BY HOOK OR BY CROOK
'By hook or by crook,' she said, and I was
hauled off stage. My mother used that phrase
a lot, and I never knew why. She also often said
something else, like 'I'll bet you 10 to 1 that
won't happen', or whatever; using those '10 to 1'
betting odds often - as if she was a gambler
or an inveterate oddsmaker. Never got to
the bottom of that one. Strange to say.
-
Nowadays, by contrast, they talk of other
things. Absolute rubbish having become King,
words are said that - as much - don't mean
a thing. 1940's claptrap could probably still
stand today; and I'll bet she learned all
that lingo on the streets of Bayonne.
-
One day I walked in where she was busy,
and saw what I saw. She was gluing plastic
Jesus's onto plastic crucifixes. 'For the Sodality
fund raiser' she muttered. A sort of catholic
church beanpole-stupidity ladies club, I think.
Filled with all the usual morons - women who'd
rather stand at the sink and pray to Jesus than
go home to fuck or make love. 'Mother Mary,
you who conceived with sinning, I pray let me
sin without conceiving.' That may have been
meant for me.
-
I turned to her and said, 'you know your Jesus
was a rotten criminal hung on a deadly cross,
ragged as Hell and bloodied to a shitty death?
You know that, right? He sat down, playing cards,
with a bottle of gin and three wise men sitting
across from him. The cattle were braying, the
stars were all lit.' It went on for a while, but
really now I forget all the rest. God bless her
soul, I guess.
'By hook or by crook,' she said, and I was
hauled off stage. My mother used that phrase
a lot, and I never knew why. She also often said
something else, like 'I'll bet you 10 to 1 that
won't happen', or whatever; using those '10 to 1'
betting odds often - as if she was a gambler
or an inveterate oddsmaker. Never got to
the bottom of that one. Strange to say.
-
Nowadays, by contrast, they talk of other
things. Absolute rubbish having become King,
words are said that - as much - don't mean
a thing. 1940's claptrap could probably still
stand today; and I'll bet she learned all
that lingo on the streets of Bayonne.
-
One day I walked in where she was busy,
and saw what I saw. She was gluing plastic
Jesus's onto plastic crucifixes. 'For the Sodality
fund raiser' she muttered. A sort of catholic
church beanpole-stupidity ladies club, I think.
Filled with all the usual morons - women who'd
rather stand at the sink and pray to Jesus than
go home to fuck or make love. 'Mother Mary,
you who conceived with sinning, I pray let me
sin without conceiving.' That may have been
meant for me.
-
I turned to her and said, 'you know your Jesus
was a rotten criminal hung on a deadly cross,
ragged as Hell and bloodied to a shitty death?
You know that, right? He sat down, playing cards,
with a bottle of gin and three wise men sitting
across from him. The cattle were braying, the
stars were all lit.' It went on for a while, but
really now I forget all the rest. God bless her
soul, I guess.
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