Neanderpundit

Look, I know you appreciate that I have fixed your car. Or your watch. Or put a new bulb in your light fixture, or broken into your desk drawer when you locked your purse AND keys in there again. Or any of the other half million things I do for any of the misandrist dipwads I know.

Please, God, do not cook anythng for me. I’m confident your grandmother’s recipe for kringligkflahnorkflokie is the bomb in the Old Country, but I do not recognize it as food, it smells like something I dug out of my navel after an all night session of horizontal mambo with a pakistani gymnast, and it has stained the tupperware container irretrievably. Your thanks is really, really all I need, and even that is better at a distance, I guarantee. Bake cookies if you must, and don’t be offended if I share them with my co workers, but no secret cantonese-swedish fusion recipes, no hungarian goulash made from fresh marmoset sinuses, nothing.

If you’re desperate to thank me somehow, a simple handjob will suffice. Or show me your tits. Or not so much.

my intimate friends understand that I have a well developed- possibly overdeveloped- sense of justice.

I don’t talk about it very much. I will certainly never discuss it here.

What I will talk about is fairness. Kids are now taught a different type of ‘Fairness” than I got when I was a kid, and it blows chunks. Five year olds all get “participation trophies” because its not ‘Fair” when one group wins because the other group has to lose.

bullshit.

What isn’t fair is that the kid with natural talent who loves a game and practices four hours a day is given the same recognition as the snot nosed shit who shows up for this game only and is given the same ‘Trophy”. Morons.

Liberals would have you believe that ‘Fairness” requires that everyone have the same free and easy access to everything (Housing, healthcare, whatever) as everyone else.
What isn’t fair is when people who work and act responsibly and drag their ass out of bed every day to go to work get to contribute to the people who do not. When people do for others out of Christian compassion and charity, that is an object lesson in human behavior. When people are forced to give of their earned income to provide for the ungrateful, that is merely theft.

There may come a time when people- like me- with an overdeveloped sense of justice- will seek to act on behalf of the people who are being stolen from in the name of ‘Fairness”.

a bunch of my fork kin in other countries right now, acting as missionaries.

A powerful lot of them are babtists and Pentecostals, but we try not to hold it against them. I remember Dad having to take one uncle aside and explain to him that if he and his wife ever told my sister that all Catholics go to hell and made her cry again, Dad was going to arrange for a personal audience between my uncle and Jesus Christ himself.

They were always at our house, it seemed, because when they had finished their travels through the US, thrashing the locals for donations to help support their missions, they ended up in Hoosieropolis, broke, car a wreck, kids half starved, and exhausted. Dad and I would patch their car together, Mom and Sis would cook for them until you could no longer easily see their ribs and mend their clothes, and we would get them an audience with the local Baptist church whose congregation often contributed more for their mission than the hundreds of churches they had visited in their US tour.

Ordinarily a goodbye consisted of them offering to pray that we came to our senses before we all died and went to hell, but there was never any thanks for anything we’d done for them. I wondered why Dad kept it up all those years.

They would drive off to the coast where they would sell their car and use the money to buy steerage passage on a freighter and get back to their mission in Germany, or Poland, or wherever they were converting the wogs this year.

I am constantly astounded by the pick and choose nature of most Christians, and this last Sunday, when the Gospel focused on the Good Samaritan, it comes into focus more than at any other time in the cycle. Dad did what he did because it was the right thing to do, even though his own family thought he was insane and there was never any thanks.

I hope someday to be half the man he was.