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Dean Whitbread 2013

Dean Whitbread 2020

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Written on January 3, 2005, and categorized as Secret and Invisible.
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What with all this disaster and massive death vibe and ting, the world gone crazy.

And the real world, my own precious understandable world, has also gone a tad mad – my fabulous lover is staggeringly sick with genuine flu, which means interrupted sleep (I don’t want children) dripping nose, horrible coughing and fever, and from me the response of a constant supply of chicken soup and painkillers and reassurance, none of which can ever be enough.

I read that the Archbishop of Cankerberry has “questioned the existance of God” because of this earthquake. A bit late, don’t you think, having reached the highest office in the land, to be wondering whether the long climb was worth it ? Whether the job description (love God with all your heart) was a little bit too demanding ? That bumper-sticker adage about “being nice to the people you meet on the way up because you’ll see them again on the way down” (which I rate almost as low as “you don’t have to be mad to work/live/eat here”) – how does that apply to a professional Christian ? Love your enemy (the instruments of Satan) because, when you question the power authority and love of God, who has summarily dispatched 150,000 souls for daring to live on his Earth too near the epicentre of a force 8.9 earthquake, you will meet them again on your road to a disbelieving, atheistic Hell ?

Personally I respect the Catholic Priest in Sri Lanka, who responded to a comment about the lack of “decent Christian” burial, “I don’t think the Lord is very fussy about that.”

I saw on TV that Jackie Mason that dour and redoubtable comic was a rabbi once, but changed his profession when his father died. Presumably he suffered a crisis of faith and got into something more in keeping with his changed world view. This is a route that currently despairing clerics might follow with some success… “God walked into a bar. He said, my Son’s got no hope. How does he smell ? Terrible.”

On my deathbed, remind me to call for a comedian.

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