Dusting Off an Old Chestnut

Dear President Bush,

Thank you for doing so much to educate people regarding God's law, and reminding us that God's word is eternal and unchanging. I try to share that knowledge with as many people as I can, but I need some advice from you regarding some other elements of God's Laws and how to follow them.

For instance, when someone tries to defend the homosexual lifestyle, I simply remind them that Leviticus 18:22 clearly states it to be an abomination, however:

1. A friend of mine feels that, even though eating shellfish is also an abomination (Lev. 11:10), it is a lesser abomination than homosexuality. I don't agree. Can you settle this? Are there "degrees" of abomination?

2. Leviticus 25:44 states that I may possess slaves, both male and female, provided they are purchased from neighboring nations. A friend of mine claims that this applies to Mexicans, but not to Canadians. Can you clarify? Why can't I own Canadians?

3. I would like to sell my daughter into slavery, as sanctioned in Exodus 21:7. In this day and age, what do you think would be a fair price for her?

4. When I burn a bull on the altar as a sacrifice, I know it creates a pleasing odor for the Lord (Lev. 1:9). The problem is my neighbors. They claim the odor is not pleasing to them. Should I smite them?

5. I have a neighbor who insists on working on the Sabbath. Exodus 35:2 clearly states that he should be put to death. Am I morally obligated to kill him myself, or should I ask the police to do it?

6. Lev. 21:20 states that I may not approach the altar of God if I have a defect in my sight. I have to admit that I wear reading glasses. Does my vision have to be 20/20, or is there some wiggle-room here?

7. Most of my male friends get their hair trimmed, including the hair around their temples, even though this is expressly forbidden by Lev.19:27. How should they die?

8. I know from Lev. 11:6-8 that touching the skin of a dead pig makes me unclean, but may I still play football if I wear gloves?

9. My uncle has a farm. He violates Lev. 19:19 by planting two different crops in the same field, as does his wife by wearing garments made of two different kinds of thread (cotton/polyester blend). He also tends to curse and blaspheme a lot. Is it really necessary that we go to all the trouble of getting the whole town together to stone them (Lev.24:10-16)? Couldn't we just burn them to death at a private family affair, like we do with people who sleep with their in-laws (Lev.20:14)?

10. I know that I am allowed no contact with a woman while she is in her period of menstrual uncleanliness (Lev. 15:19-24). The problem is, how do I tell? I have tried asking, but most women take offense.

Mr. Bush, since you have made your faith such an integral part of how you do your job, and thus must enjoy considerable expertise in such matters, I am confident you can help. Thank you again for reminding us that God's word is eternal and unchanging.

Election Day

There's a squirrel on the powerline
about to make the Big Jump
The sun is high but its still gonna rain
Ministers with doom under their hats
give directions to out of town gamblers
and make obscene trips to the bank
Housewives lick their husbands' swastikas
in upstairs rooms as junior pokes holes
in the backyard earth
Voters line up like gravestones
on cold autumn afternoon
waiting for the big coin toss
Something dark floats in the lake
barely visible from the shore
Patio sunbathers
distracted by biscuits and cream
until whatever it is
sinks below the surface

Myrrh Maid

What have you to say for yourself, miss cat's eye chorus girl with the angelhips & sinner's smile? Go ask the landlord for the rent money back, you'll make better use of it than he. Little street urchin with ink in your pigtails, hiding in a castle of old tires as the sun melts into the sea & oyster gatherers return home with sad empty buckets. There's a place for you at the end of the pier where no one else will sit, just watch for splinters in your barefeet. Waterbirds rip their food from the waves. The legs of the pier are weakkneed & the lampposts have rheumatism. The ocean voice is hoarse after all these years & endless tides. Weeds grow through the cracks of your toes. The tattered mayor walks along, nursing impure thoughts. Don't let him catch you there.

The Balloonist

On a moody afternoon I float above the sprawling corduroy earth in a helium balloon, wisps of clouds tickling my lip. Seagulls glare because I'm invading their turf. As I pass over a village, everyone comes out of their houses to learn what is causing the demonic shadow splashed across the land. They peer up at me, shading their eyes with saluting hands. One after another they grab up rocks & heave them in deadly arcs at me. One glances painfully off my shoulder. Another strikes the basket, causing it to wobble. I clutch at the harness to steady my balance. Another projectile smashes against my wrist & I hear something break. Most sail past harmlessly. A schoolteacher takes careful aim & drives her rock through the fabric of the balloon. I hear the hiss of gas escaping. The balloon comes crashing down to earth where the villagers set upon me with their rocks.

The Critic

Yes, as a matter of fact I have looked over your manuscript. Intriguing ideas you possess, I must say. Unfortunately I'm forced to turn it down for publication. It is far too dark and dreary for our standards. The modern reader wants to be uplifted, not submerged in an abyss of hopelessness and despair. Your characters are unbelievable and devoid of personality, with no psychological depth. The plot, if indeed it has one, meanders all over the place, your metaphors are ridiculous, there are loose ends everywhere. There isn't even a proper ending—it just trails off as though you grew tired of writing it and simply gave up. Your use of surrealism is irresponsible. I have no doubt you have a very rich dream life, but just because something is vivid in your head doesn't mean it translates onto the page. People want stories they can identify with, that inspire them, empower them, reaffirm their moral values. Stories that restore their faith in humanity. Your story does none of these things.

What I suggest you do, rather than submerge yourself further in this sort of gloomy weirdness, is set up a cozy little workspace for yourself—by a window if possible, with lots of sunlight, maybe a nice little plant to make it feel cheery—and try coming up with something a little more uplifting, with likeable characters, and most importantly a good solid plot. That's your backbone, you know. That's what carries the reader along.

And for heaven's sake, take this godforsaken manuscript home and burn it at once. It is simply unpublishable. You have talent as a writer, I grant you that—but I might as well tell you, so long as you keep writing this sort of muddled nonsense, you will never make a profession of it. You may as well find yourself a more reliable position in the insurance business and save yourself a lot of grief.

Now I'm afraid I must send you on your way—my time is valuable, you see, and I have a rather pressing engagement I must attend to. Please help yourself to a breathmint on the desk. That's what they're there for.

Err, Lena, can you step into my office for a moment. Yes, would you be a dear and please escort Mr Kafka to the elevator?

Thatta girl...

The Gospel According to St Bozo

Before the beginning, there was this turtle. And the turtle was alone. And he looked around, and he saw his neighbor, which was his mother. And he lay down on top of his neighbor, and behold! she bore him in tears an oak tree, which grew all day and then fell over - like a bridge. And lo! under the bridge there came a catfish. And he was very big. And he was walking. And he was the biggest he had seen. And so with the fiery balls of this fish - one of which is the sun, the other the moon...

Yes, some uncomplicated peoples still believe this myth. But here, in the technical vastness of the future we can guess that surely the past was very different. We can surmise for instance that these two great balls…

We know for certain for instance that for some reason for some time in the beginning there were hot lumps, cold and lonely, they whirled noiselessly through the black holes of space. These insignificant lumps came together to form the first union, our Sun, the heating system. And about this glowing gasbag rotated the Earth, a cat's eye among aggies, blinking in astonishment across the face of time.

Well, we were covered with the molten scum of rocks, bobbing on the surface like rats. Later when there was less heat, these giant rock groups settled down among the land masses. During this extinct time, our earth was like a steamroom, and no one, not even man, could get in. However, the oceans and the sewers were simmering with a rich protein stew, and the mountains moved in to surround and protect them. They didn’t know then that living as we know it, was already taken over.

Animals without backbones hid from each other or fell down. Clamasaurs and oysterettes appeared as appetizers. Then came the sponges, which sucked up about ten percent of all life. Hundreds of years later, in the Late Devouring period, fish became obnoxious. Trilobites, chiggerbites and mosquitoes collided aimlessly in the dense gas. Finally, edible plants sprang up in rows, giving birth to generations of insecticides and other small, dying creatures.

Millions of months passed, and twenty-eight days later, the moon appeared. This small change was reflected best perhaps, in the sand dollar which shrank to almost nothing at the bottom of the pool where even dumb amphibians like catfish layed their eggs in the boiling waters only to be gobbled up every ten seconds by the giant sea orphans and jungle bunnies which scared everybody.

And so, in fear and hot water, man is born!

Hieronymus Bosch for Kids

I saw MirrorMask this evening. Ay carumba! I've been pretty hostile towards CGI in the past. Mainstream filmmakers have been awfully self-congratulatory with their own efforts, but to me it just looked like someone drew on the film. Which I suppose is essentially what it is. The audience was clearly supposed to be awed by what to me looked barely a step up from Harryhausen-esque stopmotion. But after Sin City & now MirrorMask, I think the technology has finally caught up with the artisan. The medium has come a long way since the Lucas/Spielberg cartooniness that I once smirked at. And it figures the first of the master craftsmen would be summoned from the realm of the graphic novel.

I wasn't too familiar with Dave McKean's work going into this. I've read Gaiman's Good Omens & some of the Sandman series. So I wasn't exactly sure what to expect. MirrorMask is like Labyrinth as seen through the eyes of Jan Svankmajer. Visually, what Brazil was to the eighties & City of Lost Children to the nineties, MirrorMask must be to the aughts. To say it's dreamlike is an understatement. It looks as if it was filmed on breathing parchment. We've heard this sort of storyline before - not much different from the classic Wizard of Oz, Alice in Wonderland "girl on quest through strange land" fare - but the brilliance lies in the presentation. As if we've been propelled from sock puppet theatre to a Cecil B DeMille production. Also, I can't get its eerie reinterpretation of Bacharach's "Close To You" out of my head for the life of me.

This film is a reassuring sign for the direction of cinema. I'm genuinely excited to see what else lies around the corner.

Comic Book Chicanery

A stroll through the image galleries of Superdickery can provide endless hours of amusement.