Warning: This article may contain adult oriented language and
may not be ,is not, appropriate for registered imbeciles, Tea Republicans, sane folks, or, former politicians. Parental discretion is recommended, or, at least, one should wash one hand with a strong astringent before proceeding!
THE BOTTOM LINE - The Koch Brothers Impact on the Republican Party!
Recently, I was forced by my parole officer to attend a sobriety sermon featuring the late, great Reverend Oral Fleece, a former stand up, set down, roll over alley drunk turned evangelical preacher.
Herewith, I set forth the actual transcript, as best as I could, even though both of us were in our "cups". But, due to my recent re-dedication to "Civility", and, more importantly to silence one or more of my halluncinations, I undertook this deranged challenge to report it to the best of my inability.
In all fairness to newsvine.come on's Code of Laundry, I have dilligently attempted to capture the very, wary Reverend Oral Fleece's message verbatim; or, within the acceptable bounds and standards practiced by Fox TV Nut-work Snooze News, the Unbalance and Un-fair news behemoth that controls the world, as we know it.
However, in the spirit of our national love affair with the policy of "Open and Fairness in all things transparent", I must disclose that for much of the sermon, I was unconscious and am not really sure what was said. Not to worry, fellow urinalists, adhering of our Journalistic Code: "Your Right To Know - Supersedes Your Right To Exist", the parts that I missed, I made up.
THE SERMON THAT DIDN'T CHANGE MY LIFE - Read what it will do for you!
The rock-rolling Reverend commenced solemnly with his standard, the old saw that he always leads off with: "I says, I says to you, Brothers and Sistas, of the Corn Hole generation", (herein, after, referred to as BOSCH), ". . . the Jesus says it'all about the bottom line," harangued Reverend Oral Fleece.
The good-bad Reverend, know as the preacher that is "straight from the street and not from the pole-lease" to the felons in this neck of the woods, simultaneously rolled several joints while her shouted out his sermon in Latin.
The Reverend spoke from atop his wobbly clapboard pulpit, at the corners of Down & Out, just a sharp turn from Drunk Most of the Time, where Boehner, the Weeper of the House, is known to co-habitate with a bottle of French Jack Daniels, if you get my drift.
"Yes, soiree", exhorted the frequently handcuffed, part-time preacher, part-time janitor of the highly investigated, but, never indicted CHURCH OF THE HOW DEEP IS YOUR POCKET - HOW SMALL IS YOUR BRAIN?
"Money, honey is the only thing that counts," screamed, the now frothing Reverend at his mesmerised, seemingly drugged, parishioners too busy counting their stacks of money to pay much attention to him.
"You see, Sons and Bitches of the Corn Hole De-generation, the Jesus is all about The Bottom Line," intoned the reverend.
"Jesus wants you to have a big 'em - a big, gigantic, huge-Magus bottom line! It's in the Bible, or, the Constitution, somewhere," he railed and took another swig of his special spiritual enlightenment concoction", which he also pedals when not in jail, along with signed, autographed copies of his new tome, "The Revised Christian Bible Based on a Donald Trumps Delirious Money Lusting Dream".
"The bigger the better, folks", added, the, at times, half weeping, half sleeping Reverend Fleece as he lifted wallet after wallet from his unsuspecting attendees. The not so good Reverend even did his own "testifying" by disrobing and immodesty showing his assets.
"The bigger your Bottom Line," explained the former spiritual adisver to Evangelical Whack Job, Reverend Jones of the Peoples Temple of Jones Town, is the only thing that Christians should be concerned about. Not poor folks sucking on the welfare tit. Remembers, God hates fags, tax collectors, Lutherans and Left Leaning Liberals and loves the rich!"
Despite the drunken party taking place right in front of him, (sponsored by David Koch), the old black and blue preacher droned on, "the more, the Jesus loves you - the more, the Jesus commands you to tithe, or, die!"
Herewith, the Reverend Fleece, (or, someone looking a lot like him), made his bold call to action. "I command, you now, in the name of the Bottom Line Jesus to take those fat wallets you've got,", he shouted, then, for emphasis fired off three warning shots into the ceiling, with a specially made NRA approved fire arm, especially manufactured for church service security and sold to preacher men in questionable neighborhood for personal protection, or just fer fun. That, got everyone attention pretty quickly.
"Take those bulging wallets made from Rhino's hide", the revving, RRReverend extolled his legion of Right Wing, mostly all white, Tea Republican audience. Then he further pushed their buttons by denigrating them with this missal, "those behemoths fat, ass, fairy looking hides you call wallet are for fags, not Christians. Get rid of them now! And, many of them did.
"Why you worthless Vulture Capitalists (rich people love to pay someone to degrade them) your wallets are so massive that you have to hire a dwarf to carry them for on a silk pillow." At which, everyone in attendance, and, even two people across the street in a bar half way down the block laughed uproariously, then, on cue, punched each other out.
"Those wallets", he said, shaking his pin-sized head, drenched in perspiration and wreaking of cheap wine, made a menacing, clenched fist, and, shouted again: "Your sinful wallets are only stuffed with your unlawful gains, hookers phone numbers and your bail bonds man direct line. Get rid of them." (Several more threw their wallet at the Reverend.)
"I says to youse", continued Reverend Oral Fleece, "if'n you want to repent, you must throw that dirty, filthy money high up into the air! Go, on Brothers, do it now! I command it. It will make you feel cleansed. Remember, what goes up is the Lords! What comes down is mine! Now, go on throw that filthy money up in the air that I might cleanse it for you and send some of it, (on occasions), back to you when you are incarcerated for your crimes. Go on, now, Brothers, throw that dirty, filthy money high up - up in the air."
Whereas, like sheep, they, to a person obediently obeyed. And, frankly, so did I, your humbled by time, much clubbed reporter, Wienie,The Trey.
(Insert Video or cyanide, here).
""REPORTING LIVE" FROM INSIDE MY OWN ARSE! This is Win-trope Meredithe, The III and I approved this message, even if you don't!