What happens to a chicken when you take away its head?
"It is not necessary to change. Survival is not mandatory." - W. Edwards Deming
"I need to see which one of these people have the skills to be a chicken head." - Michael Scott
I've decided to revive the practice of sin-eating. Maligned by the church and fallen out of practice for a hundred years or more, I think the time is ripe for revival. People can't count on the economy; financial stability is, after three years of recession (read: depression) and a hiring rate that has just dropped off again in twenty-eight states, a myth. Desperate times call for desperate measures, as it goes, and no one has the time or energy to be concerned with their spiritual well-being, unless it's politically relevant (prop 8, the repeal of Don't Ask, Don't Tell which might have succeeded had the energies of the Right (or is it "the Right"?) been diverted by the pursuit of spiritual clarity. And that would have been tragic. It only makes sense that while people focus on finding work, feeding their families, and denying rights to minority populations, I do my part to help.
Rather than taking a substantial job from another person, in spite of the fact that I may be much more qualified and am probably a quicker learner than a lot of people out there, I'll stick with my slightly-more-than-minimum wage position cashiering at a health food store and work in my off hours sponging up the sins of individuals stricken unexpectedly by massive coronaries or an extremely bad case of the runs (death by dehydration). Of course, in keeping with tradition, I'll have to live in exile, called into society only when my services are required. I'll eat the bread and drink the ale out of wooden bowls that they may be burned after the rite. In cases calling for extreme haste, a styrofoam plate and red plastic party cup will be substituted for the wood. It's environmentally unsound, but who has time to worry about the environment when a man's polluted soul is at stake?
Over the body, I will consume and say, "I give easement and rest now to thee, dear man. Come not down the lanes or in our meadows. And for thy peace I pawn my own soul. Amen." Thus no man must needs worry in life about his salvation. Worry eats away one's energy as does doing what's right, seeing as what's right is not always what's easy. If I can save even a handful of people from having to think anymore than necessary, why then, shouldn't I? So I will. I will eat the filth of souls and send them into death pure and unadulterated, saving them from an eternity of haunting the earth. This will be my gift to society. What's yours?
"I need to see which one of these people have the skills to be a chicken head." - Michael Scott
I've decided to revive the practice of sin-eating. Maligned by the church and fallen out of practice for a hundred years or more, I think the time is ripe for revival. People can't count on the economy; financial stability is, after three years of recession (read: depression) and a hiring rate that has just dropped off again in twenty-eight states, a myth. Desperate times call for desperate measures, as it goes, and no one has the time or energy to be concerned with their spiritual well-being, unless it's politically relevant (prop 8, the repeal of Don't Ask, Don't Tell which might have succeeded had the energies of the Right (or is it "the Right"?) been diverted by the pursuit of spiritual clarity. And that would have been tragic. It only makes sense that while people focus on finding work, feeding their families, and denying rights to minority populations, I do my part to help.
Rather than taking a substantial job from another person, in spite of the fact that I may be much more qualified and am probably a quicker learner than a lot of people out there, I'll stick with my slightly-more-than-minimum wage position cashiering at a health food store and work in my off hours sponging up the sins of individuals stricken unexpectedly by massive coronaries or an extremely bad case of the runs (death by dehydration). Of course, in keeping with tradition, I'll have to live in exile, called into society only when my services are required. I'll eat the bread and drink the ale out of wooden bowls that they may be burned after the rite. In cases calling for extreme haste, a styrofoam plate and red plastic party cup will be substituted for the wood. It's environmentally unsound, but who has time to worry about the environment when a man's polluted soul is at stake?
Over the body, I will consume and say, "I give easement and rest now to thee, dear man. Come not down the lanes or in our meadows. And for thy peace I pawn my own soul. Amen." Thus no man must needs worry in life about his salvation. Worry eats away one's energy as does doing what's right, seeing as what's right is not always what's easy. If I can save even a handful of people from having to think anymore than necessary, why then, shouldn't I? So I will. I will eat the filth of souls and send them into death pure and unadulterated, saving them from an eternity of haunting the earth. This will be my gift to society. What's yours?