I love my wife Gina when I don’t hate her guts for being insufferably blunt, which is most of the time nowadays. I suppose I should feel guilty for saying that, since she happens to be sick, and I don’t just mean mentally. I used to think she was crazy, but now I realize she’s just evil. Or maybe it’s hard to live with anyone for close to ten years without wanting at times to kill that person. I know all too well she feels the same way about me; in fact, when I came home tipsy a few weeks ago, she even threatened to kill me, then herself. She was so pissed off, and for such a long time, I thought she might make good on her threat. Sadly, thus far I’ve been disappointed.
She claims the reason she can’t stand it when I drink–even a little–is that she can’t abide the scent of alcohol on my breath. But I think it probably goes deeper than that. She also contends that drinking is bad for one’s health, apart from recent studies that show that moderate alcohol intake is actually good for your heart, and possibly even for your brain, since it keeps the blood chug-a-lugging along through your veins and arteries like water on a kid’s fun slide (minus the complimentary gallons of escaped urine).
For anyone unfamiliar with this site, Jina is a rabidly fanatical evangelical Christian. She has a lot of excellent qualities that I won’t delve into at present, as they’re irrelevant to my central argument, the evil mentioned above on earth as it is in heaven (sorry, living with her for so long has given me a knee-jerk tendency to lapse into the Lord’s prayer sometimes). I don’t know what Jesus himself would make of her, but he’d probably be grateful he never tied the not himself after smiling beatifically for the sake of appearances. He might even thank God for having been exterminated before such a horrible fate could engulf him. Compared to a misbegotten marriage, crucifixion must have been both a picnic and a piece of cake, or a piece of cake at a picnic, served to one by a beautiful naked woman, a delicious wedge of your favorite flavor with a cherry on top (sexual innuendo unintended).
Jina’s whole family has drunk the Kool-Aid of evangelical Christianity. It all started when a beloved aunt was diagnosed with cancer. She sought help from several doctors, but they said that the tumor had metastasized and that any efforts they made to save her would be in vain. She would almost certainly die. So what did she do? She went home, got down on her knees, and prayed. She prayed and prayed and prayed like a stalker who wouldn’t leave Jesus alone. Apparently she must have woken the poor guy up, as–according to the family legend–she had to run to the toilet and vomit up a Jordan River of black bile–otherwise known as the cancerous tumor. (In case you were wondering, this is all medically verifiable information. And if you’re a big shot doctor who thinks you know better than a family of true believers who are unwavering in their faith, keep your shirt on.)
This is one reason why Jina insists on avoiding doctors when she’s ill–not that I necessarily disparage this practice, since a lot of times our immune systems are sufficient to overcome what ails us.
(To be continued very shortly. . .)