Glorious Moments of Transcendent Wrongness

January 15, 2012 § 11 Comments

My mother likes to kick things.  Varmints, for one.  Here she is showing her grandson how to dispatch an unsuspecting baby squirrel delicately nibbling at the first pecan of the season it just stole from her tree, its little whiskers lit by early morning light.

She also likes to stomp things. Graves, for example.  My sister, not the Rabbit but the other one, the Stephen Spielberg of the Christian Right, who films everything, was rolling tape as my mother led a delegation of relatives from grave to grave in our old family cemetery in Louisiana, giving the oral history of our forefathers who had –

“He’s in hell!” she announced suddenly at her dear grandfather’s plot and began to stomp away as the family fell into stunned silence. My sister heroically adjusted focus and preserved the moment as the squirrels in the trees around us instructed their young: See that old lady? Don’t piss her off.

It was a Glorious Moment of Transcendent Wrongness, like when my cousin Jack made three blatant grammatical errors in four words: I AIN’T WENT NOWHERE, or when my other cousin, self-styled preacher J. Ernest, tried to raise a man from the dead (had been dead five days, and embalmed. Seriously. No, not kidding).

In my upcoming novel, Blue Asylum, my favorite characters are the ones who are most wrong.  Like Lydia Helms Truman, presumably sent to Sanibel Lunatic Asylum for her political leanings.  In Chapter Five, at the dinner table, Lydia Helms Truman does something so spectacularly unsettling that it made me bestow on her the very highest honor…she could very well be a relative of mine.

I wonder if it’s just me, or is it you, too? Have you ever witnessed someone doing something so very epically, universally historically Big Bang wrong that you said, wow that is really just so not right, but you had the tone of voice of an alpha male with a small penis stroking the hood of a Lamborghini?

 

 

 

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§ 11 Responses to Glorious Moments of Transcendent Wrongness

  • Dylan Lee says:

    I don’t understand. Your novel is about squirrels? Mothers? Hell? The racial inequalities in the creative departments of advertising?

  • Kitty says:

    My mother who went to Heaven last June 30, the (sort of) nun, disinherited me (and the rest of her children who have been supporting her crazy behind most of their adult lives) on Christmas Eve.
    Praise Baby Jesus.

    • Ahhh that is unbelievable! I remember you being so worried about your mother last year. Who did she leave her money to?

      • Kitty says:

        The loonies that once lived next door (and lost that house for non-payment of taxes). So they moved in with her, and periodically stole money we sent to our mom.
        My favorite religious nuttiness of theirs was when the put a real baby dressed only in a diaper in their life sized, splinter filled manger, complete with very pokey hay. “Awww,” they cooed.
        There was a reason Jesus was in swaddling clothes.

  • Desperate says:

    I have now become another one of the saintly souls of the cruel world to be unfairly misquoted and misunderstood. I was actually teaching young Ben how to march as I lustily sang ONWARD CHRISTIAN SOLDIERS. (There IS some truth in the graveyard tale.)

    • So sorry Mom! Totally my mistake. I have the actual footage and, like the Zapruder film, if you slow it down you can see a tiny baby squirrel flying off your foot. Or maybe that’s just a trick of the light?

      • Okay, I saw the tape again. Reading your lips, the song went this way:

        Onward, kill the var-mints,
        Kick those baby squirrels,
        The bastards totally de-serve it
        for eating my pecans!

  • Rohitash Rao says:

    why aren’t we shooting these as little short films? (maybe even animated?????????)

  • jeff says:

    lying across the hood of any expensive import strengthens any argument.

  • cousin bridget says:

    I can totally confirm the kin folk part of this and I do believe that one day we should all collaborate these strange things and share with the world it will either be a instant hiy amongst inmates everywhere or it will immediately be labeled fiction and end up on a episode of Ripley’s believe it or not

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