It was on my fifth birthday that Papa put his hand on my shoulder and said, ‘Remember, my son, if you ever need a helping hand, you’ll find one at the end of your arm.’
Yesterday was the last Friday of the month and I had breakfast with Michael T. again. We lamented the continued media frenzy surrounding the Rev. Wright, Hillarity’s obvious need to concede, and a few other topics. I told Michael that I have been watching Link TV more and more often. I think they have some interesting news from time to time ... information you will never see or hear on mainstream corporate media. We also touched on religious topics a time or two. Religion may be the one facet on which Michael and I are on near opposite views yet we seem able to approach the discussions without rancor. I enjoy that most about our conversations I think. The ability to completely disagree with one another on occasion without the fear it will be forever a wedge in our friendship. Like for instance — he thinks Chelsea Clinton is cute and I think she is ... not cute.
Demonstrators hold a placard of Geert Wilders during a protest against the Dutch politician and anti-Islam film-maker at Dam square in Amsterdam March 22, 2008.
The pastor asked if anyone in the congregation would like to express praise for answered prayers.
A lady stood and walked to the podium. She said, “I have a praise. Two months ago, my husband, Jim, had a terrible bicycle wreck and his scrotum was completely crushed. The pain was excruciating and the doctors didn’t know if they could help him.”
You could hear an audible gasp from the men in the congregation as they imagined the pain that poor Jim experienced.
She continued, “Jim was unable to hold me or the children and every move caused him terrible pain. We prayed as the doctors performed a delicate operation. They were able to piece together the crushed remnants of Jim’s scrotum and wrap wire around it to hold it in place.”
Again, the men in the Congregation squirmed uncomfortably as they imagined the horrible surgery performed on Jim.
She continued, “Now, Jim is out of the hospital and the doctor’s say, with time, his scrotum should recover completely.”
All the men sighed with relief. The pastor rose and tentatively asked if any one else had anything to say.
A man rose and walked to the podium. He said, “I’m Jim and I want to tell my wife, the word is “sternum”.
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Border Disorder
