Big Brass Ones

Proselytizing for Frisbetarianism

August 4th 2006 8:20 am
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Well, my notion of recruiting acolytes from among the native population of Boise, the Boisoisie, if you will, doesn’t seem to be working out. I haven’t been contacted by a single suck… er… potential recruit. Maybe they’re too smart for me (what are the chances?) Maybe they just don’t get out much and have not seen my tantalizing advert in the Plus Forum.

Whatever the reason, a new approach is clearly needed. So I’d like six or eight of my loyal comrades to volunteer to bicycle through the neighborhoods of Boise spreading the good Word about Frisbetarianism. (You’ll have to supply your own white shirts and narrow black ties, but there are enough college campuses in Boise that I don’t think you’ll have any trouble liberating the bicycles once you get there.)

Which begs the question: What is the good Word about Frisbetarianism, anyway? After all, Frisbetarianism consists of but a single core doctrine: When you die, your soul goes up on the roof, and nobody can get it down again. What’s so good about that? you may well ax. It doesn’t seem to involve any virgins. Or even any white grapes. But it doesn’t involve any damned harp music, either, does it? So that’s one thing. And then, from the roof, you get an eternal view down into the yard. You can watch the grass grow and the children frolic. Of course they won’t be your children—your children will have sold the house and squandered the money the minute probate closed. But still, one frolicking child is very much like another.

And then there are all the interesting doctrinal disputes to be debated on long winter nights in front of a toasty fire: Is it your own roof you go up on? Or an idealized, universal sort of roof? Are all your dead friends and relatives up on the roof waiting for you? How can they be, if everybody goes up on his or her own roof? On the other hand, if everybody goes up on the same roof, what the hell happened to the sanctity of private property? See what I mean?

I would suggest that you save the Good News about the penalty for apostasy until at least the second visit. Possibly even the third.

PS: The bipeds are hauling me off to Humboldt County to visit the junior bipup for the weekend, so I’ll be incommunicado starting later this morning.

 
 

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