Thursday, August 17, 2017

The Sermon on the Stool: The 10 Suggestions

Coalinga, California. In a shitkicker bar. Summer, 2016
Disclaimer: in order to record the Real-Time Gospel™ properly I leave in all the mispellings, grammatical mistakes and other general errors. And have a nice day. The following seems a lot like a scene in a Mel Brooks movie, which only proves that life is frequently just like a scene in a Mel Brooks movie.

And the Incredibly Reverend One (IRO) tended to call god 'him' and use the possessive 'his' and while I have a bit of a problem with that it is the way he speaks and this is what he said.  

The Real-Time Gospel™
 The Sermon on the Stool: The 10 Suggestions

I'd stopped on my way to Santa Clarita. I love the earth and it's wonders but I have to say that Coalinga and Santa Clarita are not the loveliest spots god created. I met some very nice people there and there are some nice neighborhoods in Santa Clarita but if god has an nonegenarian's elbow it's Coalinga and if god ever gets a fungal infection between his toes it might look like Santa Clarita. In Coalinga it's gray dirt and tumbleweeds and in Santa Clarita it's nothingness speckled with oil derricks.

It was late and the only place I could find to eat that wasn't owned by a Fortune 500 company was a dive called Grouchy's. I sat at the bar and ordered a greaseburger then heard the voice, yes, that voice, from right next to me. I have no idea why he was there.

"You would think that Commandments would be coercive, given that the punishment for ignoring them is flaming torture in your most sensitive spots forever." I didn't know what to say. He continued, "Did you know the 10 Commandments forbid you from drawing a fish?"

"Huh?"

"Your usual answer to everything I ask you. If you actually read Exodus you'll find this: "You shall not make an image in the form of anything in the heaven above or beneath the earth or in the waters below. So no fish and no tunnels and no planets or eternal damnation. You know if god only gives you one set of commandments he probably thinks it's important."

I thought about what god must have done to Picasso when he got up there. I was worried for John James Audubon and Herman Melville, although I don't know if Melville ever actually drew a whale.

He took a silk kerchief from his suit pocket and dabbed at the moisture in his hand left from holding his drink. 

"I think god suggests things to us. If you drive a screwdriver into your hand god will suggest that you scream, then that you have a surgeon take it out for you. He will also suggest painkillers and psychiatric evaluation. No, maybe god isn't suggesting these things, god is actually screaming them to you. Let's call it enthusiastic suggesting."

"What are you drinking?" It looked slightly green in the tall glass and the ice cubes went to the top of the glass. He rubbed a piece of lemon on the edge of the glass and drank half of it.

"It's cheap dry vermouth." I like it. I couldn't think of anything to say back and I really didn't care what he drank (except to record it in the Real-Time Gospel™).

"Ok, but how does god expect us to know what all the suggestions are or what they mean in our daily lives? Are the 10 suggestions that I could write down and try to live by?"

Uh-oh, there was the look. I knew he was preparing some insult, some put down that I would pretend to be happy to hear but I think part of the look was the alcohol hitting him hard.

The Incredibly Reverend One closed his eyes, slammed his whiskey down his throat and did something that really, really scared me. He stood and prepared himself to testify.

I got up and slowly moved to the door, sensing that the patrons of this fine establishment didn't want the country music interrupted to hear someone denigrate their religion and challenge their belief system.

"Listen up!" Fladabosco yelled out, "I want to tell you the absolute goddamnable truth!"

I was always amazed that he would use the name of god so frequently despite claiming not to believe in him, or in 'He died for your sins™' or anything divine. My mom would hate this guy. I was worried he was going to be arrested or worse. I moved toward the door.

"God thinks you are all worthless, and will prove it to you each one at at time at a situation and time of god's choosing."

I think the crowd was warming up to him. They wanted to burn his face off.

Fladabosco started yelling. "God talks to us all the time, in fact god screams at us. He screams at us in the form of hydrocarbons, blue jays and half-smoked cigars." He thought for a second. "And pickup trucks and ladies in bikinis that are too small for them. And chicken fried steak."

Now the crowd was actually warming up to him a little. Someone yelled "And beer?" and the Incredibly Reverend One laughed and said "oh, yes, god definitely talks to us about beer."

It got really quiet. You could hardly hear Charlene Darling belting out 'There is a time" on the jukebox. Nothing but the clinking of glasses. Fladabosco's eyes were red, really red and you could tell that the 16 oz. of dry vermouth he drank were making his legs a little wobbly but he climbed up on the bar stool and orated:

"Here is what god wants you to do. He has given us 10 Suggestions and god wants you to follow all of them or he'll teach you a lesson.

"Number one: don't drop dog biscuits. They will break."

The patrons who were still sober were confused but the rank and file was starting to get behind him. I heard a guy mutter 'makes perfeck sense' and saw the woman who was with him stare at him with that 'do I know this guy' look.

"Number two: Never hit your grandma with a shovel. It makes a bad impression on her mind."

I heard at least 5 people says 'makes sense, makes perfeck sense.'

"Number three: Never fish with impatient or loud people."

Now the crowd was behind him. The jukebox had finished his run and all I could hear was drinking and people mumbling that this guy was smart and had it all together. What I heard was the sound of impending doom.

"Number three: Making an appointment saves you time at the Department of Motor Vehicles."

At least 3 people recognized his mistake and one shouted 'you have two number threes!"

Without a reaction Fladabosco testified on. "Number five: Do not leave puppies unattended in your living room."

Not much reaction.

"Number Six: Uh, take your, no, uh, don't think that...uh..Never lend your lawn mower to someone you don't know. And drink beer everyday."

The crowd reacted as if he had proved that god was there to produce miracles on the spot. When someone in the crowd suggested he actually made two suggestions the crowd shut him down with threats of harm. Now they were really on Fladabosco's side although it's pretty doubtful any of them were cool with changing religions, just not mad enough yet to try to stop him.

"Seven: (he was having trouble thinking and standing at the same time) never claim to know what god is, what god wants or what god says. Really, how could you know?"

If there was ever a wrong thing to say that was it, except perhaps for the following:

"Eight: drive sensible cars that get good gas mileage and love your neighbor no matter their skin color or religion."

The stool was pulled out from under the Incredibly Reverend One and he watched the floor come up and hit him in the face. I thought for a second that I might be able to pull him to safety but the crowd didn't waste any time doing it for me, dragging him by his feet and as his body bounced furiously and as I was running away like a squirrel who had fallen into a dog park I heard him yelling, as if to convince them to like him "Dolly Parton's boobs are not fake! OK they are fake! Bacon is the bottom of the food pyramid! Bacon is the top of the food pyramid!"

I know he yelled more but I was almost to my car.

I knew his hand-sewn Italian suit would not be worth the price of a paper bag. When the crowd went back in I went to take care of him. He was bloody on the back of his head where it scraped over the threshold and it was obvious that several openings in his body had decided to ruin what was left of his suit. I don't think he was aware of me and I could hear him mumbling "tractors are sexy irrigation pipes are gifts from god Number 9: never ruin a man's suit'

I stepped back into the bar to get some wet paper towels to try to clean him off, hoping no one would think I was his friend. But the bar appeared exactly like it did when I stepped in it the first time. The talk was quiet and the jukebox was playing a polka I did not recognize. The lady behind the bar gestured to me and very politely said, "One burger, one beer, $12.75 plus tax." I gave her a $20 and went straight to the men's room. Fladabosco was in there washing his face and straightening out his shredded suit. I said I was glad he was OK and as I turned to leave he said "all prophets have to go through this, you know."

I had a long drive that night and didn't get home until early the next morning. I was too amped up to sleep and had no problems staying awake. I wasn't sure if the whole event was funny or sad but I couldn't find any illumination in it.

I'm sorry if you read this whole thing thinking there was something pithy or super-smart or that would give you a better feeling about yourself and life in general. Those can be found in other blog posts of the Reat-Time Gospel™, the modern day scripture of the Agnostic Church of God. Thank you for reading and please have a holy freakin' day!

Mr. Ian Normous
First Tool of the Agnostic Church of God

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