When I was growing up, almost every adult I knew smoked, had false teeth and drank coffee. These were privileges that I felt I could count on as natural rites of passage. The coffee and cigarette thing didn’t appeal to me much, but that trick of pulling your teeth out of your head and then shoving them back in seemed like a handy convenience.

In my childish brain, I took for granted that a change of pubescent proportion would inevitably transform me to that same “adult” image. Thankfully, so far, only one has taken over, and that would be the java bean. Dentures are rapidly becoming remnants of a bygone era and smoking is now a sign, not of adulthood, but of moral bankruptcy.

When did that happen? When did smoking become the last “sin” of our culture? You can cook meth, murder your grandmother and sleep with your Boy Scout troop, and people will say you have a character flaw. Light up a cigarette though, and they will regard you as far less redeemable than executed murderer Tookie Williams.

I have sympathy for smokers. That may sound rather odd coming from a guy who is an ordained pastor in an Evangelical church. After all, we were the first people to put the words “tobacco” and “sin” in the same sentence. “We don’t dance; we don’t smoke; we don’t chew and we don’t go with girls who do,” was our motto before it became the official stance of the CDC.

Ironically, society and the church are like ships passing in the night. As society has heaped greater and greater censure upon the smoker, the church has moved more and more toward tolerance. I may not speak for the rest of my brethren, but I’ve come to the place where I see smoking more as a bad habit with some serious health implications than as sin. I am of the opinion that “sin” is too serious a word to dilute by using it for behavior not specifically labeled as such in scripture.

Meanwhile, our culture has come to accept anything and everything as “valid.” To call a behavior “sin” is more abhorrent to the mind of the average citizen than any behavior, which was traditionally labeled as sin. The last vestige of moral outrage we share is the level of disgust we feel toward the poor pariah with a cigarette butt pressed between his or her lips. That guy or gal is the moral equivalent of the town Enron executive.

Call it sympathy for the devil, but I’m starting to feel sorry for the wretched character that bears that load of guilt. It’s bad enough to live with the physical effects of smoking, or to publicly fund the healthy people with your tax dollar, but to also end up as the town whipping boy is overkill. To know that you are the last identifiable “sinner” has to knock the wind out of you more than a couple decades of Marlboros.

This pile-on-the-smokers attitude proves that societies have to regard some things as evil. We’ve simply reduced our definition of sin to something more manageable, something that allows the majority of us to feel smug and superior. Let’s just hope that tomorrow someone doesn’t decide to come down hard on the people who think they are morally superior.

Ten Reasons I Respect Target Corporation

By Jay Beuoy

The Target Corporation has managed to offend a good portion of Middle America. The company decided not to allow the Salvation Army to station bell ringers and kettles outside Target stores this Christmas. I too was disturbed. It seemed to be yet another attack on one of the last public vestiges connected to the Christian faith and the true meaning of Christmas. But I have to say I respect them for their decision. Here are my top ten reasons:

1. By this Target proves it doesn’t give a figgy pudding about its customer base. Bravo! It’s about time corporate America stopped pandering to the consumer.

2. Target thus proves it isn’t driven by polls and public opinion. A just-released study by Newsweek shows that Americans are a religious people. 79% believe in the virgin birth. 90% believe in God. About 60% say they belong to a church. Target doesn’t seem to care about those numbers, which means they are willing to take a stand and a loss for what they believe in, (or don’t believe in as the case may be.)

3. Target has shown compassion upon all migraine sufferers and those afflicted by hangovers that could have been unduly tormented by high pitch bell clanging. Considering the potential for additional sales of Excedrin, this is a selfless act indeed.

4. By its decision, Target has managed to redeem the reputation of Ebenezer Scrooge. Any comparison with Target can only help the greedy old miser, especially considering that he, unlike the department store giant, repented of his hard heart.

5. By this Target helps the environment. Salvation Army gives money each winter for fuel assistance. Without fuel, the poor will be less likely to emit hydrocarbons from their inefficient furnaces. As a bonus, if they freeze to death, they will emit zero hydrocarbons.

6. Target’s decision will help the chronically stingy feel less guilty during their Christmas shopping experience.

7. The easily-offended of the world will be able to shop unmolested by any overt or implied messages of peace, good will to men and all that humbug.

8. Fewer poor children will be given toys through the Salvation Army this Christmas. This means the rest of us won’t have to wrestle over the last “Dancing Plush Elmo Doll.”

9. Target must figure that it will get some of the nine million dollars its customers would have put into the kettles. Preventing this diversion of funds will go a long way toward restoring the respectability of unmitigated greed. If Target can do it, why not you and I?

10. Based on their decision we have to surmise that Target has reached down in Christian charity and given high paying jobs to the most incompetent public relations employees of all time. Talk about an act of benevolence!

In fairness to the Target Corporation, their Target Foundation does give away a large number of grants each year to various organizations, some for the arts and some for social service groups. They claim to give away a total of two million dollars per week, though they only list a few “representative” charities on their corporate web site.

In their official statements, the company claims that they cannot let Salvation Army solicit without opening the door to other groups. Imagine what a dreadful world it would be if they did! What if all the similar organizations, those that exist solely to care for the poor and needy, were given an open forum for such solicitations? It might give charity itself a bad name. Thank you Target for protecting us from that cruel fate, and God bless us everyone!

Beware Of Snake Oil Salesmen

By Jay Beuoy

A circus wagon rolls into a small town. Carnival lights flash as the side of the wagon lowers into a stage. Two men, dressed in sequins and top hats begin to address the crowd.

The one is tall and gaunt with sunken eyes and an unnaturally wrinkle-free forehead. The other, slightly shorter man has a wide grin and golden hair worthy of a shampoo commercial. They call each other John.

John #1 begins: “Hurry, hurry! Step right up. Help is on the way! My assistant, John, is holding in his hand a small bottle of elixir. It’s a panacea for all man’s ills. Nancy Pelosi calls it ‘the biblical power of a cure’. Ron Reagan Junior calls it ‘Magic’. But we just call it Distilled Essence of Human. I give you the gift of thousands of unborn embryos, the one and only embryonic stem cells. ” The crowd cheers.

John #2: “We’d like to sell you a bottle of this miracle cure, but that monster on the hill won’t let us.”

A sudden lightening strike illuminates a solitary white house high above the town.

“That’s right! He has restricted research for this life-giving cure because he wants you to die for his antiquated ideology!” (John #2 exits stage left and returns in a lab coat.)

John #1 addresses him. “Why, who do we have here?”

“I’m the poor penniless multi-million dollar biotech industry.”

“You pitiful thing! What is the matter?” Asks John #1.

“I don’t have the billions of dollars of federal funding I so desperately need! If only that stingy Son of Bush would give me money, I could work miracles.” A tear wells up in the man’s eye and his lip quivers.

“Shame! Shame upon such hard-heartedness!” Yells John #1.

A boy speaks up. “But I thought the man on the hill was the first to federally fund any embryonic stem cell research.” John #1 ignores the comment and continues.

“Who is that I see coming now? Why, it is my good friend, Superman.”

John #2 wheels in a stuffed dummy dressed in a superman costume.

John #1 responds. “What is wrong with Superman? He doesn’t look well.”

“That’s right,” says John #2. “He’s dead!” With that he shoves the wheel chair off the edge of the stage. Women faint; children scream in terror. “And kryptonite didn’t kill him. He died because that man in the white house was too squeamish to play God with human life.”

The child speaks up again. “But, I read that we are decades away if ever from seeing any cures from embryonic stem cells.”

“Shut up kid. You’re bothering me,” responds John #1.

“And aren’t there serious ethical questions that should be dealt with first while we’re actively pursuing other promising avenues like adult stem cells?”

John #1 responds. “Sorry, Sonny, I didn’t get that. You’re speaking into my bad ear, which would be cured today if I could only get some stem cells!”

A young mother in the crowd speaks up. “Didn’t you say you were pro-life?”

John #1 responds, “Young lady, I have always been pro-life. As a good Catholic, I believe that life begins at conception. I just don’t think what I believe should interfere with what I do.”

John #2 speaks. “There’s only one thing that can be done. We’ve got to rid this world of that swaggering ideologue on the hill! Who’s with me?”

The crowd goes wild. Torchlight casts shadows of pitchforks as the crowd races toward the white house.

Embryonic stem cell research has yet to produce one cure, whereas adult stem cell treatments are already showing tremendous potential. There may be breakthroughs ahead, but honest researchers do not make the wild claims being made by some politicians. There are always Johns who want to sell the public a product without careful thought to the consequences. Like cynical snake oil salesmen they promise cure-alls that a desperate public wants without regard to ethics or truth. They will use the misfortune of dead presidents and dead actors to score their political points. Let the buyer and the voter beware.

John Kerry—Too Smart By Half

By Jay Beuoy

John Kerry has flexed his mighty cerebral muscle weighing in on the matter of stem cell research. Unlike Bush, Kerry is a dispassionate intellectual. He believes we should create human life for the express purpose of harvesting its stem cells. Kerry delivered that Promethean message to a rain-drenched crowd on June 21, 2004, flanked by a group of Nobel Prize winning scientists.

The unspoken message was clear. “I’m John Kerry and I’m as smart as any of these guys—maybe smarter.” One can’t help but wonder whether that’s a winning strategy for the candidate. Time will tell. He already comes off as a pompous, overly intellectual policy wonk that doesn’t know how to eat a Philly steak and cheese sandwich. This photo-op won’t exactly enhance his standing with the “Nascar Dads,” because he looks too smart for his own good.

Consider as a caption to that image some of his brainier statements. The Washington Post Service writes “as president he would be guided by ‘science…not ideology.’” Contrasting “science” with “ideology” is a convenient sound bite. “Ideology” conjures in the listener’s mind associations like “Mein Kampf” or “The Communist Manifesto.” It sounds oh so clever—maybe too clever.

George Bush, whose favorite philosopher is Jesus Christ, can hardly be called an “ideologue”. Most simple Americans, not nearly as smart as Kerry, know that faith is the main “ideology” that guides the president. Kerry sounds like he is distinguishing himself from the president on moral grounds. Does the senator really want to take on Bush with a “science trumps religion” message?” Kerry may as well hang a sign on his back that says, “Kick me! I’m the anti-God candidate” for all the political good it will do him. Such statements, though clever rhetorically, may not be politically wise.

The same news service quotes Kerry saying he would “restore science to its appropriate place in government and bring it back to the White House.” Parse that one! Who was the last brilliant scientist to become president? Give up? Here’s a hint. The inventor of the Internet didn’t quite make it. Stumped? You should be. Here we have another example of a clever statement that appears meaningless under closer examination.

It is clear that Kerry wants us to believe that if we elect him, science-incarnate will dwell at

1600 Pennsylvania Avenue

. Teresa Heinz Kerry isn’t exactly a rocket scientist, so we have to presume that the senator is referring to himself. There’s a politically savvy platform, “John Kerry—He Thinks He’s Einstein.”

Finally, Kerry’s most incomprehensibly clever quote has to be this one: “I have full faith that our scientists will go forward with a moral compass—with humane values and sound ethics guiding the way.”

Here’s Kerry, the least religious candidate, professing blind faith in the benignity of science. He asks us to believe that scientists, left to their own devices, will always behave morally, ethically and humanely. They will use their powers for good not evil. The same Kerry who says that no ideology should rule over science wants us to believe that science will rule itself by some mysterious equation of goodness.

That is so brilliant it’s baffling. Any man smart enough to understand Kerry is an obvious genius, and Kerry may be the only one up to that challenge. Where others see confusion and contradiction he is clever enough to see the smartest candidate for president. Unfortunately for him, we voters may not be that smart.

Force of Hobbit

By Jay Beuoy

At the risk of exaggeration, the newest film in the "Lord Of The Ring" series is doing fairly well at the box office. Since it’s opening on Wednesday, December 17, 2003, "Return Of The King" has grossed 124.1 million dollars in the US—the biggest five-day opening of all time.

I find that curiously remarkable. How is it that a film, so politically incorrect, has captured the hearts and imaginations of a diversity-sensitized public? Tolkien was a Christian, and it doesn’t take a genius to see the underlying Christian worldview.

What is more surprising to me is that the politically correct censors of Hollywood didn’t "adjust" the storyline to fit their post Christian, postmodern prejudices. Imagine if they had. Here are some of the suggestions they might have made.

Strike the term "halfling" used in connection with the hobbits. Disparaging the vertically-challenged is insensitive and unnecessary. This goes for the term "dwarf" as well. Instead, refer to Gimli as a "mine-dweller" or a "nauco", which means "dwarf" in Elvish, but sounds less offensive.

Keep the scene in which the Ents (talking tree-like shepherds of the forest) go to war against Saruman, the evil white wizard. Saruman has been destroying the trees of the Fangorn forest for his war machine. This environmentalist twist is the best part of the whole film. Get James Brolin to play the role and change the name "Saruman" to "Reaganman". Construct his fortress to resemble the Pentagon.

The hobbits, Samwise and Frodo have a close friendship. Why not bring in a touch of romance? Suggest that the two are gay. The ring then becomes a metaphor for gay marriage and their quest to be treated with dignity and equality.

Liberally intersperse the "F" word throughout the dialogue. Remove all mention of terms like "virtue," "courage," "valor," and "honor."

It is unrealistic for Aragorn to turn down the romantic advances of the beautiful Eowyn. Add a steamy love scene between the two. This is more realistic and will earn the coveted "R" rating.

Insert a strong anti-sword message. Swords kill!

Stop depicting the orcs and Uruk-hai as purely evil. Such extremes perpetuate ethnic stereotypes. Insert a scene depicting the wholesale slaughter of Uruk-hai children by a marauding ban of white men from Gondor. Show more sympathy for the orcs’ plight to throw off human imperialism.

Let the U.N. negotiate a cease-fire between the league of Middle Earth and the Dark Lord, Sauron. Nix the storyline in which the Fellowship of the Ring bands together to unilaterally attack the kingdom of Mordor. This looks too much like the "Bush Doctrine" of preemption.

Remove the scene in which Gandolf battles the demonic Balrog. Also remove the later resurrection of said wizard and any other Christian overtones. Show the Balrog and Gandolf settling their differences through peaceful negotiation.

Delete the scenes with the elephant-riding Haradrim. Their costumes too closely resemble that of Arabs and other Muslims. This is offensive to the adherents of Islam, a peace loving religion.

Finally, switch East and West. Tolkien placed The Shire in the West of Middle Earth and Sauron’s kingdom in the East. Reverse that. Everything enlightened must come from the East, and we all know that nothing good can come from any Western civilization, real or imagined.

Yes, it is amazing that the film made it to audiences in its present form. It’s even more amazing that a generation force-fed on the pablum of diversity training can still enjoy an age-old saga of good vs. evil. Maybe the fate of men really does rest in the hands of a hobbit.

Archeology Unearths Uncommon Common Sense

By Jay Beuoy

Montecore, the Royal White tiger had no sooner sent Roy Horn to the hospital, than the news broke. An eccentric public housing dweller in New York City, a Mr. Antoine Yates, had been attacked by his pet tiger, Ming. In the same week, two grizzly bear advocates were mauled to death in Alaska with the attack caught on audiotape.

It is understandable, under the circumstances, that the media completely ignored the discovery of an ancient document in Turkey. An archeologist by the name of Yada Yada Ben Stiller unearthed a crude clay tablet, written in primitive Hebrew, penned in an early cuneiform script. These ancient words appear all the more profound in light of recent events. The newly translated work appears to be a transcript of a speech made by Noah, and written during his famed Ark expedition.

Noah: Thank you for coming. I know you all had better places to be today.

Passengers: (laughter).

Noah: Is it wet or what? It is so wet out there…

Passengers: How wet is it?

Noah: It is so wet we’ve got fish lined up two-by-two trying to get inside. That’s wet I’m telling you. I wonder what the Sons of Cain are doing right now—probably the backstroke. But seriously, I do have some important matters to call to your attention.

FYI. Big cats such as tigers, lions and leopards should be given a wide berth. Ham, would you please show your brothers and the rest of us your stump? Thank you. Let’s file this one away under "Don’t think I’ll try that one again."

The Lord was good enough to get the animals onto the ark. Let’s use the common sense he gave us to keep them from killing us. Wild animals are still wild. That’s why we call them, "wild." Ham, if it is any comfort, I don’t think the Tiger intentionally bit off your hand. He was probably just being a bit frisky. You know how they can be.

Thanks again, Japheth, for the neatly carved suggestion box. It seems to be getting a lot of use. I brought a couple of the suggestions to read. Here’s one. "Can we kill the tiger that ate my hand?" Signed, "Anonymous." Okay, Anonymous, the answer would have to be "no" on that one. That whole repopulate-the-earth thing would be jeopardized by such a course of action. Thanks for the suggestion though. Remember the only stupid question is the one not asked.

Then there’s the following note: "Can I keep the grizzly bear as a pet when we’re back on land?" Signed, "Anonymous." Again, Anonymous, that won’t work. Bears do not make good pets under normal circumstances. As a general rule of thumb, do not attempt to make pets of large animals capable of eating you. Take a hint from the tiger incident, Anonymous. Point made? Okay.

I want to also thank Shem for the new "Days-Without-An-Accident" board. I want to congratulate all of you. We’re up to day "three". Special thanks go to Ham for his cooperation.

Tonight’s film will be an old favorite, Gone With… (The record breaks off here.)

Some scholars have questioned the style of the Hebrew, but no one has questioned the earthy wisdom contained in the document. "Wild animals are wild. That’s why we call them wild." It seems ironic that the common sense wisdom of the past, e.g., "don’t make pets of animals that are capable of eating you," is so altogether uncommon in the present "information age".

Averting A Food Jihad

By Jay Beuoy

Samaritan’s Purse, a relief organization run by Billy Graham’s son, Franklin, recently came under fire for its plan to share food and medicine with the desperate citizens of Iraq. In a USA Today article Ibrahim Hooper, a spokesperson for the Council on American-Islamic Relations was quoted as saying, “They are coming into a situation where vulnerable people don’t have food, shelter or clothing. They are using their position of power to try to persuade people to leave their faith.”

I went to the Samaritan’s Purse website to see what Franklin Graham might have to say about these grievous charges and to my dismay, he did not apologize. He’s a busy guy, what with him running around and forcing food and medicine on all the poor, vulnerable people of the world. So, to make up for the oversight, I have taken it upon myself to write one for him.

“To my dear Muslim friends everywhere, I want to sincerely apologize for my lack of sensitivity. I should have known that my efforts, however well intended, would be easily misconstrued.

Yes, I did want to go to Iraq and help feed the hungry, give medicine to the sick and help provide clean drinking water to the thirsty. I see now how wrong-headed that was.

In their psychologically vulnerable state of mind some Iraqis might have listened to aid workers talking about their faith in Christ and been converted. This would have been unfair for a multitude of reasons.

First and foremost it would have been unfair to those converts, because under Islamic law they would have been guilty of a capital crime and therefore executed. Needless to say, it defeats our purpose to keep people alive with food and medicine only to force you into a position of killing them.

Upon further reflection, I also realize that it is unfair to give the Christian message to people who for centuries have been prevented from hearing that message. A gospel of love would be overwhelmingly attractive and constitute an unfair advantage for us sly food providers. I apologize.

In our country we have democracy, free speech, the freedom to worship as we choose and the right of women to go burqaless without having acid thrown in their faces. These “Western European” prejudices prevented me from fully appreciating the delicacies of your situation. Now, I understand that your stability depends on keeping people protected from ideas. Please forgive my unwitting act of charity.

What would you think about this idea? Instead of bringing food under the emblem of the cross of Christ, how would it be if we put a red crescent on each box of food and medicine? That way we could fool the people of Iraq into thinking that all this help was coming to them via the generosity of their oil rich Muslim brethren. They would never get the connection to Christianity and their sensibilities would be left unscathed. In fact they could continue to think that we are “The Great Satan,” without troubling their consciences.

Please forgive our callous insensitivities,

Samaritan’s Purse (FG)

Whether Samaritan’s Purse will endorse my attempt at diplomacy remains to be seen. I can only hope that a timely apology will calm the hysteria—a hysteria caused by a tactless attempt to feed, heal and care for the people of Iraq.

When Is Enough Enough?

By Jay Beuoy

I read with disgusted interest recent news stories concerning Columbine High School. Four years after the 1999 massacre of twelve students and one teacher by Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold, Columbine High School is in the news again. This time the school officials who inadequately protected the dead students have censored other students from including any religious speech in a memorial to the victims.

Students and bereaved parents protested the prohibition, and the case worked its way through the court system. An appeals court ruled against the students and just this week the Supreme Court refused to take up the matter. Thus, the Court effectively sided with the school and against the students’ right to free speech.

When is enough enough?

I asked that question to the president of the American Incivility Union, Mr. Ardent Lee Godfree. Below is a transcript of our phone conversation.

J.B. Mr. Godfree, when is enough enough?

A.G. I don’t know what you mean. There is no such thing as ‘enough’ in our crusade against those who would break down the sacred wall between church and state. J.B. Wouldn’t you say though, that this recent court ruling went too far? Where is the compassion toward the grieving families and the traumatized students? Shouldn’t they have a right to freely express their heartfelt feelings, even when they express a belief in God?

A.G. No, I wouldn’t say that. Of course we all feel for those who lost loved ones, but that doesn’t make it right to allow God talk in the public school.”

J.B. Many would say that this goes too far, that it punishes victims and tramples on free speech.

A.G. In my mind this hasn’t gone far enough.

J.B. How can that possibly be?

A.G. Recently released Columbine documents have revealed that there were teachers who during the shooting actually wrote prayers on sheets of school paper. Taxpayers paid for that paper. That amounts to state sponsored religion.

J.B. You’ve got to be joking.

A.G. I’m not at all. Furthermore, they were on the school’s clock getting salaries paid for by public tax dollars. That crosses the line. These teachers should face disciplinary action up to and including the loss of job. We can’t allow our sympathies to keep us from doing the right thing.

J.B. That seems extreme.

A.G. Extreme you say! And what about those students that prayed during the shooting? That was during school hours not during one of these after-school, so-called, student-led prayer meetings. I think an investigation should be conducted and those students who prayed out loud should face possible suspension or at least some form of detention.

J.B. I see.

A.G. And what about Cassie Bernall? When they held the gun to her head and asked her if she believed in God she should have kept her mouth shut. We don’t allow kids to go around proselytizing. Suppose she had converted one of those poor young men to her faith. Their parents could sue the school for failing to protect them from religious zealots.

J.B. So enough isn’t enough until you can protect all the Eric Harrises and Dylan Klebolds of this world from all the Cassie Bernalls and Rachel Scotts?

A.G. Now you’re starting to understand.

J.B. I think we are.

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Muzzled In The Pulpit?

By Jay Beuoy

On October 2, 2002 the United States House of Representatives rejected a bill dubbed the “Politics-from-the-Pulpit” bill. The law would have established the right of clergy to speak to political issues and even endorse candidates. Rejection of the bill may lead to an unwarranted chilling of free speech rights in our nation’s churches and synagogues.

One denomination has already reacted to the congress’s decision. Dr. Frank Lee Milquetoast, President of The United Church of the Intimidated Brethren, issued a directive to all Brethren ministers. The memorandum reads as follows.

To All UCIB Boards and Clergy,

Given the recent defeat of the so-called “Politics-from-the-Pulpit” bill, our legal department has issued the following directives to our member churches. Please implement these immediately.

Any topic “verging” on the political should be removed from sermons, prayers and any other public communication from the church be they in verbal or written form. The following Ten Commandments are not exhaustive, but indicate the type of speech that should be curtailed.

1. Thou shalt not speak on any biblical passages dealing with the image of God in man. Such texts explicitly endorse the death penalty and are therefore political in nature.

2. Thou shalt not speak about the value of human life. Those passages tend to support a “pro-life” position. Such speech will be deemed an implied endorsement of one party.

3. Thou shalt not speak on passages of scripture, which deal with character. Character, or the lack thereof, will tend to favor one candidate over another and is therefore forbidden.

4. Thou shalt not speak on passages condemning homosexuality, neither in the Old or New Testament, for all such speech is deemed hateful and right wing.

5. Thou shalt not speak to the issue of sexual purity or abstinence. In any given election one party will support condom distribution to teens while the other will tend to support “abstinence” initiatives. It is best to leave “sex talk” in the bedroom and the schools.

6. Thou shalt not pray for political leaders. Such will be seen as biasing the outcome of elections and potentially an endorsement of incumbents. God is not allowed to take sides.

7. Thou shalt not condemn stealing, for this will be viewed as a right-wing attack on confiscatory taxation.

8. Thou shalt not speak to the issue of absolute truth, ever! For instance, never say that there is only one God or that Jesus is His only Son. Such speech is considered narrow, bigoted, therefore conservative and therefore political.

9. Thou shalt not preach on any passage of scripture in which Jesus speaks to political leaders of his day including Pharisees, Sadducees, The Sanhedrin, Scribes, Roman Officials, High Priests or anyone named Herod. Jesus is generally considered too political and controversial and should be quoted sparingly during election cycles.

10. Thou shalt not encourage Christians to be involved politically. This will bring further unwanted attention to our cause. Instead, simply emphasize our core message--at least those portions of it not excluded above.

Aside from these limited restrictions feel free to speak boldly and with conviction on any topic you choose. Just remember! Your tax-exempt status hangs by a thread. I remain yours truly, Frank Lee Milquetoast.

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Universal Mid-Life Crisis

By Jay Beuoy

Happy birthday universe! Astrophysicists are now saying that the universe is about ten billion years old, give or take ten billion, and that its life expectancy is about another ten billion or so, give or take ten billion. This is only if current theories hold, which they never do. But, suppose for a moment it were true. That would mean that the good old universe is ripe for a mid-life crisis.

What does a universe do when it hits that magical ten billion mark and sees a downhill slide toward twenty billion? What does it do when it begins to imagine that cataclysmic implosion into the size of a proton, (again if current theories hold true, which they never do)?

A universe could start wondering about its existence and the meaning of life. It might start asking itself, “Where have all the billions of years gone, and didn’t the last five hundred million just zip past?” The created order might start forgetting where it left its dark matter or misplace a class m planet or something. That’s when the trouble starts.

Feeling its youthful vigor slipping through its gravitational pull the universe might panic. It would remember its carefree days when it wasn’t responsible for another life. Now it has billions of sentient beings on just one little planet. That’s a lot to be answerable for. It would begin to see itself tied down with all those responsibilities, all those dependents. Such responsibility might make it start wondering if there isn’t something more.

Before long a universe might start straying a bit. Where does a universe wander? How can a universe get in trouble? It could take out a personal ad, “Single Universe seeks non-committal relationship with single parallel universe, object romance. If you like lazy inexorable expansion into the void call 555-555-5555 and ask for Cosmo.”

In those halcyon days of its youth it was quite religious. “In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth.” There was a time when all the starry hosts praised the creator, but as the billions of years have slipped away, perhaps the universe has grown gradually forgetful of its maker.

In a vain bid to recapture its potency the universe might do something wild and irresponsible like wear gaudy Milky Way galaxies around its expanses or up the speed of light just for kicks. There is no way to predict the erratic or even sinful behavior an imbalanced universe might be capable of.

Then, after another billion years, five billion tops, the universe would no doubt return to its senses. Once it becomes accustomed to the idea of its own mortality, there would be that moment of reckoning, adjustment and acceptance. It would consider all its foolishness and want to get its stars and planets realigned as it sees just a few short billion years left to make things right.

Perhaps then the universe would ponder its Maker and repent in stardust and black holes. Perhaps then it would choose to live out the rest of its days in willing subjection to the one who spoke it into existence for His glory. In the end, such a universe would be redeemable.

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Ice Man Thawed For TV

This year, the surprise success in the TV ratings war was MTV’s offbeat, reality show, The Osbournes. Ozzie Osbourne, the legendary Heavy Metal rocker who once bit off the heads of bats, now doles out fatherly advice to his two children and millions of avid viewers.

In a bid to unseat MTV’s modern equivalent of Father Knows Best, VH1 has launched their own reality show, The Ötzi Iceborn Show. Through the miracle of cloning, scientists have made a living genetic duplicate of the legendary Copper-Age Ice Man known affectionately as Ötzi. “Ötzi II” is a Paleolithic marvel, and, as it turns out, quite the family man.

Immediately after Ötzi was cloned scientists funded by VH1 lined up a blind date for the caveman with none other than legendary actress and part Neanderthal herself, Roseanne Barr. The two warmed up to one another like two sticks rubbing together. After a quick courtship, they were married in a private ceremony in Reno.

Now, VH1 goes live and in person as the two lovebirds and their adoptive children, Og and Thor, live out their ordinary lives in a posh Beverly Hills mansion. The following dialogue from their first show gives an indication of the surprisingly witty and insightful Ötzi giving advice to his daughter Og.

Ötzi: Og, why you look unhappy?

Og: It’s Thor, Daddy, he’s tells everyone that like he is the musician in our family because he plays the drums, and like he never tells them that I can play the keyboard and that really ticks me off.

Ötzi: That normal Og. You no let Thor get you. You ignore him. Come! Give daddy kiss.

Og: Daddy, I’m fourteen. You don’t understand me! No one understands me!

Og leaves. The scene resumes a little while later with Ötzi and Roseanne curled up on the couch in the living room.

Ötzi: Og not good. Thor bonehead brother.

Roseanne: Oh, really. So what did you tell her?

Ötzi: I tell her, “Ignore Him”

Roseanne: Well, I think that was really, really good.

Ötzi: Uh?

Roseanne: I think you’re the smartest guy I know.

Ötzi: Really?

Roseanne: Yeah, but stop picking that. The cameras are rolling.

As with The Osbournes it is a sure bet that many will find fault with the concept of Ötzi Iceborn. Is a prehistoric figure grunting out monosyllabic instructions to his children the best role model TV can provide for today’s families? Is it enough that Ötzi has a strict “Don’t play with fire” message?

A spokesperson for VH1, Ms. C.A.Goldmine had this to say. “He loves his wife. He loves his kids, and he gives them good advice like: ‘Don’t sneak up behind wild animals and grab their tails.’ And, ‘Never sleep on mountain passes during blinding snow storms.’ We at VH1 do not intend to hold up Mr. Iceborn as a role model for dads nor his family as the ideal family. However, given the state of American culture--the moral relativism, and the breakdown of the two-parent home, we feel that Ötzi is a step in the right direction. After fifteen years of Homer Simpson, and eight years of Bill Clinton, you have to start with the basics.”

Front Page of Winsome Wit

Rosie’s Children’s Hour

In the wake of its popular though controversial pro-gay parenting special, Nickelodeon has decided to spin off the show into a regular series. Nick has hired Rosie O’Donnell, the popular and outspoken actress/talk show personality to host the show. O’Donnell had been a guest on the original special. The working title of the show is Rosie’s Children’s Hour, a sort of Romper Room Meets Ellen. Here are a few synopses of the scripts that they’re currently shooting.

Hansel And Gretel Revised: In this whimsical adaptation of Grimm’s tale, Rosie plays a wonderfully kind and generous Wiccan practitioner. Rather than trying to eat the two children, she and her lesbian lover try to adopt them. Alas, the townspeople burn Rosie and her wife at the stake. They return the children to their evil heterosexual stepmother, who in an ironic twist, cooks and eats them for supper.

Simba’s Gay Pride: Rosie and the children take a blue-screen projected trip through the grasslands of Africa to investigate the childrearing practices of the African lion. Rosie informs the children that little “Simba” will grow up under the care and nurture of not one, not two, but many “mommies.” These special ladies not only raise the children, but they also hunt and prepare all the meals. “The father lion,” she informs them, “is much like daddies in the human family, i.e., fat, lazy, demanding and ready to eat his children at a moment’s notice.”

The Farmer In The Dell: Rosie leads the children in a spirited game of the beloved classic, “Farmer in the Dell”. In this version, the farmer takes a wife. The wife takes the son. Then the wife takes the daughter. Then the wife takes a wife. Then the farmer stands alone with the cheese. Then the farmer eats the cheese. The wives and children live happily ever after.

Rosie The Dinosaur: Rosie dresses like a big, purple dinosaur and frolics with her live-in lover, who is dressed in a pink dinosaur costume. They sing, “I love you. You love me. Why can’t we be a family? We both have eggs and a nest to raise a brood. Can’t we sing ‘we love you’ too?” At this point an evil male dinosaur, Veloc-o-Rapper, played by Eminem, comes on stage to taunt gays, lesbians and their offspring. He tries to eat the children, but they are protected by the power of the purple ribbon. The boys join hands with boys and the girls with girls as they sing him off stage with their rendition of “I Will Survive!”

Rosie’s Farewell Show (Just in case): With the show canceled, Rosie dresses like the Pied Piper of Hamlin. She prances off stage, boy/boy, girl/girl, following to her dulcet tones on the pipe. One child follows far behind on crutches. He arrives just a moment too late, as the prop mountain opens up and swallows all the children. He turns and tells of the story conveyed in the piper’s tune. He tells of a make-believe world of fairy godmothers that have children of their own but no husbands. They let their children have anything they want and there are no mean daddies there to eat you.

Front Page of Winsome Wit

Battling Chaos

By Jay Beuoy

In the second verse of the first chapter of Genesis, right after God made the heavens and the earth, we’re told, “the earth was formless and void.” The only Hebrew, which I can now recall from seminary are the words translated “formless and void”--tohu va bohu. Another reasonable translation might go something like “great big chaotic mess.”

The seven days of creation that followed were a kind of spring-cleaning project in which God created and organized. God slew the monster called “Chaos”, and for a brief moment heaven and earth were one. Everything had its place, and there was a place for everything.

You probably know the rest of the story. Adam fell into sin (some say he was pushed). Death came into the world. Childbearing became downright unpleasant, and the ground started bringing forth weeds and thistles. Just when things were looking neat and tidy… Bam! All chaos started breaking loose.

From that point forward nothing was easy. The first day after the fall, Adam headed off to till the ground from whence he came. On the way to earning his bread by the sweat of his brow he said to Eve, “Honey, I can’t find my keys. Have you seen them?”

To this Eve replied, “Did you look next to the stump?”

“Yes, and they’re not there,” said Adam

“Did you check under the leaves next to the stump?” She asked.

“Just a minute,” he said. Adam rummaged around the stump. “They aren’t under the leaves.

“ Well, where did you have them last?” Asked Eve.

“Next to the stump. Where do you think? Did you take them or something?”

“What? No I didn’t take them. Don’t go blaming me again,” she said. “I heard what you said to God about ‘the woman that you gave me made me eat.’ You’re always blaming me for your screw-ups.”

“Would you just help me find my keys, I’m going to be late for work.” Adam’s voice grew strident.

“Are you sure you had them with you when you came home?” Eve asked.

Frustrated and beginning to throw things Adam said, “Yes I’m sure I brought them home. Why are you asking me these dumb questions? Just help me look. Besides, how do you expect me to find anything in all this tohu va bohu? This place looks seven-days-short-of-a-creation-week if you get my drift.”

The argument and search went on for another fifteen minutes until the entire home was turned on its head. Eventually the keys were found in the pocket of Adam’s previous day’s fig leaf, which was lying on the bathroom floor beneath the towel rack and covered by the morning paper next to the commode.

Adam blamed Eve for not keeping the house more organized, and Eve threatened to go home to her mother until she remembered that she didn’t have a mother. This was the first almost-recorded marital spat caused by chaos, but certainly nowhere near the last.

Adam and Eve patched up their differences and went on to have children among whom were Cain and Abel, which only exacerbated the problem. Family life got even more chaotic, and though it isn’t mentioned in scripture, they added insult to injury by getting a cat and a dog. According to ancient sources, they named the cat Tohu and the dog Bohu.

Our human race would have annihilated itself by now from the stress of the disorganization around us were it not for Eve’s second most creative act. She invented the first garage sale, and we’ve been exchanging our great big chaotic messes ever since.

Front Page of Winsome Wit

Jonah’s Diary—United States Trip—2001-2002

by Jay Beuoy

September 11^th 2001

Today God spoke to me and told me to travel to the United States and preach a message of repentance. He said I should go and tell them that if they did not turn from their sins something worse would befall them.

Any other day of the week I’d think God should know what he’s doing, but this idea is harebrain to the extreme. After such a devastating attack, the last thing the Americans are going to want to hear is that they are a sinful nation needing a change of heart. Decided to email a couple thoughts on the matter to Jerry Falwell and catch a slow boat to China instead.

September 12^th 2001

Jerry apparently got my message but added a few ideas of his own. As I suspected, the whole repentance thing is playing about as well as “Old Calcutta” in Salt Lake City. Heavy Seas today.

September 13^th 2001

Note to self. Never admit you’re running from God to a bunch of superstitious sailors looking for simple answers to complex problems. Hindsight being 20/20 I think I could have justified a small white lie.

As to the matter of beings swallowed by a fish, I am trying to figure some plausible alternate story. Maybe I could say I strapped some bamboo together with videotape and braved the open sea in the company of a volleyball. No. I better just tell them the truth.

September 16^thNew York, New York

Spat up on land about 7:00 AM. I have a mean crick in my neck but otherwise feel quite chipper. I know I will not see the elderly Italian man ever again or his little wooden son. I have a 3:00 PM meeting with Giuliani. Hope to find some good food, i.e., anything not resembling the contents of a fish stomach.

September 17^th

Giuliani was unyielding to the whole repentance idea. I warned him that if the city did not repent that fire and brimstone would rain down upon the city within forty days. He had me arrested as a possible terrorist.

The food in New York jails is highly overrated. Note to self. Never again mention repentance to a bunch of New York criminals while confined with them in a common cell.

September 18^th

After telling of my exploits in the belly of the great fish to a very nice gentleman in a white coat, I was released. I overheard him saying something about no openings at the “facility” whatever that means. In any event I’m out and I’ve taken my message to the street.

So far I have had very little success. I had imagined that my bleached skin from the fish’s stomach acid and the odd green color of my hair might make an impression. Now that I’ve seen the street people of the city, I have revised my estimates.

September 19^th

President Bush has called for a national day of prayer. There hasn’t been much talk of repentance, but the news is reporting a huge increase in church attendance. It seems a bit shy of the mark, but I’m thinking of declaring victory and catching the next fish back home.

February 18^th 2002

Dear Diary. Sorry I haven’t written lately. Still in New York. I read today that church attendance is back to pre-September 11^th levels. Seems the foxhole wasn’t quite deep enough.

I’m presently sitting on the tallest mound at the municipal landfill overlooking the city waiting to see what happens. God only knows if America has repented. If she has, then God will surely spare her. If not, then I will be here to say “I told you so,” unless of course there is no one left to tell.

The Redacted Abraham Lincoln

Historians accept as fact that Abraham Lincoln wrote his own political speeches. For instance, that Lincoln composed the Gettysburg Address while on the train to that battlefield is unchallenged.

Yet, in a release sure to send shock waves through the historical community, the Smithsonian has just released a heretofore-unknown copy of Lincoln’s Second Inaugural Address. In this manuscript, a long forgotten policy advisor, Mr. Seymour Fallout, attempts to edit Lincoln’s words. Scribbled at the bottom are his editorial remarks.

Dear Mr. President. As you see, I have made numerous suggestions, which though stinging, hold the promise of being a gentle balm to sooth over the soreness you might otherwise inflict upon yourself. Though you are affectionately referred to as “Honest Abe” it is my duty, as your only political advisor, to urge you to refrain from such frank, unguarded opinions.

Note that I have struck every mention of “God” contained in the speech. You use the word six times in a speech, which in its present form will take less than ten minutes to deliver. You also use such terms as “the Almighty”, “His providence, “Him”, “divine attributes” and “Lord.” This is overkill.

In our polling we find that the “God talk” is only minimally effective at increasing your numbers. Though the percentage of atheists and agnostics is currently small we feel that this trend toward godlessness is on the rise. You should not go out of your way to alienate any voting block especially in light of the upcoming congressional races of 1866.

Therefore, I recommend that you play down all religious differences and instead emphasize the “universal brotherhood of man” or the “triumph of the human spirit.” If you must mention deity it should be only once or twice. Use the name within a figure of speech such as “Lordy, Lordy, our nation is nine,two-score and forty”, or some similar witticism for which you are rightfully famous.

Furthermore, your theology is sure to offend even those who share your willingness to invoke the name “God.” I have stricken the last two paragraphs, which constitute roughly two thirds of the speech. In that section you imply that both parties to this war have guilt before God and that indeed God might be using the war in some sense to punish men for their sins.

Imagine what our political adversaries will do with your words, “…He gives to both North and South this terrible war, as the woe due to those by whom the offense came…?” The idea that God uses war to judge nations went out with the Old Testament Prophets and Jesus. Even so, to suggest that God would judge the North as well as the South is sure to offend half of our constituency.

Instead of morbid, puritanical introspection the populace needs inspiration. Tell them that they are right and that they will win. Tell them that they are sinless and that their enemies are devils.

Please, Mr. President, rethink the speech and get back with me soon for a little brainstorming. I have a great line where you say, “Now let’s go kick some cornpone hauling butt”, that is, if you’re comfortable using the word “cornpone”. Until then I remain--

Your most ardent supporter,

Seymour Fallout

Theosectomy Called Safe

An experimental surgical procedure called a “theosectomy” was advocated at a press conference in Minneapolis this week. Sponsored by Minnesotans Against Deity, the conference raised the hope that all mention of God could be removed from American society.

Dr. I.R. Savage, a member of MAD, says the theosectomy (from the Greek word for God, “theos”) is safe.

“It’s as harmless as an appendectomy. Consider the appendix. Evolution being an inexact process left us with a vestigial organ of absolutely no value. The removal of this excess tissue can only benefit the body. In the same way, societal evolution has passed on to us a useless concept called “God” the removal of which will only serve to improve society.”

The procedure is simple. We use a supercomputer to identify all mentions of God in national historic documents, inscriptions on public buildings, classroom text books, presidential pronouncements, records of congress, public school textbooks, student led graduation ceremonies, national pledges, currency, tombstones in public and military cemeteries, tree carvings in state and national forests, and all other relevant public records. Once we identify every occurrence we simply expunge the word “God”. Of course this would not apply to the use of profanity such as “God blank it.” That would be protected free speech.

As to the difficulty of the task, Savage admitted that though safe, the surgery is quite lengthy. “The sheer number of historic mentions of God in the public arena are so many and widespread that the surgery will be a long one. No stone will be left unturned, and in the end, if we prosecute this campaign with vigilance, we will prevail. Eventually we will have removed every shred of evidence that God-talk was ever welcomed in our culture.

When asked whose God was being expunged, Savage said that the theosectomy is an equal opportunity surgery. Any and every God--Christian, Hindu, or even the God that Atheists don’t believe in will be eliminated from the public square. “God,” he noted, “is already such a generic term that no one will feel neglected by the purge.”

Not all in attendance were convinced as to the safety or benefit from the procedure. Victor E. Divine, a non-conformist sociologist, represented the dissenting voice.

“An acknowledgment of a higher power has served our society well for over two hundred years. When we encourage citizens to a belief in a transcendent being, they are more likely to behave in an ethical manner. They tend to be law-abiding contributors to society. They are more likely to build stable family units and raise well-adjusted offspring. To remove God from the public arena could literally dissolve the key glue that gives our nation its cohesion.”

In response, Savage had this to say.

“Of course if we remove God altogether with nothing to take its place, that might be true, but the theosectomy should never stand alone without a follow-up procedure. We call this subsequent operation a “Belief System Implant”, or B.S. Implant, for short.”

Savage elaborated.

“Though God may be superfluous, we certainly need something to take its place. This realization led us to a study of history to find an appropriate symbol of transcendence without the baggage of deity. We found just such a symbol widely used in Germany in the mid-part of the last century. It has some negative connotations, but if we emphasize its cross-like quality, we feel it will eventually catch on. Who knows? A godless nation like that might even last a thousand years”

Interview With Death

The terrorist attack on the World Trade Center Towers changed our corporate consciousness. Prayer and patriotism are back from Limbus Politicum Correctum. But, one overlooked comeback story is our reacquaintance with an old phantom, the specter a.k.a. Death.

This writer caught up with death for an exclusive interview.

J.B. Death, I’d like to thank you for making time for me today. I know you’re very busy.

D. You should see my “to do” list. But, I’m not complaining. I feel fortunate to be working.

J.B. Some might consider you an overachiever?

D. Your words, not mine, but thank you. I don’t think of myself as somebody special, particularly gifted or smart--just a guy doing a job. If I have any claim to fame, it’s consistency.

J.B. You were hard to track down. I was surprised you didn’t have an answering machine.

D. I apologize for the inconvenience, but aside from a few crank calls from that Kevorkian guy I’m usually the one doing the tracking down, not vice versa. Besides, if you hadn’t called me, I would have eventually gotten in touch with you--if you get my drift.

J.B. Yes, well, let’s hope not for some time (nervous laugh).

D. See, that’s the attitude I usually get. Most people would just as soon pretend I didn’t even exist. I’m a guy with pretty thick skin. Hatred, abuse, fear I can take, but this “ignore-him-and-maybe-he’ll-go-away” stuff cuts deep.

J.B. And yet, that has changed since September 11th; hasn’t it?

D. Hey, I’ve got a whole new lease on life. Not since the fourteenth century when I sometimes operated under such pseudonyms as the Black Death, have I commanded this kind of attention. The respect and the recognition are gratifying.

J.B. Well-deserved, I’m sure. But, how did you slip so far off the radar screen? You hadn’t gone away.

D. Perish the thought! The truth is, I really manage what amounts to a zero sum game. People live and then they die. It’s like the book says, “Sin came into the world and along with it,” to paraphrase, “yours truly.” I didn’t go anywhere.

J.B. Yet, with the eradication of childhood diseases and medical breakthroughs, you seemed to have slowed your pace.

D. I may have postponed some of my work, but I have never lost a soul with one or two extreme exceptions. I keep my appointments like I always have. I can guarantee you that I will get around to everyone sooner or later.

J.B. Of course you will. I didn’t mean to suggest otherwise. I’m just trying to understand how you were ever ignored in the first place.

D. I’ve been marginalized by society. It’s a classic “out-of-sight-out-of-mind” scenario. People had pushed me to the fringe as best they could--hospitals, nursing homes, third world countries. The WTC changed all that. Suddenly I’m back on the front page and getting my due.

J.B. You’re not saying that the terrorist attack was a good thing?

D. Don’t ask me! I’m not involved in value judgments. Going back to the book again, it says, “First I come and then comes the judgment” not the other way around. All I know is, today people are more aware of both life and me, and on a personal level I’m touched.

J.B. I don’t think anyone will take you for granted again. Do you have a closing remark for our readers?

D. Nothing profound comes to mind. I’ll just say, “See you all later.”

Rats, Latex and Antibiotics

By Jay Beuoy

A modern pestilence and an ancient one threaten the US. Recently in Colorado a man died from the Black Death a.k.a. the bubonic plague. With various bacteria proving themselves resistant to antibiotics, one wonders how safe we are.

At the same time a study released by the government indicates that condoms may not be effective for preventing STDs in women. In each case the cure may be the same—avoid the rats that transmit the disease.

Furry four-legged rats are the carriers of the plague, and their two-legged counterparts are the ones spreading the STDs. Forget overused antibiotics that wear off. Forget condoms that may break or slip. The best medical advice of the moment is “Avoid contact with carriers!” The government could launch a campaign tomorrow, “Beware, Trojans, of all rats bearing gifts and be doubly aware of rats bearing Trojans.”

Though this would seem to be the most rational advice, certain lobby groups are against the dissemination of such information. They fear the impact such a “just say no” campaign would have on their constituencies.

For instance, the Rats for Acceptable Treatment Political Action Committee (RAT PAC), bristles at the suggestion of a campaign of rat avoidance. “The very idea that we should be made the fall guys in this matter is preposterous!” said their spokesman, J. Cagney Shortshanks.

“We’re victims too. It’s a well-known fact that we catch the plague from fleas. Where are the anti-flea zealots? And to suggest that we intentionally spread the disease to the human population is outlandish. Any apparent connection is not causal but strictly coincidental.”

“On the other issue, that of comparing us to those who capriciously spread STDs we strenuously object to the disparagement of our species. The unfortunate attachment of the term “rat”, a name, which should be held in esteem by all, to certain members of your species, is a defamation we resent. To suggest that we rats are dirty, contagion carrying sexual miscreants is slander and libel. Be advised that we will fight this to the highest court in the land if need be to clear our good name.”

A similar response was heard from the Regional Order of Latex Laboratories United Politically (ROLL UP). When reached for comment their president, Ridley Ree, had this to say.

“Condoms are getting a bad rap. Absence of scientific proof means nothing. Who says they don’t do some good against sexually transmitted diseases? Common sense has to tell you they’re better than nothing. Besides, where’s the scientific proof that they don’t?”

“Animals are promiscuous, people are animals, and so people are going to be promiscuous. As far as I’m concerned, telling people they can’t do what comes naturally went out with the Ten Commandments. Latex is a godsend and just because there’s a chink in the armor doesn’t mean you go buck-naked into battle.

ROLL UP is prepared to roll out a full-scale assault against any attempt to push abstinence in lieu of condoms. To degrade latex is to degrade America’s freedom and we’re prepared to drape the Washington Monument in red, white and blue latex if that’s what it takes to make our point.”

With all the rats influencing the politicians in DC, any “Just Say No” campaign has little chance of seeing the light of day. Instead, we’ll be told that a micro-thin layer of latex or a good round of antibiotics is reliable protection against disease. ‘Rats should be avoided,’ they’ll say, ‘but if you just can’t help yourself, (and we know you can’t) medical science has you covered.”

The End

“Breaking Up Aint Hard To Do”

by Jay Beuoy

At one time, divorce was synonymous with post-matrimony bitterness—not any more. The more tolerant, more enlightened generation of today has created another way of dealing with divorce. Instead of viewing marital dissolution as failure or brokenness, we have begun to celebrate it as a kind of interpersonal, evolutionary step toward enlightenment.

The new book A Healing Divorce by Phil and Barbara Penningroth, documents and promotes the growing trend toward celebrating divorce with a public ceremony. Say goodbye to stigma. Say hello to divorce gifts with registries at your local Target and J.C. Penneys.

Riding just behind the crest of this wave, Burnworthy’s Eclectic Ecumenical Minister’s Service Manual has come up with a suggested service for a “divorce ceremony.” The insert, numbered 41b and 41c, can be placed inside the three-ring binder of the 2000 addition, and is available by mail order (1.95 plus shipping and handling) or may be downloaded off their web site, BEEMSM.com. It is standard with the 2001 addition.

It reads:

Prelude: The clergy person should select the music for this. Allowing the couple to choose their own music might lead to needless quarreling or excessive sentimentality. This could mar the celebrative nature of the occasion. Something classic like “Night On Bald Mountain” or “Toccata and Fugue in D Minor” would fit nicely.

Processional: The bride and groom will enter the sanctuary together and proceed down the aisle followed by their children when applicable. With congregation standing, the minister will say:

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here in the sight of God and these witnesses to separate this husband from this wife. Be assured that divorce is a civil and solemn occasion not to be entered into lightly, but only after due deliberation, personal dissatisfaction, numerous peeves, unfulfilled expectations, and the slow realization that you just aren’t the same people you were when you got married. Who will release these two dear souls from any guilt associated with breaking their original vows before God?” (At this point the children should answer, “We do.” If there are no children or they are unwilling then a drinking buddy or a divorcee girlfriend may be substituted.)

Special Music: (Optional) Recommendations: “You Won’t Matter Any More” by Linda Ronstadt, or “You’ve Got A Lot Of Nerve” by Bob Dylan.

Message: (Optional) Avoid direct references to scripture as this may cause excessive feelings of guilt. Speak of God in vague generalities or as the ground of our being. Affirm and support the couple as if this were all very positive rather than a selfish act or a lack of character.

Un-vows

To The Man Do you _________ recant your vows to _________ promising to dismiss her with no grudge or ill will in your heart? Do you promise to speak of her warmly, keep all pictures of her in tact and still send a card on her birthday? Will you give her an affectionate sidearm hug when you see her? Will you free her to become the best person she can be without the shackles of love, commitment and fidelity that have heretofore bound her.

To The Wife: repeat

Return of the Rings:

Have the couple turn to one another. The minister shall say, “A ring is a circle—endless-- having no beginning and no end. It could represent undying love. Yet, after a ring is placed on the finger it turns your skin black or cuts into the flesh, arresting the circulation of blood. This usually happens when people grow. ______________ and _____________ have outgrown their commitment to one another and so they return these rings, like them, a bit worn around the edges, but still golden and full of possibilities.

Have the man remove the ring from the woman’s finger. As he does the minister will say, “Repeat after me. With this ring I take back my life and divorce you.” (Repeat the same for the woman)

Disunity Candle: As one of the previously mention songs are played the couple will go to the altar where one candle is burning and two candles sit to each side. The man and woman will each light a separate candle and together they will blow out the middle candle that represents their former life together.

Pronouncement of Divorce: The minister shall say, “By the powers vested in me by the state of ______________ and the church of ____________ I now pronounce you no longer husband and wife. Go your separate ways in peace.

Benediction: May the Lord bless you and keep you apart. May he cause his face to shine upon you separately but never again as one; the Lord lift up his countenance upon you and grant you peace from one another, now and forever. Amen

Postlude: Something along the order of “Free As A Bird” by John Lennon, or “Happy Days Are Here Again”. Have the woman walk down the aisle alone and the man exit on the side.

-The End-

Cheese Dodgeball

The children line up in orderly phalanxes across the gym from one another. Pete, the Powerhouse Garecki has the unpasteurized cheese ball in hand as he eyes his targets with a sniper’s precision.

A whistle blows and the blue cheese-squad bears down on the green. Pete hurls the opening salvo and nails Mary Stiglett’s calf; she drops in pain on the hardwood. Before she can limp off to the side, Ben Pierson grabs the Emmentaler, laterals to his Captain, Butch Stoutkiss. Butch fakes a throw to the far corner then turns to deliver a side-arm, cross-court blast. The Swiss slams into Little Kenny Haskins whose miss-timed jump proves several inches short.

The mêlée swells. Injuries mount. Pieces of cheese ball litter the field. The wounded egos and bodies slump behind the respective baselines. Butch and Pete are the last left standing. Then Pete seizes the fetid sphere, double pumps and hurls it into the face of Stoutkiss. A whistle blows. Face-shot foul! The bawling Butch is declared the default winner as the P.E. teacher leads him away to the nurse’s office.

Which is worse for our children--unpasteurized cheese or the vicious contest of dodgeball? That’s a hard call. According to some recent news reports both are endangering their fragile health and souls.

On the cheese plate, the FDA is considering the banning of any sales of cheese made from unpasteurized milk, whether domestic or foreign. This move comes despite the lack of any evidence that such products have ever caused or represent any potential health threat. (The FDA currently allows such cheeses to be sold if they have been aged at least sixty days.)

Over in the dodgeball court, fears mount. According to activists, dodgeball endangers students. School gyms become survival of the fittest hunting grounds where athletic kids prey on their weaker counterparts, weeding them from the evolutionary gene pool. What should be done?

Get rid of our best cheese? Imagine a world with no Gruyere or Emmentaler. Inconceivable! Eliminate such cheeses and the dominoes begin to topple. Fondue becomes a thing of the past. Swiss banks go under. A black market of smuggled cheese bubbles up and pretty soon the president appoints a Cheese Czar.

Eliminate dodgeball? I would incline to that option as I reflect back on my own pain, reconstructive facial surgeries and psychiatric counseling bills. Still, if we take the dodgeball away, kids might resort to more violent means of aggressing against the helpless.

I’m surprised we haven’t heard a solution in line with the scenario above. Combine the cheese and the dodgeball and let the kids pelt one another with the pungent projectiles. Instead of eliminating all risk from their lives give them a healthy dose of danger like running the bulls or eating blowfish sushi. By that logic what doesn’t kill them would only make them stronger and what does kill them would make the species stronger.

If we were judging these two issues from a biblical perspective our answers might be more complex. We might want to talk about the balance between compassion for the weak versus an overweening desire to eliminate all risk. We might want to talk about the effect these matters have on character development and the need for both courage and kindness.

We might want to talk in that way, but we can’t. We’ve removed God from the market place of ideas, muzzled free speech and acquiesced to Darwin. Western culture is currently marooned on the Galapagos Islands. In that brave new world shouldn’t we just bring on the cheese ball, blow the whistle and let the elimination tournament begin?

Gullible’s Travels

I, Limp E. Gullible did shipwreck in the year of our Lord, 2001, along the coast of a cold and malignant land by the name of Minneput.

After sundry adventures and after attempting to blend in with the Minneputians by subtlety and craft, (I will later relate of how I did partake of their victuals, including a strange fish--it being dried as a board then soaked in lye), I came to their capital.

The city, or shall I rather say cities, for the two bifurcated by a great river, are called Minneputolis and Pollux. In the latter, also named St. Pollux, I did meet their King, an ox-like individual, quite large for Minneputian standards, yet with and amazingly small, baldhead. His diminutive cranial capacity will become apparent anon.

King Ventanger, for that was his name, was held in esteem by few of his subjects, and yet they reckoned him truthful to a fault and otherwise quite harmless. He, having want to impress a foreigner with the vastness of his domain did suggest that I accompany him on a hunt.

“Prithee,” said I, “what whilst thou hunt? Shall we hunt the great creakblab?” (a Minneputian creature with four great paws and a snout and teeth for berries) “Or wouldst thou rather pursue the wild hilewgats?” (a creature much resembling a white stag yet written with its letters scrambled).

“Nay, nay,” said Ventanger, and at this he snorted like a bubalboar. “What sport would such adventurers as we find in hunting after but dumb beasts? Nay, rather, a noble hunt is that whose prey is of sufficient wit and cunning that it might shoot back—I speak of hunting the Minneputian.”

Of course I did argue most vociferously with the King, all the more at the premise of his statement. Indeed few Minneputians seemed possessed of either wit or cunning. Nor granting even limited intelligence, did the King himself seem equal to the challenge.

“Do not on my account,” said I, “venture on such an immoral undertaking. Heaven forbid, that we should shed that creature’s blood who is made in God’s image--especially if it be for amusement’s sake.”

“Who is innocent?” Asked the King. “The Minneputians are sluggards and wags and they say mean things about me. Are they more innocent than cute, furry, little animals?”

“Doest thou have no religion?” Asked I. “Is hunting your people not against some law of yours, whether higher or lower?”

“Religion is for the infirm and feeble of mind,” said he, “yet we needs confer with our statutes and laws to ascertain whether the season for such a hunt is at hand.”

At this, King Ventanger escorted me to a great hall, which seemed to continue ad infinitum. The walls were lined with shelves from base to cornice and all the shelves were full of books.

The King sighed. “These books are most of the laws of Minneput. Unfortunately by the time I find the statute pertaining to our hunting regulations, the season will assuredly be gone. Would you like instead to play Thumperbump?”

“What is that?” asked I.

With that the King barreled out his chest and ran into me as a battering ram at the city gates. Glad to be distracted with another pastime, I humored him for a few hours playing Thumperbump, though I confess I could not knock him over with all my strength.

Having been preserved by divine Providence from the shedding of innocent blood I got me quickly hence and have avoided that place to this very day. Glad to live once more in a place where creature and creator are honored I conclude as I set forth, Gullible.

Please, Don't Squeeze the Shaman

My favorite environmentalist, feminist, new age transcendentalist friend Lillith Greenpeace was sitting at the computer Internet terminal at the local library. I bumped into her on my way to a study carrel where I hoped to get in some serious uninterrupted writing.

"So, what are you up to Lillith?" I asked, setting my satchel on a chair nearby. "Researching some federal grants or something?"

Lillith, looked up from the monitor. I saw the euphoria written in her wide green eyes as if in Runic large print. "Oh, hi Jay. You just won't believe what I'm going to do."

Trying to guess Lillith's next adventure would be like trying to anticipate the next political scandal. You never see it coming, but once it's there you realize it fits the usual pattern.

"Okay, I give up," I said. What is it this time?

"A shamanic pilgrimage to the Amazonian rainforest to sample the vine of the soul. I'm going for the purge, a spiritual disembodied Hajj into spiritual ether." She answered.

"Could you break that down in plain English for me?" I asked.

"No problem," she said. I'm taking a trip to Ecuador with this way-cool group called Cosmic Mind Blowers Psychedelic Soulscapade Inc. They're on the net. Look."

I looked over her shoulder and there on the screen, complete with Visa and MasterCard logos at the bottom was the Soulscapade web site. A flashing java banner at the top advertised the chance to win a free trip to the rainforest. In between, in green, aqua-blue and purple the text explained the mission of CMBPS Inc.

"You see," Lillith explained, "You fly down to Quito and meet up with the tour. Then, you hike into the interior and canoe down the Amazon to a village of Secoya Indians. There's where you get connected with the Shaman."

"Shaman?" I asked. "Isn't that a kind of witch doctor?"

"Lillith" pursed her lips. "You Christians just don't get it do you? A shaman is a holy man in touch with the spirits of nature itself."

"I think I get it, Lillith. We just have a different name for those spirits. We call them demons, and we try to avoid them as best we can."

"And that's where you are just too closed--minded. Anyway, the shaman cooks up a mixture of the ayahuasco vine and the caapi plant. You drink two or three cups and off you go. People report seeing the most incredible images like men with bird heads, serpent goddesses, and creatures of spun light. Some who make the pilgrimage even have the exact same psychic journeys as others in their group. That's called transpersonal sightings."

"I notice they take Visa. How much will this trip cost?" I asked.

"Three grand plus airfare and accommodations." She said. "I don't think that's too much for a genuine spiritual experience."

"I've got a better idea," I said. "Why don't you come to church with me on Sunday? You can get a spiritual experience with the Big Spirit himself. It's free and it's even transpersonal. Two hundred others will be having the same experience right along with you.

"Are you kidding?" She laughed a little superior laugh. "What do I want with your old paternalistic religion? I want something unique, mind-expanding and mysterious."

A couple months later I saw Lillith. When I asked her about her trip to the Amazon she shrugged and said, "Everything was fine up to the night we were suppose to make the journey. The Shaman told us that any of the women who 'had their moon' would not be able to participate. Unfortunately I hit it at the wrong time of month and so I came back empty-handed."

"Tough break, " I said. "So, why don't you come to church with me on Sunday? We don't make those kinds of distinctions."

"Look!" She answered. "I paid good money to go down there and commune with the spirits of nature. I'm not going to turn around and come crawling on hands and knees to a God who thinks he's above it all and who gives himself away for free."

Lotto—The Other Tax

Somewhere in the hidden recesses of the state capital building...

"Gentlemen, thank you for coming to the statehouse today to meet with the State Commission of Alternate Methods To Heist Everyone's Money or SCAM THEM, as we affectionately call it." (Laughter)

"You know our history. We were started as a study commission appointed by the state government as the Feasibility of Alternate Taxation Taskforce, otherwise known as FATT. Once we helped introduce legalized gambling into law we changed the name. You can see why." (More laughter)

"We're here today to announce the winner for our new ad campaign. Whether it's lotto's or the state sponsored Casinos. We need more revenue, and our current advertising doesn't seem to be working. Our goal is to double the state revenues from gambling over the next five years. I see a hand in the back. Yes?" (Pause)

"The question was, 'why don't we just add more casinos and additional forms of lottery?' Well, that is an excellent point and indeed we are working on that. You may remember last year's smashing success with the new McDonald's Corporation's 'Ronald’s Floating Funhouse.' " (Applause)

"Thank you. Yes, that was a fine hour. The real difficulty was not the casino itself. There were more than enough out-of-work English majors from liberal arts colleges willing to put on clown makeup. Staffing wasn't a problem. The real trick was passing that under age gambling law. We finally got it passed when the teacher's union agreed to back the amendment provided we hire union teachers as onboard education consultants. By the way, that slogan, "Gambling--It Brings Families Together" was brilliant. Thank you Bull Inc. for that stroke of genius.” (More applause)

"On the lotto front, we feel we've reached a certain saturation point. Convenience stores have begun to complain that there is no more room above or below the counter to pack in any more tickets. So, the emphasis has to be on creating more interest in the existing games."

"Today we're going to announce the winning advertising agency to head our new campaign. We appreciate all your efforts. May I have the envelopes?" (An aide brings a set of envelopes to the podium)

"Thank you. Honorable mention goes to the Double Talk Agency for their slogan, ‘Lotto--Be a player. Be a patriot.' We liked it but felt it might be better for a national lotto. Hey, it could happen."

"Our second runner up goes to the Hyper Hype Group for their entry. ‘Play the Lottery. You'll Win. Guaranteed!’ Again, we saw potential here, and hiring the Cajun Chef to do the spots was a nice touch. In the end we just didn't think you properly understand the lotto. You see, we really can't guarantee anyone will win, not even if they played for ten thousand years."

"First runner up--goes to The Matrix Corporation with their slogan, 'If you don't win the lottery, your bum neighbor might.' The commission was almost evenly split on that one. In the end we felt it was too much like our old ad, 'If you don't win the lottery someone else might.' Keep trying. There's always next time."

"I can feel the tension in the room. Let's not delay. Our winner is...drum roll please...Pull the Wool Group with their entry, ‘Don't pay the rent 'til you've played the lotto.’ It's in-your-face, it's honest and it makes the average lottery player feel understood."

"Well I think we've done enough damage for one day. Thanks for coming and to all of you losers--better luck next time."

Waiting For The Signal?

The battery of military surplus computers whirred in the basement of Dr. Orr Shock’s home. Outside, an array of old satellite dishes pointed heavenward, patched together by jumbles of cables.

I sat in a chair a few feet from my neighbor whom I call simply “Shock.” He’s a fun guy to hang out with. His brain is full of pseudo-scientific theories. Sorting truth from fiction is half the fun of our conversations. We sat and watched the readouts, watching for a signal from outer space.

Shock is a non-conformist self-proclaimed member of the SETI (Search for Extra Terrestrial Intelligence) Institute. The Institute probably doesn’t admit his existence any more than I admit the existence of aliens, but that doesn’t discourage the Doc. Day after day he pans the sky with his homemade radio telescopes looking to make his big discovery.

He does have a doctorate from an accredited university. Only thing is--the degree is in agronomy. Maybe he inhaled too many insecticides or fertilizers, but somewhere along the way he went from developing hybrid corn to investigating crop circles. He believes that crop circles are actually the work of an alien intelligence, which evolved from the plant kingdom.

“Too bad about Ray Walston dying,” I said. “I suppose he was your favorite Martian.”

Shock frowned. “Don’t be droll, Jay. Ray Walston was a fraud. He was in it for the money—never a true-believer.”

“A true believer?” I asked.

“A true believer knows, believes--accepts without fear of contradiction that extraterrestrial intelligence exists.” Doc turned and stared at the upward stream of data.

“Wow!” I said.

“What? Did you see something?” He perked up.

“No, I just mean ‘wow’— it sounds like it takes a lot of faith to be a true believer.”

Shock frowned. He doesn’t like it when someone expresses doubt. “It’s simply a matter of logic--faith in logic if you will.”

“What about evidence?” I asked innocently.

He snapped back. “The evidence will come. That’s what all this is about. Sooner or later we’ll get something just like the WOW signal, only this time it will be verifiable and sustained.”

“The WOW signal?” I said with obvious skepticism.

“I’ve told you this before. Back in 1977 a student at Ohio State spotted a brief set of numbers very close to the hydrogen line. It only lasted 72 seconds and has never repeated. Some of us believe it was an alien signal”

“So, after thirty plus years with SETI and other groups scouring the heavens from one end to the other, that’s it?” Nothing more? Sounds pretty shaky to me.” I said.

“Get out of my basement and leave me in peace. I need to concentrate.”

“I’m sorry.” I said. “I didn’t mean to upset you.” I got up to leave.

Shock spun around on his chair. “Here’s the deal. We evolved on this planet, right?”

“That’s what you say.” I answered.

“Well we did, and we can be certain that there are trillions of planets in the universe with billions of earth-like ones among them. Life must have evolved millions of times over and out of that life, there had to be sentient beings like us and beyond.”

“I see.” I said facetiously. “So that accounts for the trillions of signals pouring in by the minute. I’m sorry. Look. You have to have some proof to get me to believe.”

“We’ll get proof if unbelievers like you get out of the way of people like me.”

“How can you be so sure that there is any proof to find?” I asked. “Perhaps we’re a unique creation?”

Doc slumped back in the chair a bit and gazed down at his keyboard. “If that is the case, the universe is a very lonely place indeed, and we’re just some bizarre accident. There has to be something more--something bigger than mankind.”

“You mean like God?” I suggested.

“God is an unprovable hypothesis.”

“Or” I said. “Maybe we’re just waiting for His signal.”

To A Parasite

A letter to the editor in the Minneapolis Star Tribune of December 29^th 2000 stated that a fetus is not a human being, but rather a parasite. Though that might seem shocking, and though it is obviously specious, it is a more common sentiment than one might think. I am thankful when someone is willing to be so vulnerably absurd, because it inspires me to give an answer. Thus, I dedicate this poem to the parasite man.

The news is grim

A growth is found

The implications are profound

A parasite

Its life enmeshed

Sits in her uterus infleshed

A bug, a force

A vicious virus

Clinging to her womb desirous

Living, sucking

Draining, eating

Stealing space--Its blob heart beating

A choice is hers

Some say a right

To flush this demon out of sight

Seeking freedom

In eugenics

She seeks the best of all the clinics

And in the sterile

White-washed room

She seeks to make her womb a tomb

But while there waiting

On the gurney

To make her final tandem journey

The stowaway

With prescience keen

Kicks her rudely in the spleen

Then stunned

Pensively she lingers

Stroking her stomach with her fingers

As if a chord

Were plucked within her

Resonating life-born timbre

“Baby…my baby”

Move her lips

Involuntarily she slips

Weeping, fleeing

Into the night

Saves she the life of her parasite

What Really Killed The Dinosaurs?

We’ve all heard the theory. An asteroid slammed into the earth 65 million years ago setting off a domino reaction of ecological catastrophes which resulted in the extinction of the dinosaurs.

At least that is what scientists used to believe. Now they aren’t so sure. Crunching the numbers with supercomputers it seems unlikely that the impact would have thrown sufficient debris into the atmosphere to utterly shroud the planet and cause such massive extinction.

New theories are arising such as the sulfur particle theory, i.e., that enough sulfur was released into the atmosphere to transform the oceans into acidic pools or the volcanic theory that blames the extinction on a corresponding increase of volcanic activity at the time. No one has yet put forward the opinion of this author, at least till now.

I believe that the dinosaurs were killed off by an eating disorder. Call it serendipity, but at the same time that scientists were reexamining the extinction of the dinosaurs, I started noticing a disturbing trend in the news. Our food is scaring us to death. Eureka! Like a bolt from the primordial red sky, it hit me. Perhaps the dinosaurs had perished from an inhibition to eat the food left after the asteroid strike.

Looney? Keep an open-mind as I connect the dots. After the asteroid hit there would have been a lot of dead dinosaurs lying around. The ones that survived, whether carnivorous or not, might have fed on the carcasses to stay alive—i.e., dinosaurs eating dinosaurs. This in turn could have led to dinosaurian spongioform, or Mad Saurus Disease.

Due to the primitive packaging techniques of the time, brontoburger might have been equally tainted with outbreaks of ecoli. After all, ecoli surely existed in the digestive tracts of animals then as now.

Pesticides were not much in use, as far as we know, but with all that sulfur in the atmosphere, the vegetables would have been covered with a thin mist of sulfuric acid. What would a dinosaur mother have used to wash these poisoned vegetables? More acidic water from the tap!

Then there’s the whole issue of genetic manipulation. Recall the recent scare we went through when it was discovered that Taco Bell had incorporated as much as 1% of Starlink corn in their taco shells. I’m not silly enough to suggest that they had genetically manipulated corn in 65,000,000 BC. But, what about possible radioactive debris from the asteroid? Dinosaurs would have worried about genetic mutations. Sure, those mutations might turn into wonderful evolutionary possibilities later on, but at that precise moment, they would have been frightening to say the least.

The upshot would have been that all these scares then led to a decline in feeding and the eventual emaciation and extinction of the dinosaur race. I have dubbed their illness anorexia trophophobia (starving oneself from fear of food).

“Where’s the proof?” You ask. Have you ever noticed that all that is left of these mighty creatures is their bones? Coincidence? I don’t think so.

In the end, I think we should learn from the mistake of the dinosaurs and be a little less neurotic about our food. Eating has its risks, but fewer risks than the alternative. Instead of driving ourselves to extinction maybe we should just thank our maker for what he has provided and take a chance. So, pass me some of that beef, but make it well done.

Pilgrim's Progress On The

Internet Super Highway

On his way to the celestial city Christian met a one-eyed man with a wide, square, flat face.

"I know thee," said Christian, "Thou art surely that man headed to the city of Destruction. Pray, what is your name."

"My name," said the man, is Modem--Mr. Modem C. Internet, and I am not headed to Destruction. I am not going anywhere. Rather, everything is coming to me."

"Nay," said Christian, "I was warned of thee, by Mr. Obscurantist. He said thou art wicked and headed for doom. Indeed said he, 'all who travel with ye are doomed.'"

"I travel with no one, nor would I take thee this way nor that. I will only bring to thee what thou desireth. Ye needs travel nowhere past the seat of thy trousers."

"Ah," said Christian, "then verily I see the makings of a snare. For, that which I desireth descendeth not only from the good, but doth bubble up from the wickedness in me. I quote with the Apostle Paul, Romans 7:18 For I know that in me (that is, in my flesh,) dwelleth no good thing: for to will is present with me; but how to perform that which is good I find not.

"It is as thou saith," said Modem, " but I can quote holy writ as well, Titus 1:15 Unto the pure all things are pure: but unto them that are defiled and unbelieving is nothing pure; but even their mind and conscience is defiled."

"I commence to apprehend thy meaning," said Christian. "Yet, is that which bringeth both good and evil morally neutral? For if it takes with one hand what it gives with the other, is it not all guile and deceit?"

Modem answered, "Doth not the same sun both destroy crops in drought, but make them grow after the rain? Doth that same Sun not bake the clay so well as it thaws the frozen winter soil? Canst not all that God made be used for either good or bad? So, too, I am but a large bandwidth that floweth in the direction which the heart's rudder turneth."

"I admit that thou makest an argument fine, but whether it be Mother Logic or Father Lie I cannot tell." Christian dropped to his knees in helplessness and prayed. "Lord, if this Mr. Internet be evil, please take him from me. As, thou hast taught us to pray, lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil…amen."

When Christian raised his eyes, Modem stood by with a blank look on his face. "Well?" said he. "I am still here."

"Hast thou changed?" Asked Christian.

"Nay, I am always the same--a broad path that leadeth to destruction, and a path that leads to a narrow way. Hast thou changed?"

"Nay, I am the same. I am still on my way to the Celestial City, and still capable of stumbling along the path."

"Then what hast thou decided?" asked Modem, "Wilst thou shun me or use me?"

"I will use thee, but with care. I will pray that the Lord who strengtheneth me would help me to walk by His Spirit. I will hold fast to him who holdeth me fast. By his power I will seek the good in you, and avoid the evil. Art thou pleased?"

Modem C. Internet shrugged his shoulders. "I do not care."

Judgment of NebuCHADnezzar

By Jay Beuoy

To pray for relief from the current political crisis of our nation is certainly our prerogative, and duty. However, there is one unappetizing possibility we have perhaps failed to consider. What if Al Gore is the hand of God’s judgment upon the wickedness of our nation?

Pondering that bleak thought, I asked myself, what cruel and despotic Ruler in the history of God’s people had the Lord set over them. In less time than it took Joe Lieberman to call for a third recount, I had it—NebuCHADnezzar of Babylon.

First, I looked up the relevant passages of scripture. When Israel and then Judah had disobeyed God for the umpteenth time, God finally drew the curtain and fulfilled his promised curse to uproot them from the land He had given them to possess. (Deut 28:63) God used Nebuchadnezzar, a pagan King, as His instrument of judicial destruction.

God’s people asked the same questions that we are asking. “How could God allow such evil to come upon us?” “What did we do to deserve it?” “There must be some mistake!” “Why?” As they were being carried away into captivity and subjected to tyranny and taxation without representation, God spoke through the prophets, especially Jeremiah. He told them to live with it; make the best of it, because God had done this as a judgment upon their sin.

Then, as I stared once more at the name of that long turned-to-dust Emperor it jumped out at me. There it was, as if were some rudimentary, easily divined exercise in a Gematria 101 textbook. NebuCHADnezzar. Forget the Bible Code. Forget Nostradamus. Forget trying to figure out the meaning of 666 (although I think someone should take a closer look under the thinning hair on the back of Gore’s head) here it was encoded in the English transliteration of a Greek transliteration of the Cuneiform.

I submit to you that history will record the middle name of Al Gore as “CHAD!” Whether that ends up as a hyphenated Dimpled/Chad or Penetrated/Chad remains to be seen. Yet, the operative word now dimpled into our collective consciousness is that simple four-letter word—Chad!

Upon further reflection I realized that with the endless translations from one language to another and the transliterations from one alphabet to another a metamorphosis could have occured. Perhaps the name Nebuchadnezzar is actually a partially abbreviated, slightly corrupted form of “Nebulous Chad Seizer” (one who steals ambiguous chads for his own gain).

Eureka! It didn’t take any Mesopotamian brain trust of Melchior, Caspar and Belshazzar (not a law firm in Palm Beach) to figure out that one! A potentially encrypted message from God to His people seems to be apparent. “Get ready for judgment! Nebuchadnezzar is here and ready to rule!”

I hate to be a prophet of doom. Naturally, there is a minute chance that I’m just full of beans and asparagus. However, why not judgment! Have we not been as negligent as the people of Israel in obeying the Lord? Are our sins not piled as high to the heavens as were theirs? Do the murders of 40,000,000 babies not deserve a passing drought or locust plague?

If God should spare us from a twenty-first century version of NebuCHADnezzar we won’t ask the question “How could God allow this?” Instead we ought to ask, “Why is God merciful that he would speak to us through a Bush?”

The Gorch Who Stole the Election

Every Yank

Down in Yankville

Likes elections a lot…

But the Gorch

From Naval Observatory

Did not!

The Gorch hated a fairly conducted election!

Now, please don’t ask why. It was his predilection.

It could be his head wasn’t screwed on so neat.

It could perhaps be that he hated defeat.

But I think that the most likely reason of all.

Was that he was full of presumptuous gall.

But,

Whatever the reason,

His head or his gall

He picked up the phone and put out a call

Though he’d lost the race, it was tight. “Can’t you see?

The Yanks wouldn’t pick anybody but Me!”

“I won the popular vote!” he snarled with a sneer.

“I’ll be given the office by January next year!"

Then he growled, with his Gorch fingers nervously drumming.

"I must stop the vote certification from coming!”

For he knew that tomorrow

All the Yank girls and boys

Would wake bright and early. They’d be full of joy.

And then! Oh, the noise! Oh, the Noise! Noise! Noise! Noise!

That’s one thing he hated! The Noise! Noise! Noise! Noise!

Then the Yanks, young and old, would sit down to a feast.

And they’d feast! And they’d feast! And they’d feast!

Feast! Feast! Feast!

For President Bush they would raise the glass high!

And say, “That went well. Now, Dear Gorch, good-bye!”

And THEN

They’d do something

He liked least of all

All the Yanks down in Yankville, the tall and the small

Would get on with their lives as if he meant nothing.

They’d thank God for Yankville or freedom or something.

They’d work, and they’d pray!

And they’d laugh and they’d dream,

Of their dear country, Yankville held high in esteem.

And then the Gorch thought, “I must stop this whole thing!”

Why for fifty-some years, I’ve been groomed until now,

To inherit the throne—and I’ll have it somehow!

Then he got an idea!

An awful idea!

The Gorch

Got a Wonderful, Awful Idea!

“I know just what to do!” The Gorch laughed in his throat.

And he called every lawyer, and couldn’t help gloat.

And he chuckled, and chuckled, “What a great Gorchy trick.

I’ll hold up the process 'til the Yanks are all sick.

All I need is an expert…”

The Gorch looked around.

Though experts are scarce, there was one to be found.

The Gorch knew a man

And he asked with voice gaily.

“Would you go down and fix things

Dear Son of a Daley?”

Then Daley took Christopher

Secretary of State

They marshaled the lawyers

And spurned on the hate.

Then the Gorch said, “Giddap!

Find some votes

Who cares how!

Just get them, and count them

Or make them right now!”

This is stop number one, Old Gorchy Claus hissed.

In Palm Beach alone 3500 got missed!

Then he said, “not one count

Is enough. No, not two.

I want three or four, and by hand

By my crew.”

Then he slithered and slunk with a smile most unpleasant

Around the whole state and stole every present

Every vote for George W. from soldiers, and sailors

He threw out their votes

He threw them in trailers.

He hid them in bags, and ate all their chads

And pushed the court system to ignore the brave lads.

Then he slunk to the lowest of low he could go.

He picked on the one stalwart woman, his foe.

He called her Cruella, a Gorchy-esque Heiress

He called her “that partisan Katherine Harris.”

Then he stuffed all his votes in the boxes delinquent

While the watchers grew weary and the counters malignant

And when the Gorch

Had caused all this ill-will

He puffed out his lip asking, “can’t we be civil?”

“I learned this from Bill and my friend, Rodney King.

You don’t need to get snippy.

I ask just one thing.

If you’ll just stop the madness

And admit that you’re wrong

Call me President Gorch, and we’ll all get along.”

Some Yanks were not fooled.

They called him “sore-loser.”

He responded, “You don’t want George Bush,

That old boozer!”

And his fib fooled some Yanks. Then he patted their heads,

And with a boot to their fannies sent them back to their beds.

And when they went to their beds with their hopes still in tact.

He went on with his mischief, loading votes in his sack.

And the chads that fell to the floor in his haste.

He ate on the spot--no accounting for taste.

Then the last thing he took

Was the honor and fire

Of the noble Yank heart, that remorseless old liar.

Thirty thousand feet high, in a jet--Air-Force Two,

He rode with his load to convince the last few.

Some old Democrats thought his scheme was too daring.

“When the Yanks learn you’ve stolen the votes they’ll be airing

Their anger and rancor at us with a frown

Why don’t you concede and get out of our town?

But the Gorch was so smooth, so oily and slick

He wasn’t a saint, but some called him “Old Nick”

He made them a promise

With his four fingers crossed

He’d give up the bid, if he saw that he’d lost.

But, the Gorch, he knew what the Dems didn’t know

He’d worked out his plan,

No way would he go!

The courts would give in

To the hand-counting scheme

It all would be legal, without the least seam.

In his observatory lair,

He listened with glee.

For the Yanks to wake-up and to sing, “OH, MY, ME!”

Our election is over; the deed is now done.

And he listened, and listened, and listened for fun!

For the Yanks down in Yankville to cry all so glum.

“That’s a noise,” grinned the Gorch,

“That I simply must hear!”

So, he listened, and listened and listened with cheer.

And did hear a sound rising over the snow.

It started in low. Then it started to grow.

But the sound wasn’t sad!

Why, this sound that was low

Could be heard far and wide, “The Old Gorch Has to Go!”

He stared down at Yankville!

The Gorch popped his eyes!

Then he shook!

What he saw was a shocking surprise!

All the Yanks in Yankville, the tall and the small

Were singing, and marching, and storming the wall.

Will the Gorch be Gorchy oh so Gorchy and Mean?

Or at the end of it all will he try to redeem

His name, and his honor, so the people can say,

In the end his heart grew three times bigger that day?

The Yanks are all waiting to find out the story.

Will the nation survive, or will this turn gore-y?

A Cunning Plan?

By Jay Beuoy

My conspiracy-theory friend, Jedidiah Sputterforth, was by the other day. He knew I'd snagged a couple bags of Celestialmoose coffee at the local Unclaimed Stuff Store.

"What do you think of the weather?" I asked, trying to keep the conversation away from "black helicopters" and "grassy knolls".

"It's a conspiracy," he said.

"The weather?" I asked, not sure if he was launching into a tirade about global warming or just trying to pull my chain.

"The way I see it," he said, ignoring my question, "you fascist, right-wing, fundamentalist, born-again Chistian-nistas are engaging in a genocidal take-over attempt to inherit the earth.

"We are?"

"You betcha!" His eyes twinkled. They always twinkled when he saw confusion. He was baiting me, and waiting to set the hook.

"Do you want some more coffee?" I asked, getting up and heading to retrieve the coffeepot.

"Don't try and change the subject. I read it your Fuhrer's own words--Matthew 5, and I quote, blessed are the meek for they shall inherit the earth. Now what is that but some grandiose takeover plan, a coup de tat, a silent revolution?"

"Ah, so that's where you're going." I smiled one of those, I'm-tracking-you-now smiles. "But that isn't a plan to take over the world per se. What Jesus meant was..."

"Don’t you go splitting hairs. I am all over this one like a queen-size sheet on a twin-size bed! Ask me how the plan is working."

"Okay," I said humoring him. "How is it going?”

"Perfectly! That's how. What would a guy do if he wanted to take over the world but he had to get rid of an entire segment of the population?"

"Kill them?" I offered.

"Too obvious. Besides, it tends to put a disparaging mark on a kingdom of love." He intoned the word "love" like it was a four-syllable word. "No, you get them to kill off themselves."

"Mass-suicide?" I asked.

"Don't act coy. We're talking abortion up-front, euthanasia down the back slope and in between you've got your homosexuality. Do you know the life expectancy of a homosexual or a lesbian? About forty years! And who is it that wants the abortions and the mercy killings and the right to non-procreative relationships? It's godless heathens like me. You born-againers are having 5 or 6 crumb-crunchers per couple, indoctrinating them with your religion, and if you aren't stopped you're going to inherit the earth in about two generations."

With that, Jedidiah slammed his fist on the kitchen table and nearly spilled the last of the java.

So you’re saying that Christians are trying to take over the world by getting non-Christians to kill themselves off. Do I have it straight?”

“Yup!”

“And to do that we’re discouraging them from breeding and encouraging things like abortions and euthanasia?”

“You got it Chief!”

“There’s just one problem I see with this particular conspiracy theory.” I said. “Christians are promoting those life-destructive choices. They’re trying to end them.”

“That’s just what you want us to believe,” he said. The truth is, you’re using reverse psychology, making us do what you want us to do by pretending to forbid us from doing those very things!”

Somehow I managed to get Jedidiah back on to more neutral topics like alien abductions and fluoridation. Admittedly his theory is ridiculous. Christians don’t want to annihilate anyone. Yet, he did make me stop and think. If ACT-UP, NOW, The Hemlock Society and others like them get what they want, the meek may be the only ones left to turn the lights out when they’re gone.

A Tasteless Subject

Find a school hallway somewhere in America. Locate a group of adolescent boys who are laughing. Zero in on their conversation, and you will probably find crude jokes at the center. If it’s dead or disgusting, it will produce the desired paroxysms.

Permutations of these jokes abound. There are the Sonny Bono jokes, told in tandem with the Michael Kennedy jokes (both killed in skiing accidents), the now fading Challenger Astronaut jokes (also quite dead), the ever-popular dead cat jokes, and the perennial dead baby jokes. If you’ve never heard of any of these you have lived a very sheltered, and may I say, a less damaged life than the rest of us.

Notice that many of these examples play on otherwise tragic current events. This leads me to speculate on what our incorrigible juveniles will do with some of the recent headlines.

Just the other day for instance the FDA approved the abortion pill, RU486. As one politician put it, for the first time the FDA has approved a drug intended to kill a human being. Another correctly labeled it a human pesticide.

The pill, taken within 47 days of a woman’s last menses causes a woman’s body to abort the unborn child. Though the news media has characterized it as a “day after pill” and spoken of it casting off a “fertilized egg” the actual embryo may be over thirty days old and could have a had a beating heart for over two weeks.

Then there was the vote on the so-called “Born-Alive Infants Protection Act, HR 4292.” The purpose of the bill is to protect children who though aborted, manage to come into the world still kicking. More than symbolic, the law will save children who up till now would have been dumped, struggling for life, into the abortionist’s garbage.

Thankfully, the House of Representatives approved the measure by a large majority. Yet, the debate was sobering. Congresswoman Barbara Boxer of California could not bring herself to call a fully delivered infant a separate individual, protected by the Constitution. Boxer would withhold a stamp of approval on the humanity of an infant until around the time the parents take the child home.

In his recent column on the issue George Will mentions a Princeton faculty member by the name of Peter Singer. Singer advocates the position that parents should receive a kind of thirty-day, money-back-if-not-completely-satisfied guarantee. During the “would-be human’s” first month after birth, if the parents so decided, they could have their “almost-a-child” summarily euthanized. After all, you can get that much of a guarantee on a cheap, ninety-nine cent wristwatch from China.

Maybe that attempt at humor falls flat with you, dear reader. Can you then imagine how funny the new tasteless jokes will be in the hallways of America’s middle schools?

“What does RU486 stand for?”

“Millions of dead babies.”

“What does an abortionist call fifty dead babies?”

“A good day’s work.”

“What are the possible adverse side effects of RU486?”

“In 92-95% of cases someone dies from the procedure.”

“What does an abortionist call a baby born alive on his operating table?”

“A miscarriage of injustice.”

“What did the abortionist do when he heard the aborted baby alive and crying?”

“He shut the lid on the trashcan and didn’t hear it any more.”

Hilarious, aren’t they? No? I suppose in a civil society our children would have better taste than to laugh at jokes about dead babies. Then again, a civil society wouldn’t endorse the humorless slaughter of the innocent. Who has the poorer taste—those who joke about murder or those who discreetly approve of it?

The Majority of One

A Civics Lesson

By Jay Beuoy

How many of us want to grow old and die? I dare say that most of us would vote to repeal the law of aging and death. All in favor, signify by saying, "I". The certainty of my contention is so apparent; that I doubt any pollster has ever bothered to ask the question.

Oddly enough, despite the obvious and overwhelming majority opinion, our collective will has not marred the unblemished reputation of the grave. There is that one noted historical exception, but no one has managed to repeat it.

Otherwise, the only people who cheat the aging process are those who die young. The only ones who have cheated dying are those who are alive right now, between the ages of 0 and 110, In that case, if precedence is an accurate predictor, they won't cheat it very long. So far, the scriptures have proved true, "death comes to all men."

If man in his arrogance is still unable to change this basic law of his existence, (or non-existence as the case may be) why does he smugly think himself capable of changing God's immutable moral laws by mere referendum?

All in favor of repealing the commandments signify by saying, "I." Judging by the howls of outrage against those who "impose their morality" on society, the majority of the population has already voted to repeal the commandments right along with death and dying.

Homosexuals aren't sinners. They're a protected minority. Abortion isn't murder. It's a woman's right to choose. Adultery isn't a sin. It is a presidential prerogative. Pornography isn't a defiling sexual perversion. It's protected speech. Idolatry isn’t forbidden. It's encouraged to keep the economic expansion on a roll. Man is rewriting the commandments. He's voting down God's law and he feels at liberty to do so.

His success in this political takeover attempt is perfectly congruent with his success at cheating death. He can ignore it for a time. He can vote against it. He can shake a defiant fist and hold unswervingly to the conviction that it has no authority over him, but in the end it is inevitable. Am I referring to death or God's moral law? Yes.

Democracy is a wonderful invention and to be highly esteemed. But, it has its limitations. We can vote on lots of issues and then submit ourselves to the collective will. At the end of the day however, our will, even if ratified by a unanimous majority, is powerless to overturn the immutable laws of God's universe. Among these are death and moral absolutes. (Contrary to popular belief, taxes are not immutable; they just appear to be.)

Jesus said that the path that leads to destruction is broad and that the majority is traveling on that path. So, there is no reason to wait up for the polls to close. Man has cast his vote by letting his feet do the walking. The majority has made its decision.

So has God. Judging by the whole death thing, He seems pretty unmoved by our numerical advantage. That may seem a bit undemocratic of Him, but He's still stubbornly operating under a form of government known as a sovereign monarchy. Funny, that's the part they always leave out in civics class!

Twilight Zone 2000

By Jay Beuoy

I am no expert on the paranormal. Most of my experience with the subject stems from misspent free-time watching reruns of “The Twilight Zone” and “The Outer Limits”. Yet, I think this dabbling qualifies me to comment on a bizarre phenomenon going on right under our very noses.

We are living in a parallel universe. Yes, shocking isn’t it! You may resist the idea. After all, everything is pretty much in the same place as before. As is the case of all parallel universe scenarios, there is an appearance of normality. What did you expect? It’s parallel.

Only when you look a little closer, do you begin to spot things that just don’t belong. The tip-off for me was the sudden change in attitudes toward God. In the old universe we lived in, God was losing ground. In fact, he was banished from any public attention. Our supreme court was disavowing any knowledge of his existence. High School graduations had erected signs, “No mention of the Lord’s name! Absolutely no praying! Any God trespassing will be blasphemed on sight!”

Then, (it seemed overnight), God was acceptable. Weird, isn’t it? When did the shift occur? My theory is that there is a tie in with the unusually high amounts of solar radiation caused by an increase in solar flares. I can’t pinpoint the precise moment when we slipped into this strange juxtaposed reality but I can give you the terminus a quo and the terminus ad quem.

We could not have slipped into the other universe any earlier than the Republican primary debates. Do you remember when Texas Governor Bush was asked the question about his favorite philosopher? He answered, “Jesus Christ.” Woe Nelly! The outrage from the press was exactly as would have been expected in our old world.

“Is George Bush pandering?” was the question that dominated the news for about a week. The pundits charged Bush with cynically playing to the “religious right”, being an “intellectual lightweight” being a “dangerous religious fanatic” or preferably all of the above. I am certain that at that time we were still living in the familiar cosmos.

On the other hand, the terminus ad quem cannot be any later than the moment at which Al Gore chose Joseph Lieberman as his vice presidential nominee. Senator Joe Lieberman, an orthodox Jew, is considered to be a man of God, a man of moral scruples, the very conscience of the senate. The chorus of applause from the media was deafening. Opposition was nil.

That is when it hit me that we had “traveled through another dimension – a dimension not only of sight and sound but of mind…” I imagined “a signpost up ahead…the next stop—the twilight zone.” What had happened? One minute, talk of God received nothing but catcalls, a moment later the constant mentioning of God and morality produced standing ovations.

Group hypnosis, widespread revival, or LSD in the water supply could equally explain the tectonic shift, but my money is on the parallel universe theory. I’m certain that someone somewhere would suggest that it is merely a bad case of hypocrisy on the part of the media, but I’d like to think more highly of them.

In the Twilight Zone series there were no happy endings. Once you got caught in the zone you were sure to stay. Fortunately in our predicament a solution presents itself. I can’t give you any fixed laws of physics that prove my hypothesis, but this is the paranormal we’re talking about. My gut tells me that if we vote in George W. come November 5th, all will return to normal. The News Media will return to its anti-God bias. Morality will be out. Faith will be swept under the closet door. Character will no longer matter. So, choose the universe you want, pull the lever and hold on tight.

Swimming with the Sharks

By Jay Beuoy

Shark attack! Those two words are as evocative to me as "engine fire" to a Concorde pilot or "hull breach" to a nuclear submariner. The odds against these calamities happening to any randomly selected swimmer, aviator or sailor may be astronomical, but the thought is no less frightening.

Ever since 1975 when the movie Jaws bit down on my overactive imagination and permanently added to my list of phobias, I have had a less than charitable view of the supposedly misunderstood multi-toothed menace. My prejudice, I confess, runs deep.

Just when I begin to feel some sense of balance in my judgment concerning one of God's more magnificent examples of streamlined efficiency something comes along to rend the equilibrium. About the time I've watched one of those, "Sharks, Unloved Heroes of the Deep" specials on the Discovery Channel, and I finally feel ready to share eco-space with them, something in the news jars me out of new-found tolerance.

Witness the recent surge in shark attacks recorded in Florida. On August 30th of this year, a St. Pete Beach man was mauled to death by a 400-pound bull shark while swimming in the gulf waters just ten feet off his dock. Earlier, on the Atlantic side some one had the video camera running when a great white attacked a surfer. Someone needs to talk to those sharks and tell they've created some very bad press.

Struggling to remain balanced in my assessment of the situation, I listen to some of the reassuring words from various shark experts.

"Folks shouldn't be terrified," says George Burgess, with the International Shark Attack File of the Florida Museum of Natural History in Gainesville, Florida.

Okay George, I'll test that theory with my inner voice of caution. Here goes. "Don't be afraid. There is nothing innately traumatizing about a four hundred pound fish with razor sharp teeth coming up from underneath you and ripping off huge chunks of flesh from your body." Funny, I don't feel any better.

But that wasn't all the expert said, and in fairness to George I've heard this from other shark experts. "Sharks typically avoid humans but in rare (like 22 times in one state in an eight month period) instances they can mistake them for their usual prey, such as sea turtles and porpoises."

To this line of logic I respond, "Gee, I feel better!" After all, being sawed apart alive isn't nearly so painful or scary if you know that it's a case of mistaken identity. Let's get real! The hardest thing to prove beyond reasonable doubt in a court of law is intent. Who knows what a shark intends? Who cares? At the moment he wraps his serrated jaws around me, I won't be worrying about his motivation.

The newspaper article I read stated that the water was murky on the 30th and implied that the shark might have just erred due to poor visibility. Great! Maybe we can get the charges dropped from murder to reckless endangerment. I'm still searching for the reason we're not supposed to feel terrified.

Finally, there is the old argument about who is in greater danger, sharks or humans. I admit that we kill more of them than they do of us. We sell fin meat as a delicacy in Asia and make hemorrhoid medication from their livers. Though that may sound a bit lop-sided, I don't hear any sharks complaining about it. Personally, I rather prefer the notion that our species is statistically ahead.

To each his own. Let him who will, swim with the sharks. Prejudice still in tact, I'm boycotting the beaches of Florida. Survival of the prudent is my motto by which I intend to live.

A Response to the Column

“Anti-gay seminar will be very slick”

by Doug Crow in the August 9^th edition of the Minneapolis Star Tribune

by Jay Beuoy

Milaca, MN

Columnist Doug Grow vented his spleen in the August 9^th edition of the Star Tribune. His target was the malevolent and hateful (he said they were neither “benign nor loving”) “anti-gay seminar”, Love Won Out. The group, sponsored by Colorado-based Focus on the Family, was in town to preach a message that gays can come out of the gay lifestyle.

With liberal quotes from Jeffrey Ford, a formerly gay, formerly turned-straight, presently gay St. Paul psychologist and marriage and family therapist, Grow vilified anyone remotely involved in the group. As an evangelical I was pricked to the heart.

Thank you, Doug, for your balanced reporting. You have opened my eyes to see just how vile and sinful I have been. As an Evangelical Pastor, I had bought into the cruel and biblical notion that gays can change. I offer you my apology on behalf of myself and all the misguided Neanderthals like me. Here are six mea culpas wrung from me by your distinguished journalistic profundity.

#1. Mea Culpa! Yes, we evangelicals have accepted the notion that gays can go straight or at least become non-practicing celibates. We were misled by hundreds and thousands of former gays who said they did just that. We thought it circular reasoning to say that homosexuality is incurable; therefore all those who are cured must be living in prolonged periods of denial because as we all know, homosexuality is incurable.

#2. Mea Culpa! I admit that Love Won Out is a “road show” as you called it. The organization is guilty of traveling outside the borders of Colorado. Maybe someday the world will be safe when the Doug Grows succeed in denying these groups the right to free assembly and ability to travel across state lines. Pray for a constitutional amendment.

#3. Mea Culpa! Indeed we are guilty of “hurting people especially children” as Ford suggests. The Romans were also right when they said that Christians perform human sacrifice and cannibalism. Where is Nero when you need him?

#4. Mea Culpa! The truth finally comes out! Christians invented conversion therapy and electro-shock treatment. It was, till now, a well-kept conspiracy of Roswellian proportions. They invented them to, as Grow writes; deliver “volts of tough love in the name of the Lord.” I might as well also confess at this time that Pavlov, Freud and B.F. Skinner were all right-wing, fundamentalist Christians masquerading as secular humanists.

#5. Mea Culpa! In our zeal to cause misery and suffering we mistakenly championed the sanctity of marriage. I’m sure that some Christian hatemonger counseled Jeffrey Ford to honor his vows made before God and Man to love his wife till death. If that misguided counselor had only known the hidden joys of a same sex, “covenant brother” relationship, he might have seen that Jeffrey was called to something nobler than mere fidelity.

#6. Mea Culpa! Ford is right again when he says that the organizers of LWO are “profoundly cynical” and “slick” operators bent on the singular desire to make money. They only pretend to love gays when what they really want to do is preach a message, in Ford’s words, that “God hates fags,” while making tons of money. How dare Focus on the Family operate with a budget of “$129 million”! Who do they think they are, the AFL/CIO or the NEA?

Thank you Doug and Jeff. You’ve unburdened my soul of mea maxima culpa. Just one question does nag. Forgive. If as Jeff said, he “pities” those in the movement believing “they’re lost and confused,” then why do gays feel so threatened by them? Forgive me for wondering.

Tainted Cereal Recall

Recently, General Mills, the maker of Cheerios and other popular cereals, issued an apology. In a special promotion, the company had included the Bible on a free CD-ROM in over 12 million boxes of cereal. In their Mea Culpa, Mills stated, "Inclusion of this material does not conform to our policy, and we apologize for this lapse."

A "lapse"? An apology? Is this all the better General Mills can do? If a recall is too expensive, then the company should issue nothing less than a peel and stick warning label. Stores with inventories of the ill-conceived merchandise could paste such warnings on the offending boxes.

The following suggested wording could reduce the company's liability.

Warnings related to actual disc:

1. Disc should not be incorporated into an infant's mobile. Reflection from the sun could cause eye damage.

2. Not a toy! Not for children under three! Choking-danger!

3. Not a large, flat, shiny cheerio! Not for consumption!

4. Product is not a flotation device.

Warnings related to content of disc:

5. Reading of Bible by teens may:

¨ discourage youth from illegal drug use, alcohol abuse, sexual promiscuity and other vices by which they might otherwise bond with their baby-boomer parents.

¨ encourage them to join after-school Bible clubs making them a target for mentally deranged anti-Christian gunmen.

¨ influence them to quote Jesus in term papers thus insuring a failing grade from some English teachers.

¨ encourage them to go into helping professions known for low wages, such as ministry, social work, and international relief work.

6. Adults are cautioned that Bibles can:

¨ cause immediate dismissal if found in one's possession at place of employment.

¨ lead to cessation of quick/easy divorces thus depriving children of four parents, two houses, two school systems, eight grandparents and a personal psychotherapist.

¨ influence business people, lawyers and politicians to behave ethically thereby decreasing potential profits, fees and campaign victories.

7. If at any future date the Bible falls under the jurisdiction of the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms, General Mills accepts no legal liability for the seizure of personal effects in conjunction with raids on otherwise law-abiding citizens.

8. In-depth reading of scripture has been linked to a certain dread over the destiny of one's eternal soul. Though the relief for such anguish is also contained within the Bible, General Mills accepts no responsibility for any suffering real, imagined, temporary or eternal.

Pandora's cereal box has been opened. Thanks to General Mills, the dangerous utterances of Moses, David, Jesus and Paul are loose in our midst. Parents guard your children! There is no filtering software to combat it. Forewarned is forearmed!

The Supreme Court vs. Elevator Occupants

At a government building somewhere in Washington D.C. an elevator travels its hoist way downward from the twelfth floor. Inside are a Supreme Court Justice, a lawyer for the ACLU and a court stenographer. The car stops at the ninth to let on a Cuban-born janitor. A Scientist from the Jet Propulsion Laboratory steps in on the eighth.

Between the eighth and seventh something goes wrong. The car stutters and jolts to a stop. The doors stay closed. Lights flicker. A moan, a gasp, a “help me Jesus” later, and the occupants of the distressed lift find themselves in darkness.

“Someone get the phone. Find out what happened.” Shouts the Lawyer.

“The Judge responds.” Let’s keep calm, and not raise our voices. I’ll handle this.”

He picks up the phone expecting to hear a dial tone. Instead a voice immediately answers.

“Hello, are you on the elevator?

“Yes,” says the Judge, “there are five of us, we’re stuck between the...”

“We know all that,” says the voice. “We stuck you there. This is the last phone call you can expect. If you’re down in an hour the easy way, it means your government met our demands. If you come down the hard way they didn’t. Either way, it will all be over in an hour. Good bye.” The phone goes dead.

The justice explains the situation to the others. There’s some panic, and then an argument over solutions. Finally, the scientist convinces them to make an attempt to escape through the hatch above them.

Forty-five minutes later, they give up.

“I think they welded it shut,” says the janitor.”

“How do you know?” shrieks the stenographer. “Is this some Cuban terrorist response to the whole Elian Conzales thing?”

“Leave him alone,” says the Lawyer. “If he were part of this would he be locked in here to die with us? Look you guys. We’ve burned up forty-five minutes. That gives us less than fifteen minutes. We’re sealed in here tighter than a drum. Nobody brought their cell phone. What do we do?”

“I think, if it would be all right with you, I’d like to offer a prayer,” says the janitor.

“I’m Jewish,” says the stenographer, “but go ahead. It can’t hurt.”

“I personally don’t know if there is a God or not,” the scientist adds, “but this is a good time to do a little experiment.”

“What do you think Judge?” asks the lawyer. “You know this is a federal building.”

“Perhaps, a silent prayer would be allowable,” says the Judge after ten minutes of consulting with himself.

“A silent prayer? But what about those of us, myself included, who are atheists. To me all prayer is repulsive. Even designating time for prayer implies a favored status for the religious. I demand my civil rights as an American. Because I am trapped here with him...” At this the lawyer points to the lowly janitor. “I shouldn’t be made to feel uncomfortable.”

“Are you crazy,” responds the Scientist. “Let the man pray. If there is no life after death, you’re not going to be uncomfortable very long.”

“It’s the principle of the thing,” says the lawyer. “I’d rather die than be deprived of my civil rights.”

The stenographer objects. “Your rights! What about ours? I want to have prayer and we’ve got thirty seconds according to my watch.”

“Well,” says the judge, “the majority opinion in this case doesn’t mean anything. Our laws have to protect minorities, like my lawyer friend here from discrimination and harassment.”

“Great! A whole elevator of people can perish so he can have his rights!” snaps the lawyer.”

“Or a whole nation, as I see it,” responds the Judge.

Puff! The passengers hear a small blast above. The car plummets.

Dutifully silent, they fall.

A moment before impact the lawyer yells, “Jesus!”

As it turns out, though prayer is not allowed on public property, swearing is.