We’ve been asked by the highest authorities in Christendom to reenact some of the more common everyday garden variety sutras, sprinkled with a few saucy outliers, from the Good Book, in accordance with the laws of our ancestors as has been laid under the seals of Good God Almighty, Jesus H. Christ, and the Ghost in the Machine, whose feast day is coming up June 12.
Let’s see what our next contestant has to offer. Don’t be surprised if it’s someone you used to know.
Our first question. If your pants are bulging and your mind’s in the netherlands, where are you at? A clue: It’s not in a continent.
If you answer this correctly, you’ll get the chair. In the big house. The chair of divinity. At Saint Mary’s school for wayward children, comedians missing from the funny farm – one held the bottle between his legs as he reached for a scrap of chocolate – side-show rejects, and tools of the capitalistic state.
Using the advanced editing suite he was able to add a dash of peasant to his mix, and to tone back the cosmopolitan. The proceeds from his cut of the robot dream sequence in Sex Kittens go to College allowed him to replace his spleen with a dog’s breakfast. He was field stripping a spec 4 with x-ray eyes when she was sent on a sea cruise with her spiritual advisor.
Please confirm that you have consented to this operation and that in the case of a less-than-favorable outcome you donate
your gizzard to the butcher
your needs to the baker
your charming ways to the candlestick maker
He was hoping to make the next pay grade at the sewage treatment plant, the only industry still showing year-to-year growth. She, as a reward for her performance selling perfume in junior achievement, swallowed a fly.
You know the story of the farmer who stumped the philosopher with a simple question, “What brings you out on a night like this?” But did you see the poet spin on a fantastic toe and flee the gathering with his tale between his legs?
I’ll bet you dorks to donuts that there’s nothing up my sleeve, and if there is, that you put it there.
And I’ll drop a dime on you if you spill those beans on the birds and the beeswax. Keep it all under your tinfoil hat. Don’t spoil the children’s surprises, lord knows we’ve left them a batch.
In the prenuptials they pledged to lick each other’s compass until the cows came home, if it got to that bearing. But he learned to speak Urgudu on the tom-tom when he heard there were some cool cats there, and that changed his whole way of looking at things. When the bottoms fell out of the pussy market he was the last to know.
Let them without pretensions utter the first scoff. And let them who ain’t stoned honor their vows.
In the mid-20th century the so-called Shrine circuses became both popular and numerous. A Shrine circus is a specially contracted group of circus acts brought together by a promoter or booking agent, usually to appear in an arena-type building. Sometimes the group will be contracted for a full season to play a series of cities, in the manner of the tent shows. Frequently, however, the acts and performers are assembled only for one city’s exhibition; these shows are usually known by the names of the local organizations that sponsor them, often Shrine clubs. When referring to any specific show, showpeople are likely to call it by the name of the sponsor, but when referring to the entire field of such exhibitions, they usually call them Shrine shows.
Xenomanes the navigator was a Barbarian by birth, although there was Greek on the spindle side and a Roman on the distaff. He was always scratching his head like a monkey with cirrhosis and babbling under his breath like a crustacean. Yet here was the man who in proud liege to King Knute learned to ski with a toboggan on each foot. And by the king’s daughter in holy wedlock sired the man who first put his head into a lion’s mouth and saved a shilling on a barber. When he, Xenomanes, returned to north Africa, he barbecued a slug of wildebeests in homage to the three fates, the four farts, the five senses that are thereby aroused, the six packs, and the seven maids a-milking.
The Tlingit of northwest America tell a story of the magical conception of a girl by the sawdust of the fire borer. The boring for the new state fire among the Loango of west Afticaa coincides with the public coitus of a young couple.
This conceptual framework seems to be a late consequence of earlier ideas of fire in the body of humans, especially of women, as a centre of sexual life. The Marind of New Guinea, who, in their myth of the origin of fire view it as being derived from the sexual act, undertake the new boring of fire in connection with a cultic act in which the raping of a girl is the central rite.
When iron-smelting techniques by means of fire became common among New Stone Age peoples, the making of iron in shaft furnaces and bellows has been interpreted as coitus with a subsequent birth.