Those who can imagine a life without perversity, and would choose it in preference if they could, might want to close their eyes while reading this.
Those who can multitask might want to join me in such a perverse way of getting through the day; those who are as perverse as us might write out webdocs with a pencil, and commit them to memory.
Raised as Chrisitians we were threatened with hellfire if we violated the sanctity of marriage; we were to enter no wrestling match but that between Roman Catholicism and Protestantism.
We were told by our mothers which side we were on; some of us were fortunate enough to have but been given the name of Jesus of Nazareth to remember, as representing our saviour from hellfire.
Others we know had mothers who had undermined their own faith, on account of their failed marriages; marriages which had been allowed to have been cut into pieces with the Scissors of State. They then clutched at every so-called scientific evidence that contradicted the Bible; whether just stories made for children; or whether all evidence of a man who had died willingly.
Children of these other mothers were sometimes too impatient with the other children, for the truth they might have received from them; instead, in some instances, they did their best to convince them that they knew best. That the story of Jesus of Nazareth was not the only picutre that people who do not call themselves sons of Abraham, need of the Love of God.
That it is the only such picture we can think of that claims this love as being universal, and destroyed most often when we try to tell others how to find it.
We know of tragedies that are hardly ever talked about by Americans, that happened to some of their brightest men--men who are well-known. Some of these tragedies saw these bright sparks going to their grave without ever having known love; others prove to us that in America the strongest bonds of love can be broken.
I can be almost certain that an American reading this will have the urge to point fingers--and put the small matter of their being the face of Western Civilization aside.
In recent times, some sensible South Africans look at wat gebeur in ander lande (the events of the times), and are rather glad they never had the opportunity to leave; or had reason never to want to leave.
For many years I have been jostled about, and have jostled others in turn, about the continued existence of the Roman Catholic Church. Raised as a protestant, I felt that forgiveness does not come from a system: it is demanded of every person who expects the forgiveness of Christ of the Gentiles.
We rather think that the Roman Catholic Church Reformed itself long ago, over the matter of the sale of indulgences; and that this was not necessarily an unbiblical way of keeping the wolf from the door: recalling that the church had existed through days of savagery: days when it was fighting for its own existence.
But while we could likely go through each of the aspects of the old church which protestants believe to be corruptions and justify them in like manner: for instance to say that the transubstantiation doctrine was originally there to prevent people thinking that they can do without going to church by baking themselves a batch of Kiss Cookies to have at their tea party, we nonetheless find ourselves asking what the meaning of the word is is.
We sometimes find ourselves too clever to be taught anything; to know anything, then, we need to know the worst.
I write this in part with the hopes of giving people a shorter route than the one I've taken; in part for the worst people in my life; and in part for the best.
To the worst people in my life I say: I forgive you (this is a special dispensation, as forgiveness comes from above).
To the rest I say that some things we aught not be attempting to understand alone: and this is the meaning of a church in times when people aren't walking down the street with other people's heads on sticks.
We go to a catholic baptist church, if they will accept us witchells, to keep on at our disagreements; for this is the meaning of catholic: to meet regularly with people of the community. And not to put disagreements aside permanently, as drunkards tend to do.
We would like to recommend that a beer is symbolic of the blood and the bread, but acknowledge that at a wholly independent church, the pastor's will is supreme.
And we would like to remind people, that in times gone by, people took vows of temperance, for example, as the only means of going to a church and yet not conforming to the will of the pastor.
Nonconformists of our time have treated the church as a place to get free tea and coffee.
Nonconformist pastors of our time have neglected their duty to assert their supreme will.
I believe that Baptism is the foundation of Christianity: some people like to read the bible from beginning to end, which requires one therefore to take the Jewish perspective of their last heir to the throne. I rather think we aught to start with the Book of John; I rather think that the last Jewish heir saw Baptism as a jolly good idea; and, being crucified for thinking so, we feel we aught to call Baptism, Jesus-of-Nazareth-ism.
I repeat that one aught not to attempt to try to work out the mysteries of civilization in a vacuum.
But I am having trouble getting myself to go to a catholic baptist church (besides that I will have to find a baptist church and ask them to put the catholic bit back in). I find we live in a time when women feel at liberty to rely on a gentlemanly nature if they make advances on a man (reminding the reader how a lady is permitted to respond to the advances of a man); and threaten him with -f(a) if he puts aside his gentlemanly nature and says f(u).
Gender equality is a lie: men are still expected to propose. How else will he accept the misery to which he will be subjected henceforth, as being what he chose over a life of bliss alone. Knowing that we must make our sacrifices, I have just about made up my mind to marry the woman I hate the most. My hesitancy in joining a catholic baptist church, while single, lies in the fact that I have too often been subjected to church-men who forget which side of the inequality they are supposed to uphold, and try to convince programmer-mathematicians that they know FA about bliss.
In the meantime, living a life of bliss, I wrote a song about a bird.
We recognize that the most ancient religions have much to do with influential powers: that people with influence might make their goal that of dominating everyone they meet. But we are quite sure that those religions are totally incapable of dealing with the amplification of such influence by means, literally, of amplifier circuits. And radio waves.
I have a Hadïda in my garden who reminds me of a man who gained influence out of malice for religion. I do not have malice for Hadïdas. Freddie Mercurie the Hadïda, I've left you some bread outside. But Madonna the Thrush might get to it first.