My PseudoAunt is under the influence of a couple of legally prescribed and medically indicated mind-altering substances. She's been pontificating in a lengthy post to our cyber-friend. I told her twice that her clarity has become seriously compromised by the medications she has taken, and that she might wake up in the morning and wonder why we allowed her to go on and on about whatever topic it is that she's addressing. She's veered sharply with few if any transitions between themes involving Theresa of Judge Alex's fan page (and soon not to be of Judge Alex's page, if Theresa's predictions of her demise on the page are to be believed), hurricanes, the lack of a clear mission in the hearts and minds of many military servicemen and women, and the lack of scruples in certain individuals, who will use the obvious absence of sanity of other posters as a forum for their own jokes.
It's unfortunate that PseudoAunt is not a member of a church where women preach sermons, because all one would need to do would be to give her a Vicodin and perhaps an ibuprofen for good measure, then steer her toward a pulpit, wind her up, and let her talk. Church would instantly become less boring and worth paying attention.
My sort-of-cousin Abdrew is really great at giving bogus sermons. He has several down pat, but he can also wing it on a given topic. He just spouts complete madness for the most part, but he does it in a sort of vitriolic manner that would make most people hearing him wonder if he might be serious in what he says. He talks about how Jesus is opposed to gun control because when people ask the Lord to protect them, they ask as though it is God's total responsibility to take care of everyone without any of us as much as lifting a finger in our own defense. Andrew likens it to the part of the Lord's Prayer that says, "Give us this day our daily bread." We wouldn't pray that prayer but then sit on our butts all day, not working, not growing any food, or at least not collecting cans on the side of the road in order to have sufficient funds to purchase something from the dollar menu at Wendy's. According to Andrew, just as we woulnd't sit idly, praying for food but doing nothing to produce it or to produce the funds that would provide it, we owe it to God and to ourselves to keep AK47's or whatever they're called, in our closets and under our beds to aid God in protecting us. His delivery is virtually flawless.
Andrew was not a great student. He did well in an occasional class, but for the most part, he just took tests but did almost no class assignments except for the ones of which his mother was aware and absolutely insisted that he do. Even with his lack of productivity, most of his teachers liked him because he was funny. Many people strive to be class clowns without the skills to back up the job description. One cannot successfully hold down the position of Class Clown unless the person is genuinely funny. Andrew is genuinely funny. So is PseudoAunt when she's had a Vicodin or two.
PseudoAunt's emails and PMs tonight sounded a lot like Andrew's sermons except that she wasn't attempting to be funny. If it were not a form of drug abuse, someone could give PseudoAunt Vicodin and maybe a benzo of some sort, then push her onto a stage. The smartest thing would be to tell her she was to give a serious academic discourse rather than tell her she was doing stand-up comedy. She'd probably be funnier if she didn't know she was supposed to be funny.