Light My Fire

You’ve probably heard that a voodoo sex ritual has been blamed for starting a fatal fire in a New York apartment building:

http://www.nypost.com/p/news/local/brooklyn/fatal_klyn_fire_was_hex_rated_N0NlwUMYxxfrOEb1o7FSvN

It seems that discarded clothing, a protective circle of splashed rum and the lit candles around the bed proved an incendiary combination.

What gets me, though, is that the lady involved went to the Voodoo priest’s apartment wanting to rid herself of obstacles and turn her life around. She gave the dude $300 – okay, American dollars but they’re still worth something –  and let him have sex with her. Candle-knocking-over, lost-in-the moment sex, it seems.

Nice work if you can get it, Voodoo Dude.

The other striking feature of this case is the appalling commentary from NY Post readers. Noo Yawkers have a great deal of scathing, ill-informed and flat-out racist things to say about people from the Caribbean. Allegedly, these are the only people who burn candles… always, according to the commentators, with a callous and ignorant disregard for human life. Many expressed their desire to expunge all Caribbean and South American (que? because of Santeria, one assumes) people from entire residential areas.

Nice one, Seppos. Makes you proud to be Australian.

 

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32 Responses

  1. You must admit, my muse, it is a far better story than Mrs O’Leary’s cow starting the Chicago fire of 1871!

    However, on a lighter note, here is a list (from Wiki) of Christian Evangalists involved in sexual scandals…

    1.1 Aimee Semple McPherson, 1920s–40s
    1.2 Lonnie Frisbee, 1970s–1980s
    1.3 Marjoe Gortner, early 1970s
    1.4 Billy James Hargis, early 1970s
    1.5 Jim & Tammy Bakker and Jimmy Swaggart, 1986 and 1991
    1.6 Peter Popoff, 1987
    1.7 Morris Cerullo, 1990s
    1.8 Mike Warnke, 1991
    1.9 Robert Tilton, 1991
    1.10 W. V. Grant, 1996 and 2003
    1.11 Bob Moorehead, 1998
    1.12 Roy Clements, 1999
    1.13 John Paulk, 2000
    1.14 Paul Crouch, 2004
    1.15 Douglas Goodman, 2004
    1.16 Nathan Braun, 2005
    1.17 Kent Hovind, 2006
    1.18 Ted Haggard, 2006
    1.19 Paul Barnes, 2006
    1.20 Lonnie Latham, 2006
    1.21 Gilbert Deya, 2006
    1.22 Richard Roberts, 2007
    1.23 Earl Paulk, 2007
    1.24 Coy Privette, 2007
    1.25 Thomas Wesley Weeks, III, 2007
    1.26 Michael Reid, 2008
    1.27 Joe Barron, 2008
    1.28 Todd Bentley, 2008
    1.29 George Alan Rekers, 2010
    1.30 Eddie L. Long, 2010
    1.31 Vaughn Reeves, 2010
    1.32 Stephen Green, 2011
    Fred Nile (Just kidding, he has enough problems already)

    Hey! Maybe they’ll chuck all Christians out of the US and leave it to the Injuns!

  2. Good plan, Stafford.

    Now, we’ll just round up the buffalo and…
    Oh.
    Perhaps we’ll have to smoke them out. Got any candles?

    Wouldn’t it be fabulous if Fred Nile was involved in a tabloid scandal! Preferably involving a sequinned sex aid and a male 18 year old cage dancer wearing Kylie Minogue replica hotpants.

  3. Huh. I can’t wear Kylie’s gold hotpants, so why would I torture myself by looking at some 18 year old bloke wearing them? Jealous Catty is not a pretty sight.

    Although if Fred’s scandal involves hotpants catching on fire when they’re flung onto a voodoo candle, I’d probably enjoy that. Especially if there are photos. Snh, snh, snh, snh.

  4. I think you’re onto something, Catty.

    I’ve reconsidered, and I think the juiciest headlines could be garnered from a gay bath-house enema-gone-wrong scandal.

    Something like:
    “Bodyline In Flood, Nile in Denial”

    I’m sure we could work a voodoo candle in there, somewhere. But maybe only in a standing position.

  5. Ewwwwww!

  6. That’s the effect I was aiming for: a 6 w “ew”.

    Tabloid gold, baby.

    How’s back to school treating your monsters, Catty?

    We’re well settled in our ruts up here… sweating like pigs, but we’re settled.

  7. Sweating it out is about right, what a day.
    Hello all, just came up for air, what a week.

    Now, I haven’t quite caught up.
    What are we burning?
    Christians?

    Sounds good, pass the flame thrower.
    I’m sure I can knock off a few of them being that the eportal has crashed – again – thus rendering phase three of my assignment impossible.

    SNAFU, but I’m cheering anyway.

  8. Welcome back, Quokka.

    Have some tuna casserole! (trying to riff on “Welcome Back, Kotter”, there, but I suppose any joke you have to explain is probably less than successful)

    We’re not aiming to burn ALL Christians, just the rascist red-neck idiots whose answer to WWJD? is along the lines of “Kill all the people who don’t look, think and act exactly like we do, and let God sort them out.”

    Most of the readership of the NY Post, it seems.

    E-portal, crashed again you say? Surely not. I’m sure Kylie and her crack team of techies are:
    (a) filing their nails over it;
    (b) brainstorming the issues over tequila shots;
    (c) busy vajazzling an “Out of Order” sign to stick on it;
    (d) all of the above.

    For extra credit, list 3 reasons why the e-portal can’t operate for more than three hours in a row without going on the fritz. The server isn’t called Hal by any chance?

  9. Or maybe the e-portal is Marvin the Paranoid Android. There he is, brain the size of a planet….

    Hey, Quokka’s killing Christians? Will she spare me if I cower in the corner and beg? Or should I offer a bribe instead?

    Then again, maybe being toasted with a flame thrower would get me out of doing three lots of stupid homework every bloody night. I hate homework. Hate, hate, vomit!

  10. Oh, my word, yes. Homework is the living end. It’s like the bleeding eyeball on top of the maggot sundae of any given week-day.

    Grinding through the readers and the sight words makes me feel a lot like Marvin, since you mention him. With no chance of being rescued by the Infinite Improbability Drive taking a sideways jump into some parallel dimension, either.

    All I have to look forward to after the GD homework is cooking the GD dinner.

    * sigh *

  11. Oh, yeah. Dinner. That they won’t eat. Why do we bother?
    I’d move us in next to a McDonalds and tell them to fend for themselves, but within the week they’d be bored with it and decide they didn’t want it any more. Fickle! They don’t get that from me. I’ll eat anything. Except things with eyeballs, so I’ll pass on the maggot sundae. (Where do you come up with this stuff, Madam? I’m horribly jealous).

    Meanwhile, I have a headache the size of a planet. This means I’m going to have to ignore the dusting and vacuuming, as I don’t want the dust to inflame my sinuses. Poor me, hey? 😉

  12. Oh Catty, you poor darling.

    While you’re lying on the couch… or preferably in a bubble bath, although I’ll understand if you’re too unwell to draw a bath… make sure to administer plenty of anti-oxidants. You may find chocolate is convenient.

    And avoid housework as much as possible for the rest of the week.

    We wouldn’t want a relapse, now, would we?

    To show the depth of my regard for you, and in sisterly solidarity, I too will avoid housework for the week. No, really – although its a great sacrifice – I will.

    P.S (stuff like ‘maggot sundae’ comes straight from the borderline sanity, I expect)

  13. Thank you, Madam. I find your compassionate response very comforting. But I still have the headache. Maybe we should refrain from housework for two weeks? And I’d be glad if you could join me in reclining on the couch, nomming medicinal chocolate.

    It’s like I always say. There’s nothing better than a good friend, except a good friend with chocolate.

  14. I accept your kind suggestion with gratitude, Catty. Two weeks it is. Shall we start on the Toblerone, or would you like to sample these amusing little caramel sticks from Aldi? Tasty, but regrettably tiny.

    If the kids don’t eat their chicken burgers tonight they can forage for bush tucker in the backyard.

    Do cicada larvae taste like witchety grubs, I wonder?

  15. Mmmmm…. cicadas…. crunchy….

    Are the caramel sticks the ones that look like little tree branches? Or the rectangular individually wrapped ones in the trays? Mardi, I think they’re called. And you’re right. They are waaaaay too small. You’re right. We should start on the Toblerone. At least that comes in a decent size.

  16. The branchy ones. I haven’t tried the wrapped ones. Should I?

    Toblerone it is. Do you want “TOBLE” or “RONE(blank)”?

    Hey, “toble or rone”… I think you could work that into a country chorus, somewhere, Catty.

  17. Good idea. I’ll get out my rhyming dictionary – it’ll give me something to do when Judge Judy, Dr Phil, and the Toblerone are finished.

  18. Just remember me when the massive royalties start rolling in.

    I don’t take Paypal, but do accept all of the major currencies: Belgian chocolate, Swiss chocolate, Hand-crafted Australian chocolate…

  19. Tasmanian fudge, vodka….

  20. Mmm… fudge and vodka.

  21. Make mine a double.

    Perhaps we can agree on a compromise and burn all homework (starting with mine the 2 weeks worth of mine that I have yet to hand in because the fracking eportal is down – at least everyone is in the same position) and then progress to incinerating dusting cloths and dirty dishes.

    The college vajazzler is out of order, too, they went through the entire day without posting a sign to say which toilets were out of order this time around.

    Sigh.
    I’ve been to school, fed the flood cats, and am heading for some much needed couch time before I wake up tomorrow and have to head off to two days of Senior First Aid training with the Queensland ambulance at Spring Hill.

    Did I mention that school gave us a week’s notice that we needed a first aid certificate before we started prac, we have two weeks to complete it before they sever our heads and place them on a line of pikes by the Welcome sign out front, and that if we don’t have said 1st aid by the end of week 2, we can sign up for their brand new first aid course (for twice the price) but we don’t need to worry about completing it until the last day of semester.

    We never used to need the 1st aid until we graduated so of course everyone put it off till school was over and we could be steadily drunk or stoned through the entire 2 days of mannikin sucking.

    Oh well.
    Shall have to ask for everyone’s continued patience with the study horror for some time, yet, lest I get another F for Faff on my report card.

    Oh that’s right, I have homework.
    Pass the Little Lucifers, please, and the vodka.

  22. Sorry, Quokka, I’m all out of LIttle Lucifers. However, we make our own fire-lighters from upcycled polystyrene packaging (cubes cut from broccoli boxes are ideal!) and petrol.

    They’re really incendiary, but avoid breathing in while you’re “handing in your homework”

    Hang in there and enjoy first aid. You can always ask the instructor what NOT to do… and then go straight to Kylie and follow his advice.

  23. Having your head stuck on a pike, Quokka? Oh, I HATE it when that happens to me. Here, have some more vodka.

  24. The only thing vodka can’t cure is alcoholism.

    Hic!

  25. And my mother’s cooking. *shudder*

  26. So, Catty – how are you travelling, two days into our fortnight of housework avoidance?

    My tiled floor has reached a glorious level of neglect – you can hardly see the grout for all the discarded kid’s clothes, stray bits of Lego, nerf ammo and paddle-pop sticks. Not to mention the dune-sized drifts of sand.

    I’m ashamed to admit, though, that I dusted a venetian blind yesterday.

    I just wanted to try out my new lambswool duster, I swear.

    *sob*

    I’ll slacken the hell off today, I swear. And there will be potato chips.

  27. Chips? You’re forgiven, baby!

    No, I must tell the truth. I did a load of washing yesterday. But it was just because I’d run out of socks, honestly.

    Will atonement cupcakes suffice for my lack of slackness?

  28. Mmm… cupcakes.

    Sounds perfect, Catty. Although if you’re planning on baking them yourself, it kind of counts as a strike against the housework embargo.

    Whatever you do, though, don’t buy them from Woolies. They ice theirs with polymer clay.

  29. Ick! I’ve eaten more clay in this life than any one woman should have to.

    You know, I recently found out that when toddlers hand you a playdough cake, or a mud pie, or a clay hamburger, you can just pretend to eat it? D-oh!

  30. I think you mean “Dough!”, Catty.

    My kids were never big on mud pies: golems, tombstones and dinosaur skeletons, yes, but not mud pies.

    Bless their warped black little hearts.

  31. We have a lemon tree in the courtyard. The kidlets love to hack open the fallen lemons with their tea set knives, and then squeeze the juice into plastic teacups. They add sand and water, and then present me with a nice cup of lemon ‘tea’. Then they abandon the rotting, oozing half-lemons for me to clean up.

    Huh. You think they’d know by now that I like coffee.

  32. I think they’ve got a great future in the day spa industry, Catty. If that concoction won’t give your insides a thorough cleanse, I can’t think what would.

    Alternatively, get them to omit the sand and water and add vodka, ice and soda. Sugar syrup to taste.

    Mmm… fireade.

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