Chapter Twelve: My Office Has A Window

My Office Has A Window

It was 1980. A new decade. A new hope. Hopefully a new job. I was 20 years old and a Junior in college when the planets cosmically aligned thus setting me on a strange and bizarre sojourn as a newly hired employee at a little red pole barn in Columbiana. This sojourn is titled, “My Office Has A Window” even though in reality, there were no windows at all.

Chapter Twelve – The Bug Light God

As the days got longer and turned into night, we, the warehouse workers, like moths to a flame, would gravitate toward the almighty bug light. Looking for inner peace, solace, wisdom, meaning, and a little relief from the biting bugs that lived and fed in Youngstown, Ohio.

Since we had to work outside the warehouse as well as inside, the summer months were brutal with swarms of pests buzzing around. Biting flies, mosquitoes, moths, gnats, grasshoppers, locusts, bee’s, wasps, and every other flying insect under the sun would zero in on the only source of flesh and light in the vast farmland that surrounded us.

Every year, right around this time, to combat these bastards, we dragged out the giver of light and reliever of itch from the biblical swarms of insects. Thus the religion of The Eternal Bug Light was formed.

After several years, the bug light became an icon and more importantly, a God to us warehouse workers. If we were in the bug lights good graces, it would have pity on us and bestow its powers shining its light upon us to protect us by killing and keeping the insects away from us. If we were to ever fall out of favor with the almighty bug light, the consequences were so severe that no one ever talked about them, not even under our breath lest the bug light god hear us.

To keep the god happy, we needed to pay homage. This was in the form of an annual ceremony, a sort of Fry Me A Bug Light festival to appease the god. The ritual began by preparing the holy power cord for insertion into the electrical outlet. We would then arrange and pay homage to the enchanted nail that magically kept the god suspended above us. Finally, we would prepare a feast for the entire cult to consume.

The festival seemed to work as the bug light god kept us safe in the summer evenings as we heard the humming of electricity coursing through its wire mesh screens. Sometimes we would gather round the god and cheer as loud crackling and zapping noises would announce each new bug checking into the bug light hotel.

And not just bugs either. Our bug light god was a little dangerous because unlike normal lights, ours did not have a front or bottom screen guard to keep out larger objects such as a very unlucky bird or the bottom of someone’s head. The light was suspended just under 6 feet in the air, and tall worshippers who lost sight of where they were in conjunction with the light would get rudely introduced to their god. As in the bible, they would carry the mark of the beast for several weeks until the burn marks healed.

Alas, one evening, a large bird entered the radar screen of the bug light god. In an instant, the bird dive bombed into the light and got caught inside. High pitched zapping sounds were heard much like in the classic movie “Frankenstein” when the monster was struck by lightning in an electrical storm.

A huge battle had begun. The bug light flickered and hummed, summoning up all it’s power while the bird began screeching and fluttering it’s wings, till finally, both burst into flames sending the worshippers running. The bug light came crashing to the ground as we watched the flames engulf both bird and light.

In a moment, we were free of the bug light god as it lay dead smoldering on the concrete floor. The next day, a new dawn, a rule was sent forth that no longer would bug lights adorn our warehouse wall. We stocked up on “Off” bug repellent and continued to have the festival that quickly turned into our annual lamb roast.

To this day, I can still vividly recall the sound, sight, and smell, of the bug light and the bugs as they met their demise sizzling in the screens. Man, that was living….

Read Chapter Thirteen Here…

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Catholic School Special Talent Day

At my Catholic school in the 1960′s, there was what the nuns called “Special talent day.” Basically, talent day was a thinly disguised ruse run by the nuns to gather what special skill sets each child possessed outside of the norm. (Apparently if a nuclear war broke out, the nuns wanted to know what students to save to guarantee survival and what students to leave behind)

One morning, Sister Mary Francis announced to the class that the upcoming Friday would be special talent day. On Friday, each student would be asked (Told) to go to the front of the class and reveal what special talent they possessed. My mind wandered to the league of super heroes, and what super power I would like to have. Flying would be ultra cool but invisibility would always win out to my perverted mind. (Walking into the girls locker room without being seen, how cool would that be?)

Anyway, Friday came slowly and child by child was called to the front of the class for their special talent. One nun brown noser student sang. (Let there be peace, a religious tune, go figure)

One student, Kevin, danced an authentic Irish jig. It was hilarious. He was the original Michael Flatley, Riverdance king.

One girl, brought in drawings and paintings she drew. I have to admit, they were pretty good for a 3rd grader.

A couple of students performed gymnastics, a few flips, jumps and leaps. I was secretly hoping for them to fall or crash into the nun. None of them did. (Damn!)

Some played musical instruments. The drums, guitar, clarinet, and one played the flute-o-phone. It was going to be difficult to follow this diverse group of talent.

My name was called next. I was just your normal everyday Joe. I had no special talents. God knows I couldn’t sing, dance, or play an instrument. At that moment I wish I had given this assignment a little more thought before now. Then it dawned on me. I remembered back in first grade, when we all learned how to print with big boy and big girl pencils. I would use that lesson to my advantage. I was going to dazzle the students and impress the hell out of the nuns.

I confidently walked to the black board, took a piece of chalk in my right hand and asked a student to say aloud any sentence that came to their mind. I immediately wrote it down on the black board. Now here is the special talent. I then switched the chalk to my left hand and wrote the same sentence underneath the one I wrote with my right hand. The writing looked identical.

Time for a little back story. In the 1960′s, at Catholic grade school, all students were considered right handed. From day one in first grade, the nuns instructed us in right handed printing only. I was left handed and was having problems with my writing. I wasn’t really ambidextrous, but no one needed to know that. See this link for the back story. All Catholics Are Right Handed

Gasps were heard from the kids seated in class. It was a show stopper folks. No one including the nuns ever saw someone that could write left and right handed. Sister Mary Francis stopped and asked me where I learned how to do that trick, to write left handed. I told her the trick was to learn to write right handed and that she was looking at a real life left handed Catholic.

Special Talent day was over for me that day as I was sent to wait in the principal’s office.

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A New Religion That Will Bring You To Your Knees

The Grassy Knoll Institute witnessed the formation of a new religious cult on the Parkway streets in Gatlinburg, Tennessee today. Throngs of people gathered around a giant sphere sent by a hovering giant alien space craft hiding in the clouds. It landed right outside Ripley’s Believe It Or Not. (If you can believe it! Or not!)

Defying the laws of gravity, the 4 ton sphere (Orb) floated above the pavement enabling passersby to spin the sphere with their hands. Worshippers lucky enough to touch the magic sphere immediately become disciples of the new Church and began speaking in tongues to one another.

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Supreme Court Sets Holy Day For Atheists

Supreme Court Approves Atheist Holy Day

The United States Supreme Court heard arguments from an atheist support group (Empty Foxhole) hoping for equal time for holy days allotted to other religious groups. With the Christian holy day Easter and the Jewish holy day Passover just days away, Empty Foxhole brought to light the discrimination atheists receive with no such recognized days.

Originally, the case was deliberated for several months by the court justices listening to a passionate presentation by the lawyers of Empty Foxhole, but the judges unanimously declared the case dismissed.

The Empty Foxhole group immediately objected to the ruling stating, “How can the court possibly dismiss this case? The Christians have Christmas, Easter and other holy days while the Jews have Passover, Yom Kippur and Hanukkah. Yet my clients have no such holidays to observe.”

Upon hearing this, the Supreme Court issued the following statement. Concerning the idea that Atheists have no special holy days of their own, you are woefully incorrect. The calendar says April 1st is April Fools Day. Psalm 14:1 states, ‘The fool says in his heart, there is no God.’ Thus, it is the opinion of this court, that if your client says there is no God, then he is a fool. Therefore, April 1st is his day.
Court is adjourned.

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