway. Why should I splurge?)

So I grabbed two boxes. I felt like a genius. I had a plan to save tens of dollars!

And I did it, because I'm not a quitter. I finished the whole box in about eight days. I think I skipped a day, and none of my oatmeal meals were breakfast, FYI. Only lunch or dinner. I usually skip breakfast.

I've since reverted back to normal eating habits: Lean Cuisines, sandwiches, canned fruit and carb-y snacks for me!

But let me just give some advice about oatmeal in these hard economic times: Instant oatmeal is not that great after the third day in a row, even if you still have three more flavors to try. Eating it two meals in a row will make you sad. It's pretty unappealing by day seven, especially if you had Goldfish crackers and Pepsi for lunch.

Things that taste bad on top of oatmeal: Chocolate syrup (on the maple syrup flavor), shredded cheese (on the plain flavor), peanuts (on any flavor).

I still have the second box of oatmeal. I'm ready at a moment's notice for Instant Oatmeal Feast: Part II.

True confession of personal failing

FACT: I can't look at my friend's online wedding albums because I'm too jealous of the fact that she's married and I'm not.

And I know that makes me a bad person today.

(I'm going to go iron some clothes now.)

Love thy neighbor...

Dear God,

I know I'm supposed to love my neighbor, but you're making it difficult for me.

1. Tonight I go down to the laundry room to take my clothes out of the washer and into a dryer. I find that, for some reason, one of my two machines is set on "hot normal" cycle, which would be super, except that I'd put both on "cold delicate" before I left, because these were work clothes and dresses deserving of such a designation.

Now, my second machine seems untouched and the cycle is done. This crazy one looks like it's just starting up, so I stop it before any damage is done (I hope--the clothes are drying right now). The only thing I can guess is that whoever was doing 6 loads of "hot normal" clothes put money in my machine by accident, switched the setting and turned it on after my original cycle had finished.

2. When I walked into the laundry room, I interrupted someone who was injecting himself with a drug of some kind. I guess it doesn't hurt me any, but it's a little unsettling, like I just walked into a stranger's apartment by accident.

3. There's a Mazda Protege taking up two parking spaces.

4. There's a moving van sitting overnight that's taking up three parking spaces.

A side story: There's a few pieces of furniture stacked near the back door of the van. Every time I go outside for laundry nonsense, the furniture is stacked differently, but never moved inside the van. The furniture thing doesn't bother me, but I thought I'd mention it because it's kinda funny.

That's all I've got. Thanks for listening.

-Me

Random thoughts

Random things blog:

1. Smoothie King coming! Happy feelings!

2. My church found out this weekend that I have no clout as a reporter at my own paper. And to think that I'm the reporter there with the second-longest tenure. (Yeah, it's a little sad that two years = second in experience, but that's how we roll.)

3. 7th Heaven reruns were playing tonight. So weird. As if there's a family like that anywhere on earth.

4. I did my 3 miles today, like a good girl. I'm hungry, because I didn't really eat dinner, but it feels like eating after running defeats the purpose. I mean, I'll get around to it, but I'll feel like a dork.

5. I'm hungry for one of those slices of french bread pizza in the freezer...or a peanut butter and jelly sandwich...or the Stouffer's mac and cheese (every once in awhile, it's worth it to deviate from the Lean Cuisines). Mmmm...food.

Gotta go eat!

Fool me once, shame on you...

I read this last week and forgot to publically announce that we all got duped.

Michael Guglielmucci lied about having cancer, recorded a hit Christian anthem with an oxygen tube in his nose and collected thousands (if not millions) of dollars for his "treatment."

BTW- How crazy is our society that it's better to cultivate an extensive two-year lie about having TERMINAL CANCER than it is to admit that you have a porn addiction? For real!

Oh, and the church is acting all, "Duh, we really don't know how much money has been collected..." which says to this reporter that it was probably a whole lot more than anyone imagined, and they're just hoping they never have to reveal how much it was. I can't imagine that the reporter didn't try to at least get a range quoted: "Well, OK, was it a million? More than a million? More or less than 5 million?" etc. (It's what's required of my noble profession.)

He also had a Facebook group that solicited money. That's interesting.

Oh, yeah, I hope my church never plays the YouTube video again.

Dueling praise songs

Chorus I haven't been able to get out of my head for two weeks:

Savior, he can move the mountains.
My God is mighty to save, he is mighty to save.
Forever, author of salvation.
He rose and conquered the grave.
Jesus conquered the grave.

New chorus that I can't get out of my head that's colliding in my brain with the old chorus:

I wanna sit at your feet
Drink from the cup in your hand
Lay back against you and breathe,
Feel your heartbeat.

It's a fight for territory! Which song will win? Check back in a week!

Dear Man At Church Who Always Gives Me Hugs

Thanks for always telling me I'm a sweet girl, even though I don't believe it because I know myself better than anyone.

Love,

An Often Unlovely (But Still Sweet) Girl

Overheard in my kitchen

Random thought: You know your diet needs a change when you hear yourself saying at 11 p.m., "Oh, I should have brought that candy bar home from work. It would have made a nice dinner."

For the record, the candy bar in question was a Snickers. Also, I decided to have two packets of Pizza-flavored Pringles Stix (90 calories per pack) for dinner.

In fact, I'm going to go over the shame that was Wednesday's meals. Maybe I'll shock myself straight.

Breakfast: Sips of water, a third of a glass of Coca-cola.
Lunch: Some Goldfish crackers (I don't know how many--I'm guessing a serving's worth), some mints, about eight ounces of melon-flavored Gatorade.
mid-afternoon: Drank some icy water, chewed some gum.
later afternoon: Thought about buying a pizza and eating it over the next two days. Ate a peanut butter and jelly sandwich with potato chips instead. Drank about six ounces of root beer.
late evening: Ate the Stix described above with a few sips of purple G2 (that yummy low-cal Gatorade).

OK, this is somewhat atypical for me, but note the complete lack of vegetables, fruit and quality protein in that day. I'm all about snack-y carb things.

I need to get back on the quasi-diet I was following that at least included salads, frozen veggies, canned fruit and chicken cooked in various bland ways.

For the record, I didn't intend for lunch to be Goldfish crackers. It *was* going to be a Lean Cuisine french bread pizza, but the pizza was so freezer burned that it came out horrible, and I didn't even want to eat it. And if I eat a lunch like a pizza with no veggies, I try to make up for it later at dinner. But, I'll be honest, I rarely eat breakfast.

Dear Old Person at the Grocery Store on a Monday

Dear Old Person at the Grocery Store on a Monday:

You are the third old person this year who has seen me, asked me what happened to my face, and then responded with something like, "Well, I ain't never seen anything like that in my whole entire life!"

I am not the world's largest ball of string. I am not the lovechild of a giraffe and a zebra. I am not an outer space alien speaking in a foreign language of computer beeps. I'm just a human. I promise.

Most people have enough sense to be embarrassed after I answer their question. A few ask follow-up questions. None of them go in for a closer look like you did.

I realize you--with your red suspenders, pants pulled up to your man boobs and untied white keds--are the kind of hip, metropolitan guy who has seen everything there is to see in the whole world, but I'd appreciate it if you didn't study me with suspicion as you would a strange new bug in your bathroom.

Thank you,

Your Fellow Shopper on the Bread Aisle

Mister Rogers

I'm watching "Mister Rogers' Neighborhood." It's an episode reminding us that no one person can do everything. Some of us can whistle, and some of us can't, he told the audience today. (I can't whistle.)

I cried after Mister Rogers died. Actually, let's be honest: I still cry when I catch him on TV.

I'm usually very open to poking fun at cultural icons and have a pretty irreverent sense of humor, but I won't let anyone make fun of Mister Rogers without launching into a sermon about how he cared so much about children in a world that has let its children down, and how he was such a rebel in the television industry for sticking to his format, when almost everything else on television targeting that age group was so hyperactive and harsh and loud and too fast for young minds to really grasp.

He talked at length about topics that other shows just glossed over or completely ignored: Anger, embarrassment, fear, death, love. Oh, and I totally remember seeing a re-airing of the very special "conflict" series, with Fred singing the "Peace and Quiet" song at the end.

He was dependable. He knew I was ugly and angry and so nervous that I couldn't give up my pacifier until I was 6 and always bit my nails to the quick, but he still wanted to play with me. Always. He wanted me to love myself as much as he loved me.

He was the only person I remember who made me feel unconditionally loved and secure. He always told me he was proud of me.

Thanks, Mister Rogers.

Exercise is tricky

I went jogging near the beach today and saw two people I know along my 3-mile route. (I like jogging near the beach because I can get a snowball from the guy parked near the beach when I'm done, and I can look at pretty beach scenes and run by the kinds of adorable, well-kept houses I will never live in.)

But, the point is, I obviously know too many people that can afford to live near the beach, because that always happens to me. Maybe I should start running elsewhere.

Or maybe I should just start doing Tae-Bo tapes inside my lonely apartment and stop eating pints of Ben & Jerry's ice cream with chocolate sprinkles. And stop meeting people.

P.S. Yes, I'm pretty sure that eating a snowball after a run negates the calorie-burning aspect of the run. I don't do this every time I run.

Random thought

WARNING: THE FOLLOWING IS GROSS AND USES THE WORD "COLON"

So I referenced in the blog below a man who sells this Almighty Cleanse on infomercials. It's a seven-day colon cleanse that he says should be done seasonally to rid the body of parasites that cause back aches, foot odor and hemorrhoids, among other ailments.

He claims that he has passed a nest of worms and a six-foot-long rope-like thing, photographs of which he took and airs on television. (I wonder if this guy's married.)

Anyway, here's my question:

Assuming you believed the hype about colon cleaning and that all that "stuff" was in your body...would you really do anything to remove that stuff?

I mean...they haven't killed me yet. I may as well just let them stay up there. I have a sneaking suspicion that most people I know would take a "wait and see" attitude toward potentially unhealthy colon parasites that we'd rather not see.

What does that say about people? I don't know.

(Free advice: Don't type "colon cleanse" into Google images. For real.)

Camp meeting is two words

As a lonely, single adult, I often spend my time channel surfing instead of doing chores. "I'll do chores when I get married" is my mantra.


I often end up passing by INSP, because it's just a few channels away from Nickelodeon, which plays SpongeBob Squarepants. And SpongeBob Squarepants is the best cartoon that's been produced in the last decade.

I have found that INSP, also known as the Inspiration Network, specializes in the following types of programming:


1. Infomercials for religious/do-gooder charities, such as Feed the Children and St. Jude's Children's Hospital.
2. Infomercials for snake oil solutions to clean your colon, complete with pictures of things excreted during the regimine.
3. Infomercials for easy ways to get rich using real estate.
4. Campmeeting!!!!

Oh, glorious Campmeeting! (One word, not two!)

Campmeeting, as they call it, seems to be a gathering of a bunch of ministers who I imagine hang out a lot together--Mike Murdoch, Benny Hinn, some people with the last name Cerullo, and a few guys I don't know, but who are probably tight with each other.

Three-fourths of the times, when I happen to flip by, it's always on the part where Mike Murdoch is telling people about how people continually buy him clothes and cars. I don't begrudge the guy his cars and clothes, but I'd personally just ask God for cash, because it takes less storage space, but whatever.

Anyway, the whole point of this message is that, for some reason, INSP chose to call it "Campmeeting" as one word.

This irks my very soul.

There's no reason it should be one word. Camp meeting is two words. So is health care, BTW. Health care is never one word.

I choose not to give to a ministry that blatantly flaunts its incorrect grammar. It's one thing if it's an obvious disregard, such as naming your business the Kwick Kar Kare, but Campmeeting (with the "m" lower case, too!) almost looks as if the organizers believe it's one word.

So I can't deal. It makes me twitch a little. It reminds me too much of "healthcare," which also makes me twitch.

Besides, Campmeeting takes away from the time I could be watching the guy from the Almighty Cleanse infomercial talk about how he passed a "nest of worms" and something "six feet long" using a seven-day colon flush.

Test post.

Testing...1, 2, 3...have I been unlocked after A MONTH?