Hot Boxing the Bathroom*

It's a good thing I've settled the question of the relevance of The Church to today's society (answer: none) because Velvet gets home from school tomorrow and he's grounded for sure.

I still think that if the time comes when life in the USA becomes so chaotic that we have to build a compound off the grid where we can be safe and happy, it will come in handy to know a progressive preacher who can shoot. You never know what will happen when it comes time to hold off Teabaggers convinced it's the End of Times. In an article at Alternet this morning, Chris Hedges examines religion's demise within the context of Nietzche's Last Man: Should We Be Cheering Religion's Demise? He explains the whole thing - not only about the church but also about how America is sliding down the garbage pile into Idiocracy although he doesn't reference that movie.

After having a Preacher in Residence at Menopausal Stoners World Headquarters on Central Park West, I've settled a lot of questions about a lot of stuff for the time being - not the least of which is Men and Their Mid-Life Crises. I will say that the theological explorations made this one more intellectually stimulating than others, and that it's nice to know that I still have whatever qualities I had as a young woman that lead to this sort of male behavior. And I still wonder if, in the end, it all comes back to the tits. The Preacher - and all those other guys - would passionately deny that, but I still have to wonder. It has to do with the objectification process.

It's not like I never objectified anybody, so I get it and am not distressed in the slightest. It's flattering, after all. Some would contend that my radiant energy that attracts certain individuals. The Preacher is not the one who would say that, however. Max the Psychic Life Coach would say that. I still say that anyone who can do hair like Max understands the external manifestation of our radiant energy as much as any human ever can. He expresses it in terms of Angel Energy - but really, that's just a vocabulary word people need to explain the unknowable. The proof is in the hair.

Here's me with my brother (who shall remain nameless).
My sunglasses are on my head and it's not a particularly good hair day since there are no good hair days in Houston.

Now that my exploration of The Church is concluded, and I'm firmly back on the Bokonist path of Existential Absurdity and Moral Ambiguity, I have to shove Velvet on the existential path called: Get A Job. He's grounded until he gets one, and as far as I'm concerned he doesn't have one until he's filled out his I-9 and reported to his shift supervisor on time.

Grounding Velvet has proven to be difficult in the past, probably because the definition of "grounded" is kind of fluid over here at HQ. To me, Grounded means no more than a couple of friends can come over. There will be absolutely no Olde English 40s, and everyone needs to leave around 10:00. That often translates into everyone leaves after The Colbert Report - which is fine as long as they are reasonably quiet and haven't been hot boxing Velvet's bathroom.

Under anyone's definition, Grounded means No Hot Boxing the Bathroom. And it means no random Kazakhstanis or other inherently cool kids -- with or without diplomatic immunity -- can come over when you're supposed to be grounded. Grounded is Grounded, for crying out loud.

*Hot Boxing is where a bunch of kids go into the bathroom, turn on the shower and smoke joints. The smoke mixes in with the steam. I don't know for sure if it's supposed to get you higher than normal or if it's supposed to be less smelly because of the steam. I just know the smoke filled steam leaves little trails all over the bathroom walls.