Number of new posts in my Episcopalian folder on my Google Reader in the last 12 hours: 27

Number that, within the first preview sentence and post title, did not mention the Current Unpleasantness and therefore I actually bothered to read: 4

Number of the four that I actually bothered to read that came from Padre Mickey: 3

For fuck’s sake, people. Seriously.

It’s an hour and a half until my flight, and I’m self medicating with a margarita (I. Do. Not. Like. Flying.) So, a brief update:

Where you going?
California. Turn off the dirt road, drive to where there’s no cell service and a big fire pit.

Where the heck were you?
I came to the conclusion church people suck. Yes, I know, I’m slow. All The Current Unpleasantness has driven me around the bend. So I’ve decided on a practice of not reading any of it.

So if you have important news you want I should read, make sure you don’t include it in a post about The Current Unpleasantness.

How’s that job-hunt thing?
Well, I interviewed today for my job again. You may recall in December I also interviewed for my job just before I flew to California, and they didn’t give it to me then. So I have to answer everyone who asks how it went with “I don’t know.”

I feel a lot more confident with this interview than with the last one. Of course, I got a lot of good feedback from the last one since my best friend in the office at the time was on the panel. This panel consisted of the manager who didn’t give me the job last time but who is no longer my direct supervisor, the just-hired senior manager, and a guy who I’ve never directly worked with but I have had some dealings with in the past. They’re interviewing three other people.

If I don’t get it this time, I have no idea what I’m going to do. I’m tending towards the grand gesture of walking out and having someone else clear my desk for me. Which is counter my nature and it’s bad to burn bridges, but… for fuck’s sake, I’ve been working there two and a half years as a temp.

Oh, and it was going so well. I’d met the gentleman two weekends ago, and we were sending emails back and forth in the burgeoning new friendship kind of way.

Then he makes some crack about basements in his neck of the woods being full of rednecks.

I shoot back, “What’s wrong with rednecks?”

He comes back with this… screed. That’s all I can call it, it’s seriously 300 words long. Rednecks like NASCAR and cheap beer and country music and beating their wives and are all members of white supremicist groups.

It’s too early in the morning for blatant racisim and classisim.

So, I replied back:

Let’s start the introductions over again. My name is Mary Sue, and I drove a pickup truck with a gun rack to high school.

All day, every day, I get faxes from around the world confirming receipt of various things.

Today, I got a confirmation from Fred Phelps.

I’ll be back after GAFCON’s over.

As the long time readers of this blog will know, every so often I go on a rant about how, for all the bishops say people should be celibate outside marriage, they sure as shooting don’t provide those of us who are celibate with a whole lotta support (other than “Oh, I know someone who would be perfect for you!” which isn’t really helping).

Cruising around my geeky bloglinks today, imagine my joy when I noticed a link to Six Historic Figures Who Were Celibate.

Not the most uplifting crew. Other than Ghandi. Sigh.

Bastardy and Baby Farming in Victorian England by Dorothy L. Haller.

Excerpty!

On February 25, 1834, the London Times echoed the Victorians’ moral and fiscal outrage over the state of poor relief. It was adamant that poor relief should be for the destitute and that, at present, relief to mothers of illegitimate children had reached “a pitch extremely oppressive to the parishes, and grievously detrimental to female morals throughout England.” Thomas Carlyle denounced the old law for putting a “bounty on unthrift, idleness, bastardy and beer drinking.” The New Poor Law Amendment would rightly place the responsibility for the support of the bastard on the “vicious mother” thus relieving parish funds and would, moreover, end the “great offence against the sacrament of marriage. ” The Lord Chancellor in the House of Lords denounced “the lazy, worthless, and ignominious class who pursue their self-gratification at the expense of the earnings of the industrious part of the community.”

The more things change… oh, wait, things really haven’t changed.

If you click through and read the whole paper, I suggest not doing so whilst eating. It’s no more graphic than your average Quentin Tarrantino film, except this is historical fact and not cinematic entertainment.

Best. Protest. Ever.

Ya see, in Burma, women are being kidnapped and basically enslaved by the military, to fetch, carry, and be raped whenever the men want.

But, here’s the thing: the military rulers of Burma are superstitious about women’s underpants. They honest to God believe touching women’s knickers or even a woman’s skirt will take away their mojo.

I am not making this shit up, yo.

 So, Panties for Burma was born. The addresses of the embassies worldwide are here. Donate that old, worn, elastic-shot, hol(e)y pair to the cause.

Men’s drawers also gladly accepted.

(As for me and my house, we’re not really feeling v. v. Christian lately. We’re going to go sit in the corner and think about things for a while. If you need me, you can get ahold of me through the usual channels)

“My sanctuary is in the cupped hands of God.”

–Anonymous*

*Yes, I was eavesdropping on the bus again.

A voicemail I left in response to a friend’s request.

You want to be nominated to the Dicoesan Standing Committee? Are you nuts? Have you taken leave of what miniscule shred of your sanity you  have left? Are you high?  What  are you smoking and can I have some? You’re getting married in six months, for chrissake, you do not need additional hardcore drama in your life.

Um.  Love you. G’bye!