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6:05 a.m. - 2003-09-17

AMISH THE GOOD OL' DAYS

Can I ask a question?

What is up with these Amish folk???

I feel confident we can talk about them because … well … there's a damned good chance they'll never see this on one of their computers, y'know?

But why do they have to be so goshdarned creepy?

If you ever noticed, anytime the Amish are portrayed on television or in movies, they're always evil as hell.

Like "Children of the Corn". I'm not sure if those kids were Amish or not. They sure did dress like Amish kids. And I don't remember seeing any of them toting around a Game Boy Advance. Therefore, I deduce that they were, in fact, Amish.

I heard that they don't accept change very well (duh!) and they don't believe in electricity. If that's the case, why don't we just grab them by the backs of their Amish heads and force them to lick an electrical socket? I'm no brain surgeon, but I would think a couple thousand volts jetting through their funny bearded bodies might do the trick in changing their way of thinking.

And what's with those beards, anyway? Do they secretly worship Abe Lincoln? Maybe I'm missing something here, but razors have been around a while and aren't necessarily regarded as "evil technological advances" except for that Mach III thing by Schick. So hey, Malachai … venture away from the upper lip for a few minutes, tackle those bony cheeks of yours and scrape the stubble off your neck.

I say all this because yesterday at our Visitor Center, some Amish people came through. Horse and buggy, bonnets … the whole bit.

That horse and buggy shit must get annoying as hell when you get behind them on the interstate. They don't believe in modern technology, but they sure as hell will hold up traffic on I-65 just so they don't have to cross a raging river with Bessie the Wonder Horse dragging them through.

And what about those horses? Do you think the horses have to be pissed as all hell when they see regular horses traipsing around fields with little pre-pubescent girls fawning all over them? I bet the Amish horses just want to freak out and shoot their masters. If only they could find guns big enough to work with their hooves. Too small guns … 'tis the downfall of modern day horses. That's why at night if you break into an Amish campsite, you'll see the horses fumbling around with stolen pistols and getting really irritated with their clumsy hooves.

And for Pete's sakes … would it KILL the Amish to try out a new hat? Something that doesn't look like a deflated sombrero? They all have the same hat which makes me wonder ... somewhere in this country there's an Amish Hat Shop where the Amish go up and down the aisles saying "You want this big flat black round one? No? Well how about this big flat black round one? No? Hey ... I bet you'd look reeeally prehistoric in this big flat black round one! Try it on! Come on Zebediah! Be a sport!"

Other than all that, they're pretty cool in a "Little House on the Prairie" way.

But hey … even Michael Landon could track down a decent razor in the middle of the prairies.


Speaking of somewhat odd cultures, last night some Mormons graced my doorstep.

For the longest time I used to get Mormons and the Amish mixed up. But then I realized that Mormons don't do the whole beard thing with a vengeance and most Amish people don't have more than one wife and she's usually out in a field somewhere, pulling a plow with her strong-bodied back.

Anyway, the Mormons wanted to talk with me for a moment about my life.

I was pretty stoked to talk about my life at this point.

I was cooking dinner for my son and I.

My son was demanding that I played with his puzzle with him while I cooked the dinner.

The telephone was ringing as if my number had somehow found its way on a men's bathroom wall with the phrase "For a great blow job, call…." written above it.

My life was aces, Mormon dude! Thanks for asking!

There were three Mormon guys on my front porch, two wearing the short sleeve white shirts and black ties while the third guy was a rebel in a polo shirt. Maybe he was off that day and they dragged him along for reinforcement in case my Christian ass got all cocky on them.

They wanted to share "The Book of Mormon" with me. I was pretty cool with this gesture and thanked them. I also asked if they knew what page had the info about me being able to boink whoever I wanted and calling this new sexual conquest "my wife".

They said that modern-day Mormons don't have more than one wife these days. I pointed out that other than the nifty white short sleeves and black tie ensemble that I'd get to wear everywhere I went, the only reason I'd even think about becoming a Mormon would be to have a different wife for each day of the week.

They all stiffened with pride when I mentioned their snappy sense of style but still stood steadfast that I wouldn't be able to have threesomes every night.

I thanked them for their time, they asked me for some money and I closed the door while they asked for their book back.

Gotta love them Mormons!

(And for those of you wondering, the title of today's entry is supposed to be pronounced "Ah miss the good old days" like "I miss the good old days". I'm pretty fucking clever with puns, eh? Eh? Eh? Aw, fuck it.)

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