baked musings whilst watching muted televangelists and listening to beulah.

there is no place for a scene within a montage about healing, and god, and suchlike, in which there is depicted a hand, writing a cheque. i picture the real jesus driving you out of the temple with a whip. for fuck's sakes.

isn't it kind of weird how churches talk about all these wonderful programs in which backward young people are given jobs and basically assimilated into the capitalist mode of production. it's like ... god wants you to be our wage-slave! ah, oui, althusser ... l'église ...

"free family restoration." that is the title of a pamphlet this guy offers. that creeps me out on such a deep, reptilian level. okay. get it, friend, families are neurotic. so is yours. families are the mechanism of our socialization, and thus they are the mechanism of our subjectivity. like they said in red dwarf. (yes, red dwarf. i'm citing red dwarf) families truly are the origin of all our neuroses. at the same time, they're a bastion of maybe something deeper than this endless chain. and they're basically a necessary socializing force, in the human experience as it is presently configured. but don't fucking reify it like that, thumper. you'd think televangelists, of all people, would understand how fucked families can be. i love the thought of tammy faye calling upon this fetishized ideal of "the family" as justification for every one of her trippy right-wing compatriots' collective pissings-upon-our-freedoms.

(was that not the most loaded, convoluted, and utterly nonsensical sentence? just there? i really like the phrase "nonsensical sentence.")

oh, and should i have read into the fact that a particularly interesting girl with whom i always have this weird feeling of sexual tension calls me up repeatedly last night? proceeds to find me at the bar and within minutes bring up the "hypothetical" possibility of getting naked and doing what people do, and potential implications thereof? (note: not at the bar just then, but at an unspecified 'hypothetical' time.) cos, in hindsight, it feels like it should have told me something. at the time, though... didn't work out. and didn't entirely seem like it sounds. in any case, i couldn't stick around to find out, so the point is moot. fuck, i hate my job. and the fact that my car was in the middle of fuacking nooooowhere derrrty south london!

i can't hear any of the dialogue on this festive tardery that is Vision TV near christmas time. the segment currently running on this 'newsy' seeming program, though, is entitled "ho, ho ... oh?" looks like a fine piece of investigative reporting... on... god knows what. how to do crafty hegemonically-approved things, and be a good little consumer? it's just ladies baking, and wrapping presents and such. and now there are healthy young teens engaging in some sporting activities! and now a gay man doing some unspecified video-related task on a macintosh!

and a stoned, pretentious little university student wrapped up in his own belletristic and self-referentially pomo little world!

errrrrrrd.