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Volume 11, Issue 5: Cave of Adullam

Mutterings on the Regnant Follies

Bobby McGee, Esq.

Sorry Sorry
Sorry about that little hiatus last issue. We were resting our eyes in the back of the Cave. We had been discouraged over the fact that Elizabth Dole was slipping in the polls, and we needed a little time out.

Zen Puns
A thoughtful reader sent us a newspaper clipping about a cutting-edge liturgical advance back east in PA. At St. Peter’s Episcopal Church in Glenside, 10 Tibetan monks from Drepung Gomang Monastery in India were slated to perform in early November. On the docket are traditional Tibetan dances, songs, and religious rituals.

Stealing our faith away. Felonious monks.

Most of us have, at one time or another, enjoyed the hospitality of T.G.I. Fridays. I myself never touch anything but the salmon but have heard that the other entrees can compete. But to the point. Someone thought it a bright idea to start a church and name it after their favorite feeding trough. So if you are ever in Delmar, New York, please stop by the local T.G.I. Sunday church building and throw some aging fruit at it.

It’s a white building and the juices should stand out well.

Putting Philippians 1:18 to the Test
Let Episcopalians have their liturgical advance. We have evangelistic advance. Take, for example, “The Gospel in Moving Cartoons” which consists of a stack of cards with a rubber band binding them in the middle. On one side your eyes will discover the inscription “Hell.” If you were to flip rapidly through these cards, as I did, you see a man in a green and black striped suit wandering pompously around the palm of your hand somehow moving while always holding the same frozen pose. This man is so full of this trick, that when a cross comes whizzing by his head he says, and I quote, “No.” Of course a sedan, drawn by some infant, then enters the scene and destroys our hero in a most gruesome encounter, with the end result being the arrival of this still suit-clad man in Hell, where a demon with a pitchfork proceeds to poke him in the backside for all eternity. The story is just the same on the other side of the cards, except “Yes” is exchanged for “No” and upon his destruction, our friend finds himself flapping his arms in the sunshine.

What modern evangelicalism needs is for more of its peers to make a habit of putting jam down its pants. But alas, the day of simple remedies is long past.

We here at Credenda might be postmillennial in our eschatology but that does not mean that we don’t recognize a good counterargument when we see one. The most effective case for a pretrib premill mind set can be put together from the recent Time magazine cover story which proves beyond a shadow of a doubt that there is always someone, somewhere, singing Father I Adore You in a round.

Of course this does not cause us to reject our postmillennialism, it merely forces us to blend it with a cynicism that tastes of vinegar.

Our Hat in the Ring
In a valiant but perhaps illstarred move, we are pleased to announce that the entire editorial staff of Credenda/Agenda is seeking the presidential nomination of the Homeopathy Party. We will sort out who will be at the top of the ticket later, but for now for our campaign slogan is, “Give Panama Back to Colombia.“

It is the only way we can see to stop Donald Trump.

As we all sit back and wonder exactly where on the seat of our pants Y2K will hit us, and with what boot size, our position becomes more and more awkward. On the one side we have the government assuring us that everything is going to be silky smooth, and on the other side we have a bunch of nutcases stockpiling asparagas seeds and Icy Hot. We know that the government must be wrong because that’s their job, but we also know that anyone with a shed full of toilet paper cannot really be trusted. What to think?

We are forced to conclude that it is all a ploy of the Chinese to cover their Rose Bowl invasion of Pasadena during halftime.

On Second Thought . . .
Make sure you take this issue with you to whatever New Years’ festivities you plan on attending. Open the magazine about five minutes til midnight, and begin reading. Time yourself so that as the second hand sweeps toward that fateful moment, you are watching the ag988rb4-(*^(*&(*0r98r0of09u+_)_09!

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