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Posts Tagged ‘Trenz Pruca’

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I have mentioned that my friend Trenz Pruca, who provides me with his many observations some of which I pass on to you, was a six-foot-three-inch white rat. I was wrong. I had assumed he was a white rat from the few times we met because of his rodent-like denature and my youthful conjecture that, unlike me and my swarthy Mediterranean neighbors who were not, those individuals with slightly pink skin were white. Nevertheless, I noticed no tail emerging from his long almost floor length dark coat and the strange un-rat-like bluntness of his snout. He was, in fact, a naked Mole Rat, one of those hardy, courageous and gentle creatures so beloved of scientists and odd individuals everywhere. He finally admitted to it when I pressed him during one of our visits. The long dark coat and cap protected his sensitive skin from the sun and also hid his nakedness as modesty demanded. He required the thick dark glasses held together by adhesive tape because his vision was poor and light disturbed his eyes.

“Why,” I asked one day, “do you live here and not with your own kind?”

He stared at me silently for a while, a long while as he often did. Then finally. when I just thought he world not, he respond in a soft voice, “I assume you noticed I am quite large.”

“Yes,” I acknowledged. “But why with humans?”

Again a very long silence. Then, “True, you humans are rather untrustworthy, barbaric and not very bright, and you spend all too much time talking foolishly about yourselves.” More silence, finally: “But I decided sitting in a dark coffee house with you humans was slightly preferable to living in a cave somewhere with a bear or similar creature, eating raw meat and grunting and growling and scratching myself — only slightly better, you understand.”

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We arrived at IHOP about 10 minutes late. Martin Vihn had not yet arrived. I took a seat at a booth against the back wall and sat down facing the entrance. Joe slipped into the seat opposite me. A window was on my left through which I watched a man assemble a sidewalk stand. The waitress brought the menus. Joe got right down to studying it. I watched the man struggle with some pipes that held up an awning over his stand while I thought about my upcoming meeting with Vihn. My usual bouts with fear and uncertainty slithered through my mind like minks in heat. The worst part was wondering about what people, like Mavis or Fat Al would say if I was wrong and died. I imagined something like, “What on earth possessed him to take such a risk.” Last night I thought I had good and compelling reasons, but now I realized they were mere rationalizations for whatever was so deeply imbedded in my psyche that impelled me to act as I did.

Nothing new in that, I have become convinced most of the reasons we tell ourselves that we need to do something have little to do with why we do whatever it is we end up doing. They are merely a handy thing, whenever we are successful, to tell ourselves and others. You know, “I knew what I was doing all along.”

Joe brought me out of my musings. “I’m having the Belgian waffles. What about you?”

“I’ll probably have the blueberry short stack and fried eggs. For some reason I always get the same thing when I come here.”

Martin Vihn entered the restaurant followed by two of the young men I had seen before. One was dressed like Joe in tee-shirt and windbreaker. The other had on a dark hoodie. Martin had on a dark blue jacket over a white button down shirt and jeans. He came over to our table.

“Sorry I’m late. Traffic and parking”

Joe slid out from his seat. Said, “I’ll sit with Vinnie and Chang.” He walked over to the table where the other two young men who accompanied Vihn sat. Vu’s arrival prompted a lot of laughing and fist bumping. Martin nodded to him and sat in the seat Joe vacated. The waitress arrived and we ordered. She then went over to the table where Joe and the others sat.

“Any word from the police on the cause of Clarence’s death?”, he asked.

“The autopsy scheduled for later this morning. The cops are being close-mouthed.”

“How do you think he died?”

“I’m not paid to guess.”

Martin rarely raises his voice but his anger blazed out of his eyes like campfire embers poked with a stick. “I’m paying you and if it is your opinion I want than then it is your opinion I’ll get.”

“He could have been walking along the shore reciting poetry tripped and fallen into the bay and drowned. I doubt whether it makes much or a difference to anyone how he died, even to the murderer, if he was murdered.”

“Why do you say that?”

“I can’t see you shipping drugs or anything else illegal this way. By reputation, you’ve been able to bring thing like that into the States with no problems in the past. There’s too many better ways. Dropping packages into the water offshore at night, trans-shipping through Alaska. Even if you were to do something like this, certainly not through the Port of Oakland. There are other less watched small ports like Eureka and Redwood City. So, I can’t figure you for something like a dope deal in this case. So, I ask myself, although he is such a prick I am sure a lot of people would like him dead, why would anyone involved in this case kill Clarence? Then there is the hiring of me. It can’t be all that important to hire a second-rate shamus like me.” I stopped there and stared at him.

Martin’s silence lasted a long time as he stared at me. Our orders arrived before he answered and we began eating. After swallowing his first bite, Martin sat back and said:

“Look, whatever you think I may also be mixed up in, I am also a legitimate business man. I invested in a business to import into America furniture made in South-east Asia. Now the man who talked me into the investment and was supposed to manage the business is gone along with he merchandise.”

“But even so, two containers of furniture could not have been valuable enough for all your interest, not to mention knocking off Reilly if in fact he was killed.”

“You figured it out already. You’re cheap. I only spent $1000 dollars so far.”

“What about Joe?”

Vihn looked down at the table for a while. “He’s my brother’s son. I care about him. He refuses to go to college and is too interested in the wrong part of the family business. I thought following you around a while would help to get him interested in something else. That was a spur of the moment thing, I’m afraid.

“So you hired me as a babysitter?”

“A thousand dollars a month is pretty cheap for baby sitting these days,” he said with a smile.

We ate our breakfasts in silence. Over coffee I assured him, I will try to find out how Reilly died and what happened to the furniture.

I then asked, “What’s Lilly’s role in this?”

“She’s my lawyer.”

“Nothing else.”

“It’s none of your business.”

I smiled, got up, collected Joe and left Vihn to pay the check.

On the way back to the car, I called Mavis. Told her that I would come by that afternoon and that we were going to attend Reilly’s wake.

For some reason the thought of Mavis, death and my current role got me ruminating about God and humor, God’s humor to be precise.

Humans are a fascinating species. I am convinced God created us because he or she (I refuse to take sides on the issue of God’s gender — although the Good Humor Man of my youth was always male) found presiding over the rest of the universe dreadfully dull and craved some amusement. While growing up I always thought that God was the Good Humor man. Every afternoon the Good Humor man rang his bells in front of my house. The sound of those bells filled me with hope. Would your God do as much for you?

I was pulled from my reveries by Joe shouting “Boss, boss!’

I stared at him as the world around me came into focus.

“Is there something wrong? You were talking on the phone and then you just stopped staring off at nothing. Are you OK? You thinking about the case? “

“Yeah. I’m OK. Rule whatever number… in private investigations there are no cases only assignments. And your current assignment is to find us some ice cream and drive me to Crissy Field.”

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It was late, Meg had spent a few hours at private investigator Fat Al’s offices reviewing with him the chaotic and seemingly unconnected information he had assembled about Red Star, The Brethren, Vincent Biondi, Sam Coign and Coign’s his law firm. She was sure something in that mess of documents could help her clear up the cause of Stephanie Coign’s death. Later they had dinner together at a little restaurant near the office where they swapped cop stories.  A call from Ray interrupted them: Vince Biondi and someone else was involved in a shootout at a posh hotel in downtown.

They drove down to see for themselves. Fat Al’s retired cop badge and her uniform got them past the police lines. Fat Al spoke with a few of his old colleagues in homicide. It seems the police believed that it was a gangland shooting of some sort. Three people were dead. The hotel’s restaurant staff and four diners had been herded into the large freezer in the kitchen by five armed men. The three dead bodies had been identified as some of the intruders.

Apparently, their target had been some other diner or diners among whom were a middle-aged man and a quite beautiful woman seated by the maitre’d before he was hustled off into the freezer by the gunman. He told the police that he had recognized the man because he had eaten there a few weeks ago with a striking tall hawk nosed woman.

Unfortunately, when they checked they found the reservation book page had been torn out. Al was sure the police investigators would go through the prior reservation lists to try to identify the diner. Meg and he both agreed was probably Vince. It would take them a few days to identify him Al guessed.

After about an hour she decided there was nothing more to learn there. She got back into her cruiser and began the drive back to Half Moon Bay and home.

She approached the incline that rose to pass along the edge of the cliff called Devil’s Slide, where Stephanie’s automobile, like so many others, had slid off the road and crashed into the rocks and surf below. She now was convinced Stephanie’s death was not an accident. She also was sure that somehow it was connected to tonight’s events at the restaurant. Stephanie had begged Vince to meet with her. She said she wanted to share with him some information about her husband’s death. But, she died the night before they could meet. Now someone had tried to kill Vince, or was it the woman he was with? why?

Preoccupied with her thoughts, her car climbed the hill and entered the narrow winding and often impassable road that traversed Devil’s Slide itself. The fog had begun to creep across the road making it slick and the looming curves hard to see. But she had driven this road many times before and knew it like the back of her hand. She chuckled and wondered where that expression came from. Did anyone really know the back or their hand all that well? She raised her hand to look at it and glanced into her rearview mirror. She saw a car following her closely, too closely. Stupid for someone to follow a police patrol car that closely; just looking for a ticket she thought. Then she noticed the car speed up and felt the impact as it plowed into her rear bumper. Her vehicle skidded and went out of control.

Meg had not spent the greater part of her non-working, waking hours taking innumerable high-performance driving courses for no reason. It was her hobby. So, she called upon that expertise, quickly manipulated brake and steering wheel to regain control of her vehicle, even on the crumbling unstable verge along the unbarricaded edge of the cliff and soon found herself behind her attacker. She speeded up, drove to the outside close to the cliff-face and began to pass him. As she came abreast of the other driver, she could see him glance at her and hunch over the steering wheel. She guessed he intended to try to drive her against the escarpment that rose up alongside the road. Before he could act, she floored her cruiser’s accelerator to speed up. As the nose of her vehicle edged past his, she sharply pulled on her steering wheel, turning her wheels so it appeared the nose of her car would cross in front of his bumper and crash into him, forcing him toward the cliff edge. It was a bluff as she almost immediately righted the car again. As she expected her bluff worked. He panicked, swung the steering wheel hard to the right to try to avoid contact, broke into an uncontrolled skid and tumbled over the cliff edge and on to the rocks far below.

Meg slowed to a stop then backed up to where the other car left the road. She carefully parked on the shoulder, put on her blinking emergency lights, calmly reported the accident on her two-way. Then she got out opened the trunk, took out some emergency flares and reflectors and laid them out for about twenty feet along the edge of the road where the other car had gone over.

She then for the first time looked over the edge down to the mangled hunk of metal far below wondering why it had not burst in flame and muttered “Fuck you, asshole,” and slowly began the climb down the precipice to the wreckage.

By the time she arrived, she could hear the sirens of the police cars and ambulances from Pacifica to the north and Half Moon Bay to the south as they converged at the crash site.

The gas tank of the overturned automobile had ruptured. Escaping gasoline dripped on to the rocks and ran off into the surf a little way below. She was relieved it had not ignited.

The driver’s door had sprung open from the impact and the driver appeared still alive and moaning softly. She gingerly extracted him and dragged and carried him far enough from the wreck to be safe from any explosion.

He was in bad shape. He was bleeding from a nasty headroom and both his legs and one of his arms appeared broken. She figured several ribs also and his lungs punctured since he was spitting up blood. He did not look to her as though he would make it until the medical team arrived.

He was conscious though. She knelt leaned in close to him and said, “I will try to help keep you alive until the emergency team get’s here, but first tell me who sent you?”

His pain-wracked eyes hardened and he responded in a whisper through the blood, “Go to hell you fucking Dyke.”

“Wrong answer cock-sucker.”

She grabbed him by his shirt, dragged him back to the wreck and threw him back in, took out a plain Zippo lighter, stepped back a few steps, flicked on the flame and tossed it into a puddle of the leaked gasoline. She quickly retreated a safe distance and the gas flamed up and upon reaching the tank exploded.

She stood for a moment watching the flames devour the automobile then looked up. The emergency vehicles had arrived and the first of the medics were beginning their descent. She turned and began to climb to meet them.

Meg climbed the cliff face toward the road above while the wreck below still blazed. For a moment she wondered if killing a potential witness would make finding Stephanie’s killer more difficult. She dismissed that figuring he would have been dead anyway before he could be questioned and the automobile probably was a rental so it most likely had nothing helpful in it. Whatever there is to be gotten, she was confident the technical people will be able to extract it even from the burned scraps. Besides she thought, whoever killed Steph and tried to kill her made a big mistake, they got her pissed her off.

As she passed the emergency rescue team on the way down, she told them she was unable to get the driver out of the vehicle before it exploded and thought he was probably dead. She said she would send a technical investigation team down to sift through the wreckage.

Arriving at the top, she saw that no one from the Sheriff’s office had arrived yet. She recognized Mike Williams of the Pacifica PD who seemed in charge. She told him the same story she told the emergency rescue team and added that she believed that the automobile and driver may have been connected to a previous incident being investigated by the sheriff’s office. She promised to send a technical investigation team to assist the Pacifica group. She agreed to call Mike tomorrow and coördinate the investigation. As they walked back to her cruiser, Mike joked about the crushed bumper when he saw it.

“Yeah,” she said laconically, “got to get that fixed.” She then got into the car radioed her office to bring them up to date and get things rolling. Picking up her cell phone she called Ray.

She told him everything that happened including with the lighter. He remained silent.

She then said, “Ray, I want to talk to everyone on your list starting with that fucking minister in Blackhawk. About 10 AM OK with you? Can you get it started?”

Ray agreed but insisted he come along on the interviews. She assented. Then following some discussion about coördination she put down the phone, started the car and drove to her home in Half Moon Bay.

She did not go directly into her house but walked the block or so to the beach, sat on a driftwood log watching the foam of the waves shimmer in the moonlight. She allowed the roar of the breakers to drown out all thought. After a while, she got up, took a deep breath, returned to her home, went in and slept deeply and unperturbed.

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INTRODUCTION

 

The following is the first book of the mysterious manuscript I discovered at the bottom of a Skippy’s Peanut Butter jar. According to the author, Joe (no relation), the typeface used in the manuscript was “…Marker Felt Wide Typeface. It is generally used to denote humor but it is also can be difficult to read. So is the Bible.”

 

Regretfully that typeface cannot be reproduced here.

Papa Joe.

 

JOE’S BIBLE – SUI GENESIS I

 

HOW GOD CREATES EVERYTHING AND FUCKS IT UP ANYWAY

 

1. Long long ago (about 5000 years ago in fact), there lived GOD and nobody else and it was dark.

 

2. And with GOD was the WORD and the word was “YOWEE, that hurts. Who put the fucking trumpet in front of the bathroom door? Let there be light,” and the universe was cleft in twain because only a YOWEE can cleft a twain and there was light.

 

3. And GOD said “that’s better” and he named the light “Day” and the dark “Night.

 

4. “Why?” said the Word.

 

5. “Because,” said GOD “you couldn’t call the day night could you? And by the way who the hell are you?”

 

6. “I am the Word,” Word answered. “I am here with Ghost. We are all together in this, whatever this is.”

 

7. “How come I never met you two before,” asked GOD?

 

8. “Because this is the first Levee`,” said Ghost. “And by-the-way it’s still dark at night and we could still trip over things. You’re the Creator you should do something about it.”

 

9. “All this creating has tired me out”, said the Creator. ” Maybe I will work on it tomorrow.” And GOD saw that this was a good idea.

 

9. And so they went to bed, but the Creator could not sleep because he had never slept with two guys before and it made him uncomfortable.

 

10. And on the second Levee`, GOD arose but could not separate the waters from the firmament and Ghost suggested a laxative and GOD saw it was good.

 

11. Then GOD said, “what’s the use of a Levee` if there is no one to watch it.”

And so the Creator created many, many (Word called it”a shit load”. Him, of course, being good with words and all) beings he called “Angels” and ordered them to all look at him at all times which irked one of the Angels called Lucifer Morning-Star because it was very boring since there was really nothing to look at except GOD sitting on his throne trying to separate the waters from his firmament.

 

12. And Lucifer spoke “What is this crap? We all look like nancy-boys with our ringlets. And besides there you sit 15 feet tall, long white hair and beard, rippling muscles and a three and a half-foot dong and what do we get, these little fucking wings, and a shift for GOD’s sake with nothing under it .“

 

13. After Lucifer spoke all the Angels started grumbling.

 

14. Sensing trouble GOD said “Stop it all of you. I admit Lucifer has got a point there. I am new at this creator stuff. I’ll tell you what, I’ll consider giving you all dongs, of course much smaller than mine, when I figure out what it is good for. Let me sleep on it and think it over.”

 

15. And the Angels appeared satisfied with that except for Lucifer but he held his peace.

 

16. Seeing this the Creator turned to Word and Ghost and said, “We have got to keep an eye on that one we do.” And GOD agreed with himself that that was a good idea.

 

17. And on the third Levee as GOD sat on his throne amidst his angels hoping the laxative would do him some good, the Creator said, “Ghost since thou art my spirit get thee below me and gather the waters that I shall call the ‘Seas’ in one place and let the hard stuff appear that I shall call ‘Earth’.”

 

18. And the Word said, ”Why are you talking like that with all those thees and thous?”

 

19. “Because I thought that sounded more GOD like,” answered the Creator.

 

20. And so the spirit of GOD passed over the waters and did as he was told and GOD did not feel better because it stunk up the place and thus the Creator said, “Let the earth put forth vegetation, plants yielding seed and fruit trees bearing fruit in which is their seed, each according to its kind and oh do not forget flowers, sweet-smelling flowers.” And it was so.

 

21. And GOD said, “that’s a pretty good days work,” and went off to bed.

 

22. On the fourth Levee, GOD sat on his throne amidst all his Angels and he thought and after a while, he said “This day and night thing is a little too bland for my taste. I think I’ll put these sparkly things up in the night…ah, sky and call them stars and don’t ask me why I call them that they just seem like stars.”

 

23. “Still too dark,” observed Word.

 

24. “OK,” the Creator agreed, “I’ll add this big silver thing the…Moon. I like that the Moooon. Sounds good. And to balance things out, I’ll add this yellow thing here in the day and call it the Sun.” And before anyone else could speak he glared at everyone and said: “What else would I call it?”

 

25. Word and Ghost agreed and Ghost said he liked the color scheme so far.

 

26. And on the Fifth Levee`, GOD sat on his throne amidst his adoring Angels and peered between his legs at the seas and the earth below him and said, “I know its pretty, but its boring I think we need a little action.”

 

27. And so the Creator got to work and said, “Let the waters bring forth swarms of things that move around, and let there be things that fly about the seas and the earth.” And GOD was still not satisfied so the Creator said, “Let the land also bring forth things that move about.” And the Platypus, the Gnu and lots of slimy things came out upon the earth. And upon seeing this the Creator said, “Uh..let me be clearer, let there be things like Cows and insects and Tigers and Elephants yes especially Elephants and things like that.” And so it was done.

 

29. Then the Creator said, “I have got a great idea on how to really liven things up,” and he divided each animal into two and to one he gave a dong a lot like his but mostly smaller except for the very big animals because he thought it would look strange if it were too small and probably would not work anyway, each according to his kind and to the other a deep slippery hole in which to the dong fit pretty comfortably in most part and then the Creator said to all the things that moved on the earth, in the air and in the seas, “Now go fuck your selves silly and increase and multiply and fill the earth and kill and eat one another with lots of blood and screaming and things like that.” And GOD was happy and took a nap because this was a really hard day for him.

 

30. And on the fifth Levee` GOD sat on his Throne amidst the adoring Angels and said, “You know I would really like something that looks like me and all this naming and watching over things is getting annoying so we could assign him to do that.”

 

31 And so the Creator took some of the stuff floating under the Throne of GOD and created something in his own image but instead of being 15 feet tall, covered in hair, with rippling muscles and a 3 and a half-foot dong (Called the ‘Dong of GOD’ or ‘Ding Dong’) the thing was about 5 ft 6 inches tall a bit flabby, not too much hair and its dong barely 5 inches long. And GOD approved and called it Adam because he did not like Word’s suggestion that it be called Irving.

 

32. Then the Creator reached again into the muck and molded something into which Adam could fit his little dong and called it Lilith.

 

33. Then Gabriel, one of the Angels, looked at Lilith closely and said, “Yowee, what are those things?”

 

34. “Knockers,” said GOD thinking quickly.

 

35. Then GOD, a little peeved at the Angels’ reaction to Lilith, said to the Heavenly Host, “Forget her, I want you all to bow down and worship my man Adam.”

 

36. “That does it,” said Lucifer, “I’m pissed. First, you have not delivered on the dongs and…”.

 

37. And GOD, sensing trouble, immediately had the Creator pass out dongs to Lucifer and a few of the other Angels that seemed to agree with him and said, “Does that satisfy you now?”

 

38. “Not really,” said Lucifer. “You told us when we were created that we were your right hand..uh Angels and now you want us to bow before this pissants (Lucifer was pretty good with words himself) midget GOD and we still have these goddamn shifts and fruity little wings.”

 

39. And with that Rafael, another angel, bitch slapped him good and hard and all hell broke out in Heaven with angels pulling each other’s hair and rolling on the ground and the like.

 

40. “Do something,” said Ghost to the Creator. “You created them.” But just then GOD’s firmament moved and he was preoccupied.

 

41. And so it came to pass that Gabriel and his nancy-boys drove Lucifer and his biker friends from heaven. Not that they wanted to stay there anyway because tomorrow was Sabbath and the day of their weekly motorcycle rally along Coast Highway.

 

42. So when Gabriel returned, GOD thought it would be a good Idea to give him a reward for his efforts and gave him the old trumpet he had lying around and was always tripping over.

 

43. “Blow Gabriel Blow,” GOD directed. And Gabriel did blow and the sound that came out was so horrid and loud that GOD could feel the waters under his throne splashing his nether parts.

 

44. “Hmm,” GOD said to Gabriel, “instead of blowing on your horn right now how’s about I give you all these little harps you can play on and maybe, you know, you can organize a heavenly chorus?”

 

45. GOD seeing the Gabriel seemed a bit dejected said to him, “Trust me Gabriel hold off on blowing the trumpet right now and I promise you that the next time you do my firmament will return to the waters.” And that cheered Gabriel greatly.

 

46. in addition to the chorus, Gabriel, Raphael, Michael, and Ringo formed a rock band that they called Big G and the Archangels and they all dressed in sequins that sparkled in the light and put on a show for GOD.

 

47. And then the Word, while God listened to Gabriel’s band playing “When the Saints Go Marching In”, whispered to the other two they would be a great lead act for the next Levee`, and the Creator said, “that’s a good idea.”

 

49. Then, after the concert, GOD announced, “That’s it. I’ve had enough of this creating. I’m taking tomorrow off.”

 

50. And with that GOD got up, left his throne, went back to bed and slept through all the next day.

 

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The following is the introduction to a retelling of the first few books of Genesis taken from a manuscript whose author is unknown but refers to himself only as “Joe”. The manuscript was discovered by Trenz Pruca laying at the bottom of an extra-large sized jar of Skippy’s Creamy Style peanut butter that he was frantically scraping to dig out the last bits of peanut butter for his usual lunchtime peanut butter and jelly sandwich on white bread.

INTRODUCTION

My Dream:

One night I had a dream and it went something like this:

I dreamt I saw old Abraham in his tent drunk on fermented camel’s milk surrounded by his sons and a few hangers-on. Outside the tent his wives, concubines and female slaves tended the cook fire and drew lots to see who would sleep with the smelly old bastard that night.

Old Abe was raving about the rejection of his application to join the Babylon Men’s Camel Dung Rolling Club when suddenly he realized the truth. “O my Unmentionable Deity, I must be Jewish.”

“Why would I want to join their damned club anyway” he shouted. “They could not be very exclusive if they would allow someone, living in an Unmentionable Deity damned tent like me to join.” And with that, both antisemitism and Jewish humor entered the world at the same time.

“I will form my own club and will not let anyone join. I will show them real exclusivity.”

Isaac, a pimply faced overweight adolescent, fearing this could lead to the end of his sneaking out of the tent at night after the old man passed out  for some action with the sweet-smelling Babylonian girls leaving him only with the dung smelling camel herding sluts his dad preferred, protested, “We can’t do that. We don’t have a membership card or anything.”

Abe stared at Isaac whom he disliked and surmised was probably gay. He thought, “Maybe I should kill him now before he gets a chance to breed.”

“We will make our own membership cards, clay tablets,” Abe announced.

Everyone groaned.

“No, you’re right, too heavy. It will break the line of our robes. Tattoos,” he suggested.
“No, everyone’s got tattoos nowadays.” “I’ve got it,” he exclaimed. “We’ll cut off the ends of our dicks. Nobody will have membership card like that”.

“You got to be kidding,” cried Isaac.
With that, Abe grabbed his knife jumped over the fire grabbed Isaac by the shirt and said, “I’ve had enough of you, you  little shit, prepare to die.”

In good biblical tradition, Isaac thought quickly and lied. “Wait,” he said,”I see the hand of God What’s His Name staying your hand from killing your son because he and all your sons submit to the will of What’s His Name”.

With that, Abe relented killing Isaac. Instead, he cut off the end of the dick of every male present. At the moment of initiation, each one screamed, “Yowee that hurts!”

When it was all over Abe rested. He looked at all his sons writhing in agony on the floor of the tent and said, “You know, I like that. Up to now whenever the guys hung out talking about their gods it was always Ishtar this and Baal that. They would all laugh when I mentioned the God Whose Name Could Not Be Uttered. From now on in recognition of this event whenever we utter we shall utter the name of our all-powerful creator, ‘Yowee’. What do you think?”

In my dream, I wondered how they were going to be able to identify one another as a member of the men’s club. Groping under each other’s tunic was a little more obvious than a Masonic handshake. Maybe they originally held their meetings in the health club shower.

Anyway my dream fast forwarded to 33 AD (although they did not know at the time it was 33 AD, everyone thought it was 3000 years or something since God rested) and the throng (we no longer throng today, we crowd, what a loss) was pressing forward to enter the temple on the sabbath, the day people thronged to the temple, a building that replaced the old health club showers .
The guard at the gate of the temple in Jerusalem stopped one of the throngers who happened to be Jesus of Nazareth.

“Hey you, only Jews allowed to enter the temple. You Jewish? You don’t look Jewish with that fruity double-pointed red beard.”

“My good man,” said Jesus (he was a Rhodes Scholar and had studied in England) “of course I’m Jewish, I speak Hebrew as though I never learned Aramaic.”

“Anyone can learn Hebrew,” responded the guard. “Whip it out and put in on the table.”

Now Jesus had no problem with whipping it out given all the time he spent with the ladies and all that laying of the head on the breast and that sort of thing and he was quite proud of his membership card. So, he whipped it out and everyone getting a look at it exclaimed, “Oh my God!”

“That’s right,” said Jesus, “now all of you get out of my fucking temple.”

Now where Jesus was quite proud in his membership in Judaism, Paul of Tarsus was less so. Where they all marveled at Jesus Membership, they all laughed when Paul whipped his out. So Paul went to the Apostles (the “Come to Jesus’ Marching and Motorcycle Club”) gathered at their clubhouse in Jerusalem (Apostles “gather” they do not “throng or “crowd”) and said to them “This membership card thing isn’t working. It’s too hard to get anyone to join and tithe. Since we’re the new guys (and guys we are) we need a new card. Besides aren’t you all a little tired of having to show your card every time before you give a sermon?”

“Good thought Paul,” said Peter who although not afflicted by the results of being kicked by a horse on the way to Damascus as was Paul, was a shy man. “What should the new membership card be?

“Faith shining through their eyes,” said Paul.

“How would anyone know,questioned Peter?

“We will know. Besides if the light shines through everyone’s eyes what difference would it make.”

Then I woke up and felt inspired to begin writing a new Bible integrating all the people of the Book, the Jews with their Old Testament, the Christians with their New Testament and Muslims with their Koran.

Theology:

Now in writing a bible one of the things one has to wrestle with is theology because no one knows what it is but they all think it is very important so they end up fighting about it all the time.

For example, in each of the Books relied upon by the People of the Book God appears somewhat different.

God’s Personality:

In the Hebrew Bible, Abraham had a lot of different gods to choose from because there were a lot around at that time. He could have chosen a Sun God, all shiny and gold, riding across the sky every day looking like his shit don’t stink. Or he could have chosen one of the Goddess babes that were always sneaking around from tent to tent shagging one God or another or if no God would have them then some mortal that they then out of embarrassment would turn into stone or something gross .

But no, Abe was the worlds first stand-up comic. He thought it would improve his act to choose the one God no one else wanted. He chose the as God for his people the God of insanity.

He was mortified, instead of laughing his audience cheered.

All the other Gods and Goddesses spent their time shagging one another and just about anything else that walked, flew, swam or slithered in, on or under the earth, or they would sometimes play an ancient form of video game, choosing up sides among the Gods and having mortals slaughter each other cheering on their team until one side wins. Oh it must have been great fun.
But not Abe’s choice, He did not join in the fun, instead, He really liked killing. Compared to Him Loki the German god who brought on Ragnarök, the end of the Gods was a choir boy.

In fact, He was a Homicidal Maniac. He wanted His people to kill everyone else and take their land on top of it. If His people lost, He did not just shrug His shoulders and walk away like the other gods, promising to get even later. No, instead He would blame His people. Told them they deserved to lose because they ate pork or something He did not like to eat ( I also hear that he was lactose intolerant).

God liked to eat steak, fish, and okra. In fact, one of the original books of the bible was a list of God’s favorite recipes, but it has been lost.

After God’s chosen people began to lose, God even stopped talking to them, instead communicating to them only through his mouth-pieces he called “Prophets”.
He also did not want anyone mentioning His name, but wherever someone did mention Him they had to capitalize the first letter of whatever word they used to refer to Him.

The God of the Christian Bible, on the other hand, seemed to be a bit of a wuss. Sort of all diffident and misty. He did not seem to say much, leaving all the heavy lifting to His Son. He did, however, hang on to the capitalization thing.

The God of Islam seems to be an OK guy. He spends most of his time creating virgins for His elect when they die and generally left operations to His CEO, Mohammed.

Membership:

On the issue of joining the club, each book had a slightly different approach.

The Hebrews were not particularly interested in new members, preferring to kill them and take their land. The Christians and their God liked to beg them to join first and then if they didn’t, kill them and take their land. And Mohammed seeing the difficulties experienced by his predecessors decided on the up front approach, “Either join us or we will kill you and take your land.”

The problem of women:

Some may ask what about the women?

Well, first of all, Abraham, Jesus, and Mohammed all were men and the first thing on any man’s mind besides killing other men is getting it off with a woman. (There is some question about which side of the plate Jesus batted from, but I think the weight of opinion was that he may have been a switch hitter [He grew up in a Greek neighborhood after all]).

Second, the thing that men hate worst of all is women telling them what to do or having to ask if he could go off with the boys and kill a few enemies and rape their women.

No, the whole People of the Book is a guy thing.
Think about it, would a women dream of having 72 virgins after she dies in battle. Women are smarter than that. First pf all, who needs virgins? They won’t be virgins for long and then what? Also, no women would be taken in by some guy promising her nights of pleasure after she’s dead. Besides, who cleans up the place? She would figure it would probably be her as always.

Sources:

In addition to the old and new Testament and the Koran, I have sometimes used for my material, writings of old Jewish comedians, mostly insane Christian hermits and a few Muslim jihadists.

For example, in the Old Testament, at the end of Genesis I, God creates women out of the same muck from which he created man. In Genesis II, however, we see God creating Eve out of Adam’s rib.

Noticing that discrepancy, some of the old jews suggested that there were two women created. The first one Lilith was clearly a shiksa so the marriage, of course, did not work out and after the divorce, she slept around a lot. Eve, on the other hand, coming from Adam’s own rib was a match made in heaven so to speak.

I also moved the triune God invented by the clearly insane St. John the Evangelist up into Genesis because not even Abraham could conceive of anything a ridiculous as a God with a split personality.

I do not include cites and footnotes of what I steal from others. The authors of the Bible did not, claiming that it all came from the hand of God, so why should I.

Language:

In Genesis I, one may notice a focus on excrement and genitalia like that of a 5-year-old boy. One must remember, Genesis recounts events early in God’s career and does reflect his juvenile phase.

One also may become aware of the use of words and phrases that it is said are not used in polite society. This merely reflects Zipf’s Law that in any language a few words get used a lot.

In current English, the words that appear to be used the most are the words, “shit” and “fuck”. These two words we know can be and are employed for effect in all sorts of situations and can operate comfortably in every grammatical format known to the language. I have merely translated the holy books into today’s evolved English usage.

Levee`:

In Genesis I, I introduce the word, Levee`. Levee` is a french word and refers to the ceremony perfected during the reign of Louis IVX where the entire court would gather and watch the King arise from bed and take a dump. The royal chamberlain would then check out the King’s scat and announce to the court whether or not the king was feeling well that day. Given that in Genesis I God did some of his most important work during the mornings of this first six days, I felt a similar ceremony would be appropriate.

Typography:

I use Marker Felt Wide Typeface. It is generally used to denote humor but it is also can be difficult to read. So is the Bible.

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