Thoughts on religion...

For those of you who have read my blog from time to time know I detest contemporary Christian music.  Below is a link that says it better than I can.

The now defunct "Wittenberg Door" defined contemporary Christian Music.

Below is an article that was published several years ago under my pen name PK Yancin.  If you were not raised in the church, you might not appreciate the cynicism, but remember, this was written out of love.  Enjoy.

THE DEVIL'S COMMENTARY

PART 1

"Abridged"

(with apologies, Mr. Bierce)

by

P. K. Yancin

copyright 1996

Under Conviction, adj. In a state of emotional blackmail, brought about by an evangelist skilled in psychological manipulation.

Evangelist, n. 1: An earnest preacher, usually from out of town, asked to address topics a congregation would fire its own pastor for addressing. 2: A speculative preacher skilled in psychological manipulation, sustaining himself with love offerings, tailoring his message accordingly.

Pastor, n.traditional 1: A preacher, paid poorly by a congregation to preach on Sunday, then visit the sick, care for the poor, council the weak, guide the young and any other duties the congregation chooses to delegate. Serves at the will of the church. fundamentalist. 2: A preacher, extremely well paid by a congregation to preach once on Sunday, usually on television; possessing spiritual and political powers and commanding the loyalty of others. Empowered to pick his successor.

Televangelist, n. A preacher, who regularly appears on television; primarily engaged in fund raising; usually with coiffured hair, a shiny suit and a wife often addicted to excessive mascara. Ofttimes predestined for masturbation in motels with harlots, or influence in seats of power with politicians; to which, the casual observer will not distinguish.

Tithe, n. The financial contribution made to a church by ten percent of that church's congregation.

Deacon, n. A wealthy member of a church's congregation. An office restricted in some congregations to men only.

Chairman of the Deacon's, n. The wealthiest member of a church's congregation. An office restricted in all congregations to men only.

Minister of Youth, n. A young person, usually a college student studying for the ministry, chosen by a church to keep their teenagers from sex, drugs and rock-n-roll. Usually the person hired shares the same interests as the youth he leads, namely sex, drugs and rock-n-roll.

Saved, adj. Describing one belonging to a like denomination.

Lost, adj. Describing one belonging to a different denomination.

Singles department, n. The church's attempt to compete with singles bars by segregating lonely, horny individuals together; offering bad food and bad service yet all along forbidding sex and liquor.

Invitation, n. The drop spot for conviction's ransom.

Invitation hymn, n."Just as I am."

Love offering, n. A sum of money placed in the offering plate by a visitor during an evangelist's visit, relative to the level of conviction.

Offering, n. The event immediately following an offertory prayer; the one event in the liturgy never skipped or overlooked.

Closing prayer, n. A church service's final gun.

Jordan River, n. Source of water contained in vials sold in Israeli' airports, and sometimes offered by televangelists while fund raising.

Usher, n. Courier of an often empty wooden plate, or straw basket, the bottom of which is covered with felt, prophetic of the denominations expected.

Music Director (also know as "song leader" in smaller congregations), n. One skilled at holding his or her arms in the air for extended periods of time; pretending to move them in time to music.

Sunday school enrollment, n. A number double the average attendance.

Contributions to date, n. A number twenty five percent smaller than contributions required to date.

Contribution required to date, n. A number twenty five percent higher than contributions to date.

Repentance, n. The practice of convincing oneself that one's sinful activities are no longer sinful.

Communion cup, n. Ranges from an ornate golden goblet containing fermented grape juice in liturgical churches to an inexpensive plastic jigger containing Welche's grape juice in evangelical churches.

Walking the Aisle, v. The act of paying conviction's ransom.

Revival, n. An event with no long term effects.

Crusade, n. A major event with no long term effects.

Pastor's Salary, n.traditional 1: Ten percent less that the last pastor's. fundamentalist.  2: A secret.

Sin, n. Any act one is sure he or she will never commit. v. The act of reaching that assurance.

The Poor, n. The third stanza of life's four stanza hymn.

Preacher's kid, n. A child whose bed wetting is revealed, in the form of a meaningful sermon illustration, to a large church congregation.

Sermon, n. The text the congregation would have heard had the preacher not lost his nerve.

Church Staff, n. Members of other churches who work at yours.

Easter and Christmas Church Services, n. Apostasy appreciation services.

Baptism, n. A mikveh with robes.

Special Music, n. Bad music you never heard before, sung poorly and frequently accompanied by taped music. In its worst form, the vocalist accompanies his or herself with an acoustic guitar.

Testimony, n. One's embellished story of redemption from drugs, prostitution, crime, alcohol, tobacco, homosexuality, poverty, greed, sex, cults, rock-n-roll, politics, etc.

Denominations, n. The result of dismembering the bride of Christ.

Missionary, n. Only church profession to have a sexual position named after it.

Bible, n. 

Children's Sermon, n. The pastor takes refuge behind the congregation's children in order to safely admonish the congregation's adults.

Pulpit, n.  A heavy wooden podium eschewed by televangelists.

Pew, n. An uncomfortable form of wooden seating unique to churches.

Hymnal, n. A bound collection of Gaelic beer drinking melodies with religious lyrics, all written before the start of this century.

Heaven, n. A paradise reserved for those of like faith.

Hell, n. An abyss reserved for those of different faiths.

Faith, v. The act of placing your hand on your radio or television screen.

Parsonage, rectory, n. A preacher's perquisite, designed to promote humility. A tattered abode, boasted of by a congregation, none of whom would dare live there. A rent free dwelling with the world's vilest landlords.

The Church, n. The rude well dressed people, holding up the lunch line at Luby's cafeteria on Sunday afternoons.

Sinner, n. Any man or woman whose vision we are willing to correct, once we spot them through our coke bottle glasses.

The Cross, n. That burden of humility, bragged about by those who bear it.

Minister of Education, n. The church staff member whose real function is never fully understood. Neither by him nor the congregation.

Pastor's wife, n. A woman valued for her potluck dinner repertoire, housekeeping skills, child rearing talents. Expected to sing choir solos, superintend vacation bible school, direct church plays and head local missionary efforts. Her lack of opinion or original thought is highly prized by a congregation. Though rare, the opposite of pastor's husband.

Pulpit Committee, n. 1: A group, usually four to eight men in dark suits, seated together in the back of a church service. 2: A cause for great joy for both congregation and pastor should pastorate be going badly. 3: Unknown in many denominations.

Church Budget, n. The means by which a church notifies God of the limit of His grace for a given year.

Church Bulletin, n. The liturgy for non liturgical churches.

Singles Minister, n. A young married adult ministering to singles until something better comes along.

Recognition of Visitors, n. Part of a church's liturgy designed to identify and qualify its guests before embarrassing and estranging them.

Grace, n.  1. Our merited favor from God. 2. The favor of God we tell others He'll dispense to them, provided they behave as we see fit.

Abortion, n. 1: Result the Protestant church's ministry to unwed mothers. 2: Result the Catholic church's administering birth control.

Religious right, n. Group you join when you want to render unto God that which is Caesar's or visa versa.

Church Choir, n. The solemn group of people, usually seated behind the preacher, though sometimes found seated to one side, for whom a large green booger is either a source of great anticipation or great embarrassment.

Christian Coalition, n. Pat Robertson playing Edgar Bergen to Ralph Reed's Charlie McCarthy.

Promisekeepers, n. A seventy million dollar exclusive men's organization, once lead by a former college football coach whose daughter twice, offered herself as a quarterback recruiting perk.

Celibacy, n. A state abstaining from sexual intercourse encouraged for Catholic Priests, single adults, adolescents, homosexuals, widows and widowers but a state more frequently obtained by middle aged married couples.

Fundamentalist, n. One who believes his beliefs have greater value than yours and desires greatly to impose them on you. Present among both liberals and conservatives.

Inerrancy, n. The belief that God is incapable of correcting man's mistakes.

"Open your eyes and your ears and you're influenced..."

Bob Dylan sang, "Open your eyes and your ears and you're influenced."

Two artists who have had a real impact on my work of late is JP Morrison, her skill with a colored pencil and craftsmanship is frightening.  And Mateo Romero.  His use of image and expressionistic technique is inspiring.  I must acknowledge Mateo's influence for my latest piece.  If you see his paintings, "NeoTribal" and "Two Worlds", the influence is obvious and I must give credit where credit is due.

Otis Redding said of Aretha Franklin's cover of his song, "Respect" that she owned it, made it hers.  I doubt I have done that with this painting but I loved the simplicity of this image.

"Start with a blank piece of paper and remove everything that doesn't belong."  That quote has been attributed to everyone from John Prine and Townes Van Zandt to Ernest Hemingway.  I got this print back from the printer and saw it for its simple message.  This piece needed nothing more.

Is it art?  Is it original?  I will let the viewer decide.  The title is, "But Sinclair Lewis wrote..."

Homegrown and homemade...

Pink Buffalo, 30 inch by 40 inch, Acrylic on Panel with Glass Beads

Guy Clark wrote a song singing the praises of, "Homegrown Tomatoes."

Last weekend, as has become tradition, I planted 10 heirloom tomato plants for Mother's Day.  My wife loves homegrown tomatoes.  I use rusted out horse water tanks for containers.  I take 50 gallon tanks and open the plug for drainage then place a layer of large rocks.  Then I lay down landscape fabric, then a layer of sand and finally a mixture of potting soil, compost and manure.  Since we live in the desert and water is scarce, so I do exclusive container gardening using 1/4" drip from our livestock well.

This works pretty well.  I got a very late start last year and the day before our first hard freeze, we picked 30 pounds of green tomatoes.  The larger, riper ones met their fate with cornmeal and hot bacon fat.  The smaller ones succumbed to spices, onions, garlic and boiling apple cider vinegar.

It is surprising how life can come full circle.  When I was a child, I remember my mom going out to pick wild currants with the ladies from the church.  They'd crawl through the roadside patches and those down by the creeks and draws in search of the tart little black beads.  With their harvest in hand, they'd return to the church kitchen and make currant jelly.  Still my favorite today!  Canning is something I have rediscovered.  If you get a Christmas present from us, it might just be pear butter, dill pickles, tomato relish, bar b q sauce or lemon curd.  This year, I planted jalapeno peppers and hope to can pickled peppers.

Guy's sideman, the Lookabee Sickles Flash, Verlon Thompson wrote a song, 

"Good Brown Gravy" about his homemade gravy.1

Retired Col. Merle B. Jensen, my father, taught officer's mess at Fort Sam Houston during the Korean Police Action.  He got his start in the kitchen on a troop ship headed to China in 1943, baking 400 loaves of bread a day in the bowels of the ship.  Once in Shanghai, they constructed 100 yard brick ovens and continued to bake bread.  I grew up in a home where the smell of baking bread was common and often taken for granted.  Time doesn't permit it often today, but for years I baked my own breads and every now and then I fix a starter and bake a batch of homemade bread.  But dad was all about homemade.

Despite the work, most meals in our house are from scratch.  I try to engage my children to help, to learn, to pass it on.  Between I Pods, Nintendo, Texting, TV, Netflix, it is difficult to interest children in the finer art of home cooking.  I hope someday they will look back these days, and miss daddy's home cooking.  As I miss dad's homemade bread or my grandma's fried okra and chicken necks, or my Aunt Johnnie's fried goat nuts (there's another blog in that one).

Not long after I married Patricia, my daughter was 6 and I decided to make homemade buttermilk pancakes for breakfast.  She refused, insisting on the Eggo kind you heat in the microwave.  I was heart broken.  In today's hustle bustle world filled with fast food, process food, the art of home cooking, I am afraid is being lost.  For the last 17 years, I have subscribed to "Cooks Illustrated,"  a magazine devoted to basic cooking, recipes and skills.  They have a new one out and they sent me a copy of:  "Country Cooking."  It is filled with old time recipes.  With my waste line, I have to be careful, but some of these recipes are sound wonderful.  Testing to begin shortly.

This got me thinking about art as homegrown and homemade.  Handcrafted.  Do I put the love into it that I do my home cooking?  There are artists out there who have high volume, mass processes to mass markets.  Process Art.  Fast Art.  I hope my paintings have the same love and appreciation my homemade mac and cheese or meatloaf does, then success can't be far away?

1) My friend Bill Mussdog Musser and I were at the old Liberty Lounge in Austin, Texas waiting for a Guy Clark show when we say Verlon Thompson wandering about.  We offered to buy him a beer and sat and talked.  I asked him where he was from.  He said Lookabe Sickles, Oklahoma.  (Pronounced La-key-ba)  I asked him how old he was.  We are the same age.  See, I lived in Geary, Oklahoma in the 5th grade and played little league baseball against Lookabe Sickles.  Damned if we didn't figure out we played little league against one another in the summer of 1966.


PS:  If you are visiting the blog from outside the continental USA, comment, drop me a line.

I want something old...

Guy Clark wrote a song, "Stuff that Works."  Boots, Denim Shirts, Guitars, simple stuff.

Don't get me wrong, I love technology.  It has advanced our lives in so many ways, but there are times I wonder just how far we have come.  My truck key is held together with electrical tape, so last week I stopped by the dealer to see about a new one.

Something Old

Every organization has an anti-sales department.  I ran into this dealership's anti-salesman.  I went to the parts department and asked about a new key.  With the straightest of faces he said,"$169.00."  I had to step back and check my shorts, then I asked, "Really?  $169.00 for a key?"  Looking at me as if I just fell off the turnip truck, he said, "Yes."  Well, I got a new roll of electrical tape.  I e-mailed them and told them if I had to pay that for a new key, I'd make sure it fit their competitor's truck.

I discovered later that these new fangled keys cost!  My neighbor said his Volvo key was $240.00.  My first thought was you deserve that for buying a Volvo.  I guess I am naive, new car keys are loaded with all kinds of computer technology.  For what reason?  My wife offered me her pristine key, but I told her we are putting that one in the safety deposit box.  Next time I have to dicker with a sales person on a new truck, it'll take 2 extra keys to close the deal!                                                                                                                                  

Look at them boots!

I try to save a bit, I want a mid 50's Chevy Pickup.  Something old.  The key cost $2.00 at the hardware store.  I know where the spark plugs are located.  I won't have to take out a loan to tune it up.  My English sockets will fit it and I won't need those damn metric wrenches anymore.

Sir Willow and his son Mojito

It seems the older I get, the more I long for the old stuff.  I'd make a crack about my wife here but she occasionally reads this, not that my wife is old.  Give me the old hymns, hellfire and brimstone preachin' and Hank, good "old" whiskey straight and neat, a $2.00 cigar, a vinyl record with great cover art.  I thank the Good Lord cowboy boots haven't changed and don't contain micro chips!  Cowboy hats, denim shirts, guitars too. (was going to say my dog, but damn if he don't have a micro chip)  I guess give them time though.

I continue to paint and will be posting new work next week.  I sold 4 paintings this week, so Thank God and the collectors who like my work.  Later this week, we'll revisit Guy Clark's "Homegrown Tomatoes."

Reunions, Deviled Eggs and All...

Today is the first Sunday in May, date of the annual Templeton family reunion.  The Templeton family settled in Lone Grove, Llano County, Texas in the 1880's.  I wish I was there and I wish my children could be there too.  Many of the aunts and uncles and cousins of my day are getting on in years.  All the great aunts and uncles and second cousins and grandparents are gone.  I have vivid memories of a reunion when I was 10 or 11.

W.A. and Sallie Templeton were my Great grand father and mother.

It was held at Uncle Marvin's ranch, a few miles down the road from the Lone Grove, Texas Post Office.  Uncle Marvin Bales was married to my great aunt Lillie Templeton.  They lost their only son in WWII in the Pacific.  I remember seeing a hand tinted picture of him in uniform on the mantle and wondering what happened to him.  It wasn't until I did an extensive family tree a few years ago I discovered what happened to him.  He is buried at the National Cemetery in San Antonio.

Uncle Marvin had one eye.  He lost one to barbed wire.  Not being a vain man, his glasses had one smoked or frosted lens.  In his pocket was one of those transistor radio type hearing aids with a volume control he was adept at using, especially when his wife was yelling at him which she seemed adept at doing.  He was a wiry man who always wore the uniform of small Texas ranchers of the day, khakis with a denim work shirt, boots and a Stetson.

The house had a breezeway.  Today, this is a seldom used house design, but worked wonderfully.  The kitchen and dinning room was on one side and the living room and bedrooms on the other and in between was a large porch.  Every room had a door onto the porch.  The house was angled to make the most of southerly and northerly breezes.  He had what seemed to be a 3 to 5 acre garden.   He raised a few cattle and Spanish goats and chickens and a milk cow.  I envy folks of that day's self sufficiency.

Once, Marvin was having difficulty with squirrels getting under his house so he set out traps under the house.  The only thing he caught was a skunk.  They had to move out for a few days.

Back to the reunion.  There had to be what seemed like a hundred people there.  "Sodie waters" were on ice, huge gallon jars of iced tea sweated in the Texas heat.  Three whole goats were being turned on a huge spit over mesquite wood, long before mesquite was trendy, it was just handy in those days.

Everyone brought an ice cream churn and a quilt to be used for as the seat for a child who had to help hold it in place as it was churned.  By hand, as the electric churn had yet to reached the Texas Hill Country of the early 60's.  Fresh fruit would be added.  Uncle Marvin had lots of peach trees and I remember tons of peach ice cream.

Every woman brought her best side dish with potato salad being the leading choice.  Each one pulling out their best church social repertoire.  Jello molds containing God knows what.  The latest recipes making the church supper circuit were offered up with pride.   Mayo sales had to spike during reunion season.  And the variety of deviled eggs.   Ah, hundreds of deviled eggs.  Some mustard based, some mayo based, some dusted with paprika, some plain.  You could sample every variation.  Does anybody make deviled eggs these days?

Children were fed first and sent off to hinterlands of the ranch to get out from under foot.  The adults would gather and the oldest person, still of sound mind, would be asked to say grace.  Everyone brought lawn chairs, the cheap aluminum ones with the green nylon straps.  They'd sit and small groups with paper plates on laps and gossip about those not there or out of ear shot.  "Did you hear about..." "Isn't it a shame about..."  "I heard she..."  "Poor..." "Did you taste her salad, it was way too...  salty, sweet, bitter..." "Boy she has aged, not looking well at all..."   the list went on...  And on it went until the sins of everyone were discussed, criticisms made and advice offered.

So as my kindred sit under live oaks down by the Broad Branch Creek today and consume fried catfish, potato salad and hopefully deviled eggs, my thoughts, memories and heart is with them.