Preface to My Profound Political Speech (Keeping It Real!!!!)

First, thank you to all my fans and the planted vocal support placed throughout the crowd to give the illusion that I have more going for me than I do. 

I would like to thank my speech writers for the rousing, articulate diatribe I am about to recite. As politicians from the last century and this can testify, without you, the world would know that my handlers think I am incapable of presenting cogent arguments on this stage, let alone present truths that are worthy of electing me to the power and position I so earnestly crave. Of course, if they plagiarize the content, I have plausible deniability since I only saw the speech last night, and my views are so fluid they assume I will need to include material that has already had a favorable hearing.    

Thank you also to my handlers who coached me as to when I should raise my voice, sweep my hand, and shed a tear. The subtle pinch I give myself at various points is a very effective way to generate a tear without feeling that much emotion. (Pulling out nose hairs works, as well, but is harder to do in public.)The tight knot in the tie at my throat enables me to get very red-faced and sweaty at moments of righteous indignation.  The "pause for effect or laughter" notes on the teleprompter are also a great help in reminding me to give space for my "plants" to insert the proper response, and by imitation and inspiration, influence the innocents around them into brainlessly jumping on this popular bandwagon.

Please know that if I had to write my own material, I would not have become this successful, so join me in giving credit where credit is due--as long as they do not get my substantial paycheck and as long as they also take all the blame for any errors in construction and content. And now to begin . . .

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It is with great humility and transparency that I accept your rallying support, adulation, and finances on this historic day! . . .

God’s Little Helper

Posted on March 13, 2012by apronheadlilly

 

“If you confess your sins, I’ll be faithful and just to relate your sins and proclaim to all your unrighteousness.” Mmm, something doesn’t sound quite right. I should look that up.

I could confess my own sins, but it would be much more beneficial to confess yours. I might be blind to my own tiny wee blind spots, but yours are so glaring, I almost feel compelled to share them. Let me pray about it. Wait. Ooh, I think I feel a peace.

It’s not that I think I’m so much better than you; it’s just that, well you know, when someone is stumbling so horribly, I’m supposed to be there to help pick them up. I’m just trying to help.

I want you to know that I laid out your hardships for the whole Bible Study group so we could uphold you in prayer. And we did indeed do that, after the girls recovered from the shock. I guess they weren’t expecting it from you. After all, up until now you’ve seemed so … well … holy. They promised to put your name on every prayer chain in the area. I know it will be an encouragement to you that so many of the faithful are diligently spreading the news about your desperate need.

I used to have issues a long long time ago, but I learned over the years that if the Lord doesn’t immediately deal with them, miraculously I mean, then you just stuff those babies down further and further and pretty soon they disappear. After a while you never even notice the hardness. It becomes sort of like a firm foundation that the rest of my victorious life rests upon. Thank you, Jesus!

I hope my testimony is a blessing to you. It’s always helpful to have a shining example leading way out in front. As long as you don’t continue to stumble too badly, there’s even a possibility you might catch up some day.

Well, what are we going to do about you? I must say I’m a little shocked that you resent my “interference.” This is my ministry, sister. How dare you label me a backbiter and a gossip? I never gossip. My mission in life is just to declare the truth, and if you are so ashamed of that, then I question whether or not you are really saved. The truth will set you free, you know. Don’t you want to be set free?

Well, I don’t have time for this. I’m late for prayer meeting, and I needed to get there early; I have a very long list this week. Leadership is a great burden, but I accept the responsibility willingly. It is my joy to help spread a little conviction around and love, too, if I have the time. We are His hands and feet after all.
Try to get hold of yourself. Stop sobbing and have a little faith. Maybe, if it’s not too late after I get back, I’ll stop by and we can have another little chat. Would you like that?

FaithBook?

I was thinking that if God put up His own Facebook page, He might get more devoted attention than He is getting now.  I can just imagine the number of “friends” that would flock to His site.  It might even set some kind of record.

And if He added the Scrabble app, He could sneak in some teaching and truth claims without folks even realizing it.  Of course any “reprimands” should only be an optional link, to avoid being unfriended.

In the photo section, He could include some of His greatest and most famous feats:  Moses and the Red Sea, Daniel in the lion’s den, the ascension, etc.  Pictures of sick and starving children or earthquake victims should best be left for tweets, though, since most folks are only touched by these kinds of appeals momentarily anyway, and He wouldn’t want to affect His stats by making people feel uncomfortable. 

Since many find it so hard to squeeze in a quiet time between work, coffee with friends, shopping, running to music lessons and Tae Kwon Jitsu Arts, this would solve that pesky relationship problem.  While checking e-mail and Facebook posts, you could include God with those you are keeping up with.  It would only take a second away from adding flowers and avocados to your Farmville plot. 

Dear Fictional Editor:

I was sipping my organic, free trade coffee, enjoying my break at work, listening to the Nobel Prize award ceremony in Sweden. I must say that it is a very impressive event, but I am chagrined that not only did Al Gore get one of their prestigious awards, but also he used the platform to once again evangelize for the global warming propaganda. I don’t think Gore is deliberately trying to deceive, at least I hope not; but it is frustrating to hear him present one view and one interpretation of the available statistics.

He had a well-written speech (whether he wrote it himself or not), and he is a fine orator if you get past the slight whine. He was passionate and presented his talking points like a pastor out to convert the unbelieving heathen. Sorry to say, I wasn’t converted.

Now I must say that I recycle; I avoid plastics; I use reusable grocery bags; and I don’t use toxic pesticides (well, maybe a little, but only when the AV ant count in my kitchen reaches 100 or more). I’m a health nut, and I really try to be a good steward of the earth. But some of the governmental, and hence societal changes, that Gore and his allies are calling for could be destructive to the economy of our Westernized nations while at the same time giving a pass to quasi-developing nations. And when there are disasters and help is needed, it is the “rich” benevolent West that runs to the aid of the underprivileged. And, yes, that is how it should be! But change must be incremental and done in such a way that livelihoods are not destroyed for the cause of an idea—an idea which is disputed and not unanimously held by all scientists everywhere.

I read a book called State of Fear by Michael Crichton of Jurassic Park fame. Within his plot line, which is obviously fiction, he includes a plethora of factual information and graphs that show there is another way to interpret the “facts” bandied about. While Gore is showing a melting glacier in South America, a supposed result of global warming, on the other side of the same mountain range is a glacier that is growing. His dire assertions that the seas are rising and millions will die are contradicted by scientists who fail to see any change in the water levels on the Southern Hemisphere islands he references. For many of his talking points and dramatic photos in his movie, there are other photos and explanations that bring greater balance to the panic. But we hate to think of the cute polar bears suffering and heading to extinction. We see the graphic, so we buy the propaganda.

I had an aunt who was a history buff. She had news clippings dating back to the mid 1800s when at least two different years snow fell every month of the year back in Canada where I’m from. It was devastating because farmers couldn’t plant their crops. But it passed. It was a cycle. Much of what we are seeing is the same. When I was in college (the first time), we were freaked out about global cooling and overpopulation. The world was supposed to have ended by now! But please not before a latté refill. That is not to say we should sit and do nothing about pollution. We should, as a people, be constantly seeking ways to be good stewards of the earth and use technology in a more responsible and healthy way.

What concerns me, and I think someone at your paper ought to do some investigative reporting on this, is that it is profitable for certain entities to keep the panic button pressed. In Crichton’s book, he hypothesizes that since funding for these environmental agencies is dependent on there being a crisis, it is necessary to create a “state of fear” to keep the money flowing. Sometimes, we tend to think that environmentalists are all poor, tree hugging hippies with long beards, who eat tofu and meditate—one with the earth. But the environmental agencies created in the 50s and 60s are multimillion dollar corporations with huge budgets and they need our fear to stoke the fires and keep the cash flowing in.

Thanks for listening.
Sincerely,
Tipper Gore

My Teacher Carried a Shotgun

My teacher for grades one through eight brought a “shotgun” to school every day. It contained a mysterious white powder and rested on her big, wooden desk at the ready. She appeared as a terrifying specter in my young life: demanding, critical, and sometimes physically abusive. In that one-room schoolhouse in the idyllic Canadian countryside, she towered. She was tough and unquestionably in control.

Whether it was sweeping the hardwood floors, printing, coloring in the lines, cleaning the fish tank, singing in the choir, nothing was ever good enough. She required perfection. I was not, however, a perfectionist and so I lived in terror of her criticism. I was one to find art in the process more than the outcome, and so my insecurities under her tutelage grew. I always felt inferior.

My supportive parents did much to soften the psychological blows on my sensitive nature, but one day some of that insecurity melted at school when Mrs. _______ announced to the whole class that I had written a wonderful spring poem. She had contacted the newspaper, and they were going to publish it; which in fact, they did. I can’t say all was completely rosy after that, but I realized that my gift with words was valuable, something worthy of even the tyrant’s praise. It was a turning point in my young life.

There were other defining moments. When I got to high school, I was intimidated by the much larger school. Walking the lunchtime gauntlet, being sized up by peers, was terrifying. My old insecurities and natural shyness kept me from really stepping out much and expressing myself creatively. I had a small group I was comfortable with, but taking risks was scary business. Then, I learned to play guitar. Suddenly, my songwriting was off and running, and you can sound really good with only a few chords. Best of all, I had something to do with my hands, and I had this big chunk of wood sitting on my lap to hide behind. And piano, even bigger! I re-created myself in the image of Lilly the Folksinger / Rock ‘n Roller. I was able to express myself, my fears, my faith, my humor, in ways that I was too inhibited to do before. The more praise I received, the more my confidence grew. The more my confidence grew, the more opportunities opened up for me. Being able to share what I had written, that part of my vulnerable self, gave me a sense of power, a sense of significance. And when others were moved, encouraged, or just simply grooved to my tunes, my old fears of inadequacy and inferiority started taking a back seat.

It makes me realize how important affirmation is. It’s easy to be critical, and I have to watch that in myself because I have a tendency to see flaws first. I look for things to fix. But my desire to “help” must be tempered with the awareness that, just like me, a fragile self is only waiting for the right encouragement to blossom.

By the way, Mrs. _______ really did love me and only wanted what was best for me as her student. I saw that later . . . much later! She had some pretty weird ways of showing it, but she was proud of me and was spurring me on to do well. And the shotgun? I realize now that what she called her “shotgun” was really an inhaler. She was asthmatic. So the big, bad tyrant had weaknesses after all.