Category Archives: From The Archives

Columns pulled from The View From The Pew archives.

No Hairspray, No Cameras, Just Help

My name is, well my name really isn’t all that important. I’m a nobody, a non-entity, really. I don’t have a job, I am crippled, I have to beg alms for what little sustenance I get. I’m nothing.

Every day my family drags me down to the Sheep Gate and plops me down on the sides of the pool of Bethesda. I’m not just laying around, though. I am waiting for the waters to stir. You see, every time they stir, the first one in the pool gets healed. Of course, I’m never the first one in. Problem is, I can’t move so good, and somebody beats me to the water every time. Maybe one of these days I will be first in the water. Someday. Of course, it hasn’t happened yet, and I have been lying here for thirty-eight years. Maybe tomorrow. Probably not, though… Continue reading No Hairspray, No Cameras, Just Help

Eraser Phrases

I have been thinking of “eraser phrases.” You know, the things we say when we need to undo something we have said or done. We all know them and even use them. As a service to my loyal readers (and all the rest of you, too) here is “Jerry Godsey’s Handy Dandy Eraser Phrase Guide:”

“Bless his heart.” You can say anything you want about someone as long as you begin the sentence by saying it. Like this, “Bless his heart, he’s dumber than a stump.” See, without the eraser phrase that’s downright mean, but with the eraser phrase it is somehow nicer. Continue reading Eraser Phrases

You Might Be A Christian…

I have come to the realization that some people are not sure if they are Christians or not. So with apologies to Jeff Foxworthy I have come up with this “View From The Pew Guide to Christians.” Or the less official name, “You might be a Christian if…” Follow along and score for yourself. Trust me, there will be a quiz at the end! Continue reading You Might Be A Christian…

The Tattoo

It is black with flames in a semi-circle above and below. There is a Boston Terrier in the middle with “Got Bostons?” underneath. It is the same as the sticker on the back window of my truck. It should be, I designed them both. The sticker on my truck is white vinyl. The tattoo on my upper arm is black ink.

The Saturday after Thanksgiving last year I went into Inkredible Tattoo in El Centro and I let René poke my arm repeatedly with a needle. It didn’t hurt as bad as I thought it would, but I wouldn’t call it exactly pleasant. He did an incredible (Inkredible?) job and if I do get another tattoo, he will be the one to do it. What hurt as bad as the needle was the verbal needling I was getting from my wife, Lanette, and my fake daughter, Esli. Esli even Facebooked photos of me getting the tattoo! Continue reading The Tattoo

The Dart Story

The dart hanging from my scalp bounced against the back of my head as I chased my brother. There was malice in my heart as I ran through the house as fast as my chubby legs could carry me. If I caught my brother Greg before he got to our mom, he was a dead man.

Let me take you back to a quiet afternoon in the Godsey house: somebody had been stupid enough to give my brothers and I a dart board. Continue reading The Dart Story

The Burrito Incident

Like most of the really stupid things I have done in my life, the burrito incident can be filed under “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

Circle K was having a special deal. If you bought a 44 ounce soda you got a free burrito. Pretty cool. If there is anything I like better than a burrito, it’s a free burrito. I would stop by Circle K on my way to work for an iced tea and a burrito. When lunch time rolled around, I would warm up my burrito in the microwave. Pretty mundane for the most part. Continue reading The Burrito Incident

Helicopter Undies

The young man sat across the table from me in obvious pain. Tears filled his eyes as he recounted one of the deepest losses of his life. Even though seven years had passed, he was still overcome with grief at the thought of losing something so dear to him. It was obvious that this poor fellow would forever carry the pain of losing something so dear, so personal. I’m not sure he will ever recover.

It’s not easy losing your helicopter undies. Continue reading Helicopter Undies