(the) Jebbica

photo credit: me and the sysop

Christians give Jesus a bad name.

I have written about this at length in the past.  Christians can be some of the rudest, hateful people one can ever encounter.  For instance, how they behave in packs at restaurants.  How they think modern medicine is all a bunch of who do and The Word is the only road to recovery.  How they think Jesus can be turned into a redneck marketing scheme.  My latest beef? People with Jesus Fish on their cars.

Why do people who have Jesus Fish on their cars think that gives them a license to be a total asshole on the road?  Tell me it hasn’t happened to you.  Someone cuts you off. Someone slams on their brakes in front of you.  Someone leans out the window with their middle finger waving at you.  And, what’s that on the back of their car? A Jesus Fish!

Yesterday, The Boyfriend and I were on our way into the Wal-Mart to deposit my paycheck at the bank.  As we’re walking the parking lot from our car to the entrance, some car with a Jesus Fish and a J103 sticker starts backing out of its spot, not looking for people who might be walking by.  We were startled so we kind of jumped, and when we did, the woman driving the car saw us.  Instead of waiting for us to pass, she put her foot on the gas and literally tried to hit us!  Then, just as we jumped out of the way, she rolled down her window and shouted, “just so you know, you did NOT have the right-of-way!”

Um, lady. Pedestrians pretty much ALWAYS have the right-of-way.  You run over someone in a Wal-Mart parking lot, you’re probably going to jail. And Jesus won’t bail you out.

The thing most Christians seem to think (at least around here) is that because they go to church every Sunday, they’re protected, and therefore have license to act however they want.  Washed by the blood of the Lamb once, and I can lie, cheat, steal, and kill! There’ll still be a place for me in Heaven, hot dog!

And really.  This has nothing to do with Jesus, Christianity, or religion in general.  This has to do with people not realizing their actions have consequences.  And if you’re going to wear your faith on your sleeve, you should know that that makes you an instant representative for what you’re selling.  The same way if a man with an O’Reilly Auto Parts store shirt tried to run me over, I would immediately go to Auto Zone and buy something.  People are watching you.  Your actions are what will be the greatest witness to other people, and it could mean as much as someone accepting Jesus or someone renouncing Him.  So, if I were a Jesus Fish-toting zealot, I don’t think I’d want that on my conscience.  But I’m not a zealot, so what can I really say? Oh yeah, that I never do actually treat strangers with disrespect.  What has someone you’ve never met ever done to you, anyway?  Being rude takes too much energy, anyway; and people aren’t attractive when they frown.  Sorry for the rant, but in all honesty: when it comes to the end of your life, do you want to be known as the person who did what she could to make someone feel better about themselves, or do you want to be known as the curmudgeonly asshole who gave Jesus a bad name?

So, Lafayette, GA used to have two things going for it past 10 p.m.:  Wal-Mart, and Huddle House.  You’d go to Huddle House, eat some greasy food, shoot the shit, then head over to Wal-Mart, play in the Toy Department or just run around, then go back to the Huddle House, drink coffee, and watch traffic go by and play cards and smoke cigarettes and just spend the night catching up with old friends.  A big part of Lafayette died when the Huddle House shut down, and then the Wal-Mart started closing its doors at midnight.  There was nothing to do but stay home and have all-night moviethons and get drunk, which never quite led to the philosophical discussions that often took place inside those hallowed walls that smelled like waffles and bacon.

After several months of vacancy, the Huddle House is up and running again.  Except, it’s not the Huddle House anymore.  It’s a place called Redneck’s…run by two people from Oregon.

I was surprised to see how clean and neat it was when I went there yesterday.  The well-worn booths had been replaced by tables with flowers in vases, the salt and pepper shakers no longer had that familiar grime.  There was a glass display of desserts.  The waitresses were friendly.  On the walls, the owners had tried their best to make it look typical blue collar Southern, with framed photos of Native Americans, cowboy hats on walls, but it definitely had that feel of someone trying too hard.  The prices were good, and the food was decent, but I still can’t get past people from Oregon trying to sell us something here as our own.  It’s like if I went to Oregon and opened a restaurant with a buffalo and dysentery theme, because everything I learned about Oregon I learned from Oregon Trail.  Regardless, I want this business to succeed, because it’s open 24 hours a day, and this town really needs something like that.  So, in case the owners are reading, here are a few pointers:

• Southern sweet tea is one part tea bag, one part water, and eight parts sugar. Always home brewed, never instant.
• Country fried steak is NOT hamburger steak with sausage gravy on top.  While that was tasty, that is not what I ordered!
• If you’re going with the whole diner feel, you better serve hash browns all the time.
• I really liked my waitress, but she seemed so out of place brightly saying “Welcome to Redneck’s!” when we walked in and actually delivering good service.  She had all her teeth and wasn’t even knocked up.  I just didn’t know what to think.  I mean, your place is called Redneck’s, and I didn’t see any there. The waitress didn’t even try to tell us her life story!

I have never thought of myself personally as a redneck, but I feel like I’ve been around long enough to know what the typical diner crowd around here likes.  Mainly, they like loitering.  But I’m just saying, if you’re going to market to a specific bunch, maybe you should really get to know that bunch first.  Because the second the wrong person gets hamburger steak passed off as country fried steak, there’s liable to be a shootin’.   And that doesn’t make for good midnight conversation.

For mundane status updates, like what I’m doing with my life and for a living and all that jazz, check out my MySpace blog (you know you want to, cyber stalkers!)

There is a luminous new career path waiting for me on the horizon. The pay would be phenomenal: the opportunity is such that I could possibly make more money in a month than I have made in my entire lifetime (and I have been working since I turned 16).  There are no potential interviews with strangers to blow, no awkward first meetings, and best of all, the backspace key in case the first thing out of my mouth isn’t the best.  The catch? I have to be an expert in my field.  Am I? In what field? These are the questions plaguing me as I patiently wait my application status.

In case I am approved, returning to school would more than likely not reap these kinds of benefits.  However, on the other hand, I could at long last afford to go back to school. And it’s important to me to know things, to learn, to have a backup plan.  So I went today, attempted once again to get registered. And ran into more red tape. I have to go back again on Monday, at which point they will probably tell me to return once more on Tuesday. And there will be no time for Gravy and Biscuits.

Speaking of, if I return to school, where would I fit in the blogging and the potential illustrious job?  How do people manage being an adult, paying bills, furthering education, getting out of poverty?  Time management is key; I know that.  Getting organized is half the battle.  And yet, as scared as I am to jump in feet first into all of this again, I think I am finally at a point in my life and am old enough now that I can.  At 19, I wasn’t ready. I hadn’t even been weaned enough to know anything about the outside world.  Now I have had a taste, and am unimpressed. There is greener grass somewhere, I know it!  And maybe one of these days, one day soon, I’ll have the courage and financial means to get in my car and get ready to graze.