Holy Hand Grenades

My last non-you-deserved-to-raped-for-being-a-hoe related posted reiterated what most of my friends and family have known for decades:  I am one twisted sister.     This week's example comes in the form of my devotion to movies made before I was born, that are demented in ways I should not understand.  I blame this squarely on my best friend, Christy Smith, who introduced me to the wild world of Monty Python.   I can't remember if I was watching 70's horror movies before meeting her with such gusto, but I'm pretty sure she was involved somehow.   Which came first?  The references to the Exorcist in everyday conversation?  Or me watching the Exorcist with Christy Lyn?  I don't remember.   Frankly, I've drank since then.

You think this was mean of me to put in your head?   This isn't even the part we made jokes about for years.  I AM being nice. 

How could you laugh about something as serious as demonic possession, Leslie?   Seriously?  Have you seen it?   The movie or someone possessed by a demon?   Either one really.   Take your pick.   After you've seen it five or six times (the movie), that line is hilarious when brought up out of context.     From a serious perspective, the only thing that movie really serves as is a training video of what all can go horribly wrong with an exorcism if you're dumb enough to send a faithless priest into the home of a family with no religious background after the situation with the child and the demon have gotten ridiculously bad.  Lesson to take away?  Interview your home-chicken BEFORE you go in there, Padre, and you're a lot less likely to die of a heart attack mid ritual.

Seriously.   I digress.

The hand grenade situation.   I absolutely laughed my face off the first time I saw that scene in that movie.   The procession, the incense, the chanting, blessing the thing before tossing it at the 'killer bunny', it was all so.. something we would do.   Episcopalians, high church ones in particular, would do something like bless a flipping grenade.  In a procession, with incense, and frankly, I'm surprised no one has uncovered the Book of Armaments.  

A break from reading my blather:

Night guys, sweet dreams.