Westron wynde when wyll thow blow,
the small rayne downe can rayne?
Christ yf my love were in my armes
and I yn in my bed agayne.

--------------------------------------

The Diary of Irene Almond

June 20, 1936

Dear Diary,

Truly the Lord moves in mysterious ways!

Today, I accompanied Mama to town, as we were overdue for our monthly groceries.  Aunt Judith had informed us that Eli’s store received a fresh shipment of beans and potatoes, and the day seemed to be less hot, which would make the journey bearable.  Mama hopes that a spell of rain is on the way, but I know that she’ll change her mind if that comes to pass.  It’s like Daddy always said, “We farmers won’t never be satisfied—if the sun shines, it’s too dry, and if the rain falls, it’s too wet.”  Then he’d add, with a grin, “And farmers’ wives ain’t no different.”  Mama would shush him, but you could tell that she was smiling on the inside.  That was a long time ago, when Nettie was just a baby.  That was before Daddy lost his job and had to stand in the welfare lines for soup, and when Mama said he stood in the Devil’s line for the drink.

In one of Daddy’s last letters, while he was staying in Texas, he told me that things were different out west from the town of Whitney.  The streets weren’t lined with dead autos, he said, because there was gasoline for sale.  The houses weren’t filled with dust, and there were electric lights in the shop signs.  My sister Margaret told me once that only the brothels had electric lights, because money follows sin.  I didn’t understand then, but I assumed that we must be walking down the righteous path since we were so poor.

While Mama paid for the groceries and talked with Eli, I decided to wander down to the church and see if Cousin Elwin was there, since it was Sunday.  I could hear the music of the organ from outside the door, and the high, joyous voice of Reverend Williams singing along to “Wash Me in the Blood of Jesus.”  When I entered, I was most surprised to see that Cousin Elwin was sitting at the pulpit!  The hymn ended, and after the last chord on the organ died out, Cousin Elwin began to speak.  “Brothers and sisters,” he said, “We are the Tribe of Israel.  We are lost in the wilderness, waiting for the Voice of the Lord to show us the way!”

“Amen!” spoke the Reverend.

“Children, we are the lost flock.  You see every day that the Wrath of the Lord burns down around us, because Satan is fixin’ to lead us down the easy path!  The path of the shade!  The crooked path, the path that winds around the world, leading us to places where we can settle in and stop listenin’ for the good Lord’s Word!”

“Amen!” shouted several men and women in the congregation.

“But . . . I say unto you all,” whispered Cousin Elwin, “Do not walk the crooked path!  Do not walk down the streets to the bars and whore-houses!  Do not sit in the shade of the tree when the fields need to be plowed!”  Cousin Elwin’s little eyes glistened, like a mighty fire was burning behind them.  “Praise Jesus!”

“Praise Jesus!” echoed the congregation, and, with that, the service was brought to an end.  I began to walk down the aisle to thank Cousin Elwin for his inspiring message, but I heard Mama call my name from outside the door, her arms filled with sacks and her face looking cross.  I walked out with her, taking my share of the welcome burden of beans, but I stopped to look back at the little church, which is truly a temple of the Holy Ghost.

As we reached the edge of town, a stray cat jumped out of one of the abandoned cars, which looked dusty and hollow, like the empty shell of a june bug.  He looked like a mean and hungry thing, but his eyes looked at me with a sort of softness.  Mama frowned, saying that we couldn’t afford to feed another mouth, even if it was a cat, but when he followed us all the way home, she didn’t complain again.

I named him Elijah, after the great prophet.  Elijah prayed to the Lord, and the Lord sent him food from the mouths of crows.

Uncle Bud and Aunt Judith had less money than even we did, so Mama rounded us up and we made the long walk to their cabin for dinner.  Nettie tried to protest, because she just wanted to play with Elijah, but Mama scolded her, saying, “Nettie, Aunt Judith and Uncle Bud are family, and what we do to our family we do to the Lord!  Do you want the Lord to go hungry tonight?”  That was the end of the argument, and we arrived just as the sun was setting.

Aunt Judith was happy to see us, but was sick on account of the baby.  Uncle Bud, of course, didn’t offer her much in the way of comforting words, but he was at her bedside when we arrived.  He looked up at us with a sense of welcome relief in his good eye.

I was a bit disappointed that Cousin Elwin was not at home, but Aunt Judith said he was still in town, helping Reverend Williams with next week’s sermon.  “He’s such a good boy,” said Aunt Judith, slightly choking on her words.  “I know he’ll be such a good help with the baby.”  I looked at Uncle Bud, who was now sipping from his bowl of food.  When he looked up, he gazed out the window, and then he pointed at it.

A big cloud had covered most of the sky, and raindrops were beginning to fall.  We all laughed in joy—this would offer at least a day where we could work without the burning heat.  The wind continued to blow, gently.

When we returned home, Elijah was waiting for me.  He even followed me to bed, purring softly when I stroked his scraggly fur.  As dusk approached, he stared intently out the window with me, watching the rain.  I wondered about the voice I had heard a few days ago, which had whispered my name.  The echoes of the voice began to mingle with the words of Cousin Elwin. “We are lost in the wilderness, waiting for the Voice of the Lord to show us the way!” I lazily reclined on my bed, glancing once more at the welcome rain, and what I saw was most queer.  The wind had mixed the loose soil of the distant hills into the clouds, and the rain was now red.

After an extensive judging process held by experts in the field, we have finally determined the three finest music videos of all time.

#3 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HXks3Xjydh0

#2 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LFjKFDvyJ80

#1 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5tGp5AuSMhI

This week, I had the great honor and privilege to "shoot the breeze" with outspoken political pundit and fetus, Seymour.  You might have heard of him from his many books, such as "The Way I See It" and "A Voice for the Voiceless."  Seymour, as usual, was eager to discuss the hot topics of this election year and the more timeless debates over which we still postulate.


AntennaMoment:  Hello, Seymour!  It's a pleasure to speak with you today.

Seymour Fetus:  Thank you.

AM:  Well, let's jump right into it, shall we?  Who's your candidate of choice?

SF:  Unfortunately, I'm between candidates right now, given that my previous front-runner has, unfortunately, recently stepped down.  Of course, I'm speaking of Mitt Romney, because he's really the only politician in recent memory who acknowledged me to be what I am--a spirit floating in the aether.  Currently, I am merely speaking through my unfinished shell of a mouthpiece. 

AM:  I see. 

SF:  That said, I've had to give this a lot of thought lately, because I don't want to perpetuate that "wishy-washy" fetus stereotype that the world still clings to in its ignorance.  "Oh, is he coming?" they say.  "I can see his head!  Wait, no!  He's turning around!  Breathe, Persephone, breathe!"  Many people do not appreciate the delicate and rapid decisions that one must make in these circumstances.  Head?  Feet?  Hold out and make them do the sunroof thing?  It all happens so fast, and you've got multiple voices screaming at you to further complicate the issue.  It's not a character flaw, and the people have to just start accepting that.  This is the day for a new social reform!

AM:  It's pretty self-evident that you're opting for a more progressive stance on the questions of human rights, then?

SF:  Well, I always cringe when I hear the word "progressive."  [Seymour noticably cringes.]  It sounds too extreme for my platform beliefs, which I'd like to think are fairly moderate in most respects.  What I really want here is justice.  You don't have to be a radical to stand for justice.  Fetal rights, I fear, is someday going to be the loose scale in my armor, since I tend to get all worked up about it.  I find it to be the most egregious assault on any minority in the history of the United States.

AM:  Since we're moving into this topic anyway, could I ask you to give a brief run-down of your stances on other issues, for readers who aren't as familiar with you?

SF:  The important thing is a concern for justice.  I'd like to think that I'm a slave to my own morality.  [Laughs.]  I'm a supporter of everyday folks and fetii, who put in an honest day's effort, getting to reap the rewards.  I've been a longtime advocate of humanitarian aid, and my grassroots support group is launching a campaign to advocate mandatory umbilical cords to cut down on misguided spending that goes into the production and distribution of foodstuffs. 

AM:  Do you have any thoughts on environmental issues or global warming?

SF:  I prefer a warm climate, and that is all I have to say on that matter.

AM:  The Republican party, especially, in recent years, has focused much of its energy on the issues of abortion and homosexual marriage.  Do you have any thoughts on these issues?

SF:  I'll gladly go on record for the former issue.  I feel that abortion is sometimes justified, especially in cases where the spirit floating about in the aether has an aetherial criminal record or is an illegal aetherial immigrant, such as cases of immaculate conception. 

AM:  That's pretty hard-line.

SF:  It's just the point I keep bringing up.  Justice.  There are plenty of honest, middle-class fetii out there who can't get a job because of the influx of immigrant immaculate conceptions in recent years.  My opponents in the Fetal Amnesty Movement have tried to bring up the point that these workers are stimulating the fetal economy, but if you look at it, the placenta has been overtaken by the pound in the international market.  That doesn't look like a stimulated economy to me!  The numbers don't lie on this one, folks.  In fact, I have supported Pat Bucanterus in previous elections because I favored his plan of constructing an aetherial wall around our aetherial borders.  So, some might use your language, "hard-line," but in my view, it's our country, and we should keep it as our country.

AM:  Thank you.  Did you have any thoughts on the latter issue?

SF:  My lawyer has advised me to not answer any questions on that particular issue.

AM:  All right, we're almost out of time, but before we conclude, would you like to hit upon foreign policy?

SF:  Certainly.  This is a nice place to end, because I've actually determined my favored candidate on the grounds of this issue.  In the olden days, Aetherial America was considered a "melting jar" where aetherial spirits from every color and creed could come together and assimilate.  But, look around today!  I see no assimilation.  When I visited an aetherial high school on one of my book tours, I saw a group of embryos in the back who did not place their ectoderms over their mesoderms during the national ultrasound!  For the sake of them, and even moreso the sake of our zygotes who will be the next generation, I feel we must abolish all contact with foreign aetherials.  Their heathen ways will only come to corrupt the way of life which we have come to enjoy in this aetherial country.  Before you know it, we will have to remove murals of Incident One from our aetherial court-houses for the sake of "cultural sensitivity."  This is why I am voting RON PAUL 2008!