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Sunday, February 13, 2011

Torture-New Age Grass Maze & the Counting Crows

What makes Klecko complex?

What makes Klecko insane?

Well the list could be as long as an extended "Slinky", but I'm thinking the main component would be how Klecko struggles with the Catholic Church. If you were Facebook friends with Danny Klecko (before Facebook closed his account for a second time) you might of seen Klecko's final decoration.........

"Danny Klecko renounces the Catholic Church, and will never give them another penny. He will not walk within 50 yards of a Priest....but (and isn't there always a but in life) he will continue to serve Nuns to the best of his ability."

I just don't know what kinda Hex the penguins have put on my heart, I could be rid of the whole enchilada if I could just man up and ace them out of the picture, but then it occurs to me that Priests were always inferior to the Nuns, even before the horrible sex crimes against children took place.

Men will always be men, by virtue of this, this means they will be Savages.

I am certain with all my heart (and I say this in front of my Heavenly Father) that God created Woman to be superior, men are just the sample batch.

Anyways, if Bing Crosby or John Wayne were a Priest in St Paul....I might reconsider, but not while all the men of the diocese just network and talk smack and cover secrets....enough of that, new topic, do you know what Nuns do for you? Have you ever even considered what their role is?

They sit in dank-empty rooms and pray for you! They probably sweat in their habit, drink instant coffee from a paper Dixie cup and pray for you, and the thing that makes a real Nun cooler than anything else is they pray for people of all faiths, countries, economic classes. Nuns are simply Bad A** !

If there was just one thing that I am proudest about, it would have to be that I walked my kids to their bus stops or straight to school every day of grades 1-6.

When my youngest was in 3rd or 4th grade I'd bring a Nerf football and we would play catch on the way there. On Tuesdays (which I had off for 15 years) I'd pick him up after school and he'd grab a bunch of his crew and we'd play full games on the north side of the building.

Our crappy little field was usually 100% mud and the brick school house was one boundary marker, while a chain link fence was the other.

One afternoon as we were close to wrapping up, a rainbow coalition of women began piling out of a generic looking building that stood on the opposite side of the fence.

Half of them were shrouded in some kind of tunic dealio, even though it was really hot. I stepped aside and let the kids continue and tried to see what these peeps were up to, and to my dismay, they all walked down a steep hill and as I peered through some tall shrubbery, I noticed they were approaching this ornate looking grass maze that had been cut into the lawn.

Then the women started holding hands and then they walked clockwise chanting or dropping some zen-karma groan. It freaked me out. I thought they were chanting evil against me LOL!

So then I see David Elliot. David and his wife have 3 boys and he was a stay at home dad. Dude used to be a shrink, but he got burnt out from watching the world wreck kids.

David Elliot also had Jesus Hair, a Jesus beard, and wore sandles. sometimes that's a hard look to pull off, but he was an All State football player in So-Dak and an overall Great guy. His middle son Max was the quarterback for my sons (who played center) high school football team the year they won the City Championship.

Anyways....I digress, I see the coven circle dancing and Devil worshiping in the maze, so I grab David and say "Dude, for real???? Satanic rituals right next to our kids school?"

Then David didn't even look at me, he just kept staring forward at the girlio's, almost as if to build tension like they do in Hollywood movies. slowly he responded by saying something like.........

"No, those woman are in recovery." Being a Pollack, the only recovery I was familiar with was booze and drugs, but that didn't even scratch the surface....David Jesus hair continued...

"Yep, those women come from all over the world and they live in that building. It's run by Nuns, and they help those woman because they have all been tortured. Some of the women that have gone through their system were married to foreign General's, and if their location was known....they'd be hunted down and eliminated,"

The whole deal was too much for me, so I went back to playing football, but then a couple weeks later we messed up an order and had way too many raspberry breakfast breads, so I figured...."I'll bring them to the torture shelter."

When you pull up to the sidewalk of this sanctuary, their building is way-way back into the property. It's also surrounded with trees and foliage, so when you carry a couple bread totes 100-150 yards down their sidewalk, you cant help but think you're getting ready to step into Hansel and Gretel's cottage.

When I got to the door, I thought for a second "How am I going to do this, these folks don't have a clue as to who I am. My appearance could trip them out." so I pulled a Klecko Business card out of my pocket and wrote a brief note and told them "Best wishes, and enjoy the bread."

Then I rang the doorbell and turned around and headed back to my ride, as I got 1/2 way down the sidewalk, I heard the door open and I real cool like peaked behind me to catch a glimpse of the woman who took the bread.

From the tone of her skin, and the styling of her clothes, i deduced her to be African.

On her left cheek it looked like there was a grapefruit inserted under the skin which covered her cheek, and the tight stretching pulled her eyeball back. Honest to Sweet Jesus - Christ of Warsaw....somebody had literally crushed her head with some kind of blunt weapon. It was unpardonable.

Immediately I became nauseous, I almost felt like barfing, and Klecko isn't a natural barfer.

Later that day though, I thought about how cool that was that I got to give something like raspberry-brown sugar breakfast breads to a group of women that deserve a treat more than anyone ever. I thought about it a lot, in fact, and when I say this, I'm not being cute or wise guy, but I kinda got addicted to bringing them stuff, just because of how good it made me feel to contribute to a purpose I believed in hook-line-and sinker.

At that point in Danny Klecko's life he was tired of cutting checks to help people and programs he's never seen actually do anything with it, and after getting burnt a few times and finding out that I had given to crooks....a Pollack can get a little jaded, but now....Klecko had purpose, Klecko was on a roll.

Each time I'd drop off one of these donations, the torture shelter would send me a form letter thanking me for my kindness, but I'll bet for a year or so I never saw any of them, they'd wait for me to leave and then grab the goods.

So a second year goes by, and I am out at the State Fair. It was my first year running the Saint Agnes Demo Kitchen. 48 half hours shows with local chefs-bakers and politicians and celebs.

When you have a knew act at the Fair the Media flocks to you like sin on a tequila bottle.

I was interviewed by well over a dozen radio and TV stations and my phone rang more frequently than the President of the United States (OK....make that Canada), from the blog posts of mine that you've read so far, what do you think. Did I like that attention-LOL?

It's impossible to park at the Fair, so I took the MTC. On the way back ( I think it was night number 3 of 12) I had just been interviewed by 3 or 4 smoking hot Super anchor chicks. It's funny, before the interviews, they really-really act as if they not only are curious about your scene, but they ooze this "I'm so into you deal", their worse than strippers, but the second the camera light goes off, there's no good byes, no see ya later babe.

Shoot....they won't even give you the time to flip you off, they are on to next!

Anyways, I'm not adverse to a little delusion. I skipped off the MTC and the torture shelter was between me and home.

As I cut through their lawn, it was evening, and I assumed that they were locked down for the night, so thinking Klecko was unobserved (and I admit this with very little pride) I kinda skipped or danced as King David danced before the Lord. I was excited, I won't lie. I felt like I had accomplished something, obtained approval, and it felt good.

So like I was saying, I'm 1/2 way across the lawn dancing and I started to sing that Counting Crow'es song "Mr. Jones", so I'm singing "We all want to be big stars, but we don't know how and we don't know why and......WHEN I LOOK AT THE TELEVISION - i WANNA SEE ME, STARING BACK AT ME!"

So right when it gets to the part of Bob Dylan wanting a gray guitar, but Danny Klecko wants something just a little funkier......I turn around and the front door to the torture shelter is opened and an old salt-dog Nun is standing in the threshold.

She's wearing the old school penguin regalia, and she also had a fricken wooden cross the size of a tennis racket hanging around her as a necklace.

Of all the times to get busted in stupid vanity. I swear to Caesar, I can't remember the last time I had been so embarrassed. I stopped singing, the Nun looks at me (did I mention I'm dressed in a white bakers uniform with the floppy Chef Boyardee hat?) and asks "You're a pretty important person huh?"

But if you heard the way she was saying it, you'd know she was busting me down a bit. I felt like going home, stripping naked, and laying curled up in the fetal position under the wash tub in my cinder block basement.

So....for awhile, I don't even remember, I didn't go back. I was ashamed, not in a "I got caught stealing money from the candle box way", but in an everyday awkward way.

So the next time I had a surplus of Red Wine - Black Pepper Biscotti (made with really high end Chianti) I wasn't sure if my humility and comfort zone were in the same boat, but after a little thought. I figured I'd just do it.

So now when I pull up in the bread truck. I remember sitting there with cold feet.I did grab the stuff, and I did make my way up that sidewalk, but about 1/3 of the way I started thinking...

"Dude, it's not like they ever asked you to do this. Their Nuns, It's not like they are going to tell you to piss off, we don't want you around, they can't do that.It's probably against Nun rules."

Then the embarrassment and deja vu came back. the only thing worse than barfing on the school bus of life, is doing it 2 days in a row.

Now I'm 1/2 way up the fricken walk and I'm not panic attacked, but close. I decided to cut a deal with God, I said "God, seriously....just let me drop these off and I promise I'll leave them alone and never come back."

There you have it, Klecko just made a covenant with God.

So now your star of this story gets to the door, quietly sets the bread totes of biscotti on the ground. I don't even ring the bell because since I'm never coming back, I'm striving for anonymity.

I turn around and crisply engage in my departure. To be honest though, a deep part of me felt sick, because up until I made an a** out of myself I really felt good about coming here, being here, helping out.

So now I'm almost all the way to the bread truck - I swear to you in front of Polish Christ that the following is true......

I hear the door open and an old voice called out....

"Mr. Klecko" so I turned around and the old Nun with the huge cross necklace was standing there in the doorway and she says...

"We love you Mr. Klecko." Then she shut the door. I'm not gonna lie, I got really influenced, really emotional. Even now years later I kinda wanna cry.

I don't know, I'll never return to the Catholics......but those Nuns, I'm telling you, they got a grip on Danny Klecko's heartstrings and he couldn't be any happier.

Have a great Valentines Day - I Love most of you.

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