Filed under: Misc. Humor | Tags: christianity, entertainment, fun, games, Poker, religion
Now before some of you lose your minds and start planning how you’re going to blow up my blog with comments about your faith, your religion or how insensitive I am….
RELAX.
This is an idea I came up with in the middle of a hot flash at 4:00am – not my best work, but that’s what I was thinking about so now you get to think about it, too.
Now that we have the disclaimer out of the way, we need to talk poker. For those of you who don’t know how to play poker, there comes time in every player’s game that they choose to bluff (or not) about what cards they’re holding. Sometimes this is out of desperation, and sometimes it’s a calculated lie designed to throw others into confusion about when you may or may not be telling the truth later in the game. Most people have a “tell” or small mannerism that will let others know when they are bluffing.
I have a theory that how you play poker reflects your spiritual beliefs, or at least where you are on the spectrum of being a believer in something higher than yourself or not. Over time, your faithfulness will be your “tell.”
Don’t worry, people – I’m not going to call out you Baptists, Episcopalians, Catholics, Bhuddists, Muslims, Jews or anybody else. I’m just going to lay out some completely unfounded observations about the game of poker and who might be more inclined to play one way or another based on their level of faith, no matter what religion they are.
Poker players who often go “all in” (bet their entire wad on one hand) are probably atheists. After all, what have they got to lose? There is no higher being to pray to for help or that is controlling the outcome of the game. It’s harder to bluff an atheist, but heck…miracles happen. When atheists win, they like to point out to the rest of the players that they were bluffing so the faithful (they hope somewhere deep down) will learn that being gullible is bad. And, when atheists are done playing, they simply walk away…or pass out on the couch after watching Ancient Aliens while they wait for everyone else to finish.
The faithful (if they’re playing at all) will bluff too, but for a different reason – they instinctively feel that because the atheists don’t believe in things they can’t prove, atheists won’t believe that others are as good at bluffing as they are. The faithful also tend to fall for the bluff more than other players – they already believe in something they can’t see or prove, so believing another player got the royal straight flush on the river card isn’t that much of a stretch. When the faithful are finished playing, they frequently can be found looking introspective, trying to find the meaning behind the loss.
Agnostics, however, are the biggest losers in poker because they are constantly hedging their bets. They ante on every play, no matter what they have in their hand, because the flop might just have that magical or miracle combination to make that 7 and 8 worth it. Then, they put in just enough on each betting round to stay in, but won’t commit to the big pots. Eventually they fold somewhere in the middle of the game, having steadily lost their chips out of fear of taking the plunge, one way or the other. Without the freedom of the atheists and the cushion of the faithful, they resolve to play differently next time, even though this never happens.
But what about people who don’t give religion a second thought…like, ever? Aaahhh…these are the poker players you should fear. Why? Because they aren’t praying or trying to control their own destinies or hedging their bets – they’re thriving on their love of the game. They live in the moment. Do they bluff? Maybe – but what’s more important to them is that they’re playing at all.
Is that how you should go through life? Completely in the moment without a thought to what’s next, or if there’s something bigger out there? I doubt it – but in these uncertain times, being in the moment may be exactly what you need, even if only for a little while.
So deal the cards and play how you play – but just remember to be happy you’re sitting at the table.
Filed under: Middle Age, Misc. Humor, shopping | Tags: born again, christianity, church, humor, Middle-Age, relationships, religion, shopping, walmart
I don’t know how or why the Jesus Freaks find me, but they do – and it’s usually at Walmart. Now, before you get all upset, know that I do believe, but I believe in the privacy of my head and heart.
I’ve had two people tell me in the check-out line that it’s their second birthday, as in, they’re Born Again. (Personally, I don’t think it’s the best metaphor – why would anyone want to leave their warm, dark cocoon where they have been fed and grown with no effort for the cold, bright world where every day can be a struggle? How about something like “Refried” instead?)
Ummmm…so you’re Born Again. First, you look tall for a two-year-old. Second, I’ve had 47 birthdays, and I never once told anyone in a check-out line when they happened. Third, why do you think I need to know you and Jesus are besties when I’m standing here trying to figure out who wore the superman glasses better – George Clooney or Denzel Washington?
But the best encounter happened yesterday. I was standing in the freezer aisle at Walmart trying not to buy yet another bag of tater tots, when two teenage girls approached me.
“Excuse me, M’am?” they asked.
“Huh?”
“Hi. Um, would you like us to pray for you?”
“What, here?” I asked.
“Yes. Or is there someone you would like us to pray for?”
Oh my God, this is a blog happening right now.
“My family – they’ve got issues.”
“Okay. Would you mind if we lay hands on you, or is that too weird?”
“That is definitely too weird.”
Then they said a very nice prayer in the middle of the freezer aisle.
So why me? I recently asked my gym trainer if I have a serious RBF (Resting Bitch Face), because whenever I go to other gyms, the trainers never talk to me, while they talk to everyone else who is new. And it’s not because I’m doing things correctly, either. She said no (probably for self-protection), that mine wasn’t bad. I just always look like I’m concentrating (#thestruggleisreal).
Why do people feel the need to approach me and tell me all about their relationship with God/Jesus? Do I have a RSMF (Resting Save Me Face)? You can’t tell me my RSMF is worse than the woman smacking her kid in the child-abuse aisle, or the addict who’s hanging around in the parking lot asking for cash, or the people who live in their camper in the back of the parking lot. I’m pretty sure they might need help from Above a little more than I do.
So please, let me keep my headphones on while I play my soothing spa music and shop. And while I don’t want it to happen again, it just proves that you really can get everything at Walmart.
Filed under: Middle Age | Tags: clothing, demons, ghosts, humor, Middle-Age, mom, Pat Robertson, possession, religion, shopping, south, southern, teenagers, teens
The other day, television evangelist Pat Robertson said demonic spirits can attach themselves to some objects. “I don’t think every sweater you get from Goodwill has demons in it,” he said, “but it isn’t going to hurt you any to rebuke any spirits that might attach themselves to those clothes.”
Well, that explains a couple of thongs and bras I wear that have minds of their own.
The idea that demons can attach themselves to objects isn’t new. I saw The Amityville Horror, so I get the whole haunted house thing. And Stephen King’s Christine was pretty creepy, even though the premise was a little weird. But really—clothes? And why did he mention clothes that are second-hand? What about clothes that are new? Can demons attach themselves to those, too?
Clearly, I’ve got to re-think my shopping strategy…no longer can I just peruse the stores and buy what I need as soon as it goes on sale. Now I’ve got to carry a small vial of Holy Water and a crucifix. I would love to wave any of those items in front of a pair of jeans I want to purchase and watch what happens. The pockets might turn into demonic eyes, glowing red, and the zipper would slide open, becoming a talking mouth, spewing curses and projectile vomiting on the sweaters carefully stacked below. I’ll bet I could get a really good discount after that! Just imagine strolling through the mall in your possessed jeans, as they rant and rave at all the other people walking by. Now that might even make shopping fun for those (like me) who somehow didn’t get that gene.
If what Mr. Robertson says is true, it would explain a lot of things in my life. I don’t necessarily think whatever possesses my thongs and bras are “demons;” I think they must be some kind of nomadic spirits, because these items seem to wander around my body of their own free will. In fact, I would venture a guess that these spirits are recently-passed Floridians, travelling north when the heat and humidity gets to be too much. Pantyhose spirits would be Snowbirds that migrate south. They would also be male spirits, because no female would make something already uncomfortable even worse.
Sports bras are probably more likely to be possessed by actual demons. They look innocuous enough, but the minute you try to take them off after a workout, they curl up and cling to you like a succubus from a bad science fiction movie. To remove one, short of sprinkling it with Holy Water, you have to contort yourself into a pretzel, nearly dislocating a shoulder in the process.
There must also be a whole troop of young, playful spirits that think its fun to move things from room to room. They are especially fond of concealing reading glasses, socks, earrings and t.v. remotes. For them, it must be a never-ending game of hide-and-seek.
There are teenaged spirits as well. These you could probably call demons, if, like, the mood is right. They favor, like, electronic gadgets, and, like, computers. One minute, these gadgets are like, entertaining, helpful and cooperative; the next, they, like, go dark for no reason at all, refuse to help, and skulk around with one glaring, electric eye.
So maybe Mr. Robertson is right. But I would rather have a family of “demons” in my things than face the fact that I can’t remember where I put anything, I’m technology-repellant, and my body is changing so much these days that nothing fits anymore!
Subourbon Mom 