The 'Devil' Writes Pat Robertson A Letter

This was so eloquent and perfectly put that I've cut and pasted the full text from NPR's website. THANK YOU LILY COYLE!

The Minneapolis Star-Tribune published a letter from Satan to evangelist Pat Robertson, responding to his comment that Haiti's persistent troubles, including the earthquake, are due to a pact the nation made with Mephistopheles.

Actually, it wasn't Satan who wrote the letter but Lilly Coyle of Minneapolis writing in the persona of the hellish one.

I think she got it down pretty well. What say you?

Dear Pat Robertson,

I know that you know that all press is good press, so I appreciate the shout-out. And you make God look like a big mean bully who kicks people when they are down, so I'm all over that action.

But when you say that Haiti has made a pact with me, it is totally humiliating. I may be evil incarnate, but I'm no welcher. The way you put it, making a deal with me leaves folks desperate and impoverished.

Sure, in the afterlife, but when I strike bargains with people, they first get something here on earth -- glamour, beauty, talent, wealth, fame, glory, a golden fiddle. Those Haitians have nothing, and I mean nothing. And that was before the earthquake. Haven't you seen "Crossroads"? Or "Damn Yankees"?

If I had a thing going with Haiti, there'd be lots of banks, skyscrapers, SUVs, exclusive night clubs, Botox -- that kind of thing. An 80 percent poverty rate is so not my style. Nothing against it -- I'm just saying: Not how I roll.

You're doing great work, Pat, and I don't want to clip your wings -- just, come on, you're making me look bad. And not the good kind of bad. Keep blaming God. That's working. But leave me out of it, please. Or we may need to renegotiate your own contract.

Best, Satan

LILY COYLE, MINNEAPOLIS

Genocide by any other name...

This morning I was out walking the dog when I came across a gregarious older man who started chatting with me. Sensing that he was lonely, I stopped for a minute to listen. He started out fine enough, but then he began talking about how badly the Germans treat him because he comes from Romania. And that that's just what Germans do, because look at the war. But not all Germans were bad, and not all of them knew what was going on. And anyway, look at the Jews! No one wants to live with them anyway. They're insidious-- they'll send one family member into a community to get established and then the rest of them come and take over...

At first I was just incredulous at his lack of tact, but at this point I became angry. Told him that there were members of my grandmother's family who died in concentration camps, and that it doesn't matter what one thinks about a certain group of people, no one deserves that! Then I walked away and left him sputtering.

A few minutes later I recounted the conversation to an acquaintance and she said: "Some people are just unbelievable! Yes, what happened in WWII was horrible. I hope nothing like that ever happens again!"

And I was shocked and said: "But it's still happening today! Look at what's happening in Sudan and the Congo!"

Her reply: "Yes, but that's Africa. Africa is a whole different story..."

Nearly headless Nick

They take after their father...

Flashback #7: Michael Jackson in Moscow

A friend of mine has been scanning pictures and documents from Moscow days, including this ticket to Michael Jackson's concert at Luzhniki Stadium. I haven't thought about this concert in a very long time, so I dug out my journals and was shocked to read the following:

September 17th, 1993

Went to see none other than Michael Jackson in concert on Wednesday night. We paid a shitload for the tickets and then were stuck up in obstructed view, nosebleed, so-far-from-the-stage-that-the-performers-all-looked-like-ants seats. The way they set up the ticket sales it seems that the less you paid for the damned things, the better view you got. So it's pouring down rain, about 45 degrees in the outdoor stadium, and the concert got delayed by 2 hours.

Michael finally came out and his entrance was accompanied by fireworks. We all danced wildly to "Billy Jean" and "Thriller", motivated about 75% by enthusiasm and probably 25% out of a desire to restore blood flow to our painfully frozen feet!

Poor Michael had a hard time doing his routines because at all times there were 7 to 10 guys in sweat suits on their hands and knees mopping up the water that was pooling up on the stage and making it slick. I don't know if it was because of that or just the stress of being out on the road and having all those lawsuits on him, but he broke down into big sobs twice!

All in all it was a really good show, but I get the impression that he's being torn to pieces and systematically devoured by his "adoring" fans. I felt like I was privy to the premonition of a blood bath. If this keeps up I wonder how long it will be before they find his crumpled, lifeless body on the floor of a posh hotel room?

Daredevils

We've had a lot of snow in the past week and it's beautiful here! S and B are spending a lot of time outside involved in dubious pastimes like racing their bikes down the icy street and then braking hard in order to do 180 degree (and sometimes 360 degree!) spins. *sigh*

This weekend they had a blast on their sleds. Friends built a ramp at the end of a hill which launched the sleighs airborne. It wasn't always easy for the parents to watch, and one kid landed badly and probably broke his arm, but they all had some spectacular rides and I got some spectacular pictures*!

*taken by someone else who had great reflexes, a great eye, and who was not preoccupied with visions of the last time S wrecked a sled...

..and then the monster ate them.

For Christmas the kids got Scribblenauts, a video game in which the player solves problems by writing down the name of the tool he wants to use to get out of various scrapes. S and B speak English fluently but they've got definite holes in their vocabulary because they spend most of their day speaking German. With American music, movies, friends and family they'll catch up eventually, but for now this makes for some very amusing mistakes when they're searching for words.

This morning they must have hit a rough patch in their game and I heard them in the other room debating excitedly:

What do you call those things! ACK! What are they called? Bull? Bull-? Aha! I know! GUNBULLETS!

At least they don't break your kneecaps! (as far as I know...)

S: Why do Mafiosi do what they do?
Me: What do you mean?
S: Why do they knock on people's doors and ask if they have accepted Jesus into their hearts?!
Me: ??? Umm, S? Are you talking about Jehovah's Witnesses?
S: Oh yeah! That's it!

Yo Dawg!

S is trying to convince me that it's cool to wear one's pants like this. (And I'm afraid he's only half-kidding!)

(at least Spongebob and Patrick seem impressed!)

We made it!

Every year on New Years Eve the Germans (at least in our neighborhood) go completely crazy with fireworks. They spend hundreds of Euros on spectacular displays that are thrilling for children but a nightmare for parents.

I spend the entire evening pulling my kids back to a "safer distance" and shudder when one overly-zealous neighbor chuckles about his yearly "incidents": some firework that tips over in its bottle and zooms off into the crowd of onlookers. Last year it was in our direction, this year it narrowly missed some friends and blew up in their garage! Let the good times roll!

Luckily we were able to close out 2009 without any trips to the hospital and we toasted with champagne and rang in the New Year with David Hasselhoff singing "I've been looking for Freedom" on tv! You can't get much more German than that!!!

Marlboro boy?

Oma just asked S and B if they'd made any resolutions for the new year. S's answer: Yes! I'm going to quit smoking! (???)

Happy New Years' Eve, everyone!

Generation gap

Last night we watched Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer with the kids. And it gets to the part where the Abominable Snow monster is about to devour Rudolph and his family-- I almost wet my pants with fear at that part when I was little!

So the Abominable Snow monster goes: "RAAAAWWWRRRRRRRRRRRRR!" and B starts to giggle and says:
"Actually the special effects in this film are pretty poor quality..."

Your brain is full of spiders...

You've got garlic in your soul...

Is there a 10 step program for people like me?

It's happening again. Every year it's the same thing-- December rolls around and I lose control of all the balls I'm juggling and everything crashes down around me. I don't know if it's due to the weather or the darkness or all the pressures of the holiday season, but I'm starting to forget things-- enough so that it's becoming embarrassing!

Last week I stood up a friend who waited for me in the cold for 20 minutes before she finally gave up. I forgot to send B to his after school reading group on Monday. Invited someone over to my house, but didn't give her my telephone number OR address! I've got overdue library books waiting to be returned, and yesterday I raced to the nursing home only to realize that I'd come on the wrong day!

I started to blog about this whole phenomenon, but then forgot to finish the post!

And the topper: this morning I went to the grocery store at the crack of dawn (because I forgot to do it yesterday) got to the end of the checkout line and realized that I'd left my wallet at home!

Luckily the cashier was really nice about it: she sent me home with my frozen stuff and I came back and paid and got the rest of my groceries later. How embarrassing!

(My kids are getting sick of me asking them the same questions over and over, but then again, paybacks are hell, guys, because your socks are STILL on the floor despite my repeated reminders.)

Normally such a bout of extreme mental-fog might be worrying, but it's a small comfort that this happens to me at about the same time every year. (Perhaps THAT should be cause for concern?!)

With so much fumbling around lately I end up scrambling to compensate for all the things I've forgotten and hoping nobody notices. It seems I'm living the life of an alcoholic, but then without the alcohol, the wild parties or the made-for-tv movie to document the drama!

Flummoxed

Our livingroom is set up so that you enter from behind and only see the backs of the people in the room. This morning I walked in and was just about to scold S for standing on the couch when I realized...


he wasn't. His feet were firmly planted on the ground and he was towering over the seat back.

When did he get so big?!!!

Now THAT'S an accomplishment!

Christmas market season has begun here in Germany, and last weekend we headed "downtown" to check out the festivities in our little village. I gave the kids a couple of Euros for s'mores and they raced off to hang out with friends in front of a bonfire.

Yesterday S started animatedly recalling B's sticky adventures and that it was amazing that he didn't throw up after eating so much junkfood.

"Wait-- how many marshmallows did he eat?!"

S started counting thoughtfully and ticking off his fingers: "... four, five, six"

"Six marshmallows?! Yuck-- that would probably have been enough to make me throw up!"

"What?! NO! He ate six portions! That's 18 marshmallows and 42 cookies!"

It's not the mountain that defeats you...

...but the pebble in your shoe.

Had a bit of a sad day at the nursing home yesterday. After helping out with lunch I sat for a while with a woman who's 94-- she started crying and saying how unhappy she is-- that she doesn't LIKE noodles, but they keep giving her noodles. And that she used to be strong and busy and she could HELP people, just like I do, and now she can't even regulate the thermostat on her radiator.

She was just so distressed, and I let her rant, because that was about the only thing I could do. Held her hand and stroked her hair, and I ended up crying myself, because I can imagine exactly how she feels-- when you're feeling crummy and all you want are potatoes and you keep getting served noodles instead...

Drink coffee = Live longer

This? Is my friend's parents' front yard. Her mom was just about to go out and weed the garden, but was dragging and stopped for a cup of coffee. She was sitting in front of that window when she saw the driver lose control of his truck and plow right up into the yard! Thank God for caffeine addiction, because otherwise she might have been flattened right along with the begonias!

Culture shock to the nth degree...

The weather has been gray and crappy lately, so the women in my Aikido group decided we should all go to the sauna together.

"You know everyone's going to be naked there, right?" asked B, horrified, when I got home.

It's true, ze Germans have a much lower threshold for getting naked than we Americans. I've been to the sauna on several occasions with other friends, but it was always during Frauentag, when only women are allowed in, which doesn't bother me at all.

This time, however, we went to the Mineraltherme in Böblingen, and it was gemischtes Sauna-- open to both men and women.

I'd heard stories from friends before, but still wasn't quite emotionally prepared to parade around in my birthday suit with a couple hundred strangers. And it would have been fine if they were all minding their own business, but I saw several men who were quite obviously there as spectators.

At one point we entered a sauna and were faced with 30 naked people squeezed elbow to elbow on benches arranged in stadium seating. I sat at the only free space at the bottom next to the stairs, and every couple of moments someone passed by and I was eye to eye with an unknown manly appendage as it passed by me on the way up to the upper rows.

It was very, very weird.

After visiting several different saunas the Aikido ladies and I sat in front of a fireplace and had a coffee. I was finally getting used to the general atmosphere and was feeling relatively relaxed.

We finished our coffee and went to go take a shower and get dressed and go home. I followed G into the locker room, relieved to have finished the ordeal without bursting out in inappropriate laughter, and smiling about the blow-by-blow description I was going to give M as soon as I got home.

We took off our bathrobes and entered the shower area, and were suddenly confronted by the sight of 4 burly, naked men who looked up and smiled in greeting as we came in...

Talk about a tricky pregnancy and difficult birth!!!

S and M were hanging out this weekend chatting when suddenly S piped up:

You know what?! If you and Mom had met 6 or 7 years later you would now have known me longer than you have Mom!