The 14th of June 2004

(found in a dishwasher-safe grease trap, which safely stores all the fat and keeps it away from your food!)


I have important news. Special news, and a new discovery.

I have found the Christ in the modern world.

I found him on my television set late at night. It was one of those long nights, one of those drunk nights, during which even the greatest number of buckets of beer cannot send me down the river of sleep.

So I sat, bleary eyed and with an empty bucket at my feet, in front of my television screen.

There was a man on the screen, Molly, so why wouldn’t you just expect it all to be true? A man on the screen who promised me health and wealth. He promised me ease and safety and convenience. He told me that everything would be alright, that the world – my world specifically – would all be saved, if only I followed him and his way.

He told me I could set it and forget it.

What an enlightened proposition.

He told me that the burden of my troubles would be eased with a simple machine, something that would let me come home from work, push a few buttons and – in no more than an hour’s time – be left to enjoy the most scrumptious roast beef a human being could hope for.

Imagine all of that – the peace, the security, the ease and the comfort – and all of it for only three easy payments of nineteen ninety five. What once was only achieved by dedicated, disciplined meditation, steadfast prayer and the most unshakable faith, you can now find on the television, available for purchase, for only three easy payments of nineteen ninety five. And hurry, Molly, because operators are standing by.

What a nirvana he peddles! What a heaven appears on the flickering pixels of my television screen! Oh, it is unimaginable, but it is surely worse than that. Molly, my dear, it is simply unconscionable. It is – simply and honestly – a pure disgrace, an attempt to make an absolute mockery of the system.

How could anyone believe that this is true? How could anyone think that any idea, any dream, is worth accomplishing through a simple predation on human weakness?

Dress the man up in the costume of the grim reaper, and he would have more subtlety in shilling this snake oil baloney than he does right now, with his operators standing and his dishwasher safe materials and his three easy payments of nineteen ninety five.

What are we to do, Molly, when salvation can be come by so cheaply?



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