Tuesday, March 28, 2006
White Zinfandels
We are a nation of infidels most of them white perhaps white zinfandels. Hey, thank god we got rid of the Taliban regime in Afghanistan so the newly installed mainstream regime can put a man on trial for his life for converting to Christianity. Does that give any of us American a sense of how most Moslems see us—as devils with fat wallets except for our allies in Kuwait, Saudi Arabia and the UAE, or is that a basketball team in the NIT, who just look on a sigh, ”Is there a problem with fat wallets?”
I remember when I was in Catholic high school sitting in religion class and the priest saying that the final war, the war to end all wars, would be a religious conflagration and I raised my hand and said, ”I’m never fighting a war over religion because if there is a one true god he doesn’t need my help but rather let him unleash the flood and pestilence combo like he does with unscheduled regularity in the Eastern Hemisphere. Here’s a basic rule, ”The water is rising and no rich people live near the beach it’s time to start running. “If the tide is ebbing faster than the fish can catch it, start running faster.
The court in Afghanistan judged this guy to be mentally unfit based on empirical data on Western “Born Agains” but those “Monkies” who saw his face and are true believers will behead his ass first chance they get because the real world is just one extended Sopranos episode.
My mother was a convert, a Methodist who became a Catholic, and I was her cross to bear, no question about it. I’ll never forget when the New Christy Minstrel Couple moved across the street and soon they had a red convertible in the driveway and I spoke to the young wife, simply saying, ”Nice car.”
She looked back and said,” Praise the lord, Jesus found it for us. My husband Jim always wanted a red Chevy convertible with low mileage and the lord interceded and blessed us. Oh, praise god.”
“Jesus doesn’t find fucking cars, ”I said, wanting to rattle her split level brain. My mother wrote a note put it in a sealed envelope and made me give it to my religion teacher. The only stipulation was that the repressed homo was not allowed to hit me.
“You have a vocation, ’he told me in private. ‘It’s a calling. Jesus doesn’t find fucking cars. That’s a classic.”
The priests had a fleet of four door black cars parked outside the monastery. You know it was a “god likes conservative colors” thing going on.
Me I’m a Toyota guy and I see god as a little Japanese guy with no tolerance for engine knock.
Peace Brothers and Sisters
Father Freddogg
I remember when I was in Catholic high school sitting in religion class and the priest saying that the final war, the war to end all wars, would be a religious conflagration and I raised my hand and said, ”I’m never fighting a war over religion because if there is a one true god he doesn’t need my help but rather let him unleash the flood and pestilence combo like he does with unscheduled regularity in the Eastern Hemisphere. Here’s a basic rule, ”The water is rising and no rich people live near the beach it’s time to start running. “If the tide is ebbing faster than the fish can catch it, start running faster.
The court in Afghanistan judged this guy to be mentally unfit based on empirical data on Western “Born Agains” but those “Monkies” who saw his face and are true believers will behead his ass first chance they get because the real world is just one extended Sopranos episode.
My mother was a convert, a Methodist who became a Catholic, and I was her cross to bear, no question about it. I’ll never forget when the New Christy Minstrel Couple moved across the street and soon they had a red convertible in the driveway and I spoke to the young wife, simply saying, ”Nice car.”
She looked back and said,” Praise the lord, Jesus found it for us. My husband Jim always wanted a red Chevy convertible with low mileage and the lord interceded and blessed us. Oh, praise god.”
“Jesus doesn’t find fucking cars, ”I said, wanting to rattle her split level brain. My mother wrote a note put it in a sealed envelope and made me give it to my religion teacher. The only stipulation was that the repressed homo was not allowed to hit me.
“You have a vocation, ’he told me in private. ‘It’s a calling. Jesus doesn’t find fucking cars. That’s a classic.”
The priests had a fleet of four door black cars parked outside the monastery. You know it was a “god likes conservative colors” thing going on.
Me I’m a Toyota guy and I see god as a little Japanese guy with no tolerance for engine knock.
Peace Brothers and Sisters
Father Freddogg
