There’s a Catholic church across the way and it rings it’s bells way too much. Sunday is somewhat forgiveable because it’s the Christian sabbath (saturday for Jews and Rastafarians and who knows else). But the carelling goes on for saturday marriages and practises are on tuesday nights. I guess bells were orignially rung to call upon the congregation, especially in villages, I haven’t done my Wiki homework. Then at some point it got turned into some quasi art form that serves nothing better then to irritate.
When I was first here Retarded Martha would go on about how lovely the bells were. When she discovered that everyone else was cursing them out loud she said, ‘Ha! A lot of good that will do”. Who care, you retard! A few weeks later she was cursing them.
I went to the 40th wedding anniversary of a well known Chief last night and had a riot dancing. Before that various indigenous groups performed and it was way cool. My witching hour was about 10pm as I hadn’t signed out , which you have to do if you stay out before midnight. How the hell are you supposed to know if you’ll be out before midnight or not, especially if it’s a spur of the moment event or activity? I guess the Silly likes to play mom and dad combined as one, you know, just like GOD!
Why do so many play gawd? Yet they preach the opposite and even have in their glossy pamphlets that they don’t judge. Ha! They only say that to get the down on outers in and if they’re really lucky then part of the fold. And again, they have to say they don’t judge so they can qualify having the rapists and pedophiles here. Gloss goes a long ways when you’re soliciting donations, but as far as I’m concerned I’ll never place money in those clear plastic balls where Silly people ringing bells set up at Christmas time. Bells are irritating no matter what size, if they’re being rung for religion.
I play war games on my cell phone somewhat endlessly. I guess that makes me not a total pacifist or something, but I really get into it….a little too far tonight as I heard a bunch of laughter on the smoking deck and lifted my head to see people chuckling at me. Apparently I was making rat-a-tat noises and little explosions without realizing it.
I played war since I was a kid, encouraged by a father who sat us on his knee when we were too young and had us watch war documentaries on sunday. I can still hear him say, “kill the Nazis, kill the Nazis girls, don’t ever let the Nazis rule again!”. We were horrified by sights of hundreds of dead bodies being bulldozed into graves and thought our calling was to grow up to prevent any such thing again.
On warn summer nights I’d beg my parents to let me sleep in the back yard. I wore a pot on my head, built a fire and cooked Campbells soup in another pot. Then it was a matter of waiting for the enemy to come, but they never did. Yet to be outdoors under the stars was as good a being a thousand miles away from my family, even knowing they were only a few hundred yards away.
I was at peace playing war. I am at peace playing cell phone war games. I have no bells.