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Tuesday, November 01, 2022

RIDIN' IN THE JESUSMOBILE

In the cab on the way back from this morning's esophageal barium test (to help determine the cause of my serial hiccuping and puking), the driver had the radio set to a Christian station that played some of the most treacly songs I have ever heard. We're talking stylistically arrested in the era of "You Light Up My Life," only the songs are recent.

The song that was playing when I entered the car went on and on about how "God is in the details" and no matter how horrible your life is, he never fails you. Then a deejay came on and said "Did you ever see something and just start talking to God?" He then went on at length about how he owes his mother for his ability to just spontaneously go on about God when faced with something horrific and/or distasteful. But then it was time for a commercial break, so he had to leave, but he promised to read us the letter he recently wrote to God about something he saw at Walmart. My ride home was brief, so I did not get to hear any of his missive. In the cab on the way back from this morning's esophageal barium test (to help determine the cause of my serial hiccuping and puking), the driver had the radio set to a Christian station that played some of the most treacly songs I have ever heard. We're talking stylistically arrested in the era of "You Light Up My Life," only the songs are recent.
 
The song that was playing when I entered the car went on and on about how "God is in the details" and no matter how horrible your life is, he never fails you. Then a deejay came on and said "Did you ever see something and just start talking to God?" He then went on at length about how he owes his mother for his ability to just spontaneously go on about God when faced with something horrific and/or distasteful. But then it was time for a commercial break, so he had to leave, but he promised to read us the letter he recently wrote to God about something he saw at Walmart. My ride home was brief, so I did not get to hear any of his missive. 
 
AS the car pulled up to my building, I thanked the driver, and she responded in a monotone that reminded me of the sound of someone who had been smoking bonghits of quality Indica. Oh, and I was shocked to note that the Christian station was WPLJ, perhaps THE rock station for the Tri-State Area during my youth.

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