Dear Rev. McStrechy,
I know the commandment says, "Thou shalt not steal," but what
about when you're hungry? Is that still wrong?
Wondering In Warwick
I feel your pain, Wondering. This ethical conundrum tortured me as a seminarian until I sought the advice of my most esteemed spiritual advisor. He assured me that the Lord would not count it as a sin if a man stole because he was hungary.
That was all I all I needed to hear. I immediately went on a seven-day fast during which I heisted a Nisson Bread Truck and filled it with all the tv, stereo, and computer equipment I could burglarize from the friendly neighbors. When it was Eat-or-Die Time, I spent the afternoon stuffing my face and unloading my neighbor's gizmos at pawnshops downtown. Voila! Bucks-Up-The-Wazoo! I used these revenue enhancement techniques to grease my wheels all the way through my seminary years and still go on a little fasting spree when the church kitty is looking a little light.
Now, you may not have the cajones to be pulling B&Es on an empty
stomach like I did when I was a young go-getter, But even you can take
advantage of this loophole in God's plan for Your Salvation. Some Friday
you should skip lunch and spend the afternoon wandering hungrily around
the office, coyly ripping off everything that's not nailed down. It's
allright with the Almighty.
Your Hotline to God,
Rev. Gills
McStrechy
Dear Rev McStretchy,
It is with the heaviest of hearts that I write pleading and
praying for your advice. My problem concerns the man who works in the
cubicle next to mine at the publishing company where I am temping. He is,
quite frankly, Obese. Actually, he's several hundred pounds overweight
and the sight of him makes me truly ill. As if this were not bad enough,
the loud, high-pitched wheeze of his torured breathing makes it impossible
for me to think. Each day I am driven closer to madness by the noxious,
flatulent stench which wafts from his computer terminal.
Everyday, just before lunch, the voices start. "Kill him!," they chant,
"Kill the Flatulent Whale!"
Please Help Me
Praying In Providence
I hear you Praying. Sometimes, I hear those voices too. I'm not going to insult your intelligence by implying that some archaic, insufferably cryptic passage from the Bible can in any way console or assist you. You live in Hell and that sucks BigTime.
It's been my experience as a Shepard of my own little Virtual Flock that people like you never get a friggin' break. Don't bother quitting your job; you'll just get another one where the guy in the veal pen next to you will be fatter, more plegmatic, and smell even More like a sewage treatment plant. If you go ahead and kill this Limbaughvian Methane Machine, you'll wind up in prison and the guy in the cell next to yours will be a moutainous, asthmatic, flesh mass who oozes tear gas. You will be his Girlfiend.
The long and short of it is: Your Screwed and things aren't
ever going to get better. You must have done something really Horrible in
your last life.
Sorry,
The Esteemed UberMahatma,
Gills McStrechy
