Bratty Annie

Candie, our receptionist, is starring in a local college production of Agnus of God (the misspelling is the director's. Personally, I find it charming). You know. It's the show about the nun who says she has immaculately conceived and then proceeds to give herself an abortion so the other nuns won't figure out she's been shtupping the alter boy. I asked her (Candie) this morning if she was having fun with the show. Of course, she's not.

Surprise, surprise! I mean, it's Agnus of God [sic] for goodness' sake! In all honesty, I guess I really didn't need to ask.

Anyway, then she hands me my paycheck and explains that the direct-deposit went through at midnight of last night because some big cheese in Othercity was afraid that, because tomorrow is Veteran's Day, the paychecks might not go through. Of course, that made me happy. It's always nice to get money. And horde it away. Like a chipmunk in the fall. Like how they do. With nuts. You know.

So the paycheck was a nice little boost to what has been an otherwise draining morning. Don't ax me why, but when I logged on to my trusty news website this morning, I sort of felt like slashing my wrists.

I'm serious guys. I've had it with psycho religious zealots. I don't care who you are or which religious book you read, please! Stop acting crazy!

It's a wacko world out there. There are people who think that bobbed hair and bare ankles on girls are abominations, that those who celebrate Christmas are apostates, that drinking booze makes you the moral equivalent of your average prostitute, that people who break the Law of Moses deserve to be put to death immediately, that laughter and happiness are wicked fleshly indulgences, and that any little bad thing that happens is the wrath of God/Allah pouring forth to consume us all in a fiery tempest of divine rage.

It gets worse, folks. There are also people out there who think Shrek is a good movie. These people are a danger to themselves and others and must be stopped.

Somehow, Candie and I got talking about the production of Annie Warbucks--the official sequel to the beloved musical, Annie--I was in several years ago. I was summing up the plot for her when something occurred to me.

Okay, I'm pretty sure everybody agrees that Little Orphan Annie is one of the great optimists of the world, second only to Pollyanna. Pollyanna, however, didn't have a hit song. Just Haley Mills (...even though I guess young Miss Mills' captivating, gut-wrenching performance that can reduce even the most hardened criminal into a bawling babe has to count for something).

But what does Annie--this great optimist whose story spans two hit musicals, comic books, lunchboxes and a handful of direct-to-video spinoffs--what does Annie do when the going really gets tough? I'll give you a hint: she doesn't slap a smile on her face and sing about how things are gonna be okay--and she does it with almost alarming consistency.

Give up?

She RUNS AWAY!

Trust. If something goes afoul in Annie's world, give her a little while to think things through. Inevitably, she'll come to the conclusion that whatever's gone wrong must be her fault and the only way to make things right is to run away.

Now, normally I'd be inclined to pick apart this kid's twisted logic and ask you, dear reader, how on earth such a little pest could endear herself to so many people simply by making a nuisance of herself, scaring her guardians to death, then saying in the final scene that she always believed everything would turn out okay and bursting into song.

But not today.

No. I'm feeling generous today. In fact, I'm going to "Pull an Annie" myself.

I've decided that all the crap that's going on in the world today must be because of something I've done. And I'm running away.

Despite their good intentions, crazy religious zealots like Carrie's Mom don't make the world a better place. They just make it scary.