Since I'm in Tulsa, I was going to write a post today about Tulsa-style faith-healing. I still intend to do that before the week is over, but this is, after all, supposed to be my vacation, so I decided to take most of today off from writing and editing (even though I brought work with me that needs to be done. Thanks for bringing it up.)
Very early tomorrow morning, Darlene and I will get up and drive to Branson, Missouri. It's my absolute least favorite place in America: a shallow, artificial, entertainment-oriented culture that pretends to be rural but grinds to a halt every day with traffic jams that stretch for ten miles and manage to make big-city traffic seem like a drive in the country by comparison.
Branson is the place where Jim Bakker went to start a new "ministry" after his release from prison. If he had come to any real American town and announced he was starting a TV ministry, he would have been tarred and feathered and ridden out on a rail. But I understand he has been quite successful in Branson. Show-biz style religion is very, very popular there. Not as popular as bad country music, perhaps, but still very popular.
Did I mention that I really hate the place?
Darlene's parents live there, however, and I really do love my in-laws. So almost every time we come to Tulsa, we make the long, tedious drive to Branson. Tomorrow we will make that annual pilgrimage.
Darlene will drive, and I'll plug my new laptop into the cigarette lighter and try to finish editing a chapter John MacArthur is contributing to one of those symposium books currently being assembled by our friends at Ligonier Ministries. I hope I can get it done, because tomorrow is the deadline. (Burk Parsons, if you see this; I haven't forgotten.)
Then Thursday we'll return from Branson via Siloam Springs, where we'll have lunch with the inimitable Frank Turkhe of "Centuri0n" fame.
So I have no time or energy to post anything of substance tonight. But as long as I'm here, and seeing that my past two posts have both been accompanied by comic-book art, why not continue the week's theme?
I've always loved the look of comic-book cover art. Just the image of a comic-book cover evokes vivid memories from my childhood of the unique smell of freshly-printed comic-book paper. Today's comic books don't ever smell that good. What's up with that?
Anyway, this cover is in honor of my new sidekick, Pecadillo, whose blog has managed to upset more homeschool moms in a single week than I did in my first three months.
My sincerest apologies to all whom he has managed to offend. Let me just say that he takes after his mother.