The World O' Crap Archive

Welcome to the Collected World O' Crap, a comprehensive library of posts from the original Salon Blog, and our successor site, world-o-crap.com (2006 to 2010).

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Saturday, October 4, 2014

Sunday Sermonette: With A Name Like Smuckers, It’s Gotta Be Jesus

Both my iPod and my old PC died this weekend, and as I murmured a few obscene words over their smoldering corpses, I realized it had been awhile since we last sought comfort and counsel from World O’ Crap Spiritual Adviser, J. Grant Swank.  So it came as both joy and relief to see that Pastor Swank has hoisted himself back into the pulpit, and in today’s homily, he tells us to let Jesus into our hearts, our Xerox copiers, and our fax machines.

JESUS, WHAT DO I DO WHEN MY THOUGHTS JAM?

There are times when your thoughts jam together so much that there’s nothing but mush.
That’s the universal sign that it’s time to submit this week’s column.
Or they pile on top of one another all at once. Thoughts start but don’t finish. Then another intrudes so as to threaten to take over. Then a third takes a swing at your head.
Pastor Swank was beaten up by his own brain.
Sometimes these jams take place in the middle of the night—dark dark dark and nowhere to go but couch and no one to talk to, obviously.
Because your wife has asked you to stop confiding in the furniture.
The devil can use these jams to get you confused to the nth degree. Also, that’s the time doubt sets in. Is Jesus really there? Are the promises really true? Am I believing in a mist?
Well, I believe in Primatene Mist, but that’s it.
Finances. Marital problems. Children disappointing. Lost job. Ill health. Friends let you down. And so forth.
Sometimes these all jam at once in the cranium. Where is Jesus?
I called the Help Desk like two hours ago!
Jesus is right there. He never leaves us. He has dealt with jams before. Then let Him deal with your jam.
Also, he really loves your peaches.  Let him shake your tree.
Surrender every thought to Jesus when it’s in the good time…Let Jesus talk to you. When He is not forming your thoughts, then it’s time for you to rest. Jesus orchestrates rest stops in the rhythm of thought pattern construction and silence.
Although, judging by that last sentence, he’s on a smoke break at the moment.
We need the silence. We need the quiet. We need to shut down until Jesus plants another thought.
We’re like the ventriloquist dummy in Magic, except with less personality and free will.
I mean being very practical here. Jesus will tell you to make the bed, wash the dishes, vacuum the carpet and empty the garbage. Do whatever He tells you when He tells you.
Great.  My cosmic puppeteer has Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder.
That’s learning how to surrender your thought patterns to Jesus, not just the pious ones but the practical ones.
I offer up my thoughts on how to gap spark plugs to Jesus!
Jesus will tell you to spend that money for this or that. Jesus will tell you not to spend that money for this or that.
Jesus is why I’m $11,000 in debt!
Jesus will tell you it’s time to turn off the television and go to bed. Jesus will direct you to a book to read, a movie to watch, an outdoor scene to take in, a phone call to make.
Jesus is the micromanaging messiah.
Jesus will tell you it’s time to praise Him, thank Him, tell Him that you love Him.
Jesus makes you feel like Julia Roberts in Sleeping With The Enemy.
So when you learn how to surrender your thoughts to Jesus, taking no thought for the future but letting Jesus hold your future’s security, you will be ready for the jam.
In fact, you’ll be ready for Seattle’s New Hot Jamz!
It’s the same with jammed thoughts. Surrender the confusion. Jesus can handle confusion. He is up to it. Then don’t wrestle with the jam. Don’t try to fight it on your own. Don’t try to straighten it out.
Start slow.  Try some basic judo holds on pudding, then work your way up to jam wrestling.
Instead, surrender the jam to Jesus. Say, “Jesus, my head is going round and round. I’m scared. I cannot control my thoughts. I now surrender my head jam to You.”
But keep your toe jam to yourself.  Jesus has a hair-trigger gag reflex.
I would suggest then that you go to the Psalms. I have found that by going at random to the Psalms, Jesus directs me to the verses needed. My experience has been that in time the jam unloosens by way of the Psalms’ comfort and direction.
Or you could just dig it out with a Q-tip and some peroxide.
Again: don’t try to unwind the jam intertwining. Don’t work at making thoughts orderly. Let Jesus take the jam just as it is. He knows what to do with it.
He turns it into a crappy folk song?
Now here is another recommendation that I hope you will understand so as not to think I am diminishing the Jesus power.
I recommend that you see your family doctor if the jam is too often and too messed up. If it goes on and on, see your doctor.
Ask your doctor if head jam is right for you.
If your doctor is like mine, he’s wise. He will give you medicine to aid you in calming down the thought stress.
Yeah, Jesus?  You can keep the jam.  I’ll take the Xanax.
But why should you do this when Jesus is all-powerful, all-knowing, all-sufficient? Why not? Jesus creates medicines.
Like those guys who cook up batches up meth in motel rooms in San Bernardino.
They are heaven’s gifts when we need them.
Praise the Lord and Pass the Prozac.
Therefore, Jesus may work through medicines to correct the jam clog.
Or he might just recommend a fiber supplement.
Again, I don’t consider this thinking less of Jesus’ input. I think it as Jesus guiding me to a doctor for the medicine gift.
The Son of Man wants you to doctor shop and snort Oxycontin.
That’s what I have experienced. My own life has directed me at times to rely on prescriptions to assist in leveling out the thought jams that pile up. They cut through depression. They help clarify my head. They work to build up my strength to carry on.
So where was Jesus in all that? Jesus was in the medicine, in the doctor’s skill to provide me with what I needed and in my logic to do what was necessary.
Yep.  I’d be a devout Catholic by now if the communion wafer was laced with barbiturates.  I think I’m gonna drop that in the Vatican Suggestion Box.

Posted by scott on Sunday, July 19th, 2009 at 10:49 pm

32 Responses to “Sunday Sermonette: With A Name Like Smuckers, It’s Gotta Be Jesus”

This week, on a very special Episode with Pastor Swank, we finally get a look inside his crazy, crazy brain…
Sometimes these all jam at once in the cranium. Where is Jesus?
I called the Help Desk like two hours ago!
Your call is very important to Jesus. He will answer your call in the order it was recieved…
“We need the silence.”
Please, Jesus, stop the voices.
Hmm, now that it seems Pastor Swank doesn’t just seem crazy but is actually on medication, it’s not quite so funny.
I mean being very practical here. Jesus will tell you to make the bed, wash the dishes, vacuum the carpet and empty the garbage. Do whatever He tells you when He tells you.
Let’s not blame Jesus for Son of Sam, okay?
I’m kind of with Ginger—the man has been SCREAMING for help for years, apparently.
Sometimes these jams take place in the middle of the night—dark dark dark and nowhere to go but couch and no one to talk to, obviously.
Because your wife has asked you to stop confiding in the furniture.
Thanks - no, really, thanks, guys - for reminding me of those immortal lines by the poet/troubadour Neil Diamond:
I am, I said
To no one there
And no one heard at all
Not even the chair

I’d be a devout Catholic by now if the communion wafer was laced with barbiturates.
I’ve thought for years that even chocolate-chip wafers would help declining church attendance…
Scott,
You are brilliant at this, but Swank’s really shooting fish in a barrel. I mean, he’s like the T-Ball of wingnuts. “nowhere to go but couch.” Heh.
You know what’s sad? I know exactly what he’s talking about. My brain does the same thing, right on down to the couch-as-refuge and the overlapping voices that just. won’t. shut UP.
The thing is, Jesus never helped me. Nor, for that matter, any of my own gods. I tried even for a while worshiping the Japanese god of headache pain, but that didn’t help either. I also tried BFR, which I would say worked almost exactly as well as religion, which is to say not at all.
The man’s schizophrenic. There’s no other there there. He’s schizophrenic. He’s got it all, including the language issues and the people skills. I’m glad he’s getting help, and I hope his doctor has handed him Zyprexa or Abilify rather than just an antidepressant. It’s not going to make him magically a better person, but it might help some.
What’s funny is that his comments on medication are probably the most rational and empathetic thing I’ve seen him say. Most of his colleagues think mental illness is a sign of sin and should be prayed away. (Although, Swank, if you’re reading this? Make sure you get an MRI. Because Jesus wants us to get treated for brain tumors, too, if you happen to have those, and you don’t find out without an MRI.)
As to the snark, believe me I’m not judging. I laughed, because it’s funny, and it’s even funnier because I know where he is, and I do my own snark soundtrack to myself and it’s rarely as funny as Scott is. If you can’t find your own mental illness funny, you’re in for a very rough ride.
I still think the man’s an intolerant asshole, but right now I feel sorry for him, and even intolerant assholes can be sick and even intolerant assholes need help, if only for the sake of the people around them.
JESUS, WHAT DO I DO WHEN MY THOUGHTS JAM?
stop inviting Phish over at 3AM is a good start
Okay, see, (I’m overmedicated, ignore the double post, it takes me a couple of tries to get it all in these days.) I keep coming back to the “Jesus gave us drugs so it’s okay to use them” thing. This appears to be one of those cases where Bad Things Happened To Me And Suddenly I Understand Why That Doesn’t Make Everybody With Bad Things Happening To Them Just Insufficiently Loved By God.
You know what I’m talking about, people who lose their homes are all just stupid and making bad choices until I find myself on the street and then it occurs to me that maybe people get screwed over sometimes and need help. Junkies should be punished rather than coddled, but now that I’m hooked on prescription painkillers I realize addiction is a physical issue and we need rehab places. If you’re in jail, it’s because you’re guilty, except I just got a ticket for speeding and I wasn’t, the radar gun is rigged or something. The uninsured should just buy some insurance on the free market, although now that I see what’s out there I realize I can’t afford it myself after I lost my job. The depressed need to just get their acts together because they are lazy malingerers, except that now I’m depressed I realize it’s a serious disease.
It strikes me as odd that my response to this is pity rather than schadenfreude. I honestly thought I was a less nice person than that. Sad, really.
There are times when your thoughts jam together so much that there’s nothing but mush.
Mush be jam cuz jellay don’ shake like dat!
The devil can use these jams to get you confused to the nth degree.
The devil went down to Georgia, lookin’ for a soul to steal
He brought along a selection of jams and mush.
Y’know, it don’t scan the rhythm as well as the original song…
Finances. Marital problems. Children disappointing. Lost job. Ill health. Friends let you down. And so forth.
Sometimes these all jam at once in the cranium. Where is Jesus?
Wow! A few setbacks and Swankie is all like “diapery” and shit, crying out for the Lord…
Y’know, when I was back there in seminary school, there was a person there who put forth the proposition…
Surrender every thought to Jesus when it’s in the good time…Let Jesus talk to you.
…because the Son of God has NOTHING BETTER TO DO WITH ETERNITY THAN HAND-HOLD A FUCKING INDECISIVE CANDYASS HUMAN LIKE YOURSELF!
I mean, it’s not like he has to judge the quick and the dead or anything!
Instead, surrender the jam to Jesus.
Render unto Caesar that which is Caesar’s, but save the chutney for me.
If your doctor is like mine, he’s wise. He will give you medicine to aid you in calming down the thought stress.
“He’s the doctor I see when I wear the jacket with the oversize arm that Brother Barney tells me have to be belted behind my back.”
Therefore, Jesus may work through medicines to correct the jam clog.
He did give Lazarus two Advil.
I have to give Swank some credit.
After reading his column, I said “Jesus! What a fucking idiot!” and took two aspirin and now my headache is gone!!!!!!!
It is hard to feel sorry for this old fool, especially given how hard he’s worked a being a certified asshole. But this column will be looked upon years from the now as the Rosetta stone that linked together bullshit and bad syntax with obvious illness that was the underlying cause.
Again, I think Ol’ Glamorshots, or someone in his world headquarters, is recycling old sermons when he can’t even manage what passes for comprehensibility these days. The old stuff has too many actual noun/verb combinations to be his recent work, no matter how many pharmaceuticals Jesus is layin’ out. This ‘un dates to his getting drummed out of whatever denomination last put up with him, and that business with his son, or the beginnings of that, and, quite possibly, everyone around him insisting something was eating his brain. It’s denial. That litany of problems is his personal list. I’m okay, my thoughts are just jammed up! God knows, I’d feel sorry for the man if it weren’t for whomever let him spew his racist hateballs all over our nice internets.
I knew it!! Religion is a mental illness!
“I would suggest then that you go to the Psalms. I have found that by going at random to the Psalms, Jesus directs me to the verses needed. My experience has been that in time the jam unloosens by way of the Psalms’ comfort and direction.”[is he dyslexically spelling “palms” ?]
Pastor Swank was beaten up by his own brain.
Explains a lot.
I HATE that he’s actually ill. It was SO much more fun to laugh at him when he was merely… uh… cuh-razy.
Still, it goes to show that Scott can kill (and I mean dead, despite the rolling on the floor) even when I’m feeling a teeny weeny* bit sorry for his target.
*My goodness, that’s an unfortunate phrase, isn’t it? I never noticed before.
There’s a Japanese god of headache pain? Gosh, I wish I’d known about that in my teens and early twenties, when I was getting severe 12-hour headaches every two or three days. I went to doctor after doctor and none of them were ever helpful in figuring out the cause (one even implied I was faking). Then I just stopped having them. I never dids figure out why I was getting them, or why they stopped.
Has Renew America really ditched Rev. Swank? I haven’t seen him there in so long.
He was their star! I mean, this is like when the the Texas Rangers traded away Sammy Sosa.
What were they thinking? What kind of an idiot would do that?
From now on, and I know that I have said this before, I will wait till Doghouse posts and then just say “ditto”.
Bill, he’s actually the Japanese god of pain, but he suffers from chronic headaches that he can’t cure, so he feels kindly towards people with their own pain and will, it is said, if approached well by a lucky individual, provide the relief he is himself denied.
I’ve had the same headache since September 1989, with no actual explanation. Various doctors have accused me of making it up, but most just assume I’m exaggerating. (”So how many days a week do you have this headache.” “No, you’re not getting it. It showed up in 1989, and has. never. gone. away. It’s the same headache. I don’t mean it feels the same, I mean it is literally the headache I had in 1989. Understand? No, I didn’t think so.”) I also get chronic migraines, as in more days a month than not I have a migraine for all or part of the day, and I get occasional bouts of clusters, plus TMJ and stress headaches (go figure, I know). So you can see why I was desperate enough to approach a god known for getting even if he doesn’t like you. I’ve also tried creating my own god of headaches (pagan, remember), but all that did was mean my headache now comes with its own when I don’t take my meds.
I get CT scans and MRIs frequently, so there’s no brain tumor or anything, and they tell me that, frankly, there isn’t always a reason. Sometimes when I look depressed enough or the latest medication has me hallucinating zombies persistently, they try to reassure me that sometimes they also just go away, without any reason anyone can spot. “Sometimes,” a neurologist once told me before handing me on to someone who turned out not to have any new ideas either, “life just sucks.”
Pastor Swank was beaten up by his own brain.
Pastor Swank — Past ‘is what? Sorry, that works better with a Brit-Eng accent. But I digress…
Pastor Swank is Grunthos the Flatulent?
And Terry Pratchett gave us the Oh God of Hangovers, so there.
…Jesus orchestrates rest stops…
but ’til he says the word, you just hold it, y’hear!
Mr Pratchett also gave us the Neuralger, which is like a succubus that comes and has a headache at you. My partner swears it’s a frequent visitor at our place. Funny, I never see it…
Sounds like another version of “Let go and let God”. Which has worked for a lot of people, I’m told.
D.Sidhe, don’t you just kind of picture some neural thingie in your brain, and it’s stuck in the “on” position, and the alarm just keeps pouring through, screaming “Emergency! Pain! Mayhem! Ice pick! Zombies! Help!” except it’s stuck in the “on” position by mistake. Since 1989. Gah. Nanobots don’t seem so scary when you picture a wee squadron of them scampering through your brain until they find the error. Then they close the switch, maybe squirt a little WD40 on the hinge, make sure it can re-open if it ever needs to, then they send you a signal, and right on time you sneeze, and out comes the almost-microscopic squadron, its mission accomplished.
I hope you know what I mean, because if you don’t, I’m going to have to conclude I’m in the jam, or the jam’s in me. God bless jam and God bless me.
I just worry, is all.
Jesus will tell you it’s time to praise Him, thank Him, tell Him that you love Him…
…and boil the occasional bunny in your kitchen to remind you that attention must be paid.
Where is Jesus?
Does he fall from skies above? Is he underneath the willow tree that I’ve been dreaming of?
D, you’ve got all my sympathy, dear. Do your meds help you?
I think *I’ve* got probs, with the unemployment and other variegated shit.
But you’re a heroine.
So when will the meds kick in and he’ll see clearly and apologize for all his past rants?
Heroin, there’s something I haven’t tried…
Commiserations accepted in the spirit they were intended, but honestly, if it was your head you’d be putting up with it too, because what else is there?
Not only is the world filled with people who have worse headaches (believe me, I know some of them and I’m a piker) but I’ve got a partner with a good job so I can afford to be wholly dysfunctional and not end up on the streets. By that measure, whether the meds work or not is utterly irrelevant unless I’m just feeling whiny. Which, god knows, happens more often than it should.
What actually does work pretty well is soaking my head in ice water, if you have similar problems I suggest it. That and an unshakable belief I’ll be reincarnated as a jellyfish. They have no brains. Lately I’m kind of hoping Swank gets that lucky, too. I think it would do him a lot of good to spend at least one life content.
They have no brains…hoping Swank gets that lucky…
(wrong tense)
“I have found that by going at random to the Psalms, Jesus directs me to the verses needed”
[is he dyslexically spelling “palms” ?]
I go randomly to the Palms and Jesus directs me to the slot machine needed.

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