a visitor in the pulpit

good evening, orphans...orphanettes...

and those of you with families: welcome.

i'm glad you're here on this special day.

all right, i hear you in the back row, snickering.

"what's so special about today?"

we have a special guest today; THAT'S what's so special.

and it's someone most of you cyclists, orphaned or otherwise, will recognize.

perhaps you have read his sermonettes elsewhere.

or elsewhere. or even elsewhere.

perhaps you've seen, read, and even laughed at his cartoons.

no, it's not brian duffy.

it's that dude who makes you feel guilty when you eat and drink this time of year: patrick o'grady. you may know him as a humorist, a cartoonist, a bicyclist, or the guy who gets paid to go to the tour every now and then. sure, but i know him in a completely different way, as seen in the way he closes his regular correspondence with me:

"Your brother in Christ,
The Rt. Rev. Dr. L. Perro Loco, O.D.
Staff Chaplain
The Mad Dog Media Whirled Hindquarters"

here's what the right reverend doctor has to say today:

Today's Blasphemy
First off, all due respect, people should be able to go to the church of their choice without getting shot or having to shoot someone. Eat a wafer, hug a tree, light a menorah, sit cross-legged 'til your feet explode, I don't care. Whatever punches your Get Out of Hell Free Card. Going to church should not involve body armor and a concealed-carry permit.
That being said, some of the born-again crowd were speaking in tongues of the forked variety after the shootings in Arvada and at New Life Church. George Morrison, a minister at Faith Bible Chapel, stated flatly: "God did not cause this to happen." Uh huh. Dude follows pro football so closely He can't take a minute to whip a quick, fatal plague on some nutbag with a shitload of firearms on his person, out hunting His disciples? Were I a religious man, I'd suggest there might be more here than meets the downcast eye.
And then there's the security guard who croaked the perp' when he popped by New Life to carve a few more notches on his weapons. "God was with me," she said. "He never left my side." It's a basic question, true, but still — why her side and not the side of the unarmed parishioners in Arvada and Bibleburg who found themselves in the express line to Heaven between the wafer and the wine? Could it be that the Lord manifests Himself these days in the form of a Glock 9mm? Remember your Heinlein: "God fights on side of heaviest artillery."

the mostly reverend here again: right powerful words from my brother from colorado, eh? i want to thank the right reverend doctor for sharing his words with y'all today, as it seemed to me when i read them that they might just shed a little light on this jesus and god discussion we've been having lately. to wit, IS your god better than, well, not mine, but somebody's? and if so, what the hell is He up to lately? is your god really pro-life? in my mind, it kind looks like He keeps the same work-vacation schedule as george dubya and the iraqi parliament. perhaps He might want to start working weekends and evenings. amen. the ushers pass the plates now, as we listen to our find choir and orphanage house band play one my favorite gospel numbers, "heavenly bank account." and, yes, that IS the almost reverend frank zappa on vocals, by special arrangement with the keeper of the hereafter. dig deep, and listen up.

now, i promised the right reverend doctor i'd add the following, and as i asked yesterday, if i'm not a man of my word, what the hell AM i?

Words and pictures on the DogPage © 2007 by Patrick O'Grady/Mad Dog Media. All rights and most lefts reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten, redistributed, laser-printed, photocopied, crocheted into a sampler, knitted into a sweater, tattooed on a floozy, spray-painted on an overpass, tapped out in Morse code, sublimated onto a jersey, shared in whispers in the back row of an adult theatre, shouted from the rooftops, scored for the Crusty County Symphony Orchestra, translated into Squinch, or communicated via telepathy without the permission of and the hefty payment to a heavily armed, whiskey-addled cyclo-cross addict who knows where you live. Bonehead shysters and the simpletons who employ them, take note: The opinions expressed on the DogPage contain toxic quantities of hyperbole, satire, parody and humor. Pah-ro-dee. Hyyuuu-mor. Acquire a sense of same or read at your own risk.

[i just want to let you know, however, that it probably IS legal to whisper about his material in the back row of an adult theater. if you try it, and get arrested, well, you know what to do.]