Santa???
Posted: Tue Jul 19, 2005 10:31 am

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Brothers and sisters the cynic is here to tell you a story
about
an experience he had last night
all to do with values and stuff
Cynic was sitting at home with
Cozin Jim, the captain and uncle Tyrone
drinking a lot of booze when we ran completely dry
it was then Jim goes into the kitchen and coes back with a new
drink
it was not terrible but it was something old Tom has never tasted before.
That night I had a strange dream.
At first the cynic thought he'd died
there was all these clouds everywhere
and ole Tom was greeted by a large bearded man.
"you must be Santa Claus" said cynic
"Some call me Jehovah others Allah, my real name is Errol. You may call me santa if you wish" says big bearded man. he protrudes one of his huge hands and says "Come with me Thomas" Now the cynic feared he had fallen prey to some freaky santa on millionaire playboy porno racket but the man was ten feet tall and cynic was not going to argue with a fucker that large so I took his hand and hoped we'd get to nail some chicks in the flick and not each other.
"You are dead Thomas and this is heaven" says Santa.
"But shouldn't I be in hell?"
"Theoretically yes" says Santa. "I tried to put up with all those sad do gooders for a few canturies but it all got too much. You see all you can ask for in life is that you enjoy it and do your best to be good. Sure Thomas you villified little people, you made fun of Malo Luafutu, you were arrested in Texas for pantsing a governor but you also picked on the parking wardens, treated all people as good until they proved you wrong and, most ipmortantly, entertained. The entertainers make life bearable. They provide a frame to measure your lifetime by, they comment on life in a way politicians cannot. Entertainers have a duty. It doesn't have to be ""moral" it has to be real and not everyones reality is the same. You are the voice of generation x, lost in day to day drudgery they can look at your stupidity and remember what it was like to be 15 and throw eggs at then toilet paper their teachers"
"I'm not going to run into any of those teachers up here am I Santa? Mr Ponsonby Smythe was really angry."
"No Thomas, heaven, like life, is what you make it. Welcome to Heaven"
The Cynic looked around in awe, heaven was a brewery. Cozin Jim and the captain were there but not uncle Tyrone. there was a giant bed and on it Terri Hatcher and Samantha Fox were having a naked pillow fight. Little people were everywhere with trays on their heads bringing old Tom beer and hot dogs, the sky was bluer, the surf fantastic. ten thousand daffodils tossed their heads in a sprightly dance and William Wordsworth was waiting in the sidelines for the deserved kicking for writing such dribble
"Cozin Tom quick uncle Tyrone has left on the back of cozin Myra's motorbike!"
The cynic was back to reality and a kind of heaven
having finally gotten rid of
Uncle Tyrone.
"Cozin Jim what was in the drink last night?"
"Water Cozin Tom and Tyrone's powder"
"you mean you gave me water and opium?"
"Yes"
it was then I had an epithany
religious folk are nut jobs, they believe in childrens stories over cold scientific proof.
they are so far into avoiding their own hangups that they persecute
anything that reminds themselves of their own follies.
they are pretty fucked up for following the hallicinagenic rants of lunatics

but damn they must have had the best drugs!

Parable of the cynic.

RE: Santa???
Posted: Thu Jul 20, 2006 5:21 pm

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