Someone reminded me about the time

 I had the Reverend call me up to ask why the venison we'd feed some homeless guys dried up. If you recall he found out that an anti-gun sermon he made caused it and he wasn't too happy when I told him that actions have consequences.

I was helping out with a rummage sale a year earlier and had to work with a bunch of church ladies, most of whom were actually pretty down to earth.

I posted earlier about the woman that went into panic when someone found a few shotshells in a coat and called the police. That was another joke.

Later she got into a huff about something someone said about the starving people in Africa and asked why we didn't do something.

"Why?" I asked. "The starving people are not going to see a single bite of the food we send there. It's just going to be stolen by warlords to use to feed their armies. They're still in the tribal stage."

"But we could force them to make sure the people get the food," she protested. "We could send people over there."

"Who?" I shot back. "Police Officer Bill with his whistle in his mouth shaking a finger at the warlord telling hem to behave himself?"

"Can't we send soldiers?" she asked.

"Yeah, maybe a couple of Marine Expeditionary Units to sit there and force the people to eat because if they don't the people will take the food and the warlords will simply take it from them. The people know if they don't turn the food over to the warlord they'll be beaten to a pulp."

"Maybe the soldiers could guard the people," she suggested.

"Yeah," I said. "And as soon as our service people start taking casualties you will be the first one to complain about that. The warlords will have their people attacking our service people shortly after they arrive because they won't want to lose face in front of the people."

"Can't we bomb the warlord?"she asked.

"Sure and before he gets cold you can bet someone will step in and it'll be the same. Meet the new boss, same as the old boss." I replied. "Look, sometimes there is no solution and you just have to let things go."

"Well, we have to be good Christians," she said.

"Nobody said good Christians have to be stupid," I shot back. "It is just stupidity getting involved there. It would be a case of wasting food, money and American lives."

"We ought to do something," she said.

I grew tired. "Do what? Hey, your grandson is getting to be of military age. Let's send him. He can join the Marine Corps and ship out at the front of it all and make you proud of him...if he doesn't get killed in the process and come home in a box."

Of course she got pretty upset at that thought and started stammering.

"It's different when you send your own over, isn't it?" I continued. "It's easy to spend someone else's money and put someone else's kid into harm's way, isn't it. It's a whole lot different when it's your child they're sending over to a foreign hellhole on a relief mission that's doomed from the beginning, isn't it?

She went into shock and started to well up a bit.

"I thought so," I said and walked off.

There were a lot of people looking at me when walked away. I started going through the books and VHS tapes, looking for porn to weed out. It generally shows up at a rummage sale because people are careless with what they drop off. I found a couple and threw them away.

I knew the women were looking at my back and from a mirror on another table I saw most of them were thinking about what I said.

It was Joyce that spoke to me first. She came up behind me and said, "I see you threw a couple of books out."

"Yeah," I said, cheerfully. "Can't have the church selling a VHS tape of some trashy looking bleached blond having sex with a goat, now, can we?"

She blushed and then grew thoughtful. "Sometimes there's no solution, is there?"

"No, there isn't." I replied. "Smart people try and find one, wise people know better."

She changed the subject. "How do you know about the ammunition Lois found in the coat?" she asked.

I told her I was a soldier once, and I'm a hunter and a shooter. She nodded and asked me if I had been a rifleman.

I grinned. "If I had to use a rifle it meant I hadn't done my job. My job wasn't to shoot the odd enemy soldier. I was trained to engage in wholesale saughter of my fellow man. I was an artillery spotter." I said, dryly.

She left and Dottie came by. Dottie had a few brains, too. She asked me if I'd take a look at the leak in the kitchen sink. She was trying to get me out of there. 

I did and when I found the leak I rooted through the rummage that was out there and found a couple of rolls of black tape and Mickey Moused the drain. They thought that was pretty neat.

While I was finishing the job up Joyce came in. 

"Did you really find a VHS tape of a woman having sex with a goat?" she asked, with a touch of blush.

"Yeah," I said, enthusiastically. "Why? You want it? I'll fish it out of the trash for you!"

To find out why the blog is pink just cut and paste this: http://piccoloshash.blogspot.com/2009/12/my-feminine-side-blog-stays-pink.html