Sunday Sermon with The Rever-end Dillinger

Sunday Sermon with The Rever-end Dillinger

Good Sunday Morning to you all.

Of late, I have received pleadance from some members of the Holy Church of the Granite Stoned Sepulchure regarding right and wrong - the absolutes thereof and so forth and fifth. Right or wrong as it appears in the Bible is, to say the least, well, rather 'what the hell if it is; do not do it and only the good Lord knows for sure' and He seems only, at least back then, to be able to instruct certain chosen ones personally. Strange that, I should think, as what the hell; if there is, and there is not, then why not just get down to it and let us all know - speak the word of God into our ears and just let us know, right? Oh, that would not do now, would it, children? I mean, and after all, how would we be thus tested in the eternal, if short circuited, quest for the knowledge we all need, to slip up and sit on or at His side? That little quest, of course, is to be in His heaven and not His hell. If I say I am not certain, then how can you all believe in me as the messenger of God and your Holy Savior? It stands to reason, correct? Of course it damn well does!

Which brings ol' Reverend Dillinger to the other night when I was sitting with Hiawatha Hyacinth and wondering why her hand was cajoling my manhood when quite suddenly that seemed unimportant; well, for a minute or two, at least. I asked her what was right and what was wrong. Really, I had no interest in her answer but I thought since she had not shaved her nails well, and that foreskinned is forewarned and I got a little prick, well hell, I asked her. Dunno she said. Our Hiawatha is a sweet whore full of love and almost always atither, which is quite proper for such as her profession. She became one of my holy sisters as some of you know but that is another story and not suited for said Sunday sermonificatory glory. Dunno, she said - repeating herself was normal. Then she said something quite astonishing, I thought. She asked me if it was important? I said I thought it might be, as I was getting quite a lot of pleadificatory inquiries from the congregation and I did not think either that it was a huge deal, but maybe?

It dawned on me that indeed it might be. To myself and my ilk it is, of course, not relevant, as it was not with Hiawatha and her ilk; protestations of such being par for the course with most folks but not for us. What is, after all, wrong with her answer? Is it important to you all? Have you the correct fear of repurcusion from our Lord and Savior? It is all a question of risk and reward for you, is it not? So, if it is not important to your revereand then why should it be to you all, which it seems to be? Hiawatha got me a beer and four fingers and I began to think of it not a great deal but just a little; the 'little' being that indeed life is as it was meant to be. There are winners, there are losers. I am, of course, a winner and most of you are silly losers who concern themselves on the surface of your meager moral wishes to do good and be loved while at the same time raping everything and everyone in your path to get what you please or need, as it may be. There are few who do this and are simply honest about it - very few, myself being one. You do not care for the risk; you care for the reward. If you are not successful in your prurient lusts then you pretend to be upset - sorry - ill at ease for the others that you have fucked over. In reality, you are simply uncomfortable and immediately begin looking for solace which is usually screwing some other poor bastardo. My ilk just do it - wonderfully, without conscience - therefore I am your reverend and worthy of your adulation and, of course, your love and your money.

None of the above will make any sense to you whatsoever, but Bambi is drunker than a shit-headed skunk and cannot do the blog this Sunday, as every Sunday, so I just think of shit and she posts it. So, see children? I am, indeed, a holy bastardo who is helping a friend. Right and wrong? Send the child to war and bask in the glory of it. He needs your love, your trust, your holy patronage. Kill the little bastards; it is what makes a country great.

That is enough. If Bambi posts this, she is out of her mind. Love, Reverend Dillinger, Hiawatha and all the other grammatically-stunted idiots out there and in here!