Weekend Eve thank the spaghetti monster

geese morning 6
Originally uploaded by mygothlaundry

Well, I buried Pebble on Tuesday evening in the front yard. It was dark and windy with occasional spatters of rain, which is highly appropriate weather for gravedigging, so that was good. I hadn't dug a grave in some time - not, you know, that I go around digging graves a lot or anything. I can see where it might make a suitable Goth exercise video and all but it's just not my favorite activity. I'm just hoping the grave was deep enough and we don't have one of those awful zombie episodes. Hate those.

After the grave digging, it was necessary to wake her thoroughly, to which end Audrey and Joey came over with a twelve pack. Yeah, it never occurred to me before that the "Wake" is kind of a very deeply weird term for that activity. Are we really trying to wake the dearly deceased up? As in, we'll get so drunk that we'll wake the dead? Nobody wants a reanimated corpse, even of the most utterly loved departed, lurching around their wake - see the point at the end of the last paragraph. I mean, it's just creepy.

At any rate we told a lot of stories of cats past and drank beer and so on and perhaps Pebble would have liked it, although, given that it did not involve cans of Fancy Feast for her to either gorge on or sneer at, depending on her mood, probably not. I am thinking of getting another cat, even though I know it is too soon and even though my son has sat me down and said, gently, "Mom, you know, three dogs is probably enough animals for any one house." He is right but I miss my cat. Tempus fucking fugit and ars brevis and all that latin shit: pro patria mori, I suppose, given our uniquely American relationship with our precious automobiles. I wonder if cats were ever run over by oxcarts?

MOVING RIGHT ALONG
I have gotten a shipment from the aptly named Do Your Own Pest Control and when I get home tonight, I'm looking forward to spreading toxic chemicals around the house. Whee! Hippie that I am, I read the ingredients list on all of their offerings and settled on the ones that sounded the least deadly, which probably means that any living bugs will scoff at it. I did, however, get diatomaceous earth, even though I have a vague memory of using it for cockroaches in Baltimore who were completely unfazed by the stuff. Baltimore cockroaches are of course immune to pretty much everything except 3 megaton and above atomic devices, so there is that and maybe it will work better on these bugs. One can but hope.

Next week is Thanksgiving! Have you gotten your invitation to the umpteenth Thanksgiving dinner for waifs, orphans and strays yet? Do you want one? Then email me and it shall be yours.

Pebble: March 2008 - November 17, 2009

pebble
Originally uploaded by mygothlaundry

When I first moved in two of my neighbors came over to introduce me and warn me not to let my cat out of the house because the lady who lived here before me lost three cats on Riverview Drive. I tried to listen to them but I am weak and lazy and the dogs go in and out, in and out, all day long and so did Pebble. I thought perhaps it would be okay.

I was wrong and sometime last night the road claimed another victim and I have lost another cat.

I had no intention of getting another cat because my luck with cats has been terrible over the last ten years.My cats have all died young, ever since Andy Warhol, insane orange and white cat, the vomit comet, cattus horribilis, finally died after 15 years of generally being a pain in the ass - but a uniquely weird pain in the ass. Andy's death was followed a couple years later by Fred's, who will forever be known as the Greatest Cat Ever, despite his sinus problems (six years after Fred died, there is STILL cat snot on some of my things.) Fred, despite his intimidating 17 pound size and general air of insouciance, had many major health issues already in place by the time he turned up half dead in my Baltimore county basement and that he made it to age 6 at all was some kind of feline miracle. After Fred came Barbieri and Mr. Bill, feral gray and white brothers, ferocious and dedicated hunters, both of whom went untimely early: Barbieri victim of a car on Swannanoa Avenue and Mr. Bill just disappearing one day and never returning, never found.

I said then that I would have no more cats and I should clearly have stuck to that, but Audrey's cat had kittens and I am a sucker and so Pebble came to live with me and now Pebble, who was a darling, a sweet and lovely and funny smart talkative cat, is no more. God DAMN, I hate this.

Weekend Update

john payne bird 1
Originally uploaded by mygothlaundry

On Saturday morning I got up early and took the dogs for a hike in Bent Creek. Theo got into a small fight; Perdita vanished for 10 minutes and I was forced to be slightly rude to a jogger (just because I'm a bitch sometimes) but other than that, it was lovely. Afterwards, I took Annie to W.Izzzys for coffee, where we ran into my brother and a friend of his who were caffeining up before getting on their motorcycles to ride to Helen, Georgia. "What's Helen, Georgia?" I asked. "Sort of a Gatlinburg wannabe," said my brother.
"Excellent!" I said.

Then Annie and I went off to the studio stroll. The studio stroll is good with Annie, because she can only do one building and thus you don't go into art overload, which is otherwise a real danger. We did the Wedge building and Annie saw John Payne's bird, pictured here, for the first time. She was enthralled. She also stopped my flirtation with a tall and handsome artist cold, alas.

Me: "Wow, nice work."
Him: "Thanks!"
Annie, pointing to painting: "What is the owl thinking about? Where does he live?"
Him: "Um, well, I think he lives over here."
Annie: "Did you hear they've found water on the MOON?"
Him: "Why, uh, yes, I did hear that."
Annie: "We'll all be living there soon. They're going to move us all to the moon. Are you ready to move to the MOON?"
Him: "No, I don't think I want to live on the moon."
Annie, darkly: "You won't have a choice."
Me: "We have a lot more to see now! Thanks so much!"

The studio stroll was inspiring, actually - I went home and painted. This is what I painted - yes, I am aware that it is in fact pretty damn weird! I am getting weirder and weirder, apparently - it's one of the perks of aging. Still, it was fun and it was such a beautiful day that I painted on the porch, steadfastly ignoring the many fallen leaves on the front lawn. Fuck the leaves! I hate raking leaves. They look beautiful right now on the ground and make that great shuffly sound when I walk through them, so the hell with bourgeoisie values, I'm not raking. Take that, The Man!

Yeah, okay, I'll probably rake them at some point soon. I can take on The Man but withering looks from my neighbors fill me with guilt. It's a terrible thing to have been properly raised.

Last night my friend Jay and I went out to dinner. We tried to go to Cocina Latina but it is inexplicably closed on Sundays, as is Nona Mia. Jesus, you have a lot of Sunday evening West Asheville dining sorrow to make up for, here. We ended up at Papas and Beer, though, and that was excellent. I am very fond of Papas and Beer, from their wondrously descriptive name to the large purple birthday sombrero that gets trotted around the dining room. And the food is cheap and good. Anyway, Jay has published another book! You should go and buy a copy! I took the author photograph, so this marks my first published photograph, too, whoooo for me.

AND IN OTHER NEWS THE DREADED TURKEY APPROACHETH.
If you would like to come over for Thanksgiving dinner - turkey and all the fixins, a traditional if somewhat boozy Thanksgiving dinner - email me and I will send you out a super groovy invitation.

Motel Adventure

first frosty leaves
Originally uploaded by mygothlaundry

Last night I stayed in a motel all by myself. That is the kind of thing that normal people do all the time without thinking about it, I know, but I just sort of never have, except possibly maybe once, long long ago in a galaxy far, far away. You see, I had a child when I was rather young and then another one some eight or so years later and thus all my motel visit memories seem to include small children jumping on beds and the glory that was the Cartoon Channel to kids who had never seen cable TV before.

The exterminators came yesterday and, based on my previous I-nearly-died-of-the-fumes experience with fumigation, I reserved a motel room with Priceline. I never use Priceline anymore because you can't change anything, but, hey, this time, I figured, nothing would change and I got a good deal, so, what the hell. Naturally, I didn't then need it: the exterminators just did not exterminate as vigorously as they did in August and so the house smelled more or less fine. My son, who was supposed to accompany me on this motel adventure, also decamped for his friends', which is completely understandable (I personally would probably have preferred to hang myself rather than share a motel room in my home town with my parent at the age of 17.) So there I was, motel room reserved and paid for but house totally habitable. What do you do?

I went to the motel. Well, first I considered auctioning the room off on Craigslist or giving it to my daughter and then I got all angsted out about it. Maybe the fumes were stronger than I thought, because then I went to dinner with my friend Charles at Sunny Point and realized that I was a) just hungry and b) acting like a world class idiot. I mean, motel room! What's not to like? And it was pretty damn cool, if a little nervewracking: I forgot the bottle opener and was forced to watch TV. The bottle opener was a problem because I, like an idiot, have never learned to open beer with a lighter and you have to drink a beer when you're all alone in a motel room like a grownup. Then you have to go outside in your sweatpants and bare feet and sneak around the balcony to an unobtrusive location to smoke your sinful cigarettes, too, which is somehow a little less fun, although I did make several tourists jump.

The TV was worse. I very rarely watch TV so I don't know what to watch when I do and also, the ads get to me. I sat there and stared at the pretty glittering people on the commercials and all the graphics oozing around everything and the colors and lights and just sort of went whooooooooom whooooom and before I knew it almost an hour had gone by. In between the ads was Mythbusters, which I do really like, so that was good, and they had explosions, which is always pleasant. After that I could find nothing to watch - why is there never anything to watch? There are like 40 bajillion channels out there nowadays and all of them are showing either sports, infomercials, "documentaries" on gangs or horrible rich people doing horrible things to other horrible rich people and whining about it. I had to put on the Lion, the Witch & the Wardrobe and then the Christian allegory got to me. TV is overwhelming. If I had one in the living room I'd get even less accomplished than I do now.

In the morning I had coffee from my motel coffee maker and a motel shower with motel towels, all most satisfying and then went down to the lobby for the free breakfast. This was a classy motel - they had a lot more than stale danish and weak coffee. There was a waffle iron! And biscuits! And strange microwaved omelette thingies. I ate one of those on my way home, where, despite the lack of motel towels, built in kleenex dispensers, TVs and tiny wrapped soap, I was very happy to be.

Bugpocalypse, Round 2

ozymandias
Originally uploaded by mygothlaundry

Hi there. Guess what I've been dealing with! The hint is in the title - yup, the bugs are back. Back with a vengeance: I have huge welts up and down my throat and face - it's very attractive. And, just like the last time, every single piece of clothing, every sheet, dishtowel, pillowcase, porch chair cushion, old dog walking jacket and silk scarf have to go through a hot dryer for an hour and then be sealed in plastic. My room has been dismantled; my bed is in the center, with double sided tape on every leg so nothing can climb up. The exterminators will be back tomorrow to completely fill the house with poison again and I'm taping plastic up over the kitchen shelves and putting every food item that's not fully sealed in a giant tupperware bin out on the porch. The dog beds are going to the dump, this round, as is the papasan chair downstairs and, hell, me.

Sometimes I think I pissed some small but powerful deity off but good one day without thinking about it. I'm lucky - except for 2008, nothing THAT terrible happens, just an endless round of really pretty fucking bad stuff that's almost but not quite apocalyptic. My son and I have been talking about gods, lately - he is tending towards belief, while with every go round of nightmare, every year, I go further and further away.

"What have we done to deserve this? We should pray, maybe," he said,
and I said, "to who? The bug god?"
And he said, "What kind of sacrifice would please the insect god?"

Which is a damn good question. The answer, alas, is probably something like kittens, although I was thinking perhaps huge heaps of fiery dung. Either way, I think the insect god is getting his sacrifice in the form of a few more of my wool sweaters and a shitload more of my sanity. It's hard to sleep when at any moment you may be attacked, even though we're both redolent of Deep Woods Off as we crawl under the covers.

And So On

laser beams from city hall
Originally uploaded by mygothlaundry

There are a whole lot of lost tourists downtown. I'm thinking that next time, we need to dump giant boulders on both sides of I-40 instead of just the one. Like zombies mindlessly beating their way into the Wal Mart (as everyone knows, Wal-Mart is the best place to hole up for a zombie apocalypse) the tourists are still getting through and they cannot drive worth a good goddamn. Of course, we in Asheville refuse to mark our streets, so there is that. However, all that will change now that Gordon Smith is our newest benevolent overlord! All Hail! Bring us sidewalks or bring us death, dude.

Highland Brewing has released this year's version of Cold Mountain, their winter beer and I went and bought two bottles on Wednesday. It is so delicious that all other beer will forevermore and henceforth taste not as good. However, do not listen to me! You will hate it! Don't go buy any! It is all for meeeeeee! Or, so I wish. Fortunately for my liver and my waistline but causing me to weep bitter tears of rue, it is not all for me, no, it will sell out soon (so get yours now) and I will not be able to find any more until next year.

In other news, I have not a damn thing planned for the weekend except attending a metafilter dinner party on Saturday, which should be fun and, of course, cleaning the entire house, which should not be fun at all. My friend and handyman Adam has been back in town from Baltimore and he has done all kinds of work around the house over the last week - there is a door to teenage wasteland! The downstairs toilet is rebuilt! the hose no longer leaks! the gutters are clean! and etc. Home ownership is a fucking pain in the ass, let me add, but Adam makes it doable. Therefore, if you need any home repairs done, email me and I will give you his phone number. He is awesome at everything.

In other news, there is no other news, except that it is actually supposed to not rain this weekend. Whoooooo!

a murder of crows

a murder of crows
Originally uploaded by mygothlaundry

There were about eleventy million crows at Richmond Hill this morning around 7:15 or so. I like crows for the most part but I was also permanently scarred by watching The Birds on TV when I was 11 or thereabouts so the constant cawing and swooping and taking up of the entire top of the forest was a mixed blessing. I harbor no illusions that my dogs would be any good whatsoever in the face of a sustained crow attack; besides, they would probably set it off by chasing them out of the parking lot in the first place. Dogs, I have noticed, enjoy a lot of completely futile endeavors, like chasing crows and barking at squirrels. Hint to all dogs: it is way easier to catch a squirrel that you haven't barked at yet and running into a flock of birds is a damn good way to get yourself shat on. But who am I to talk? The dogs feel the same way about all the time I spend sitting in the big chair (the really comfy chair they want to sleep on, at that) constantly turning over pages of paper. And then I get upset, too, when they try to help by chewing up those pesky paper objects.

I have managed to walk the dogs every morning so far this week since I like colder weather - it chases off most of the joggers - and I like being able to see. It was particularly easy this morning, because the gas company minions arrived at 7:00 with large yellow machinery. The guy who seemed to be in charge had a white ponytail and intricate blue tattoos all the way down his neck. He was very friendly and I understood very little of what he said. "We're just putting in the dpiojerlsnjfi," he said cheerfully. "Then the other guys will aoijwrfekm with the soinfaieonffewion in about two weeks or maybe longer, depends on the weather and the poiajoiewrm."
"Great!" I said, smiling back and looking a little mournfully at what used to be my lawn. (Surprisingly enough, there was some damn good dirt down there.) "Do you need me to be here?"
"Oh no," he said, "We'll just fix the woirjerl to the wpoiremr and you'll be all set."
So I should have gas in a month. I think. Or maybe this was some kind of random yard digging up heavy equipment crew of performance artists: you just never can tell.

New Faux Fisheye Thingie AND bonus Edgar Allan Poe stuff!

In my continuous camera frenzy, I ordered this nifty thing. I thought it would give me groovy distorted circular images and be so unbeatably cool that I would finally, finally join the ranks of the cool kids. Or something - hell, I don't know, I figured it was thirty bucks and worth a shot. Now I have owned it for slightly less than 24 hours, I am not entirely sure if it was worth thirty bucks. Perhaps twenty four ninety five. Anyway, the picture on the left was taken without it while (you guessed it!) the one on the right was taken with it on. As we see, it definitely widens the angle but it would appear to lose some focus, which in some cases is fine, i.e., here, where it makes my house look super trippy and bizarroid, as befits it's sixties style. Further experimentation will be necessary but oh well, what the hell, new toy! And it makes my camera look intimidatingly professional, so there's that.

In other news, Theo let me vacuum him last night. I think it is highly inefficient of collies to lose last year's winter coat mostly in the fall in preparation for the new one to come in but alas, in this universe of unintelligent design, that's how it works. If I had designed collies the whole thing would come off in one piece like a snakeskin instead of clumping off in awful chunks that clog up the vacuum cleaner and make Theo look motheaten and even more pathetic than usual. But as we know, they did not call on me to design the universe, more fools they.

In other other news, it's only the third day of November and I'm already like 2000 words behind in NaNoWriMo. This does not bode well but I keep thinking I will sit down momentarily and whip them out in short order. Ha! We shall see. Also, since it is the third day of November, that means that YOU (and I, I'm going after work, I promise) must exercise your right as a citizen and GO OUT AND VOTE! It only takes a minute, really, and they give you a free sticker. Free sticker! How can you possibly resist? Vote your pants off, Asheville. Vote like . . . like. . . like something or someone who votes extremely seriously and intensely. Like Edgar Allan Poe on a laudanum binge.

There is some rumor I read somewhere once that said the final consumption & pneumonia that killed Poe was due to his having been abducted by scurrilous vote getters in Baltimore while he was on a laudanum & whisky binge. These vote getters were hired thugs who went around grabbing derelicts and forcing them to vote. This tactic has fallen into disfavor, recently, although perhaps, Gordon, if you're reading this, you might want to give it a try! Not that I would ever advocate such a thing. I'll vote twice for laudanum, though.

Another Halloween Survived

spookyblogapaloozananny lich with straw
Originally uploaded by mygothlaundry

Phew. It's a good damn thing I don't have to worship the Dark Lord every weekend or I'd be undead by now. I seem to have been ridiculously busy these past few days and also I had a couple of minor mood meltdowns, attributable no doubt to the influence of a malign star or possibly dehydration. Or maybe it was that trip to Starbucks on Friday - if, by the way, it ever seems to you that a large bold roast with a shot of espresso is a good idea on a day that you're going to spend in a waiting room, think again! It doesn't even taste that tasty.

On Wednesday night we duly carved our semi stolen pumpkins; much fun was had; several awesome pumpkins were carved and painted (it turns out that warty pumpkins, which seem so awesome, are actually made of wood or steel or some other uncarveable substance.) On Thursday nothing much happened as far as I can remember, although I did my civic duty and went to the neighborhood association meeting. Helpful community note! There are going to be speed traps on my street beginning right away, so if you are illegal in any way, take another route. Also on Friday my good friend Jay had surgery on his knee and I accompanied him through that entire fun filled day at Knee Surgeries R' Us, which was much more enjoyable for me, Starbucks notwithstanding, than for him.

Friday evening, after delivering the aforesaid jack o'lanterns and stabbing myself in the hand (it is not advisable to try to saw frozen basil in oil out of a plastic container with a sharp knife in your right hand while you are holding said container in your left, let me tell you) and then ruining dinner (Sam's club ravioli sucks and falls apart when you boil it) I retired to my bed insisting that I was not going to the party and was in fact planning to sleep out the next several months or possibly years. However, I eventually came out of it and made it over to spookyblogapaloozathan, where I was impressed and abashed by the many, many wonderful costumes. Also, thanks for the votes: you are right now reading the Blog Most Likely To Make You Laugh Out Loud - for, I think, the third year in a row or something? Thank you! I will now say something funny! A ghost walks into a bar! But he goes right through it! Ba dum boom shish! Or, okay, not.

Friday ended up at the Admiral which was lovely as always and then Saturday, the actual Day, the Sacred Holiday, I did pretty much nothing except complain and wander about aimlessly in my slippers. Whining can also be a religious observance, hey. Then as evening fell I transformed myself into the Bad Hair Fairy, picked up Susan and Laura and headed on over through the rain to the Haen Gallery where my friends Katherine and Kate were having their engagement party. The costumes there were also spectacular and the zombie brides to be looked very happy and beautiful despite their deadness.

We then moved on to another Halloween party with some extremely cool people who are actually neighbors of mine I have long wanted to meet, so that was excellent. They were off on other adventures which we graciously declined as being too damn rainy and cold (Wimps R Us) and instead trick or treated for beers at Zen & Helen's house - they were surprised and seemed even pleased. The weather, however, was unchanging so we gave up on the rain, the cold and the Halloween and hung out at Susan's drinking beer. I do that a lot so I kind of forgot it was Halloween for a bit until I looked down at my legs and thought momentarily "What the hell? Why am I wearing a satin miniskirt?" Words to live by!

SO that was Halloween and it was all in a all a great one. Yesterday I took down all the decorations in record time and breathed a sigh of relief right up until the point where I realized that the Other Holidays (insert sound of doom, like the drum scene in the Mines of Moria or perhaps the Carmina Burana, here) are coming up now. My plan to sleep for a few months sounds better every minute.

Pumpkins and More

plastic bones in shadow
Originally uploaded by mygothlaundry

I have been indulging in way too much retail therapy lately. Both the kids needed new clothes and so I worked out a deal whereby I would pay for half their clothes (the left half) and thus there was a flurry of ordering stuff online last week (my son, never having known life without the internets, is shocked and horrified at the thought of actually going to a, gasp, store and, oh god, trying things on.) This would be not particularly noteworthy except that of course I had to order myself stuff too - otherwise it's just no fun - and thus I ended up with a flame orange lace trimmed camisole and a pair of plaid ballet flats that would have brought my mother to tears of preppy joy. I'm returning the shoes - fortunately for my self respect they don't fit - and I have convinced myself that if perchance I am ever down to my lingerie in the woods again (a girl can dream) then at least I won't be shot by hunters.

However, buying all these things was simple and painless compared to the problem of purchasing pumpkins. You can't order pumpkins online unless you're way more organized than I am. The one pumpkin I grew turned to mush about ten days ago, alas, and I somehow managed to volunteer to bring jack o' lanterns to the unpronounceable blog party on Friday, therefore, I needed pumpkins. I have arranged for my friends to come over tonight to carve said pumpkins (you can come too, if you want, email me) and thus I really needed pumpkins and soon. So, I went to Sam's Club on Monday (and got a bunch of large size prints done from photos that turned out really well - cheap! Cheapcheap! Now my daughter's house has groovy art!) and discovered that they were out of pumpkins. Okay, no pumpkins; I left there and went to K-Mart to get frames for the aforementioned photos. The Patton Avenue K-Mart has reinvented itself as a downscale Target, by the way, and everything has been moved around, but somehow it's still depressing. They really need to burn that place to the ground; I think it's over a Native American burial site or maybe a portal to hell. Could be, though, that the faint screams of the damned that always echo through the air there are just employees or maybe it's a corporate provided soundtrack, who knows? Anyway, they didn't have pumpkins but then I didn't really expect them to so I left with my frames and as I sat in traffic on Louisiana Avenue I noticed people with signs on the corner.

I couldn't read the signs but I wondered what they were doing, muzzily assuming that perhaps it was a carwash, although 6 pm on an October Monday seems like a weird time for a charity carwash, but, you know, whatever. They looked like they were having fun, though, handing each other their signs and clowning around so I was predisposed to view them fondly until I actually drove into the intersection and realized that they were protesting Halloween on the grounds that it leads people to devil worship. I flipped them off. I have never flipped anyone off before in a car - seriously. Never before. - but I did it this time. Fuck you, insane Christians. I am tired of your stupid antics. You don't get to take my Halloween away or even try, lameasses. What would Jesus do? He sure as hell wouldn't be out there holding an anti Halloween sign.

Well that was Monday and then yesterday I went to Ingles because I have a teenage son and thus I must shop for junk food almost daily. Ingles too was out of pumpkins. This was getting serious. Also, it was raining.

The checkout clerk, my daughter via text message and my son via a phone call told me to go to the church across from the funeral home on Patton. I knew about this church, because I have bought pumpkins there many an October before. I got to the church in the rain and hopped out of the car in the rain and started wandering around in the mud looking at wet pumpkins.
"There's nobody here." said a young woman in black.
"You mean you aren't selling the pumpkins?" I asked,
"No, there's nobody here."
This proved to be true. There was a zipped up tent, but not a person around.
"Is there an honor system box?" I asked, "I really need pumpkins tonight."
"No," she reported dismally.
"Look," I said, "I'm going to steal some pumpkins. I know that's wrong and I'll come back by here in a couple days and pay them, whatever, but I'm having people over tomorrow to carve pumpkins and I have to get these pumpkins now."
'I'm having people over tonight," she said forlornly.
"Well then you have to steal pumpkins too." I said firmly. "It's a necessity; it's like stealing bread or something."

Several more people showed up at this point to slop around in the mud and heavy rain for pumpkins and a quick council was held. "I'm leaving money on this table in the tent," said one man decisively. He didn't want to spend any more time in the rain than he had to. We all decided to do just that and by the time I left with my pumpkins there was a considerable sum on that table in the tent. More, I think, than there would have been if there were people actually collecting payment. The church may be doing it on purpose.

I'm glad we went with the table compromise. Even though I hate the kind of Christians who protest Halloween (and everything else fun in the universe, as well as basic human rights; those kind of Christians can go straight to their own invented hell as far as I'm concerned) I still didn't want to steal from the church. That's one of those setups for bad karma that I refuse to get entangled with. Besides, I'm already half convinced that I'll be struck by lightning if I ever walk into a church and that's just for sinful thoughts (mostly thoughts, okay) imagine what our Lord God Jehovah would do to a confirmed and unrepentant pumpkin thief?