Doubting Thomas

We begin this week with a proper prayer of serendipity and/or serenity: Dear Lorde of Hostess® in Heaven — final arresting place for a legion of disingenuous, genuflective prayermongerers — grant me the seren-something-or-other to accept that which I cannot change — such as the diminished brain capacity of otherwise reasonable-minded adults hanging on every word of every Ted Talker & Hand Waver™ — the courage to change that which I can — such as the direction I’m driving the station house short bus 'cross the free-wheeling, word-associating  Misinformation Superhighway™ — and the wisdom to know the difference between, say, a milk-toasted Rob Thomas solo recording and a buttermilk-toasted Matchbox 2.0 offering, or the difference between a peach and a nectarine, or a clementine and a you-forsaken tangelo. (Crikey, Lorde, do I resemble a student of horticultury?) I ask this in the name of the Father — Aldridge “AJ” Johns — the Son — Tennyson Johns — and the Holy Spirit, which would be you, Citizen Spirit Master. Amen®.