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Monday, May 31, 2004
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SPIRITUAL TIME WITH DR. REVEREND
As most of you know, I have had a relationship with Dr. Reverend that has lasted some 20 years. As my American readers salute those who have fallen in battle, serving their country on this Memorial Day, I salute one of the great men of this or any other day... Dr. Reverend.
I'm not the only person who can share with you the glory that is the good Doctor, his wife, Mrs. Dr. Reverend can as well. Or rather she could, but refuses to as she fears the power of blogs. Most other people, well they filed protective orders against Dr. Reverend years ago.
There is a time in every man's life when he is confronted with a bleakness, what some famous, smart dude once called, "the dark night of the soul." It has been during those times of great strife and challenge that Dr. Reverend sought me out. His knowledge of all things spiritual calmed my torment and for this I thank him. One such occasion was in my early 20's, when I thought I might study world religions. I bought a copy of the Koran. The Doctor found the Holy text and slammed his fist ferociously into my desktop.
"What the FUCK is THIS?" He bellowed menacingly. "No good can come from reading fucking raghead books! Those people aren't like you and I. They have dark, horrible plans for us all!" This was some eight years before 9/11. On that awful September morning, my phone rang at home. Of course, I knew it was the Doctor with words that would calm me and those I love.
"See? I fucking told you those ragheads had plans for us, didn't I? You remember, back in '93! It was about 4 in the morning in the lunchroom at the mall." Don't say I didn't fucking warn you!"
Then he abruptly hung up the phone. Just knowing that he was there for me in my darkest moments comforted me.
The Doctor knows about my desperate unrequited love of politics and will often call me to discuss the great issues of the day. As there are campaigns underway both in Canada and the United States, we have been speaking frequently of late.
One recent conversation went like this.
"So who do you like in the Canadian federal election, skippy?"
"No one. My years of ranting about the corruption and decay of the Liberals has proven to be true beyond even my most depraved imaginings. The Conservatives are controlled by jackbooted idiots and Jesus freaks and only small children, illegal immigrants and the committed vote NDP. This leaves only the Bloc Quebecois, and just my luck, they're only running candidates in Quebec, the cocksuckers!"
"Well don't you worry, skippy. I've got a solution to all your problems. I'm starting my own political party. You know that my java programming skills have made me Ross Perot-rich! I can do anything with my time now, skippy. You remember that, too. Anything! I could even spend my days plotting creative ways to have you killed."
"What the fuck? Why would you do that? I've been nothing but loyal to you and your teachings! Christ, I've even spread the Good Word about the Bang Bus far and wide, just as you told me I must, should I ever want the redemption of my eternal soul!"
"I know, I know. I'm just fucking with you. You're a good kid, skippy. I still plan on adopting you as my own son, don't you worry. I haven't forgotten. I just don't have enough of that groovy Java money, yet. But one day, and one day very, VERY soon, I will have a son who is five days older than I am. Once that happens, no one will be able to deny that I am the King of Kings! Do you understand? NO ONE!"
"I understand."
"Good. Anyhooooooooo, back to the party. I'm going to call it the North American Zionist International. Is that great or fucking what?"
"I LOVE it. Some people might have a problem with the acronym though..."
"Oh, fuck them. So a Jew wants to start the Nazi party. I don't see any white guys in NWA, do you? I'm reclaiming it. No, no, no, Fuck that! I'm empowering myself and my people through the word."
"I suggest that you paint anyone who disagrees as an anti-Semite."
"That's some good thinking you've got going, skippy. That's why I want you to be political director...no, political Reichsmarshall of my new party. As the title implies, it is an International party, so we can collect money from all of your Internet groupies. But we only run candidates in Toronto. Once we conquer Toronto, the rest of those gutless cowards will crumble. Once I win in Toronto-Danforth and you crush the opposition in Willowdale, Ajax-Pickering will be a breeze. After than, the skies the limit. We'll take Newfoundland, Michigan, Hawaii, Norway, Manitoba, Saskatchewan, Iowa, Costa Rica....."
"Doctor, you're starting to sound like Howard Dean."
"See? That's why I'm picking YOU as political Reichsmarshall. You're good at seeing that shit. Besides, you can help us get the Mud People vote."
And thus a political movement was born. Sure, some of you naysayers out there think that politics and religion don't mix. I'm sure the more literate of you will point to Jonestown. To them I say this, you don't know Dr. Reverend like I do. This will be MUCH cooler than Jonestown. Or as the Doctor would say, "Why think small?"
Look for the bumper sticker.
Then disaster struck. Our movement suffered a setback. The good Doctor's 120 GB UberComputer melted down. But due to the Doctor's mastery of computer technology, the setback is merely temporary. He assuaged my fears and we set back to planning.
Then further disaster struck. Mrs. Dr. Reverend came home from work.
"Oh, fuck. My wife's home, I have to get off the phone." He cried out, "I'm not supposed to use the phone after 5."
"What did you do?"
Let's just say.....I didn't make it all the way to the bathroom. Let's also say that it was a number three and leave it at that. It was pretty ugly."
"I can imagine," I said, trying to offer as much consolation as I could from 15 miles away.
Then I heard his voice again, this time speaking away from the phone.
"Honey, do you have to start smoking pot the second you walk in the door?"
"Doctor, it only STARTS there. Soon, she'll slam the door shut, rip the belt from her waist, then tie her arm off and demand that you inject her. This will be fine, so long as the veins in her arms hold out, but after that, you'll be on your knees, trying to find a live vein between her toes. There IS a political plus side to this, however. There are a legion of needle freaks who the major parties don't address. And then there are all the OTHERS who snuck across the border from the wilds of Missouri. She could be an electoral goldmine on the stump."
"Good points all. I want a detailed campaign plan e-mailed to me first thing in the morning. AND I mean FIRST THING! If I check and it's not in my hotmail account by 3:30 AM, I'm giving your job to Henderson. Timmy could be Deputy Political Reichsmarshall. That'll lock me up the schizophrenic vote. Gotta go, Bye."
And that was the end of my conversation with Dr. Reverend. Well, actually, I'm supposed to find a way that he can amend is will so that he's "not around those Jews. I've had it with those people. Ever since that Rabbi beat the shit the shit out of me before I was bar mitzvahed, I don't trust them. I want you to find me a non-Jewish cemetery."
I tried to explain that I didn't think that country clubs in Connecticut were zoned for burials, but he had to go.
I think we all know the panic we feel when a number three is coming.
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