Ode to Congress and the Religious Right

I get annoyed when you judge.
Surrounded by your ignorance.
I get annoyed when you lie.
What makes you better than me?
I get annoyed when you say one thing, but do another.
When you think you know everything.
When you think you can control me.
When you take away my rights.
When you make hate a hobby.
You think your connected to God?
Last time I checked, God wasn't hiring.
You see the world through tainted eyes. 
Common sense isn't in your lexicon.


I get annoyed when you discriminate.
When you make bad decisions.
When you spout untruths.
When you drone on and on.
When you argue to no avail.
I get annoyed when you think you know me.
When you make assumptions.
When you fill my air waves.
When you pollute my mail.
When your in my face.
You hate me, but you don't even know me.
You don't even think for yourself.
You hide behind posters-blogs-signs-Facebook.
You pass your hate around.


I get annoyed when you force your ideas.
When you make your own rules.
When you think rules don't apply to you.
When you think your better.
When you sit up there on your hill.
What gives you permission to speak for me?
I didn't vote for you.
Just because you have money doesn't make you smart.
You can't buy a soul.
I just got a text from God.
You're fired!

David's battle with the coffee machine: Why simple is better.

I brought in our old grind and brew to summer institute.  It used to be the bomb six years ago. Just put in fresh coffee beans and with the press of a button you have coffee-created pushing filtered water through freshly ground beans-the ultimate cup of wonderful.  However, I have found a new way of making coffee, so grind and brew was shelved for year or two until it found new life at summer institute and David.

The war began slowly.  I kept the two apart at first, making the coffee myself. I assumed it was not complicated, I was wrong. 

The first battle began yesterday.  I was writing and noticed David hovering over the machine.  He looked puzzled.  I heard the beep of finished coffee, but did not hear the percolating sounds.  I saw a white flag in his face. He needed reinforcements and I was happy to help.  I noticed there was no water in the machine.  Chuckling, I swooped in to help.  Coffee machine- 1 David- 0.   

I cleaned out the top and added water.  Reset the button and sat down.  David resumed the battle alone.  When the beeping sounded, again, there was no coffee. Exasperated, David gave in to the coffee machine, with a real white flag of surrendered- disguised as "it was late." The day was long ,and the battle was retired for the day.  We didn’t need any more coffee after 3:45 anyway.

I came in this morning to clean the machine out.  It was ugly- like someone shoved coffee into every orifice of the machine.  The machine needed TLC.  This time, I helped the machine.  I was a neutral party in this war.

I started to make the coffee, alas, we were out of beans.  David to the rescue!  David ran off in search of the right beans to make a pot of wonderful.  He was well prepared for this part of the battle.  He had anticipated all the opponents moves.  He turned of the grinder, he filled it with water, he put in the filter.  He was ready.  He pressed the button and success!  He won that battle. His victory would be short lived.

The war was not over.  

Quickly supplies were depleted and he needed to replenish.  He went back for the final battle.  This time, the coffee machine was waiting with some secret tricks up its sleeve.  David thought he did everything right. Filter, coffee, water.  Button pushed, but this time the coffee machine fought back with a fierce vengeance. Not only did it refuse to produce coffee, it spit the grounds out.  David tried again.  Put in water this time.  Coffee machine was not having it.  It spit coffee and water everywhere.  David went back, took the whole thing apart.  By the time I looked up there was coffee carnage everywhere.  Brown soaked paper towels.  All of the insides of the coffee machine left for dead in the white tub. There was water in places I thought were impossible for water to go. The filter was filled with brown, sludge water, and David was filled with despair.  This was a series of battles, but sadly it appears the coffee machine won the war.

The grind and brew is a fickle bitch.  Perhaps the lesson here is that simplicity is better.  Also, don’t fight with a fickle bitch, she’ll beat you every time!

Angry Pancakes

Angry Pancakes

You took me out of the cupboard
Poured me into a bowl
I was happier in the bag
Now I’m wet and cold.

Sticky with the eggs 
You shoved on top of me
Why couldn’t I stay powder?
I’m miserable don’t you see?

Then you do the worst
You add the chocolate chips!
You’re already fat
These will land on your hips!

Didn’t the doctor say
I’m bad for you to eat
Just put me back in my bag
I want to go to sleep.

Excerpt from larger essay- Why is Jesus White? Tale of a Renegade Catholic

I had never once thought about Jesus as a teenager.  It’s amusing to think about.  I mean ,he had to have been a teenager right?  He wasn’ t just a baby and than an adult.  I also was very confused each year as a child at how we celebrated the birth and death of Jesus in the same year.  I mean, that is crazy right?  Did Jesus like music? Did he try to rebel?  Did he ever get into trouble? I started to really think about it.  How awesome would a party be with Jesus...

“Hey guys, did you bring the jug of water and that loaf of bread?”
“Yeah Jesus, we got it, now are you going to work your magic or what?”
He waves his hand over both.
“Party time boys, all the wine and bread and fish we could want!”
“Excellent Jesus, you totally rock!”

He must have been the most popular boy in his class. I mean, so many young Jewish boys must have gotten so drunk with him.  Did Jesus have any crushes?  Did he ever buckle under pressure of being God’s son?  I imagine a conversation with Joseph might be like this...

“Jesus, pick up your robe.  I know you may have been born in a manger, but this is a house, and we don’t still live with animals.”
“You can’t tell me what to do! Your not my REAL dad, JOE.  You didn’t even knock up my mother.  You are nothing to me!”
“Don’t you dare use that language with me young man. I raised you and I don’t deserve this.”
“Whatever JOE.  You have no say over me. You are not my ruler. I am your ruler! Yeah, that is what mom told me, so deal with that!” As he walks out dramatically.

I mean where is the Gospel according to Chubby, Jesus’s high school best friend?  I’m sure there are some juicy pieces in there.  Like the time Jesus was bored at school and decided to leave.  The school was of course, outside near a lake.  He needed to make a quick escape and ran across the water.  Or the time that Jesus and John thought it was funny to dunk freshman in the lake.  That would plague John later when he tried to do that again.  

Secret Thoughts of Water Bottles...
by Danielle Sullivan

I sit there. On that table, looking at you.  You just see through me. Will you need me later? You always just use me. I don’t feel respected.  All you do is fill me up, but then drain me almost as fast.  I have needs too. I wish I could see the world.  I was just created, put on a shelf, and then I met you.  I know you care about me. You put that glove on me, made me different than the rest. You have tried to label me, but I won’t let you.  I don’t want to be labeled, to be pigeon holed, to be put in a box.  I want to be free. Clear and ready to be filled with whatever.  I don't like to just be thrown into things. I wish I had more warning. Shoved into hard places, soft places, warm places, sweaty places.  Stop thinking like that, I’m talking about book bags, gym bags, in your purse, cloth bags, or on the car floor.  I don’t like being cold, but you insist on keeping me cold. Have you once thought about what I would want? What I might need?  No, it’s all about you. What you need, want. How can I assist you, serve you? Make sure you are hydrated enough.  I do like when you hold me, tip me up.  I like to feel close, to feel contact. I prefer sitting next to you, then left to roll on the car floor, unknowing if I will ever be picked up again.  I do get lonely, but I know that I will be with you as long as you will have me.  I guess that is good enough for now...

My Not So Secret Garden
by Danielle Sullivan

This is a place where I relax.
Sun beaming all around me.
Seated quietly,
Surrounded by plants and flowers,
Touched with love.

This is a place where I relax.
Relinquish worry,
Feel the touch of soft, luscious, green, grass,
Soft hum of bug repellent,
Birds chirping at each other
Vapid fire of swaks and squeeks.

This is the place where I relax.
The kerfuffle of squirrels chasing each other up and down trees
Pulls my attention for a moment.
Improvisational flight of butterflies takes it next.
Cars zooming by on route 13,
Hardly noticeable when i’m hooked
Absorbed by an adventurous tale.

This is the place where I relax.
Quagmire-hot sun is burning my skin,
Love the warmth and feelings of snug.
Reluctantly move towards shade,
Mind torqued with images,
Battles fought between pages.

This is the place where I relax.
Cantankerous sound brings me back.
Babies yelling next door.
Breathing deeply,
Letting the beauty sink in,
Instantly calm again.
No conundrums.
No worries.
Tranquil, quiet, garden
In my front yard.

This is the place where I relax.