And Now for a Break From Our Regularly-Scheduled Reality

This is a blog concerned with the material culture of religion, and as a general rule, I don’t write about politics. I do, however, write about weirdness. And there’s something about the saga of my hometown mayor which attains to the level of — well, at least of the voodoo products for sale in A. Schwab’s store on Beale Street, if not of Icelandic god-lore.

For those not in the know, here’s a brief backstory:

In Memphis, Tennesseee, a controversial five-term mayor (last campaign slogan: “Shake the Haters Off”), decides to resign from office in 2008, a year into a new term.

Coincidentally, the school superintendent’s post, which he held before ascending to the thr— I mean, before becoming mayor — is vacant, and he gives every appearance of entertaining the idea that the school board might just forego a national search and appoint him cz — I mean, superintendent of schools, again.

When that doesn’t happen, he takes back his resignation. A groan arises from the people. At least, some of them groan. The haters groan. Obviously. Why would you groan if you were not a hater?

In 2009, he again announces his impending resignation, presumably to run in the next congressional election for the 9th-District seat currently held by Representative Steve Cohen. The people — the haters, I mean — hold their collective breath. Throughout July, rumors ricochet around town: “I hear he’s actually cleaning out his office,” etc.

On July 30, it happens. Haters pinch themselves.

But the story doesn’t stop there.

Here’s the now-locally-infamous interview . . . (UPDATE: This link works now. Sorry to keep everyone in suspense.)

Anyway, I know this doesn’t have much to do with religion. The goods will return. But as I’m heading out the door with our houseguests, I can’t think of anything more entertaining than this to leave you with.

If you are in Memphis, by the way, and in need of something to cheer you up, drop by the Ross Gallery at Christian Brothers University tonight for the opening of a husband-wife show featuring my brother and sister-in-law, woodworker and landscape painter respectively. Just tell them I sent you.

Dear Reader,

Can I be direct with you?

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