Author:
A Message from the Episcopal Church Council of North America
|
[
Next Thread |
Previous Thread |
Next Message |
Previous Message
]
Date Posted: 19:08:34 01/02/03 Thu
In reply to:
Sacred Poontang
's message, "I believe God is a way of describing the underlying force of the universe, a force which is both immanent and transcendent, impersonal and personal, and that we are an expression of this force." on 18:45:33 01/01/03 Wed
Colossians 3:22 Servants, obey in all things your masters according to the flesh; not with eyeservice, as menpleasers; but in singleness of heart, fearing God.
In short, God is king of the Universe and everything trickles down from there in a meticulous cascade of authority. As God spins the celestial bodies in their elliptical orbs, so Society purrs in metronomic perfection when we adhere to pre-ordained hierarchy. In short, keep to your stations! The downfall of America will be undaunted ambition: the servant he will be the master through a snitch of grit and pluck; the garageman believes that one day he will be the owner of the Bentley whose petrol tank he replenishes. No good. In a nutshell, the meaning of life is this: we have no right to coddle the domestic help or tread gently in the scullery.
Our bootblack O'Malley suggested that he move up the line to a liveried footman. We extinguished his fantasies with a few curt reports of our riding crop. "Your defiance, O'Malley," we said in between whippings, "is not of us; gladly would we alley-oop you to the next ladder rung. No, no, your defiance is of God. Your father was our father's bootblack. To scuttle your bootblack heritage and enter livery would disrupt the universe as much as if Neptune decided to change places with Jupiter. Won't do. Can't do. Now restore the gleam to our brogues and our lady's buskins and you shall be rewarded with a knob of bone marrow and a blade of sorrel. Refuse, and kiss our cudgel. Simple, really."
All which reminds us of another topsy-turvyism: reparations for the Negro. The Hottentot begs restitution for his lost years under the yoke of the plantation. In fact, the Negro was hoovered from the jungles in his banana leaf sarong and his diet of grubs and mandrake root. He was given free passage across the Atlantic--traveling coach, true--and was introduced to the land of milk and honey, or in his case, biscuits and gravy and pig knuckles and turnip greens and, above all, Jesus, to whom he clings like a leech unto this day. We withdraw all sympathy from the Negro's spurious lament.
If we must discuss reparations, what about the aristocracy of France? Our dear friend Genevieve Coquette, la comtesse de la Putaine lost her property when her great great great aunt was decapitated in 1794 during Robespierre's rather hastily conceived Reign of Terror. Listen, Negroes: Genevieve did not loose a Congolese mud-brick hovel; no, she lost the exquisite Chateau de Syphilitique and the surrounding valley of Mauvaise-en-Brie. That, dear friends, is loss! In Gstaad this year she was inconsolable and sulked on the slopes like a poached partridge. She even pooh-poohed Gloria "Puffy" Breem's invitation to a quadripedal carouse with Gustav and Bertolf, the twin Prussian ski instructors. We shall not tolerate this abuse--look for a flurry of petitions coming your way soon: if need be, we shall storm the Versaille in reverse, battering the peasants from their thrones of privilege.
But enough rancor; the poplars grow fulgid in the evening glint and the hart gambols in the frith; our martini has reached the optimum temp.: when you nip at it, it nips right back.
[
Next Thread |
Previous Thread |
Next Message |
Previous Message
]
|
Feedback: 