Mortaljive: The Rest is Silence

There is no still point in all the Universe, and that is the rock upon which I stand

Thursday, August 04, 2005


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Image of God in Happier Times

(JIVE NEWS) In what the State Department is describing as a "regrettable accident" God has been killed in a hail of bullets fired by His own fellow combatants. "We had come up on a volatile warehouse district, suspected of housing enemy insurgents," said Staff Sgt. Michael Wainright, of Bethany Beach, Delaware. "A wall of tracer fire flew up--God was walking back toward us when, in the smoke and flames, He was mistaken for a hostile opponent." This has brought the number of dead or wounded deities to five. Previously Mithras, Adonis, Tammuz and Bird Man had all been struck, either through roadside bombs, suicide missions, or the so-called "Socratic Method" wherein through questions and answers an unprovable construct dissolves in its own illogic.

Authorities were unsure on what to do with the body of the Lord. Sean Murphy, a military analyst and senior fellow at the Brookings Institute, a Washington think tank, started to answer questions on this topic, looked up, got this really bizarre look in his eyes, then ran away from reporters as if the devil himself was in pursuit. An army chaplain who did not reveal his name was overheard speaking to himself, "Holy fucking shit" over and over and over.

If, upon returning to the United States, no one claims the Lord's body, it will be donated to John Hopkins University for medical experiments.



At 12:21 PM, Blogger Oscar said...

Serves Him right. Anybody who does lunch with Jimmy Swaggart is no friend of mine.

At 8:56 PM, Blogger The Devil You Know said...

Bird Man? Was it the "Socratic Method" that took him from us?

Damn it to hell! I can get by without Jehovah - indeed, I have for years - but Bird Man?!? Truly, the last vestige of my mammalian innocence has been skewered on the totem of empire...

At 1:43 PM, Blogger MJS said...



At 2:12 PM, Anonymous Northern Observer said...

Mammon is all we've got these days.

Mammon's favorite son sits in a bone white house in the center of an old swamp named after a General from long ago.
Mammon says to his favorite:
My stomach growls, my wants are legion, bring me my pound of flesh, take it out of the promises men made to themselves that none should die destitute and forgotten. Take from the promises of the past for the past is gone and the future is unkown and my wants need to be satiated today. Do it my son. Do it for me, for Mammon.


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