Hawking Up Hairballs

Tuesday, November 13, 2007

Praying For Rain

On the subject of redneck, there's this little item. North Georgia is in the midst of an historically severe drought. Governor Sonny Perdue's administration has come under a lot of criticism, both locally and nationally, for his failure to come up with and implement a water management plan for the region. And, yes, the governor, a grown man of some age, actually calls himself "Sonny". Talk about your redneck given names. That's right up there with the likes of "Bubba".

Stung by the criticism, but unwilling to cross swords with the moneyed elites whose business interests might be affected by watering restrictions, old Sonny isn't sitting on his hands. He's putting them together in prayer. That's right, it's no typo. Governor Perdue is holding a prayer meeting on the steps of the Capitol during lunchtime today. A variety of religious and political "leaders" have been invited to pray for rain.

There's a old baseball saw that goes, "Spahn, Sain, and pray for rain," but that's from an earlier era before the Braves had moved to Atlanta, and it wasn't the sort of thing that was meant to be taken seriously. Maybe old Sonny has seen too many of those old, black-and-white cowboy movies where the Indians do rain dances. If he has, he's forgetting that those dances were taken as evidence of the primitive mindset of our native brothers.

I don't believe in a deity, at least not in any sense that would be acceptable to the sorts of Bible thumpers who are applauding the governor's action, but even if I were a Christian, this sort of thing would leave me shaking my head. These believers often complain that they aren't taken seriously by those of us who embrace Enlightenment values, but what do they expect when their conception of God has more in common with Santa Claus than anything else. They're both older males of a paternal cast. Both sport long, white beards. The North Pole and Heaven? Both are far-off, inaccessible places. God sent his only son to die on a cross. Old Santa is randier sort, but there's that nasty, little genetic defect he suffers from. He hasn't been able to sire anything but elves. Still, I've got a suggestion for old Governor Sonny. Why don't you ask all the little kiddies of Georgia to tell Santa to bring them rain, lots of rain, for Christmas? God forbid that you limit water usage to the likes of Coca-Cola, or that you place restrictions upon the developers who have turned the Atlanta area into such a sprawling mess.


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