Return of Ray's Blog: What If I Got With a Amish? (Patreon)

Man, I had the craziest thought today! But wait—first of all, do non-Americans know about Amish? Here’s the crash-n-dirty: Amish are like a time capsule of America, but not one you’d open. The dudes all got children’s-musical bowl cuts and neckbeards, and they get whupped but cherry red if they so much as hoist a leg over some thought-stealin’ bicycle. They got no power lines, and supper is mashed potatoes and milk, every time. Want to use a horse for everything? Great, here’s your haircut. Want information? Have fun usin’ electricity with Satan, ’cause you are kicked out. 

Of course, there’s a lot to admire about ’em, too. First of all, their kids can’t be a dick to you when you get so lost in your thoughts you cut the cheese at Starbucks. (Film trivia: this was the original opening scene of Witness.) And their worldview is bananas-righteous! Check this out: “Jesus is first, you are last, and others are in between.” Don’t that sound exactly like some salt-raisin diner waitress in deep Tennessee, droppin’ wisdom that’s been brewin’ in the hills like a fine cask likker? 

Notice how I didn’t mention the Amish betties up there? I was savin’ the best for last! Man, I was at Mickey D’s this afternoon—droppin’ in for a McFlurry and a salad shaker apres-sauna—and damn but right in front of me were these two Amish babes! They had the bonnets, the fabric-ass nerd dresses, those black nurse-type loafers, the whole nine yards. And they seemed so interested in everything! Man, but they were bright-eyed even to just see fonts! They literally pointed out fonts. I’m glad T wasn’t there or he would have fucked that whole sitch up like a flamethrower at a balloon bouquet.

Anyhow, it made me reflect on Tina—I know, I know, Papa Pung says you can’t pick flowers where the sun don’t shine—but this was in service of the good. She was always so dead-eyed at anything she didn’t already know about, which was maybe seven things, so there was a whole lotta dead-eye. Man, had I gotten used to the idea of a partner just bein’ a total energy suck! But these Amish betties, it was like all that clean livin’ and good thinkin’ kept their souls pure and zingy! 

“Ray, you are a fool, you are a cornmeal-battered, state-fair-ribbonin’ horn DOG and they are 100% the least horndog culture on earth.” Yeah, you’re right. And Grok just told me they don’t trim that grim (it just came right out and said that, I hadn’t even typed anything or hit Return) so it’d be like massive culture shock on many fronts. Maybe that I even worry about that says I don’t deserve a Godly woman. But dang, imagine comin’ home after a hard day of honest yard stuff (in my case, maybe some Buffalo Soldier on the rider mower) and there’s flaky chicken pot pie and iced tea all crankin’ on the supper table! I take off my big straw hat, smooth down my long neckbeard, and gruffle. Later, we have nineteen children. 

I don’t know. Maybe I’m just hungry. Thinkin’ I’ll do a Full Amish tonight: ’Dash some pot pies and mash from the deli counter, Szechuan green beans, and get Papa P on the FaceTime so we can keep restorin’ my grace.  

—= Ray =—