Tuesday, May 24, 2011

Matthew 21:12

When I was a small child, every Sunday my dad would send me off to mass with a little envelope containing my 'donation'. I would sit there in the pew, and feel that envelope, pressing on the coin inside until there was a perfect impression of Jefferson in the paper. Yes, it was only a nickel, but back in the nineteen fifties a nickel could buy a lot. Down at Rudy's Candy Store I could get a foot of candy dots stuck to paper, for a penny. For a nickel I could walk away with a little brown bag full of candy. The temptation was too great for me, and I finally found a way to slide the nickel out of the envelope, while leaving it intact. This little maneuver doubled my allowance for the week, from five cents to ten cents. I was a happy boy. What I didn't know is that the church audited those envelopes. Each one had a unique number associated with each one of my dad's children, and when my number started showing up empty, the church snitched.

Apparently nothing has changed in those fifty plus years. Religion and churches are still all about the money. Over the last few months I've been getting mailings from some bizarre church, that talks to you like you're a child. They are printed in large type, and include cartoon like drawings that are supposed to convince you that if you send them some money, all your dreams will come true. At first I entertained myself by mailing the envelopes back with silly names, and requesting that they pray for me to receive millions of dollars. Today I received two pennies from the church, which I guess is my down payment for the millions that are coming. At that rate, if I get two pennies a day, I'll receive my first million in 136,986 years. March 20th to be exact.....
Wait a minute, I forgot leap years. Damn it.

4 comments:

  1. Hep me Lord. Hep me. I done sees da lat. Oh Lordy goodness gracious.

    -You know who

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  2. I'm sorry , but I just keep looking at the two photos and see something akin to tabs of acid and a guy that's having a good trip in a toga. I guess that makes me too young for penny and nickel candy--you couldn't get the acid for that price either BTW.

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  3. I have an amusing story about buying acid and getting burned, but my family reads this.

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  4. Go on Alan, tell the story!!!

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