No Guns. No Knives.

TB &#8212 short for “The Boss” previously known as “My Wife” &#8212 and I attended a wedding today. It was a simple gathering of the families and friends of an older couple who had fallen in love and decided to jump the broom.

The wedding and reception was at a church in Snohomish (read: in the middle of nowhere) where the folk and vibe is a little different than what we encounter in the Bellevue-Seattle area.

The wedding ceremony was exactly the way we like. It started exactly at 3PM, as advertised, and was finished in under 30 minutes. We then moved to the lower level of the church with the other guests for the reception. The menu consisted of non-alcoholic beverages, crudite and shrimp cocktail so everything remained light and cheerful as the evening approached. The wedding cake was a homemade carrot cake and was excellent considering I ate two pieces and I do not like carrot cake.

After doing the reception thing (clapping on cue, blowing bubbles, chatting with strangers, smiling for the camera, etc.) for about 90 minutes TB and I decided to head out for our return trek to civilization.

On our way out the back of the church we noticed a sign mounted on one of the church’s exterior walls near the doorway that read: “No guns or knives allowed. No weapons of any kind.” I wondered aloud, “What kind of church is this?” I then suggested they augment the message with, “Do not worry. Jesus has your back.” TB and I had a good laugh.

Keith

Corporate Trick-or-Treating

Each year on October 31, people here in the US take a day to lose their dang minds. They encourage their young children to don crazy outfits and gorge themselves on sugary and chocolaty substances provided by complete strangers. It is all in the name of fun and I too have fond childhood memories of “going trick-or-treating”.

When going trick-or-treating most parents take their children door-to-door around their neighborhoods and the vicinity to show off their costumes and collect sugary consumables from neighbors whom they avoid like the avarian flu the other 364 days of the year.

However, many large corporations encourage employees to also/instead shepherd their children in the safe and familiar confines of the workplace corridors, office-to-office or cubicle-to-cubicle, to receive their candy from colleagues and fellow employees. (Who, in most cases, are also total strangers.)

It is interesting what one can learn from a child’s parents or upbringing by observing them during these corporate trick-or-treating outings. Over the years, I have found many children of non-US citizens &#8212 mainly Eastern European, East Asian or Indian — are uncomfortable around people who do not look like them or are not White.

It is sad to watch a kid stop dead in his tracks as if mystified by the Black guy politely smiling at him as he is about to help himself to the bucket of candy sitting just outside the guy’s office. The other moment of disbelief is the kid you hear practically screaming, “Trick-or-Treat!” as she stops at each office down the hallway; but, once she reaches yours and spots its inhabitant she quickly goes mute. Embarrassed, her parents almost beg her to, “Say trick-or-treat, honey. Say trick-or-treat.” Meanwhile, the little girl is having none of it and continues on her merry way — helping herself to candy beforehand, of course. Next office: “Trick-or-Treat!

Parents, get some Black friends and make sure your kids are comfortable around all people…well, except the sickos. The world is not getting any smaller anytime soon so that barrier you are erecting around your offspring may become a prison.

Keith

Talking about Hey Crackhead

I came across this open letter to crackheads worldwide, entitled Hey Crackhead, while visiting susiejones. The entire rant is disturbingly hilarious chock full of quotes like: “I would have to buy some crackpipes and tape them to my bike as a peace offering.” and “Now, I get that you love crack. That is totally understandable.”

There is a Tyrone Biggums (Dave Chappelle) skit in there somewhere.

Pure COM-O-DEE.

Keith