Y2K 24K Solid Gold God
Thomas Keske
Washington- From the mainstreams to the fringes,
evangelical Christians adopted the Y2K bug as their
own. For the last two years, they have held confrences
teaching the flock how to filter water, bag sand, and
dry peas.
How to run in circles, sniff their butts, and scratch their fleas.
A year ago, self-described seer R.J. Smith led her 20 acolytes
from Tucson into the Arizona desert. She was driven by
a prophetic dream, which she translated into a diagram
shaped like a bug. The dream showed a tectonic Earth
split, with Jesus standing astride it, she recalled.
The Y2K bug, the Cockroach Christ. Who was that
Masked Messiah?
Popular Christian magazines have advertised gold bullion
and Rapture insurance policies (in case you were snatched
up to Heaven but your loved ones were left behind).
Don't miss out on the Sale of Century in the Shopping
Mall of the Millenium. The Y2K, 24K-Solid-Gold God!
THE WORLD'S FIRST YEAR 2000 GOLDEN DOLLAR
ON A GIANT QUARTER-POUND PROOF
CALL 1-800-926-MINT
ITS A Y2K CONCEPT OF THE US GOVERMINT
CHOCK-FULL OF THE MOST WHOLESOME HOLY
APOCALYPTIC POLITICIANS THAT YA'D EVER
WANNA MEET!!!!!
Religion is my drug, I inject it with a syringe
and then I start raving on the lunatic fringe
I am a Jesus Junkie and I need a crucifix
'cause I'm going down
I await the Great Coming of the Crapture
When the Holy Shit gets flushed down to Hell
And rids us of this mass insanity
The Crazy World of Christianity
How dare you, Sir, insult and assail the sanctity
of these Solid Citizens, the Heavenly Hillbillies?
The Oat Bran of our Moral Fiber?
Earlier this year, Falwell distributed a packet
on "The Y2K Time Bomb", including a video,
"A Christian's Guide to the Millenium Bug" and
a Family Readiness Checklist, telling people to
stock up on such items as gardening utensils,
Q-tips, and peanut butter and jelly.
Not to forget the rubber hoses, handcuffs,
Preparation H and KY jelly.
Guide us to our Gold-Gilt Holy Ghost
Glide us past our Ghastly Golden Guilt
The Holy preacher caught wearing a brassiere
and his hands in the Diamond Mines of Zaire
Sitting in Church, you will never get bored
We will scratch our fingernails on the blackboard
The sounds of screaming, screeching screeds
The attack of our High-Horse Christian creed
Hi-Ho Silver Away!
The Lone Ranger and the Lost City of Gold
* In God We Trust
* That God put the Firewood there, but every
may must gather and light it himself.
* That men should live by the rule of what is
best for the greatest number
* In my Creator, my country, my fellow man
He would greet fans, talk to Silver,
shoot a Colt .45 and lecture about
"truth, justice and the American way"
Innocent, puerile morality
white hat 1950s generation TV
Time-frozen simplicity
Spoiled brat's immaturity
Stuffed shirt pomposity
Holy See infallibility
Gutless sheep gullibility
Pandering politician insincerity
twisted into monstrosity
Thomas Keske
> Please don't post messages while stoned.
I have never been "stoned" in my life, thank you. Not so much
as a single puff of marijuana. Don't use even use aspirin.
No alcohol, no cigarettes. HIV negative and health conscious.
Clean-cut, spending most of my adult life with people asking me
if I was in the military service. So wholesome as grade-A milk that
conservatives would love me if I were not an alienated gay activist
with revolutionary attitudes.
Much of this post is direct quotation of articles from yesterday's
newspaper (the Boston Globe). I merely rearranged passages and
interspersed sarcastic commentary, to show the madness of the world
in which I live. This nonsense is a for-real description of what the
Religious Right has been doing and saying- "Rapture insurance policies",
drying peas, the whole nine yards. One of the whole points is that you
probably cannot always tell exactly where the reality leaves off and
the surrealism begins, unless you refer to the newspaper articles.
I consider it a kind of beat poetry, which is the main
place where I post it- recs.art.poetry. It is maybe only bathroom poetry,
but like the bathroom, it is refreshing to get things out of your system.
I would not fling the feces in your face, if I didn't think that this was
the
most appropriate thing to do with it, because of your snot-moral beliefs
that are in deep need of unbridled contempt and ridicule. Call it hate,
call it "satire" - no matter, it is truth and what needs to said, the
under-represented minority view.
Tom Keske