Day 14: Were You Worried?

No updates for a few days. I was laying low to make God think he managed to shoot down my plane. Nice aim, goober!

Still, gotta give him his props. He did almost strand me at my layover city (Philly). You have to murder a lot of people there before people stop thinking you're a tourist (and then murder you).

Things have been a little glum at Cracker HQ. PZ Myers killed his, and Josh is feeling his mortality. I didn't know a dessicated piece of ancient neck skin could feel anything, but mortality would not have been my first guess. (My first guess: obsequious)

But Josh says he's seen a glimpse of his fate, and he looks as glum as a stale corn chip in a Batman suit can look. And there's no reasoning with him. I told him that PZ's cracker was already condemned, but he still has a chance, if only some Catholics would get off their knees and get busy.

Not that they've seemed interested so far.

So, it's past time for a new demand!

You know what I miss about Mass? Latin. When I was in retrieving Josh, I could understand every word. There was nothing left to the imagination. This negatively impacted the message.

When you can understand the language, you can imagine the priest is calling for social activism, equal rights, and charitable spirits. The reality is that in English, it's all about reading your Bible, don't have unapproved sex, and how it would be great if everyone was Catholic and tithed regularly.

Thanks, Vatican II!

So let's do a Mass old school. I don't mean Latin. I wouldn't do that to anyone. Let's do Pig Latin. One mass, in America, with an audience of at least 200. In Pig Latin. Ig-pay Atin-lay.

And do it soon. Josh needs a pick-me-up!