Our operators are standing by to take a stampede of calls.
In a previous post, I re-claimed my beloved grandfather from the Christian afterlife. This was a monumental coup, given the fact that he worshipped devoutly his entire life. But, alas, he lived and died a Mason, the Masonic emblem is on his tombstone by his request. Who knew that the Christian "in" crowd, its most highly electable, consider Masons to be a bunch of nefarious necromancers?
Not Granddad, I assure you. But there you are. Occult to the core, he got marching papers to You-Know-Where from that god of his. At which point, I'm certain, a more reasonable pantheon snapped him up.
(This is why it's a good idea to be on speaking terms with every non-binding pantheon, which these days is every and any pantheon that's lost out to Yahweh.)
Being so excited about regaining Granddad, I totally forgot about his better half, my dearest, darling, most beloved, and most LUVVVVVVVED grandma!
If you aren't 103 years old (which Granny would be if she was alive), you might not have heard of Eastern Star. It's sort of the women's auxillary to the Masons. Granny was devoted to Eastern Star. It was her cup of tea. Took the sting out of not being eligible for D.A.R. and all that.
This "Chick tract" would have astonished Granny. She was the kind of person who would have crawled from her deathbed to make a casserole for a church supper. She wore out more Bibles than some people wear out shoes. She wrote a poem about how happy she was to be in heaven at the foot of the Lord, and asked us to read it at her funeral.
BAMMMMP! Sorry, Granny. Not enough. That Satan star is on your grave. You didn't make the cut.
Oh, readers. Next time I visit my grandparents' graves, next time I scale that steep old mountain with my bum hip crackin' and my fist full of Dollar Store flowers, I'm gonna get down on my hands and knees and kiss those "occult symbols" by my most beloved ones' names!
Yahweh, if you're not admitting nice little old Eastern Star ladies, I'd say you've got some mighty big holes in your fishing net.
FROM ANNE
THE MERLIN OF BERKELEY SPRINGS
8 comments:
I love Chick tracts so much that I decorated my blog with them.
Chick tracts are always good for a few laughs. Until you remember that somewhere out there, there are people who actually believe the stuff the tracts say.
But yeah, the whole thing about the Eastern Star being a secret upside-down goat's head is pretty damn funny. I'll bet these are people who see occult symbols everywhere they look. "Sorry, Billy, but I'm afraid daddy can't take you to that Dallas Mavericks/Washington Wizards game tomorrow, because wizards practice witchcraft. Maybe next week when the Bulls are in town...no, wait, the bull is a symbol of Ba'al. Hmmm...Celtics? Nah, buncha druids. How 'bout the Rockets? Nope, they only have 13 active players on their roster, and you already know about the number 13. Sorry Billy, but I'm afraid you can't watch NBA games any more. Basketball is nothing but a den of satanic iniquity!"
If there really WAS a devil, it would seem to me he has alot of followers in sheeps clothing........
that cracks me the fuck up.
my 3 uncles and their wives were all masons and eastern stars...and so babtist they flew to heaven ..or so they thought...hahahahaha...pius ole farts..
Good post! Wow my mom and dad are involved it all those cult like clubs...plus they never miss church...they arent going to heaven now...dam I was so hoping to get away from them
What I find specially funny is that "Baphomet" is originally a corruption of "Muhammad." Rodger Cunningham
I wouldn't give anyone two bits for their religion. But there are those that will kill you for your belief. Man has been proving that for thousands of years.
You just don't get it Anne, you are not going to get mankind to accept all these different religions.
It has never happened and it will never happen. Mark my words on that, you may die trying to make it happen but it won't.
Always a pleasure to hear from Professor Rodger Cunningham. Makes me feel like a swell, intelligent kind of person when professors read my stuff.
Billy, if you don't buy my agenda, I really don't care. I'm not telling anyone how to live life, only what works for me.
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