Wordy Wednesday: Politics and Ground Beef

[Jesus contemplating a more than usual “sensual” inauguration.]

I’m facing down a “news” overload–too many things going on and I’m too sick to care enough about any of them. Obama’s farewell speech? I was already asleep in bed. Trump’s inauguration is going to be “sensual”? Oh my word. Meryl Streep…whatevs. That supposed march, I mean rally, on Washington to protest something or other. Not interesting enough to tempt me. Russian hacking? Dylann Roof? Clock Boy? Wait? You wanted Links? I’m sorry, I can’t pull my life together to find all this stuff. If you haven’t heard of it, count yourself blessed, in the biblical sense.

No, more importantly, for me anyway–and that’s because I decided to give it one more day and Not go to the doctor, praying for the mercy of God to make itself manifest powerfully in my life, reading healing scriptures, blaming other people, you know, the usual, so that I am huddled in a ball on the couch unable to think or see straight. So I guess that’s me definitely going to the doctor then. No wait, this sentence started out some other way. Where was that beginning? Oh yes, more importantly for me, right now, is ground beef.

So, of course you know about easy hamburger gravy–that gloriously comforting pot of ground beef, mushroom, onion, garlic, cream, and the restoration of broken hopes. Served over any kind of noodle. I’ve blogged about it before. You have only to go and read through the totality of my archives to find it…cough. But, did you know that easy hamburger gravy can migrate into other cultural dimensions? It doesn’t need to stay with mushrooms and cream. It can marry itself to cauliflower, curry powder, and rice. Or cabbage and indeterminate amounts of the ends of dead spice bottles, all mixed together with, what’s that secret ingredient? Love? No no, sorry, I meant desperation.

All you really need is the ground beef, the onion, the garlic, the cream, and then Anything can be added (but don’t blame me if you decide to get weird) until it is bubbling and golden. Then you ladle it into a bowl and retreat back to the couch, hoping that everyone will just leave you alone with your headache and your twitter feed.

There you can watch this ridiculous satire–what if coffee shops functioned like churches. And then this brilliant moment with a brilliant punchline. Or you can keep reading the news, watching the world spin into chaos, or not. Maybe God has some mercy or something tucked away somewhere. Pip pip.