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Abracadabra
January 30, 2026
edited: February 1, 2026
Abracadabra
please and thank you...
praise the Lord, and pass the mashed potatoes
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My father was 103 years old when he passed away.
He had lived on a farm when the Great Depression hit America.
His father lost their big farm because of it...
and because he had refused to vaccinate his cattle.
The family took refuge in an abandoned Mormon cabin
left behind in their trek westward... away from those who disagreed
with their ways... with their polygamy... and the death of their prophet.
Dad REALLY did... walk five miles to school... and home... every day.
He told the story about how he once walked home... after a blizzard hit...
and the only way he found his way home...
was seeing the brown tops of the fence posts...
as everything had turned to white-out snow conditions.
Dad would occasionally recall how his mother always had a pot of
sauerkraut and mashed potatoes... lightly simmering on the back
of her big cast iron cooking stove... for any of the working crew
to come inside for a hot meal... and it was his favorite dish.
My mom never could get her sauerkraut-mash to duplicate it...
maybe the type of bacon drippings or chunk of bacon... made the difference.
Dad would say, "... and Mom would feed any hobo who knocked on the door...
I suspect someone had hung a shoe on the fence post on the main country road."
And so... it always fascinated me about hobo talk...
what were their signals... their secret code among the good men among them...
surely they didn't let just ANYBODY in... on the good "stops" along the way...
a dry bed and a hot meal... a coffee and doughnut... were to be respected...
...good men... beaten to dust by the Depression...
would work all afternoon for a good fried chicken dinner... and a clean bath!
Many years later... I heard a story similar to this...
about hitchhikers traveling across the country
and... how they would get meals from Christians or churches...
and these hobo folks would say about this...
praise the Lord and pass the mashed potatoes!
like playing the part of a follower... for a decent meal and a spot in a barn.
Tonight I was reminded of a conversation I had had long ago.
A niece, or a cousin, or a friend was visiting my mother
and were out-of-towners... dropping in to say "hi" along the way...
and one person... had a daughter who had married a Persian...
and had lived years in Iran with him.
We chatted about his first visit to America... his impressions.
The woman mentioned that... the only English-speaking TV program in Iran
was "The 700 Club."
I said to the Persian man... "Not all of our churches look like the 700 Club."
Trying to recall now...
I tend to picture... an old man and a woman-with-too-much-makeup-on
as the hosts of that program... and wondered...
how many converts they got with their gig... seeing as how...
the battle of Armageddon was supposed to be... Arabs against Christians...
and the Arabs were supposed to lose... and go to hell.
(Know of a better reason for Persians to create their OWN religion... as a DEFENSE...?)
Well... whatever...I know the old couple made good money at it...
by the looks of his gold watch.
And then... there was the time when I was in a car with some guy
and he pointed out a great 10-foot black steel gate with two big initials on it...
that matched the grand steel fence circling around a ten acre property
and the grand mansion at the end of the long drive.
"Guess who lives there...!" he said to me.
I couldn't imagine who it could be...
so he told me... "the minister of Living Word mega-church...
where he had struck a contract for 25% of the proceeds."
What a gig... instant money and respect... a living prophet, I suppose.
It was worth a good laugh for the guy who pointed it out to me.
People believe however they are going to believe.
I see TV Bible school shows now... and it looks just like it...
a couple of people discussing... without any shadow of a doubt...
some backwards doctrine about the end times or something...
or some scripture that PROVES some theory they are having...
Well... it could just be that I turned sour on these "ministers" long ago...
and it is just now... becoming too too much to... to not say something.
When I had broken free of my agonizing time at high school...
it just happened that one of those "non-denominational churches"
set up shop in a fairly large structure of a building... offices with a breezeway...
not too far from where I was living... and I went up there to take a look.
It was interesting... and the people were very nice... even gave me a nice Bible...
and so... I'd hang around with the youth group they had formed.
Yes... I had hated school THAT bad.
Yes... other kids from my old school also hung out there... repentants, perhaps.
The head of the youth group encouraged us to get baptized.
I had been baptized as a baby... and was slow... to go.
But... I needed guidance... I was in such a lost state of life...
and... no answers were reaching me...
and I couldn't even picture marrying someone from... there.
So... maybe there was some magic in baptism... I thought...
maybe it will help me... find my way in the world.
So... I consented... I would get baptized in this industrial church.
I was led to a door at the front of the large auditorium of chairs.
It opened into a lounge... then through that... to a dressing room.
Two very obese ladies had removed all of their clothes... shamelessly...
and now wore only white shifts... with ties at the sides...
and told me to take my clothes off and put on a white shift, too.
Hell... I wasn't going to get naked in this strange place...
or walk around where people will see me with nothing on!
I'm naturally a very modest person... and I like my privacy.
I declined the change of clothes... ignored their consternation at this...
and walked up the stairway to the next level...
a stage that contained a sauna-like pool...
which you really could not see from the pews out in front.
The minister was already in the pool... up to his... crotch... in the water...
and I noticed how the water lapped at his crotch...
and how he had... a hard-on... standing there... waiting for me.
Well... I dealt with it... corraling some dignity...
I stepped down into the pool... let him dunk me...
and then I turned right around and stepped right back out of there.
I didn't stop to get a towel... just walked to the "youth group" table
and sat myself down... saying nothing... to anyone.
I think I was suffering from a form of shock.
The youth leader congratulated me... and then asked me to say something...
which seemed important to him... like it was part of the baptism ritual.
I was wondering if this hard-on-in-the-pool routine was normal for this church.
Did anyone else get baptized... with the minister... doing THAT...?
I just said that I was going to the coke machine.
Not very prophetic... was it...
It was such a nice Bible... I felt obliged to go back there a few more times...
but... I avoided the minister.
So... my feelings about these "non-denominational churches" soured.
So... I thought what a shame it was...
that the only exposure of the Persians to American culture and ministries...
was... the 700 Club. What must they think of us in America...?
So... now... after all my Biblical research... and discoveries...
I can't stand it any more... to see the blasphemy and ignorance...
the vanity and self-righteousness...
spouting their doctrines like they were prophets...
and I just want to say... "put it back in your pants."
Their need to preach to people was just so similar
to a person with a hard-on... needing to rub against someone.
like... they needed some satisfaction with another person confirming their beliefs.
If they were so wise... they wouldn't do so much yapping.
If they truly were Christian...
they wouldn't need to keep reminding everyone of it.
I had a conversation with a homeless guy one day
and he told me a few things...
like being fed at the shelter with expired food... moldy yogurt...
which gave him food poisoning.
Where are the soup kitchens for poor and desperate souls...?
I wonder what would happen if you asked a minister for REAL help.
Maybe he would say, "Sorry... you're poor by your own bad choices"
Sometimes it seems like the whole world is chanting:
"Abracadabra... please and thank you...
"praise the Lord... and PASS THE MASHED POTATOES"
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